#but this is just one of those facets that can only be added to it in a audible medium

[sleepyone2three]

Slowing down the tempo of the silly chase music was a nice touch; really sold Buggy's crushing depression 🤣

[hellohomura]

25.02.2011 ⏳ today's timeline

idk if theres like canon pmmm lore abt it somewhere in an interview madokaheads lmk but i like to think their magical girl forms as being manifestions of their idealised selves while also reflecting certain facets of their psych. which could explain impracticality in battle attire like idk. homuras stiletto heels. sorry i know i knoww its magic its the genre shes a support not dps char their bodies feel less pain re their soul gems etc etc but whenever i watched homuras magical girl training montage i just thought abt how much it must hurt running on those lmao that being said id like to think their magical girl forms Can change like with shifting values or convictions but usually not very noticeably and only with small differences when they do due to their short lifespans. id imagine their forms just becoming dimmer/desaturated maybe with minisculely corrupted design elements like slightly warped motifs/off pattern details before they fall into despair to reflect disillusionment in the ideals and beliefs that manifested them originally. or maybe missing details to show how they dont remember what theyr fighting for. but id imagine them to look just slightly off like theyr barely holding it together before they burst and hatch into witches (itd be very cool to think of rare instances where magical girls hav complete upheavals in their belief systems and narrowly avoid becoming witches to manifest completely different forms instead. still itd just an intermittent form before the inevitable) but in homuras case since shes been a magical girl for around 100 loops i wanted to design a form that could reflect her psych after repeating a decade of adolescent trauma taking aspects of her original manifestation and fracturing, repeating, layering them to the point where it looks like its about to collapse in on itself before crystalising. she has much longer hair to convey how subconsciously she feels like she should be aging. longer sleeves that swallow her hands like clothes she shouldv grown into by now. two bows, the black one of her original length to represent the withered innocence of her wish and the shadow of her despair while its strangled by the bow of her original purple that stubbornly sits on top and stretches past it. added fingerless tactical gloves for her significantly accumulated knowledge in mechanical and explosive weaponry. i wanted to make her outfit giv off more of a witchy vibe too. shrug initially i drew her 1st version with nothing changed from her canon design besides braiding her 2 side bangs and i drew the wider heel on her 10th loop version but i rly wanted to do the diamond heel for her final one and the progression of her heel becoming sharper just made more visual sense if i switched it lol oh also i liked drawing her bangs shadowing so much of her eyes but i thought itd b fun to draw more of her eyes showing to symbolise how she metaphorically can see more clearly now. nothing about her physical non magical girl form changed but i think if homura can use her time magic to heal her eyes she can also use it to idk freeze her hair in a certain position so it doesnt get in the way instead of a haircut ghjfgdfgd anyway its fun for me to imagine her not noticing with how focused she is on saving madoka until one day she sees her reflection and is taken aback at how unrecognisable shes become to herself even while her actual body remains unchanged

[di-daynamic]

An interesting parallel between James and Ginny is that while they will fiercely defend those they consider friends, they don't particularly care about others, even mocking them about the exact same thing.

I doubt Remus is as poor as Snape, or Peter quite as not-good-looking, but the same things James mocks Snape for (excluding, obviously, the dark magic) are present in those two and I'm pretty sure he would've killed someone insulting them.

And in OotP we see Ginny defending Neville and casually insulting Luna in almost the same breath (“What are you talking about?” said Ginny, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him. “There’s room in this one, there’s only Loony Lovegood in here —” and “I’m nobody,” said Neville hurriedly. “No you’re not,” said Ginny sharply.)

And yet once they've grown closer in HBP she's defending Luna too (Ginny’s been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me ‘Loony’ the other day — and “Don’t call her that, Ron,” snapped Ginny, pausing behind Harry on her way to join friends. “I’m really glad you’re taking her, Harry, she’s so excited.")

And while Hermione has no problem disparaging Luna and her beliefs to her face, she is angry at anyone else doing it (“Neville is not an idiot and Luna is not an oddity!” said Hermione.)

We see Harry doing the same thing, if not as overtly. (he would not have chosen to be sitting with Neville and Loony Lovegood, clutching a toad and dripping in Stinksap. and You don’t have to sit with them,” she added in a stage whisper, indicating Neville’s bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the look of a demented, multicolored owl. “They’re friends of mine,” said Harry coldly.)

You know who else is content to ignore characteristics in their friend they'd hate in anyone else? Lily. An interest facet of her character that is so rarely explored even though it's a clear indication she isn't the angel most people think she is is that she knew Severus was calling other people slurs and was involved in dark magic - almost as evil as Avery and Mulciber - she still defended him and hung out with him and ignored that he wasn't taking any of her admonishments to heart (“It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you and – to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. and Harry doubted that Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter, his whole body had relaxed).

I don't know. I just think it's a neat parallel between all these characters.

[ellie-writes-games]

Lucanis Lunchboxes: Shoelace Bolognese

What if Lucanis packed Rook lunchboxes with little notes in them throughout the main story?

On the map, a "!" icon appears in the hallway just outside Rook's room in the Lighthouse. A temporary chest here holds a one-of-a-kind Valuable and a letter from Lucanis that is added to the Codex. Triggers after the Act 1 pantry scene, Lucanis romance only.

[SPOILERS] Read the letter from Spite (& Lucanis) below the line:

Something fun I've been playing with is comparing the different versions of Spite we meet in Veilguard:

There's the chaotic, petulant Spite we see talking to Lucanis.

And the stilted, impulsive outbursts we hear when Spite takes him over.

And the ruminative beat poetry Spite leaves behind in Lucanis' logbooks.

Like Lucanis, Spite has distinctive facets to how he talks depending on the subject and audience. Neither of them write quite like they speak, and I found these styles to be too consistent to consider it an accident. So I think it's a neat quirk and a worthy challenge to play with. Because it should sound like him, but not at the cost to losing those traits he leaves in his writing. Sorry, I ramble. Words are neat.

***Also, Spite has some markers in his canonical writing that can be misread as grammatical or spelling mistakes. For the love of the Maker -- it's done on purpose. :P

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Part of an on-going series of fan-writings. See the full Masterlist here.

This is fanfiction written by me, @ellie-writes-games. These are NOT actual screenshots from the game. Peace, love, and mad props to the DA writers.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Halsin and Silvanus

In the course of my recent research on Bane for a lore request fill, I found myself coming across a lot of very interesting information, previously unknown to me, about the other gods of the Forgotten Realms — in particular Silvanus. There was enough there that it inspired me to direct some extra research hours into this writeup, exploring all the reasons why Halsin is a quintessential Silvanite.

If you would like any more information on anything included here, please feel free to drop a comment or an ask, as there is truly so much that I just don’t have the space to include. (I usually end up with about 12-13 pages of source quotes before I begin one of these meta posts.)

My usual note that, as ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

Silvanus is easily one of the most misunderstood gods of the Faerûnian pantheon. This is even pointed out directly within his section of the 3.5e Faiths & Pantheons (an incredible resource if you are looking for more detailed information on the gods of the Forgotten Realms!): 

Nevertheless, most outsiders view the church of Chauntea, as patrons of agriculture, as being favorably inclined toward the expansion of civilization, while the church of Silvanus is the implacable foe of those who would settle new lands. Neither impression is correct, yet the church of the Oak Father is often perceived as little different from those faiths that venerate the Deities of Fury.¹ [emphasis added]

Silvanus is most often perceived as strictly and impassively neutral, and intrinsically opposed to civilization in all its forms. While the former is something close to true – he is a very neutral-aligned deity, albeit not necessarily in a way that matches the popular conception of the term – the latter is certainly not. Humanity (if you’ll forgive the use of the term to designate in broad strokes the non-animal denizens of the Material Plane) is another facet of nature, one given equal consideration to the rest – plant, animal, and other – by Silvanus.²

While as a whole followers of Silvanus have a preference for the wilds and the deep forests, this is by no means a concrete rule. In fact, Silvanite clergy – those known as druids – are not uncommonly found in enclaves in larger cities of the Sword Coast and beyond, including Waterdeep.² Typically these druids will “create gardenlike walled areas of wild forest within the city limits.”¹ Wherever they may find themselves, Silvanite druids work to maintain the Balance of nature around them, through education and direct action both. 

Silvanus’s dogma has much to tell us about his philosophy, and that of his followers. I’ll be splitting notable excerpts and their relation to Halsin into sections below. 

Hold your distance and take in the total situation, rather than latching on to the popular idea of what is best.¹ 

Halsin was, from the first moment I met him in-game, so notable for his calm self-possession, and the clear forethought he gave to his actions and those of others. He does not feel bound by the expectations or approval of others – as noted in the dialogue he shares with the player if they compliment his choice of successor – but instead makes his own path following the direction of Silvanus’s wisdom and will. 

Resort to violence and open confrontation only when pressured by time or hostile action.¹

This is showcased numerous times throughout the game, but perhaps best evidenced by an in-game note, from an unlikely source: the Priestess Gut. The note that you can find from her, regarding Halsin’s capture, notes the following: 

Said he thinks there's somethin' rotten inside us. Inside me. Reckons he can help get rid of the rot. I told him we don't need any help from nobody. Never did. And especially not now the Absolute's taken a shine to us.³

Despite the immediacy of his capture at their hands, and the preceding attack already lodged against himself and Nettie⁴, Halsin’s primary impulse is to attempt diplomacy, and render aid. This only changes when his length of captivity has made it clear that there will be no changing the minds of the cultists, and they must be dissuaded by stronger means.

Banish disease wherever you find it¹

The way Halsin is first introduced to the player is as a healer – and not just any healer, but a masterful one, known throughout the region, who has the best chance of being able to assist with any manner of strange ailment. It is clear in all ways, as well as in the scenario referenced in the preceding section, that this is an aspect of Silvanus that Halsin strives to embody at all times. 

Seek out, serve, and befriend the dryads and learn their names.¹

Particularly if we understand the reference to dryads here to extend to all fey spirits of nature, this gives new depth to Halsin’s friendship and devotion to the nature spirit Thaniel. Halsin, as a druid generally, and as an Archdruid in particular, would have a solemn and divinely-ordained responsibility to redress the upheaval of the Balance within the Shadowcursed lands. For that reason alone, it is no surprise that it was his primary motivation and consideration for nigh on a century. 

However, even above and beyond that, Halsin had an additional motivator. Even before he became a druid, potentially before he was exposed to the teachings of Silvanus in anything but the most vague and general of terms, he was living them out by befriending the local nature spirit, learning his name, and seeking to understand, serve, and protect him. 

Make others see the balance and work against those that would disturb it. Watch, anticipate, and quietly manipulate.¹

The primary source text I am using to draw this connection was written neither by nor about Halsin, yet I believe it still clearly reflects on him, for reasons that will become clear. This text is from a logbook recording activities of the Emerald Grove during the year 1371, 121 years prior to the start of the game’s storyline, and some years before the defining events in the soon-to-be Shadowcursed Lands. 

6 Uktar: Sent two druids, some of the newer recruits, up north. Village there has had two years of failed crops and are unlikely to survive the next winter. 9 Uktar: A group from Baldur's Gate arrived. They've set up camp on the edge of the forest. Two bears and a fox came by. Their territory has been burned out. Half the fox's cubs died. Paying this new group a visit tomorrow. 10 Uktar: Visit did not go well. After telling me where to shove it, they said they'd cut down half the forest and burn out any wildlife that dared to stick around. Claimed they were going to 'farm the land and make a new city of their own.' Time to get creative. 12 Uktar: Mudslide did the trick. Buried half their farming equipment and made the rest useless. They won't be back any time soon. Got reports of a Red Wizard in the village south of here. Sending three rangers to investigate. If they catch even a whiff of a red cloak, I'm contacting the House of Silvanus.⁵

Given the timeline, while this is unlikely to have been written by Halsin himself, it seems like a strong possibility that it was written by his master, the previous Archdruid of the Emerald Grove, who perished in the fight against Ketheric Thorm. This is supported by the clear evidence that the author was an individual in a position to give direction and command to those around them, and to make the call for how to deal with various situations. Given too what we know of the druidic leadership structure, Halsin would have been the previous Archdruid’s Second, as Kagha was his.⁶ 

This man, then, would have greatly influenced Halsin as a druid of Silvanus and as a leader both. We can presume that this watchful duty and deliberation was one that Halsin himself took over, charged with doing his part to maintain the Balance of the region around the grove.  This last point especially becomes even more significant in light of the following information, which comes not from Silvanus’s dogma, but rather from a description of his followers and traditions of worship: 

Members of the clergy work to redirect development and control populations through covert sponsorship of brigands, breeding and selective placing of predators, and other means. It is essential that such work be as secretive as possible, so that most folk view the servants of Silvanus as essentially benign lovers of trees. Wildlife breeding, nursing sick animals, and replanting trees and wild shrubs are all work that should be done as publicly as possible to support this perception – and as necessary work to redress the slipping Balance, of course.¹ [emphasis added]

It is clear from all preceding evidence, and this excerpt in particular, that the druids as a whole put far more thought and strategy into every aspect of their appearance and the perception of them than they would ever want outsiders to become aware of. Halsin himself corroborates this in-game, noting that, while druids might not like politicking, that certainly does not mean they haven’t the skill for it when called upon. 

For the sake of… well. (I have been advised by my legal counsel not to use “brevity” here.) Regardless! For the sake of my sanity and your time, I will refrain from going into further detail on specific instances that show this to be true of Halsin. I will merely encourage you, the reader, to consider the value this brings to his character and druids as a whole, and hope to encourage new appreciation for their refreshing complexity. 

In closing, I leave you with one final quote: 

Superior patience, natural knowledge, and anticipation are the hallmarks of a worthy servant of Silvanus.¹

¹ Faiths and Pantheons. 2002. p. 63.

² Dragon Magazine #412. June 2012. pp. 22-3.

³ Rancid Note. In-Game Text. 

⁴ Halsin’s Journal, Vol I. In-Game Text. 

⁵ Logbook XII: 1371. In-Game Text. 

⁶ Grove Annals. In-Game Text.

[rahuratna]

Synopsis:

"Welcome, Visitor, to Jujutsu Guild Academy, tucked discreetly away in the rolling foothills of the Byre Veld Mountains. Our team of expert sorcerers, now misfits and outcasts from society, gather here to train their talented students, as well as use their exceptional skills to solve cases brought to them by those who know the true nature of the Guild ... much like yourself. We invite you to place your case at their disposal. We guarantee that you won't be disappointed."

Genre: Fantasy AU, mystery, suspense, horror, humour, detective agency

Content warnings: dark themes, murder, violence.

Rating: T

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer

Part 1

“Balance is paramount in the world of sorcery, and yet, not easily understood or visualised. The Magical Clade system, developed in the planetary turn of 214, embraces the diverse nature of magic in all forms. Bitura and Matura; the predictable and the unexplored, the two known aspects of sorcery existing side by side in a tenuously held set of universal scales, cannot be wholly characterised by our existing body of knowledge.

Let us then examine their five known components, the arcane origins of which have, thus far, been the subject of much theorising. Human, planetary, chaotic, contractual and natural, different facets of a world we have only just begun to comprehend … “

~ An Introduction to Arcane Clades, A. Zahari.

At the top of a hill in a small vineyard, near the age-smoothed arc of the stairs that lead to an imposing set of oak doors, an elderly man hesitates.

Jirou has arrived against the will of many in his village, seeking the kind of help he knows won’t be available to him elsewhere. He looks up, at the white-painted walls of the former winery, now converted for the purposes of the sorcerers who call this their base of operations.

It seems … peaceful. Idyllic, even. He can see why this place would be a retreat from the bustle and whispered condemnation of society. Now, if only he could muster the courage to –

The doors swing open, and he takes a step back. A man appears in the cool, dark entrance. He wears a short-sleeved white shirt, ideal for the balmy weather, and smart black trousers and boots. His neatly parted hair and the manner by which he adjusts his glasses mark him as one of the officials who probably run the day-to-day operations of this place.

“Good day to you. How may I assist?”

The tone is polite, clipped, professional. Jirou clutches at his straw hat, rotating it nervously within his stiff grasp. He clears his throat.

“Ah … um. Forgive me for intruding. I’m here to see … well, here for help. For my village. I’m from Setsana, just east of the river.”

The bespectacled man glances him over in frank assessment before stepping quietly back through the door and gesturing to him to follow.

“This way.”

“Eh?”

“You want to meet with the sorcerer’s guild, yes?”

“Well … yes, but I thought – “

Jirou sees a glimmer of humour in the eyes of the dark-haired official.

“You may call me Ijichi. What is your name?”

“Jirou.”

“Well, Jirou of Setsana, this agency does not screen their clientele based on location or status. You are clearly here for some assistance, and you’ve asked for it. Now the sorcerers will hear your case.”

Scurrying up the steps and into the cool foyer, Jirou glanced warily around. It was not quite what he had been expecting. The interior had indeed been re-purposed. The terracotta-tiled floor had been preserved, rustic and slightly dusty underfoot. Comfortable rugs had been placed around the airy space. Eclectic, somewhat mismatched antique furniture added a certain charm to the room.

A large hearth stood dormant against one wall, the exquisite grey river stone banded with wooden shelves. Large glass doors opened onto a walled garden on one side, a small courtyard with a carved fountain placed centrally. A wash of cool, fragrant air entered through here, beckoning languidly as Jirou followed Ijichi out and into an adjoining annex.

Clearing his throat, the farmhand addressed Ijichi again.

“Who is it that I’ll be seeing, exactly?”

“Magister Higuruma. He hears all cases and determines what action can be undertaken.”

Ijichi paused, turning slightly, his eyes kind.

“Don’t be put off by his … manner. He simply wants to get to the heart of the matter. Just answer clearly and truthfully. Try to stick to the facts. Wait here for a minute, please.”

Leaving Jirou stewing in the hallway, Ijichi disappeared behind another door. The faint noise of voices, the rustle of paper and a cough could be heard from within. Jirou contemplated turning around and leaving hurriedly. Not running away, no. A tactical retreat. What if this Higuruma was –

The door clicked open and Ijichi reappeared, all too soon.

“You may go in and state your case.”

And thus, Jirou’s fate was sealed.

Higuruma Hiromi was seated behind a large desk, scattered with papers in what could possibly be described as ordered chaos. Jirou entered with the air of a man braving the den of a vicious mountain lion. Higuruma certainly gave off the according aura.

Dark hair, combed back, but slightly dishevelled from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it. The sardonic set of his mouth, the aquiline nose, and above it all, the deep-set, unsettlingly attentive gaze that traced over one’s form, taking in every detail. Higuruma wore a well-tailored waistcoat, gold embroidery over the sable material, his white shirtsleeves rolled back. That faint trace of disorder spilled over here too, visible in the rumpled collar, the ink-stained hands, the dark smudges beneath his eyes that spoke of inadequate sleep, the symptom of an intellect that raced over the landscape of the mundane, gathering a horde of minutiae in its wake.

“Jirou of Setsana?”

“Yes, sir.”

Higuruma waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the seat before his desk and Jirou hurried forward to comply. On the table was a map of the area, marked with a varied array of ink colours and symbols. Jirou was also surprised to see a farmer’s almanack beside the map. He hadn’t ever expected to see such a humble, worn document on the table of such a sorcerer. The sight steadied him, somewhat.

“Thank you for taking the time to hear my case.”

He received only a nod in reply. Higuruma laced his fingers over the desktop and leaned forward, the only signal that Jirou should continue.

“Ah. Um. Our village has been experiencing … some strange things lately. Animals put out to pasture turning up dead. Lights in the forest. Sometimes … well, that’s beside the point, but I feel uneasy. Like something’s coming up from the earth to swallow us all.”

In any other setting, Jirou would never have given voice to such sentiments. Speaking to a sorcerer, however, erased those misgivings. Who knew what mysteries of the arcane Higuruma had already experienced?

The sorcerer in question unlaced his fingers, tracing them over the faded ink trees on the map, denoting the forest near the village.

“Some questions.”

“Pardon?”

“I need to ask some questions.”

“Oh … oh, of course! My apologies if I’ve not given enough – “

Higuruma cut him off, eyes steady, penetrating.

“When did these animal killings begin?”

“Six months ago … I think.”

“You are uncertain?”

“No, I – There were wolves. We found corpses of wolves. Before that. But obviously we didn’t – “

“You didn’t question when the natural predator turned up dead?”

Jirou shrugged helplessly.

“Sometimes bears come down from the mountain.”

“Hmm. And what kind of animals, besides the wolves, were killed?”

“Horses. Sheep. Cattle. Some chickens. Mainly the cows, though.”

“Who found the beasts dead?”

“Different people. I found a horse in a ditch once.”

“How did the horse appear to you?”

“Slaughtered.”

“I need more detail.”

Jirou shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Higuruma’s questions were coming thick and fast, and the elderly man was accustomed to preparing his thoughts before answering.

“Ah. Disembowelled. It’s … entrails had been removed.”

“And they were lying next to the animal?”

“Oh, no. We couldn’t find them anywhere.”

Higuruma raised an eyebrow, pausing slightly for the first time.

“Nothing?”

“No. It was like … the animal had been hollowed out. Like something had reached in and … scooped everything out.”

Abruptly, the sorcerer leaned back in his seat.

“These lights in the forest. Tell me more.”

“Oh, those are strange indeed. We’ve tried to find a pattern as to when they appear, but … they seem to come at odd times. It’s not firelight. Too bright. Almost white. Dancing. It’s definitely magery of some kind.”

“Above the trees?”

“Among them. Between them. Sometimes the trunks of the trees block the light, so we know that it’s moving.”

“And this … feeling you say you have?”

“Oh, that … “

Jirou gave a sheepish chuckle.

“I think with everything going on, I simply … You know. The imaginings of an old – “

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No.”

Higuruma’s abrupt manner took some getting accustomed to. He raised his quill, pointing it at the farmhand like he was preparing to throw it, to pin him and his problem down to a board for analysis.

“Sorcery isn’t about vague incantations and undetermined outcomes. Everything about sorcery is calculated, precise. It relies on universal laws that we haven’t even begun to comprehend, and so, it seems distant or even esoteric. We try to categorise the arcane, place them into neat little pockets to aid our understanding, but that will only take us so far. Your feelings, your dreams, are all likely symptoms of the same problems that plague your village. It’s a pattern we’ve seen many times.”

Jirou gulped heavily.

“We?”

“Our guild.”

Throughout the brief, intense questioning, Higuruma had never written anything down. Now, he dipped his quill, scraping carefully around the edges of the well, and jotted something down on a scrap of parchment. He folded the note and handed it over to Jirou.

“Give this to ijichi when you leave. Permission from the authorities pending, expect our guild members to arrive within three days.”

If Jirou of Setsana had stayed for a few minutes longer, he might have been party to the sudden descent of chaos into the calm that had once reigned over Higuruma’s study. A large tapestry hanging across the left wall shifted slightly, as though in a stray breeze. One of the greyhounds stitched into the rich fabric of the hunting scene moved, the thread of the embroidered eyes snapping subtly back and forth until its gaze faced ahead once again.

Higuruma sighed heavily.

“Do you really think you’re being subtle?”

The hound peered at him. It looked slightly nervous.

“Gojo, I know you’re listening.”

The hound’s goggling took a turn for the worse, the eyes now comically bulging from the tapestry.

“Is it really this hard for you to behave like an adult?”

The hound’s mouth opened wide and new embroidery emerged from its gaping jaws, spelling out the word “YES”.

“For the love of – “

Higuruma raised a finger, shadowy flame erupting across the tip, and the tapestry suddenly folded inwards, then disgorged three occupants, two of whom stumbled right into Higuruma’s desk, the papers on top shifting across the surface of the map he had been studying. Clicking his tongue, the sorcerer folded his arms.

Bright-eyed, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, Itadori Yuuji reached up and ruffled his pink hair.

“Good morning, Higuruma – “

“It was his idea.”

Straight to the point as always, Kugisaki Nobara showed not an ounce of shame, her finger pointing firmly in the direction of the tapestry’s third occupant, who had stepped out with stylish flair.

Gojo Satoru, Special Grade Sorcerer, gave a bow that included a flowery, if very irritating, flourish. He straightened and eyed Higuruma cheerfully over his shaded glasses, pale hair gleaming like mage-fire in the dim light of the study. As much as Gojo played into the role of fanciful and flamboyant genius, that undercurrent of monstrous power was always present, one that those close to him had learned to bear with. His apprentices, for some reason, always seemed immune to it.

“You know, I couldn’t help but overhear – “

He received a disbelieving snort in return.  

“Try another tack. I never know why you can’t just sit in on interviews instead of – “

Gojo wagged a finger.

“Oh, come on. I mean, look at me. How do you think a simple farmer would take to seeing someone like me staring at him while he tried to give testimony?”

As always, Gojo was attired as if he’d stepped right out of the pages of a racy bodice-ripper. His ruffled collar, unbuttoned fashionably low, high-waisted trousers and the long overcoat he wore over it all enhanced the roguishly handsome look only he was capable of pulling off without seeming horrendously pretentious.

Higuruma stared back, unimpressed, before pushing away the papers that had drifted over the map. Yuuji and Nobara crowded around his desk, eyes eager. He turned his attention to them.

“Assuming you two have heard Jirou’s case, what do you think the approach should be?”

Yuuji hummed thoughtfully.

“I think … maybe scout the area? Check out those woods. Look for traces of unknown sorcery.”

Nobara elbowed him aside, not to be outdone.

“And talk to the villagers. Look, I grew up in a village like this, and let me tell you, everyone’s just dying to let you know their neighbour’s business.”

Higuruma nodded.

“Good, but we’re missing something vital.”

Gojo’s hand shot into the air.

“Oooh, pick me, Magister!”

 “Come, you two. Think.”

Ignoring Gojo’s pleading look, Higuruma waited patiently. Yuuji’s face had taken on a serious cast, his eyes fixed on the map.

“Uhhh … what about the animals? There must be something about the way they’ve been killed … “

“Precisely. The fact that their entrails were removed tells us something.”

Nobara’s eyes narrowed.

“Some village soothsayers read entrails. To tell people’s fortunes and that kind of thing.”

“Except, in this case, no trace of the entrails was found. You’re certainly right about soothsayers, but they need fresh kills, and for the entrails to be present in the corpse of the animal.”

“So … “

“So you’re going to help with the investigation. With my permission, of course.”

Higuruma finally met Gojo’s gaze and shook his head in silent communication. Gojo gave a small smile in return.

“No need to tell me. You need me for that … other issue. So, who’s it going to be?”

“I’ve already sent a note out with Ijichi. He should be here - ”

A knock sounded on the study door, three sharp taps in quick succession. Yuuji glanced up at the clock and grinned.

“It’s ten o’ clock on the dot. That’s gotta be - ”

If Jirou of Setsana hadn’t hurried home, he might have also witnessed the arrival of the man who would lead the investigation at his village. Brisk, measured pace carrying him across the gravel of the courtyard, Nanami Kento arrived shortly before the stroke of ten.

Formerly a member of the merchant guild, Nanami was always properly attired in formal sorcerer’s robes, a plain, pristine, royal blue waistcoat, trousers and sensible leather walking boots beneath. A yellow patterned cravat formed a slight contrast to the sobriety of his appearance.

To ordinary folk, Nanami looked particularly unremarkable. Like Gojo and Higuruma, however, there was something about him that the trained eye wouldn’t miss; a martial air to his bearing, a certain predatory awareness in his cool glance, a grace in his long stride that spoke of great strength and agility.

Passing through the foyer, he greeted Ijichi, whose communication he had received a short while ago. At the door to Higuruma’s study, he paused, hearing the voices from within. Gojo’s dulcet tones were unmistakeable. Sighing, he checked his pocket watch.

One minute to the hour.

One more minute without Gojo.

He waited, enjoying the brief silence.

At the chime of the clock within the study, he knocked and entered.

“Nanamin!”

“Right on time.”

Nobara tugged at the blonde sorcerer’s sleeve impatiently.

“Come over here. They found some animals with their guts scooped out.”

 “Excuse me?”

Yuuji joined Nobara, lifting Nanami’s carry case out of his hand and ushering him towards the table.

“The new case that just came in!”

“We’re going together to investigate.”

“There’s a small village – “

“And they have these flashing lights in the forest – “

“And this old guy has a bad feeling – “

“And Higuruma doesn’t think it’s his arthritis or indigestion – “

“And he thinks bears come down from the mountain? You ever heard of anything like that?”

Raising his hands in long-suffering protest, Nanami finally gained some silence from the two apprentices. Gojo was lounging against Higuruma’s desk with a smile he wasn’t sure he liked.

“I’m out of this one, Nanami. Higuruma needs me elsewhere.”

Nodding Nanami turned his attention to the Magister who had been watching the scene humourlessly over steepled fingers.

“I assume you’ll brief me?”

“Of course. Give me two hours and I’ll have clearance from the USCRC.”

The Utilitarian Sorcery Centre for Regulation and Control was Higuruma’s old stomping ground, the legal wranglings that took place in its ancient auditoriums setting precedents for the dozens of new permutations of sorcery that came up every year. His exit from the same institution in disgrace, and his subsequent fall from grace in the public eye, was common knowledge at the guild.

There were many, however, who understood Higuruma’s decisions better than others, those from within the system who spoke on his behalf and facilitated his establishment in a fully private sense within the Jujutsu Guild Academy. He still maintained those contacts, allowing him full access to the legal records and accelerated permissions to conduct private investigations on behalf of the guild.

Nanami had never enquired as to the nature of Higuruma’s contacts. Nobody did.

Poring over the map on the table as the Magister pointed out the features of relevance, a crease began to form between Nanami’s brows.

“Animals without entrails … Hmm. That’s definitely cause for concern.”

Yuuji peered into his face curiously.

“What do you think it means, Nanamin?”

Shaking his head, Nanami adjusted the shaded glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“It’s too early for me to say. Speculation can be as dangerous as sprinting across a rickety bridge in cases like these. I can say that this probably involves the Matura aspect of sorcery, possibly some form of natural magic, or perhaps, something conceived to look that way.”

Gojo’s crystalline blue glance was also tracing with that characteristic gleam of sharp clarity over the map.

“I think, considering some of the other cases coming our way, that this would be a great opportunity to let the apprentices get their teeth in.”

He clapped his hands cheerfully while Yuuji and Nobara began to look worryingly excited. Gojo tended to have that effect on them.

“What do you say, kids? Tramping through the countryside, scraping cow dung crusts off your heels, breathing in the scent of fermented straw floors and making friends with fleas and other friendly vermin of all kinds.”

He let out a happy sigh.

“I’d love to go myself, but I’ll make this sacrifice for you, and only you, dearest Nanami.”

“How terribly kind of you,” came the dry rejoinder.

Turning to the apprentices, Nanami cocked an eyebrow.

“He does have a point, though. Go to Ieiri and assemble some evidence kits. Tell her to be on standby for receiving samples from us for analysis over the next few days. And then get yourselves prepared. You know the drill.”

“Yes, sir!”

Receiving two sharp salutes, the two over-enthusiastic youngsters scampered out of the study, their voices carrying back along the hallway.

When they were out of earshot, Gojo exchanged glances with Higuruma before reaching into his pocket and handing over a small vial to Nanami. Seeing the contents, the sorcerer met Gojo’s stare with a steady, measured glance.

“And what’s this in aid of?”

“Oh, just a little something. In case things get dangerous.”

“You think it’ll come to that?”

Higuruma stood, gathering his coat and heading for the door. “Take it, Nanami. I have a feeling that we’re going to need all the help we can get if the intelligence we’ve received so far is accurate.”

[hyperpotamianarch]

Hello. Today, I'd like to make some random anecdotes about Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra - poet, commentator, linguist, mathmatician, probably not too bad at chess and cursed to be poor for the entirety of his life.

After a cursory look at his wikipedia page, I must admit I didn't really know much about his life: only that he was born and raised in Spain, went travelling, had terrible luck with everything, wrote his commentaries on the Torah for money (which I think didn't help with the "cursed to be poor" thing), befriended Rabbenu Tam in France, possibly married the daughter of Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi and promptly died... somewhere... oh, and also wrote lots of poetry in the middle.

Historically speaking, he lived at the end of the Golden Age of Judaism in Spain, around the 11th-12th centuries CE. This puts him right after Rashi - which allows him to snark at everything he thinks Rashi was wrong about, but before Rambam - which means he doesn't get to snark at everything Rambam got wrong. His commentary on the Torah leans a little towards the linguistic side, though he has a couple of other things going on as well, like roasting people he disagrees with (Ben Zuta is the only friend a bull has, anyone?) and dancing around verses he thinks were added later to the Torah, like every time it says "to this very day".

He also wrote one of the first math books in Hebrew - Sefer HaMispar, he wrote a poem about chess, one about how whatever he'll work at he won't get enough money. And generally, he wrote poems. Quite a lot.

I suppose at this point I should mention something: Hebrew linguists were, at the middle ages, predominantly Sepharadi. I mean, sure, there could be a non-Jewish Hebrew linguist, but for some reason I don't hear much about those. And there probably were Ashkenazi linguists, but there weren't many of them. Rashi does deal with linguistics - but half the time he does, it's using the books of two famous Sepharadi linguists. The Sepharadim, living in Muslim lands as they were, simply had a better background with learning Hebrew, since they were surrounded by speakers of a closely related language - Arabic. And Ibn Ezra's deep understanding of Hebrew led to him loving linguistic riddles, which I can never figure out - and I was reading an eddition with footnotes! Though maybe I didn't make enough effort or something.

But no, the reason I wanted to talk about Ibn Ezra was the impossible standards for poetry, as set by Sepharadi poets. You see, Jews were always influenced by their surroundings, in multiple facets. and poetry is definitely one of them. So, the influence from Arab poets includes strict rules for rhythm and - and this is what I actually wanted to talk about - rhyming.

The rythm thing is bad enough. Only once in my life have I tried keeping up with that. It was very, very hard. It's probably because I'm not used to this, but no song I write can keep a consistent rhythm and meter, and that's without trying to apply the standard Sepharadic rules. So trying to have such a strict meter... didn't work well for me. I guess I'm the frenchman from

וּמִי הֵבִיא לְצָרְפַתִּי בְּבֵית שִׁיר,

וְעָבַר זָר מְקוֹם קֹדֶשׁ וְרָמָס;

וְלוּ שִׁיר יַעֲקֹב יִמְתַּק כְּמוֹ מָן,

אֲנִי שֶׁמֶשׁ, וְחַם שִׁמְשִׁי וְנָמָס.

which was actually written about Rabenu Tam, but I'm a distant relative of his so this might still be applicable. Besides, as far as you know my name is Ya'akov, just like Rabenu Tam! (Sorry for not providing a translation, the gist is "how dare a frenchman trample all over poetry?!")

But rhymes. Oh, the Ibn Ezraic rhyming standards.

According to Ibn Ezra, one must always rhyme with the entire syllable. So no, just the last sound isn't enough. In Ibn Ezra's book, rhyme and dime don't actually rhyme - though I don't think he'd care about English at all. For the Ibn Ezra, shor and ḥamor can't be rhymed with each other; shor can rhyme with Mishor, and ḥamor can rhyme with har hamor, but you can't rhyme any other pair of those with each other. And I can't stay up to this challenge. It's nearly always impossible for me to find proper words to rhyme even without the extra demand for the rhyme to be the entire syllable. With English I don't think I even bothered or ever will. You have too many weird syllables for me. But with Hebrew... I do try with Hebrew, really. But I can't keep this up. And the most frustrating thing? It doesn't appear other Ashkenazi writers had this problem.

Now we get to the interesting part. I have been trying lately a new possible format for my very-anticipated-and-definitely-not-only-I-want-it Jewsade fanfic: introduction, preface and Haskamot to books. I just really enjoy reading prefaces for books, and one of my recent favourite pieces of writing is the conclusion piece of the Vilna edition of the Babylonian Talmud. If you're interested - it can be found in most editions of the Talmud at the very end of Masechet Nidah. The piece describes the trouble they went through to publish this edition of the Talmud and it's very interesting. Another favourite piece of mine is the preface of the Levush, a slightly obscure Halachic book from the time of the Shulchan Aruch. If you've ever seen me talk about the race to Halacha - this is my source for that, because the poor author was upstaged about three to four times by other people doing exactly what he planned on doing. I highly recommend this piece as well, though I don't know how easy it is to find. And the Levush - Rabbi Mordechai Yeffe - is a nice Ashkenazi guy. So he must be more lenient with his rhymes, right?

Well, I guess I didn't establish that part. Yes, the preface to the Levush starts with a poem. It's fun. It's great. It's also up to the Ibn Ezraic standard, while my attempt to write an equivalent is... not.

Huh. This post is oddly rambly. Ah well, maybe someone will like it. Anyway, the preface portion that really takes the cake is actually one from a fairly recent obscure book - like, this one was written barely a century ago. I only found it because one of my favourite singers, Aharon Razel, made a song out of it, but the song doesn't really capture the hilarity of the piece. Do ask me if you want to hear more, this one's great.

Signing off with a "darn you, Ibn Ezra! Why must you set such high standards!"

[redd956]

Chronic (Chpt. 3)

Content: Whump, Angst, Hero x Villain, Sickfic, Magic Whump, Villain Whumpee, Sci-Fi Fantasy, Medical Whump, Multiple Whumpers, Leader Caretaker, Future Female Whumper

CWs: Needles, Blood, Progressive Illness, Electrocution (Kinda), Light Humiliation

Previous Chapters: [1] [2]

Word Count: 3680

Out Classed

Before even fully opening his eyes, his hands slipped over to the IV in his arm. Al gave a startled shudder, sitting straight up. The muscles in his back and shoulders strained at the sudden movement.

He tried to see through the stinging light. As much as he wanted to the rip the needle from his arm, he couldn’t bear to even look at it, his face scrunching up into a mixture of disgust and the verge of frustrated tears.

This place? It wasn’t where he remembered last passing out. The atmosphere was the exact opposite of his country home.

The floor consisted of sleek tile, metal shelves met cheap plastic tables and folding chairs. Someone’s growing hoard of soda cans was overflowing out of a small trash bin. From medical equipment to cases of ammunition, it became very clear he was somewhere owned by Entomology Corporation.

“I’m surprised you’re up.” The voice held a tired richness, but spoke with confident satisfaction.

Al’s balled his fist up at the sight of Dexter. He barely remembered the details of last night. Hazy imagery of fever dreams and laying sick on his couch wafted over the brain. This is what he gets for letting his guard down.

He regretted not putting up a fight, he even should’ve ran a nonsense chase into the woods, forcing Dexter to work for this win. That’s what this was all about in the end, bringing The Linewriter to Entomology, being the city’s perfect hero.

“Relax.” Dexter leaned against the wall popping the tab of some sugary canned drink.

From the medical bed, Al demanded, “Where am I?”

“In my little safe space. You really should be grateful.” He managed to point a finger while holding the can, smirking at the offended expression returning to Al’s face. Finally back into the stern familiar look he more recognized.

“So this was all part of your plan? Get bitten. draw the antivenom out of me, and then what? Drag my half-conscious body to your boss.”

“We’re not at the Entomology building.”, He barely glanced up from the drink, focusing his eyes on Al’s untensing shoulders for a split-second. Going on to explain, he paced around in small circle.

“It’s just some abandoned retreat. No one comes here. No one even knows this place exists anymore. If they did, Entomology would empty out every facet of this place, have it gutted.”

Thumping head pain slowly made it’s way into Al’s senses, the rest of the painkiller of morning wake wearing off. He swallowed his anger to the best of his ability. The longer he took in the room, the more question he had. Where is my shirt? What district are we in? Where are my glasses? Little increments of Dexter’s hushed voice trying to soothe him creeped their way. Al gritted his teeth instinctively. What happened last night?

“What now?” Al grumbled.

“You’re going to sit here, and rest, while I go back to work.”

Dexter could hear Al huffing defiantly. He tried to ignore him, preparing to hear a string of excuses and Al met expectations, “No I’m not. I’m going home, look- Take this out of me and we’ll call it even.”

“You’re going to care for all those animals in this state?” He gave Al a wide-eyed mothering look, and added, “Or are you going to be Linewriter today? I can’t help you if you’re doing villain-work. Whatever asskicking comes to you is warranted at that point.”

At the silence he knew he got him. Al stared into the floor. He had a job to get to, whether or not he or Entomology liked it. He was running out of time to meet her assignment. There were only so many days left and opportunities available to finish the job. He had no choice if he wanted a chance of peaceful life again.

This was true for most rogue infected. Everyone had their reasons to take on this life, rarely ever was it a self-absorbed act of sadism.

Dexter’s phone blew up into an ear-piercing barrage of alarms. Al watched him curse underneath his breath, reading the Entomology alert on his phone, deciphering whether or not any of his own team mates were available to handle this instead of him.

With a pout of defeat he accepted the detail, allowing the text-to-speech voice of his work phone to tell him it straight.

Recognized aggressive infected, of rogue company, spotted on twelve-hundred block East, eight-hundred South. Target is emotionally reactive and potentially deadly, with history of prior threats of injury or harm. Target has broken into multiple store fronts, and is capable of feats of inhuman strength.

He breathed a exasperated sigh like an annoyed teenager, throwing his head back and lamenting, “Viktor…”

“I know that guy.” Al added matter-of-factly, squirming uncomfortably in place as he realized Dexter really wasn’t going to take the IV out. “He’s really a sweet heart if you get to know him.”

In return, he gave Al a glare, questioning, “Do all rogues know each other? I thought you guys didn’t work for anyone.”

He wasn’t completely wrong. Rogue infected didn’t work for anyone typically, in order to live their life freely. They had no factions that they called allegiance to. No governments have been able to track them down, and force them to register under specialized watches or take suppressants of their power. Most of them avoided allowing organizations like Entomology Corporation to continue to hoard the medical care for infected to themselves.

They didn’t care whether or not their livelihoods were being made more unstable out of this. As long as they didn’t technically sell their souls to some self righteous company, they could indulge in the concept of freedom.

 Times get tough for everyone though, especially as this disease progresses and new challenges are created out of it. Some face a fork in the road, finally give up their freedom and register in the corporation, or sell their livelihoods to somebody else. Al guesses that as an infected there is no true freedom at the end of the day.

“Let’s just say a few of us rogues stick together from time to time.”, Al prodded at the insertion site. It twinged with discomfort, the needle inside barely moving but providing a world irritation.

“I have to go after this guy.” Dexter shimmied as he got overdressed into his gear. It was still damaged from yesterday, having not yet returned home and begged one of his colleagues for replacements. “I can drive you home after, we have a small window of opportunity.”

“Why? Is hero life really so busy? I thought you were going to turn me in.” 

Al started to glow with relief, that or the essence was starting to return to him. He slid his legs off the medical bed, and attempted to stand. The small room wobbled in his peripheral. His knees barely withstood. He gave a smug smirk as his legs shakily stabilized.

“I have a team to take care of, and antivenom to receive, might I remind you.” Dexter made his way towards the door, stopping to reprimand, “And stay put. It won’t kill you to sit for a day.”

There wasn’t a chance left to say anything more, not even a stubborn quip, before Dexter dashed out the door. Al didn’t waste a moment either. He located his shirt off the floor, placed his glasses over his nose, and made sure the thin chain connected to them settled correctly behind his neck.

Each step he took resounded throughout his body, reminding every limb just how exhausted they were. Standing for a moment wasn’t bad though. He practiced his limits by wandering around the retreat, dragging the IV stand along with him.

------

For Dexter, chaos and his job were synonymous. The outer streets were still being fled, the rest of the present people begun to congregate with their phones out on the sidewalk corner.

They craned their necks and spoke excitedly, completely unaware that their proximity was equally dangerous with who they were dealing with. A few smiled and relaxed at the sight of him. An older woman broke from one of these groups. She ran up to him, and half-begged and half-complained.

“Oh thank goodness. Several stores have been broken into. That monster- He took everything out of the register, and then- and I- he took the puppies.”

In the distance there was the obnoxious crash of a car rolling down the asphalt in the same manner of a tossed cardboard box. Glass shattered, and people screamed. A foreign voice shouted angrily. He could barely be heard over the scraping sound of metal being bent and maneuvered like plastic, but Viktor was definitely in a sour mood today.

“Puppies?” Dexter eyed her uniform, consisting of a solid maroon apron, casualwear underneath, and a small nametag with a pawprint on it.

She continued to rattle off, “I mean these infected nowadays. Must they always destroy and steal? I mean, not you of course dear. You workers are different, very different. What would we normal people do without you guys.”

Trying to ignore that first part of what she said, he promised to save her storefront and remove the rogue the premises. Shards of glass littered the sidewalk. Newly windowless shops had furniture thrown from them. A couple cars sat battered and dented, being given a new taste of “parking” after being in the rampager’s way.

 As per usual when it came to dealing with this guy a truck transporting many canisters worth of Vita Omnia was being rummaged through. It’s armored drivers were stuck hiding behind the counter of some bar. Emptied crates were being shoved out the back. 

“Viktor!” Dexter shouted in a parental manner, “We’ve talked about this before.”

From inside the transport truck there was a startled grumbling sound. Viktor jaunted over, a large intimidating figure, covered from head to toe in scavenged gear. His muscular composition was insinuated by the thick padded bulletproof vest he wore. Arm and leg guards, some for a set a camouflaged armor, and others once belonging to the people’s worker’s usual black riot suits, protected his extremities.

There was no face to put to him. His whole head was hidden inside of a Maska helmet, dragged all the way from his homeland. If squinted though, you could catch a glimpse of his furrowed eyebrows and large eyes.

In one arm was a wriggling bundle of puppies, mostly unbothered. The other hand clutched tightly to a backpack, specially made to hold Vita canisters. Normal people would be unable to bear that weight on their back alone, but Viktor had no issue, for his infection gave him inhuman strength and he wasn’t at all afraid of using it.

“Put the puppies down. Let’s talk about this.” Dexter tried on a patient smile.

“I don’t feel talking.” Viktor gently set down the backpack first. He leapt out of the back of the vehicle, playfully prodding at one of the puppies, before releasing them. His pockets jangled with stolen Lyre.

“Stealing? Again? Entomology will hire and house you for less hassle than this-”

He ducked just in time for one of the steel doors to the truck’s container go over his head. Watching it spark and slide against the road behind him, he whipped his head back around, “Rude. Viktor that was rude.”

------

Al wondered what allure Dexter saw in some forgotten place like this. The rooms were too empty or sterile, the clock in the main room ticked too loudly, and the mini fridge was supplied with a month old gas station sandwich and a whole case of caffeinated soda.

He gave it credit for being quiet. You couldn’t hear the city through the thick walls. Unfortunately for him, the noise of the city was a preferred to the tick-tick-tick.

He found himself stopping time and time again to catch his breath. Getting back up from the medical bed was now worth too much precious energy.

It felt like his ribcage was sighing along with him, easing and aching in a good way, like a morning stretch. Compared to the rest of the pain; tingling palms, burning joints, and exhausted muscles, it was a welcoming change in sensation. 

With nothing better to do Al succumbed to the bed. Too tired to roll over into a more comfortable position, he let his face stay smushed into the stale pillow. He avoided sleeping for as long as he could. Paranoid for nightmares, his heavy eyelids shivered trying to stay open. Eventually the spoons left for motivation drained from him too. His eyes closed.

BZZZZZZT-

He recoiled from sleep, lurching forward, the magic within his veins flashing with brightness. As if glitching, he uncontrollably stalled in place, quaking.

The vibrant yellow light begun of his power begun to form lines up his collarbone. Searing pain followed them, growing into a hot burning as the light itself glowed brighter. He stuck his hand out in an attempt to move, but it was too much, and clasped it to neck, instinctively clawing at the lines. 

The infection inside seemed to pulsate, entering into an uncontrollable fit. Electrical sparks flittered from his hands. Little snaps of current came to life around his silhouette in short bursts.

As he tried to fight his own power, the electricity grew in intensity, venturing out of the protective ability of his affected anatomy, reaching points where they can sting and burn even him. 

Yellowish spittle drooled through his gritted teeth. In choppy struggled movement, he pulled up his shirt, where the words of the curse lay as illuminated as his veins. Today it read, Borrowed Time.

------

Dexter picked himself off the ground, brushing bits of embedded rock out of his scuffed palms. Viktor’s combat boots walked into his view. Through his broken English, the large man taunted, “You talk less in future, you do better.”

Looking up he saw thumbs up directed at him. Dexter managed to his knees, watching the rogue run off cheerily. Taking a moment bite his lip, he suddenly jutted his left arm back into place, an audible pop sounding.

One of the transport drivers scurried out of the bar. She looked at Dexter as if she were coming across a wounded bird in her front lawn.

“Are you okay?” She hovered her hands over her mouth.

“Yep.” Dexter winced, raising to his feet, and shooting out a spat of blood. He smirked, “At least I got him to leave the dogs behind this time.”

The crowd watched him limp away the first few steps, pressing out the knocking pain as he managed into an unbothered stride.

Humiliation hounded at his heels. He felt it in the form of a rosy buzz forming across his face. Trying to keep a stone face, he approached the filming mob, explaining with a faux smile how Viktor isn’t an easy warm up for the day. His inner speech whispered obnoxiously, and he knew he’d be mulling over this memory in the middle of the night for years to come.

 He initially wanted to trudge his way over to the team meeting, but by the tattered state of his gear he knew a relentless berating would be waiting for him, if not by them definitely by the boss.

There was probably a spare back at the safe house. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. In all reality the guilt in his gut burbled, pointing directions, leading the way.

Mulling in the silence of the car ride, he waited for his phone to sound off again, but nothing came. It was almost as if Viktor or Al would’ve originally been the only troublemakers this week. Now one was satisfied until the next weekend come, and the other was probably preparing a whining sob story to get out of captivity this time. The latter would always work on him too.

When it came to Al, he was trying to push you off the rooftop of a high-rise one moment, and proclaiming to be a feeble misguided citizen the next.

Dexter wondered why he just seemed so off all of the sudden. There less quips in their encounters. His face often remained so much serious, his eyebrows furrowed in focus and the task at hand taking priority over the sadistic joy he got out of this line of work. Dexter understood that this wasn’t Al’s first time in the lime light, but upon returning he seemed just uncannily alike the rumored descriptions of him a decade ago. He was just the Linewriter, right? 

There where many times he wanted a chance to ask Al why he does this. Why this lifestyle? The question echoed amongst his inner speech ever since he discovered the kind of farmstead style place Al actually lived it.

He always imagined some broke down apartment, or rented establishment tucked in the backstreets. Dexter realized he had some prejudices he needed to check. Any infected could pick Al’s lifestyle if they wanted to, but they’d have to enjoy the interruptions of their privacy, the dangerous fights against the combat trained workers of the people, and risk imprisonment or worse at every turn.

And yet?

Dexter pushed through the door after the brief beep of his keycard reaching the sensor. He started, “Man, Viktor was in an awfulmood-”

“Dexter?” His light voice managed to sound even more pitiful, as hoarse as a whisper. Al sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, using backlogged energy to press each breath through his nose. His thin lips quivered as he spoke, “You have to let me leave.”

“What happened to you? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Please, I need to go.”, He recoiled from Dexter’s approach, just barely dodging a reaching hand. 

There was a light splash of thin water as Dexter found his shoes meeting a growing pool of saline. The IV bag dripped through the multiple holes now seared through it’s plastic.

Small blackened marks were smudged with sporadic electric aim into the walls, the tile flooring, and bedding as if someone flicked a lighter at it, on and off. In Al’s shivering state, he tightly held his arms against each other. 

Despite his efforts to hide it, Dexter could spy the angered lines of his veins, still dimly illuminated with magic. The unmanageable static made Al’s messied hair even further from the usual tidied style.

Al’s infection was getting worse, fast. His eyes told the exact same story. Their vibrant glow was now LED-like in lumens, the pupils hidden amongst the yellow, small contracted dots.

“Al?” Concern shook Dexter’s voice. He stuttered, “You're- You’re getting worse.”

As if those words pained him Al winced, clenching his eyes shut and curling further in on himself. He slipped his arm down to cover the cursed scars placement across his midriff. It was already too late.

“Al you need treatment. Let me take to you Entomology. We can sort this out, whatever this is.”

“No!” His eyes became uncharacteristically wide with panic. Before Dexter could attempt to stop him he ripped out the IV without hesitation, ignoring the string of blood that followed. Al jabbered, “I need to leave. It will only get worse unless I go.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Dexter blocked the door, unable to keep his eyes from the blood mixing with the saline on the floor. “We can help you. I’ll vouch for you and everything.”

To his horror Aldrich stood up from the medical bed. He wobbled to a straightened posture. The blood from the crevice of his arm formed strings, replications of lightning’s shape, dripping down towards his clenching fist.

He insisted, “It won’t work. Nothing will work.”

“Aldrich please-” Dexter’s eyes shifted sporadically as he searched for the words, disregarding all sense of sensitivity. Focused on the probability of convincing to him to stop, he would blurt out anything in attempt to persuade him. He demeaned, “You have no strength to stop me right now.”

“What are you trying to say?” He saw the way Aldrich’s stern face managed to grow stiffer appearing, his teeth gritting, the jaw grinding his molars together. 

A nervousness chilled over Dexter, this was starting to become the Aldrich remembered, but colder, shadier, desperate. His instincts guided him backwards until he bumped against the door. Again and again he tried to reassure himself. Stand your ground. This had to work. This has to.

Exhaustion had other ideas. Everything else mandatory in the day crossed over his mind. His team, his boss, his bedroom back at the main facility, and the coolness that started to wear from his veins as the next antivenom session drew nearer with each useless moment spent.

“You don’t understand.” Aldrich growled, “If I don’t get to her tonight. She’ll- Judge will kill me.”

He seemed shocked at the words that came out of his mouth, banking on Dexter not hearing him properly. His hope was fruitless.

“Who the hell is Judge?” By now Dexter was so worked up his arms flailing about as he talked, speaking in exasperated hand gestures, all despite the strain on his shoulder. His narrowed eyes searched Al.

“Forget I said anything.” There was more lying on his tongue to explain, but he cut himself off, his brows upturning at the confused look building on Dexter’s face. Before Dexter could try to coin any more information out him, he shut it down.

“She’s a dangerous woman. Don’t even bother. If you go around snooping you’ll get yourself killed. She doesn’t play games any of these stupid games.”

He seemed satisfied at the dejected stare in Dexter’s eyes, their brown color looking like two big dots of black carrying the white reflection of light as if it were nothing.

There’s something so sacred about workers of the people. Aldrich can’t bring himself to hate any of them. Dexter’s gaze fell the floor. Thoughts overcrowded any judgement he had left, stewing on the pure seriousness in Al’s mood.  

With that The Linewriter sensed weakness, securing escape with one word, “Please.”

There as nothing more to say. Dexter withdrew from the doorway. His voice lowered into a lecturing tone as he guaranteed, “We’ll discuss this later. Where do I drop you off?”

[starheirxero]

Theories and/or scenarios for killcode? Im hungry for it 👀

HAJAHAJSHISHWJD IM!!!! SO GLAD YOU ASKED bc honestly I had a period of time where I put a lottt of thought into KC for the purpose of blending him into my fix-it au!!! I'm gunna treat these asks as one bc tbh I'm just bad at distinguishing the two BSJABDJD

Ahem ahem. adjusts tie. I'm gunna start off with lil one-off headcanons and then I'm gunna delve into deeper thoughts and analysis.

I think the reason KC talks with such a deep, slow drawl is due to the fact that he was never meant to be a person + he specifically formed through being pushed down over and over. Due to the fact he was never meant to speak or think or exist, his vocal processing is slower and harder to force out compared to others who were actually programmed with it.

I've never drawn KC like this bc I've never properly put it to paper, but I think KC's early lava theming was everything. I love to imagine early KC with a red-orange-yellow-black color scheme, but as he changes, he quite literally "cools down", his color palette turning into an obsidian purple-grey-black scheme instead.

Tbhhh I used to be an it/its KC truther but I realized he's probably not the type to own the "I'm an object, a force of nature" vibe. I moved my it/its tsams truthing to Solar Flare <3

Okay I'm gunna go theory/analysis mode so I'm gunna put the rest under a cut bc I know it's gunna get long LOL

Ahem. Ahem. I have broken down how the kill code manifests in all the characters who have it and what that means for them.

I'm, of course, going to focus on KC! However, it's important going forward to note the 3 major ways I've noted the kill code manifests: through the need for death, the need for injury, and the need for disorder. There is more nuance, but that's how I've mostly boiled it down! Then, beyond that, these urges can either be tamed, quelled, or ignored.

KC is an example of the need for disorder, but not death or injury! He's said before that he doesn't desire the bloodshed, merely "the thrill." (Sources here and here) This also applies to why he treats people like pawns rather than people! He manipulates them to get the thrill of control, of being intimidating enough to make people listen rather than fight back.

However, notably, KC is also an example of someone with ignorable code urges. So ignorable, in fact, that he just... stops. He literally just decides to stop being evil! Not even Moon could do that, who is the only other person with ignorable urges. Moon could ignore them, yes, but it took monumental amounts of effort and he was very prone to caving if something went slightly wrong.

(I'm... not including Eclipse in this because he is a thorn in my side the moment he comes into the picture with the kill code. He's dubious as fuck and if I touch on that, this post won't be about KC anymore 😭)

This detail has always deeply fascinated me because... why? Why is it that those derived from him can be so powerless to the code, while he himself was able to walk away so easily? Now admittedly I never actually came up with a fully-baked reason when I first came up with all this, however! These are my impromptu theories from least to most plausible:

Because so many people stemmed from him, it sort of "chipped away" at certain parts of the code that left him as a technically incomplete version of the code. [Iffy bc isn't part of the kill code that it would "regrow" when taken apart?]

Because he is the kill code, rather than someone living with it. It could potentially be that being the direct source has a different effect than having it woven into you. [Maybe, but then it'd beg the question of why "direct source" vs "added-in" makes such a difference. Could potentially explain why Eclipse is also not as violent bc he's also directly the code split off?]

Because his ass didn't change!!! That this was another facet of his manipulation craving!!! We never saw him after his redemption so do we really know if he wasn't doing kind things with the intend to get more praise, more power, more respect? His intent matters still, just because he was feeding the poor doesn't mean he wasn't smug that so many humans were dependent on him. [This is honestly what I lean for, I just didn't know how to put it into words until now LMAO]

When I used to subscribe to more dadcode headcanons, I used to wonder of he'd endure shitty humans whispering behind his back about how scary he looks, how it's suspicious, but they wouldn't actually know anything. He'd just feel scared because they're skirting too close to the truth.

Now though? I think he'd find that to be the perfect opportunity to lean into their fear, to do something right then and there that'll make them shriek and flinch back. Like. I genuinely don't know why he'd be able to just, flip on a dime! I think he worked a soup kitchen to have people to control and be respected. I think he made friends so he could have a disposal of people to do what he wants. I think he'd get a thrill out of all the humans around him being intimidated by his presence—his red eyes, his claws, his toothy smile.

That idea is also a very big basis of KC in my previously mentioned fix-it au!! Because when he reunites with Bloodmoon, it's not a sweet father-son moment. KC, subconsciously, still views Bloodmoon as the perfect and most loyal tool! So, he immediately falls back into promises of comfort and glory through telling them "stop eating. look at me, i've ignored my code this long and been fine, no? your hunger will go away eventually. the pain will go away. stop eating."

I just. augrhegrhegr. I honestly adore KC's potential he's so fascinating to me. what's wrong with him!!!!!!

[dcdreamblog]

What can you tell me about the Hero Of the Beach, more commonly known as Flex Mentallo? And by extension the others like him, like the Fact for example.

Now. I am gonna say some stuff. And everyone is just going to have to accept that stuff that I say. Because it true, and it attested, and its really, REALLY weird as just about anything having to do with the Doom Patrol is after their resurrection if you start scoping out the details. This one could turn your head into Klein Bottle if you let it so I'm just gonna deliver the down low and we're all gonna be cool about it ok? Ok.

(An old comic book advertisement, showing Flex Mentallo and his "Book of Muscle Mystery") Flex Mentallo originally wasn't real, he originally was barely a character. Created as an ad campaign in the back of comic books from the 1960s to hawk a cheap book of bodybuilding "secrets" along the lines of the iconic Charles Atlas ads from around the same time. The ads weren't well remembered because of their sketchy nature, they were a knockoff of a quickly discredited idea and the very unclear nature of the ad's origin means that a lot of its real world details are lost in the shuffle. UNTIL, those ads were seen by a young boy named Wally Sage (yes, the rockstar) who was inspired by them, Mentallo becoming an artistic muse for young Sage even long after the original ads were out of print. The 'problem' is that Wally Sage was unknowingly a VERY powerful metahuman with the ability to bring his unconscious muses to life. The rest of the beings that surrounded Mentallo, like The Fact as you mentioned, were also hazy remembrances of old comic book ads brought to life by Sage's abilities. No one can say for sure where or when Mentallo popped into existence as a three dimensional being as real as you or me only that it DID happen. Mentallo was then captured by a group called the Men from NOWHERE. The Men from NOWHERE are an organization who shows up in the margins of history but is impossible to pin down, they seemed to be some kind of post war attempt to return the world to "normalcy" via information control and even slight reality alteration. Their mandate was of course shattered when the resurgence of superheroes brought the extranormal into undeniable and daily reality, and their remnants have been thoroughly dismantled through clashes with superheroes like the Doom Patrol. Mentallo was freed from their control and ever since then has existed in an inexplicable spot. He seems to dip into and out of objective reality at random intervals, battling metaphysical and avant garde threats on the margins of logical reality, a task he has more than once roped the Doom Patrol into. Some theories posit that he exists, in full or in part, as a being of what some scholars have proposed calling "The Unhuman Multiverse" connecting him to artifacts like the H-Dial but ALL of that is VERY controversial and VERY cutting edge scholarship and I am in no way certain I understand it. The basic idea is that our "observable multiverse" might only be one infinite facet of an even more infinite system of worlds in which even the notions of physics, space time and observable reality break down past our direct observations. That the vast, vast majority of the multiverse might be made up of realities where some basic facet of our 3 Dimensional existence doesn't apply. In this case Mentallo may exist in a "world" in which fiction is "real" and reality is "false" though of course the obvious insanity of that statement makes it clear that what we're proposing is an idea that we can't actually express in our universe which is basically what the theory proposes. Mentallo and his fellows were brought into our observable reality and now are either transported between them by some outside factor, can transport themselves at will or exist in both spaces simultaneously SOMEHOW because we are reaching the parts of multiversal metaphysics were the difference between math and philosophy is SEMANTIC. For now, he's a really hot guy in a leopard speedo who sometimes pops in to borrow our weirdos for adventures I am SURE are important in a way that would make a lot of sense if you were high, falling asleep, or both.

[gatheredfates]

Hi everyone! It's been a hot minute since I did a Compendium update, but I promise I'm not dead. For those who don't know, I got a new job! That meant pretty much the entirety of October was spent wrapping up my old job, going to my new site and trying to learn the new one. I'm on break in approximately two weeks, yay! ☃️

These updates will take on a wintery/Starlight theme to celebrate the season, much like All Saints. I hope you enjoy.

Additionally, myself and the lovely folks at SEAFLOOR are having a Catch up (for) Starlight Challenge! You should join us if you're interested. ❄️

However, without further the following communities have been added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives.

LARGE SCALE

The Help Lines—We are a community-based discord to be used to play the critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV. We host almost all content including DRS and BA, Raiding, Deep Dungeons, Blue Mage and more. Our mission is to create a welcoming space for any individual in need of assistance to reach out and accomplish their FFXIV goals in a toxicity-free environment.

The Aether Entertainer—Founded in 2021 on Aether, The Aether Entertainer is player-made virtual magazine covering music, theatre, art, current events, and Eorzean popular culture.

LORE

Final Flowery XIV—Compiled by ann0yance(bsky)/@sa8oteur, this guide explores the various flowers in XIV, comparing them to their real-world equivalents and meanings.

On Elementals, Accountability and Criticism—An essay written by @morgana96 that explores the lore of elementals and their place in Gridania (and beyond)!

MISC

Vanilla Gpose Tips by Winterdeepelegy—A how-to guide on effectively utilising the vanilla gpose tools to create visually stunning screenshots, written by @winterdeepelegy.

WoL Reference Sheet—Created by @coldshrugs, a handy WoL reference sheet you can build in Canva!

NA GPOSE Studio/Themed Housing Directory—A player-made repository of North American Gpose studios and themed houses!

CHANGELOG

The Scholar's of Nym—The link has been modified at the request of the owner.

Skystone Co.—Has been removed at the request of its owner.

UI Macro Menus—The link has been modified to accurately reflect the bookmark.

Have you thought about joining our Tumblr Community? You can find it here!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here or send me an ask with the relevant information!

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. This is all publicly available on the document. 🦌

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads. (Though these get posted to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community when I find them!)

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include IC tabloid blogs or other ventures used to generate roleplay.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

I want to put my community on the Compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my Community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community/resource on the Compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it. The same goes for resources; if it's relevant to the game, it'll be useful to someone.

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, contact me asap!

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

[parkitaco]

why don't you like heartstopper?

hi anon my apologies u sent this a while ago but the movie announcement has me Thinking things so here we are ! (adding a read more here so heartstopper enjoyers can feel free to scroll without being bombarded by my Thoughts)

to be honest, i don’t dislike the show *that* much! i thought the first season was super cute, but around s2 i started getting bored with it. it’s nothing against the show itself or people who do like it, and i haven’t read the books so maybe there’s a facet of it that i’m missing out on because of it, but it’s very much a show that’s designed to outline as many different lgbtq and mental health topics as possible and explain why It’s All Okay 👍 😃 which is fine! i understand why for a younger queer person still figuring themself out, it might be really helpful to see those topics actually talked about on tv. however, since i’m not at that stage of life anymore, i start to get annoyed by all of the Perfectionism of it, because what i want out of media i engage in is a story that is Interesting, and heartstopper just isn’t that to me. everyone is too understanding about everything, and can express their feelings in perfect Therapy Words, and like, i don’t know. my favorite book is the goldfinch. i want stories about gay people who suck and are mean to each other and go through decades of homoerotic angst before they even begin to try to unpack it. i want the story to be about something Besides just the fact that the characters are gay and mentally ill.

“but it’s good queer representation!” yeah, it’s representation and it’s important. but i think queer people deserve to see themselves represented in stories that are complex and meaningful and actuallt feel Real, too, and i think that people who act like this show is the end all be all of gay rep need to take a second to think about how maybe it’s Not a good thing for the only media about gay people we have to be About Being Gay. i think heartstopper has a very clear message that many people need to hear, but for me personally? i don’t like when my media tries to teach me something. there’s a difference between having themes and messages that make you Think vs having a Moral Of The Story that is shoved down ur throat from day one.

also, it’s just fun to be a hater.

[strigimorphaes]

Hi! I’d love to get the director’s commentary on Like Swans 🥹

Okay I GOT your ask and I was SO HAPPY and then I wrote a lot of notes and then I FORGOT

then I REMEMBERED

This is sort of a pick'n'mix of lines I thought worth commenting on; the first part is more detailed cause that was what I wrote once you sent that ask and then I added a little so I could finally answer you.

Like Swans is something I'm proud of. I do think I won't ever hit my Vision of tadejonas as well as I did back when I wrote one of my very first fics - Here Goes - but I think it's pretty good. It's one of those fics that was a real struggle with like. 7 drafts or something before it started to taste right (it smells like rainwater and tastes like lightly burned caramel btw. Little hint of blueberry muffin and sea-salt seaweed as well.)

Okay so it starts in 2023. Those first segments explaining the last tours are basically me cramming in backstory/setup and doing my best to convince you of my version of tadejonas: there *has* to be animosity in it for me, and the lingering awareness that they are enemies. The information given in that entire section was originally presented as Jonas’ thoughts and spread through the first half of the fic - with the fic opening in medias res as Jonas lies awake in bed in the morning, thinking back on how he got there. But it simply became too clunky and slow-paced for it when I was trying to cover years so in the end I thought fuck it, let's just throw it in as a prelude at the beginning. 

“ The weakness that comes from hours spent in the sun in this dry land mixes with the memory of hands lingering on shoulders “  =  “April is the cruellest month, breeding / Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing / Memory and desire, stirring / Dull roots with spring rain” in The Waste Land, but July is the cruel month for Jonas instead of April. “ As the fire moves through his veins to burn in his chest, Jonas seeks out his enemy in the labyrinth of signs at the finish. “ = later this will be called back to by Jonas thinking that “it’s only labyrinths from here” – so “labyrinth” in this fic is a place you get lost + the experience of losing each other in the mixed zone after races with so many eyes on them + “the labyrinth of signs” with a sign in the semiotical sense, that is, Jonas trying to learn what everything Tadej does might signify for him and their future + Jonas worried that Tadej loves a certain aspect/facet of him (an image/him as a symbol) and not all that he is. If that makes sense. I like Umberto Eco.

Then comes the 2024 section where we get part one of the main problem: Jonas likes Tadej because they are rivals. Jonas’ body might not hold up to that rivalry forever. What then?

“That Tadej tends to wake up early is just one of the many little intimate details Jonas has learned. “ = Sleepyhead Jonas is a fact as attested in the book The Plan, he does like to sleep in. Early riser Tadej is my own invention that I love for the sake of contrast. Another facet of the way that behind his relaxed persona, he must be quite disciplined and focused to achieve what he does.

“ How did it go, that pop song on the radio in the taxi from the airport? Be careful who you give your heart to…” – this is not a reference to a real song, I just needed Jonas having sat in the taxi thinking that this was a bad idea, something to plant a seed of doubt in his mind. After writing that line, I worked my way back through lyrics websites to find that the song could have been https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AvHSL_ZSjOI. I just never intended it as any specific song. If I had written it now, I would’ve found a good line from a Danish band and made it something Jonas chose to listen to.

“Maybe it is because it's with Tadej that Jonas can be most himself, unburdened by the media-pleasing smile he has worn all July, lying next to the person he's been staring down and hurting, held tight anyway.” MY FAVE THING about tadejonas is the fantasy of having someone you vow to destroy and show all your selfishness and callousness in competition and they just love you for it because they like someone challenging them. And they can be each others’ absolute reprieve from thinking about how they are perceived by teammates and media. No masks on.

In an earlier draft, there was an added exchange of: ““What is happening with you?” Tadej finally asks, concerned. “Itzulia.”

But in the end, I didn’t want it to be a fic About Itzulia, just – the specter of it, Jonas being aware of his mortality and fragility in ways Tadej isn’t.

“You know I go to bed late when you are here,” Tadej says, kissing Jonas’ forehead, “but my body still wakes up early. So I’m tired.”" - as as relaxed and joking as Tadej can be, he’s biologically primed to perform.

“Lately, Jonas has been looking at houses online, thinking about whether he should move countries and how many rooms he'll need.” based off of Jonas moving around the time I wrote this, I think? How many rooms is about how many kids...

“Next year, it will happen again - the inevitable turning of the wheel with months of training to prepare for three weeks in France, then twenty-one days where every minute is spent in service of beating one man.” - I kind of love this sentence for the progression from year to month to week to day to minute. Tadej is everything. Also, “turning of the wheel” = bicycle pun.

With regards to Jonas’ thoughts about having a house and a family, it’s actually something I think about a lot – usually whe npeople write no girlfriends/wives au’s, me included, there's not too many changes from real life - but I feel a Jonas who doesn’t have his family yet would have to be a different person, still with that yearning towards the domestic. I don’t always let that be reflected in the things I write, but I do think it. And it’s a fundamental difference between the characters in this fic: Jonas thinking long-term and Tadej living more in the present, a result of their irl approaches to racing with Jonas’ team being branded as having The Plan and Tadej usually being described as going on instinct.

Tadej’s following swan story is the first bit I wrote for this fic – everything before and after came later.

“And then? Does the Tadej-swan want chicks?” / “Animals don’t understand what is impossible.” – “impossible” here being Tadej, as a man, having a biological child with Jonas, but also on another level their lives as pros not being conducive to family life.

Also, “Maybe I am a gay swan” = I don’t think fic!Tadej is the sort of person to care about a label for sexuality. He went “Eh, maybe I’m gay” and that’s as far as he got. He’s got a tour to win instead of obsessing about labels.

“I saw the swans on the Tour broadcast too” - I feel clever for putting that in there. Ha, you thought I was just taking inspiration from that broadcast joke, but it exists in-universe! And *did* Tadej make it up? I don’t think so. Maybe the broadcast joke makes it *more* likely that Tadej actually had that dream because he saw it? I left it ambiguous on purpose because there’s also an argument that making up a story to not ask directly could also be a Tadej thing.

The entire shopping trip was added in the 6th edit, I think. The first complete draft ended with them hugging in the kitchen. But I like giving Tadej a little more time to think, and sending them from bed to kitchen to the real world, letting them *feel* the real world with the rain, getting them moving so the whole fic wasn't just them lying in bed.

“It'd be easier to be a bird, Jonas thinks. Humans are the ones who want things - they take aim with their spears and bows and arrows, or they pick a finish line and race for it. Nature sets in motion things that just are without purpose. “ – this is just something I like to think about, influenced partly by Ursula K. Leguin’s essay on the Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction. We like to think of life as a story with conflict and victory and striving. Sport is like that, too. But there are other ways to think.

“Someday, their rivalry will end, and only the love will be left. And there’s so much of it.” – And Jonas fears being alone with all that love, wanting the family life Tadej perhaps can’t provide.

“ Names written side by side in history books - and Jonas wants it to be Vingegaard in front of Pogačar, always “ – competitive Jonas is important to me……

“He knows the swans cease to exist.” – I’ve said it before, but this line was not my invention. It was a friend coming up with the angle of the dream stopping = swans ceasing to exist, which can be read as a very negative ending or as a positive outlook of the rivalry ceasing so they can just be two people together. I like the openness. But I also felt that achieving that was difficult, since I feel people are primed to expect fluffy tadejonas when that’s the angle the majority of fics take, so I thought that if I wasn’t a bit heavy on the angst, people would read any ending as positive… I want it bittersweet.

I am very fascinated by stuff about… well, when you earn attention and comradeship and rivalry through the things your body can do, how do you face the day your body isn’t good enough anymore? my other fic “In Tignes” looks at it from the jout side of things, captain/teammate, while this looks at it from the rivalry side of things. And the answer in this fic is: Jonas has done enough. They are tangled together now to a point where, as Tadej says, if they don’t have the Tour, they’ll have something else. They matter to each other. And it’s up to you if that’s stupid blind optimism or good idealistic hope.

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Holy Shit, Worldbuilding?

I do my worldbuilding on the fly so it's definitely shakey. So awhile ago I did a whole like blueprint thing for Digits prosthetics. I've been wanting to do something similar with Donnie but that's a lot of machine. And I was reminded I never really did XD so have a very very simple write up/summary of some of the tech stuff in Robots & Gardens so far.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster2 @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @livums @vacantgodling (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

Reoccuring in-world tech

Teched shades/Teched glasses ->

Pretty fucking common. Some people possess modded versions. You don't buy them modded you pay someone to mod them or you figure out how to yourself. Kinda like the equivalent of jailbreaking and modding a nintendo device (side tangent fuck nintendo).

They started strictly as business/work wear before coming to the public. For example I mention a sort of equivalent Digits and other construction workers have. It's work issued and they're actually safety glasses. So less customizable quirks. But work grade at least for the construction workers (and probably a lot of other trade work but we're gonna stick with construction right now) allows them to see plans, estimated scheduling, and general blueprints or schematics if needed. All visuals can only be seen clearly by the wearer themselves. From the outside the lenses tint. So you might catch light either on their face or peeking through the lenses but that's the most. Also massive rip if you need prescription lenses to see. You're either wearing contacts, going blind, or hoping a pair of prescription glasses can fit beneath.

For everyone else they are styled more like a very standard pair of glasses. There's a couple generations of them. With the most recent generations you can actually get them with prescription lenses (but you'll have to pay a shit ton more and it can damage some other functions. Mostly cosmetic but you can view things (news, shows, shit on the internet, etc), you can talk to other people (like calls), it can play music. The speakers are kinda shit though lol.

Lenses ->

Lol so yeah this is literally just contacts. Arguably far more dangerous and a risk than glasses. These are prescription and they are teched. Really simple advancement and not very widespread. Supposed to help with seeing in darker locations as well. Valuable for Hollis since she's technically doing illegal work and does have terrible vision. They can cause extreme eye damage. Great for precision jobs. They can cause extreme eye irritation and can blind you. The tech in the lenses can cause your eyes to appear another color. (Part of the reason why Hollis' eyes appear blue/blueish sometimes. Her natural eye color is brown).

Vapes ->

Lol they function just like normal ones. No one smokes tobacco really. They want death aggressive, fast, and fruit flavored.

Prosthetics ->

Very important. And hella reoccurring. A lot of people have them. Some people do by choice. But most don't, very common to have workplace accidents. Or to just need a modification for a job which is partially how we get to Donnie. They can vary a lot and the upkeep is costly. It's a whole business at this point the healthcare part has been stripped away from this common facet of the world. As in it's not always gotten out of benefit for the patient themselves but often encouraged and required. Through health they've gotten prosthetics more mechanic. Easier to mimic original human counterparts (human mobility is a wild thing y'all).

Filters/Filtration ->

I haven't dived super deep into this. Just know it's important and necessary. So people in smog ridden places (Which is a lot of places in this story) can breathe in their homes. And minimize some air contaminants and respiratory problems. Heavy on minimize cause it doesn't completely stop those problems.

Donnie's shit in particular

My beloved cyborg got a lot of shit going on. Please know that cyborg's are a rare phenomenon, his mods and prosthetics are top of the line because he works security, and he can only maintain them because of his economic status. But even then it's still a strain. On top of this he is mute which is a whole separate thing. It's not because of the prosthetics or anything. While they have some "fixes" they could've done for this they didn't want them.

He can sign but doesn't do it often because it's kind of a dying language in this world. And screen readers struggle capturing and understanding it. Most forms of communication with other people is gesturing and body language, typing/writing, or whistling (more specific situations for that one). But there's a secret here I am actively unclear how much of Donnie is machine and how much isn't like all the time. Which I kinda am pushing onto Donnie himself as well. I still have stuff to figure out about him lol.

Keyboard and holographics/projections ->

Strictly for communication. The keyboard is built into his arm. It's not a mechanical kind of keyboard. It's more of a projection with sensors tracking pressure? Or maybe just when their fingers go through certain letters of the projection. The keyboard has adjustable heights to make room for the words being written to be visible.

Can sort of broadcast/share screen the words as he's typing them to teched glasses. Got a finicky piece of tech on his collarbone. Should work through the synthetic skin but it doesn't (something he probably won't get fixed). Pick at the synthetic skin, move it aside, slide a finger over something (didn't make it specific it's literally just exposed tech 😅😅) and it'll share the words as he types.

Rando stuff that probably isn't set in stone

Since he's security and just has better/and more expensive prosthetics some of the overall force comes from hydraulics. Can produce a lot more pressure, force, and speed.

The lights you can see beneath his skin are mostly cosmetic. Some have purpose but Donnie definitely doesn't know which ones.

Donnie does in fact break their mods and prosthetics all the time. Very injury prone. (This one is set in stone as of now)

Donnie can have machine parts break in a way that damages human parts of him. Like if an insulation or hydraulic fluid line somehow breaks.

He can overheat. Maybe even a bit easier than some other people. Because he's so much machine and it's harder to regulate temperature with extremities gone. Has some resistance to colder temps though. He only sweats through places with actual skin. I haven't figured out if he has an internal cooling system. But he probably should. Just a rudimentary one cause I am not giving myself or any in world builders of Donnie benefit of the doubt.

[mywitchyblog]

Addressing Misconceptions (Again)

About this post of mine

Alright, it seems like once again, some of y’all have taken my words completely out of context, so let’s clear the air one more time.

First off, I didn’t make my previous post to attack all teenage shifters. I wasn’t pointing fingers at the entire group, nor was I saying that teenagers can’t shift properly or intelligently. My post was specifically directed at those who engage in hypocrisy—you know, the ones who criticize adults for age-shifting down while doing the exact same thing in reverse. The double standards are what I’m calling out, not every teenage shifter on the planet.

So, if you read that post and didn’t feel targeted, then it wasn’t about you. As the saying goes: If the shoe fits, wear it. If it doesn’t, move along.

Now, to those of you who are still convinced that I’m being “mean,” “vulgar,” or “hateful,” let me ask you this: Are you upset because of the way I said it, or because you got called out on your own contradictions? Let’s be real here—most of the responses I’ve gotten so far have been nothing but fallacies, where instead of engaging with the actual point I made, people decided to:

Attack my tone: Calling me “vulgar” or “hateful” is a classic ad hominem move. Instead of addressing the logic behind what I said, y’all are trying to discredit me by focusing on my word choice. You’re upset because I used strong language? Sorry, but the truth can be harsh sometimes. Focus on the substance of the argument, not the delivery.

Twist my words: Saying I’m attacking all teenage shifters is a straw man fallacy. I’m not out here claiming all teenage shifters are hypocrites or unintelligent. I’m calling out a specific pattern of behavior—the double standards that some (not all) people hold in this community when it comes to age-shifting. You know the ones I’m talking about: criticizing adults for age-shifting down while they age themselves up for the same reasons. If you don’t engage in that behavior, I’m not talking about you.

I made that post because this double standard is exhausting to witness. If we’re going to call certain behaviors “creepy” or “wrong,” then those standards need to be consistent across the board. You can’t shame someone for age-shifting down to relive experiences they missed out on while simultaneously aging yourself up to play out fantasies that fit your narrative. It’s the same thing, just flipped. If it’s problematic for one group, it’s problematic for everyone.

If the post triggered you, maybe it’s because you saw yourself in it. Maybe it’s because you’ve been playing the same game and didn’t like having a mirror held up to your actions. Either way, I’m not here to sugarcoat my points just to avoid ruffling feathers. If you’re going to critique me, do it with actual arguments—not emotional responses or complaints about my tone. Because the reality is, most of y’all aren’t engaging with the message, you’re just reacting to your own discomfort.

Speaking of Hypocrisy...

Now, let’s talk about another blatant double standard some of y’all are holding: shifting into fictional races vs. shifting into BIPOC identities. Some of you love to act all righteous, preaching about how wrong it is for someone to shift into a BIPOC identity, while at the same time, you’re out here shifting into elves, Na'vi, or other fantasy races, thinking that’s somehow okay.

Spoiler alert: Shifting into a “fictional” race is fundamentally the same thing as shifting into a BIPOC identity—it’s just wrapped up in a “pretty pink bow” of fiction to make it more acceptable for you. Whether you’re shifting into a BIPOC identity to explore different facets of life or diving into some fantasy species, you’re doing the same thing. The only reason you feel comfortable with one and not the other is because the fantasy version is conveniently distanced from real-world issues.

This brings us to another fallacy: special pleading. This fallacy happens when people create an arbitrary exception for something they are involved in while criticizing others for similar actions. For example, they might argue that race-shifting is wrong, but it’s somehow “different” or “okay” when they shift into a fictional race or species. The logic simply doesn’t hold up. It’s an inconsistent standard, and that’s why I call it out as hypocrisy. You can’t apply one set of rules to others while making a special exception for yourself just because you’re hiding behind a fantasy setting.

If you’re going to judge others for shifting into BIPOC identities, you better be ready to judge yourself when you’re out here shifting into an elf, a Na'vi, or any other fantasy race that’s just a dressed-up version of real-world cultures. The hypocrisy is real, and if you don’t see it, that’s on you.

If this hits a little too close to home, maybe it’s time to check yourself. The truth is, most of y’all are fine with exploring different identities as long as they’re neatly tied up in fantasy. But when it comes to real-world identities, particularly BIPOC ones, suddenly you’ve got a problem. The double standard is ridiculous, and it’s not just hypocritical—it’s exhausting.

Feeling Offended? Ask Yourself Why

So, if you’re feeling offended by my posts—whether it’s about age-shifting or race-shifting—then maybe you should ask yourself why. Because if my words make you uncomfortable, it’s probably because they’ve struck a nerve. You can’t keep applying one set of rules to yourself and another set to everyone else just to feel morally superior. That’s not how it works.

At the end of the day, shifting is about exploring different facets of ourselves, whether through age, race, or any other identity. But if you’re going to call someone else out for how they shift, you better be applying that same scrutiny to yourself. Otherwise, you’re just playing the hypocrite game.

So here’s your wake-up call: stop rewriting the rules to fit your narrative. Either own it across the board, or step off the ride. Because if you’re still pretending that aging yourself up is okay but aging down isn’t, or that shifting into a fantasy race is fine but shifting into a BIPOC identity isn’t, you’re the one with the double standards—not me.

[joltai-showa]

The final chapter notes for From Queen to a Pawn!

Or in which we'll look over the stuff in the last 3 chapters of the gargatuan fic that I have finished after almost a year!

Let's see if I am going to devolve into notes for the porn part💀

title of chapter 12

Gods, angels, queens and pawns - literally made it in 0.5 seconds while I was filling up the form for the chapter. also pretty sure I forgor to put it in the first place, so I added it like 2 minutes after the chapter went live. yup. that's what editing does to you, kids

anyway, the title is pretty basic, literally covering everyone that is going to make an appearance

"...not gonna tell how you managed to fuck up this badly, huh, bitch?"

so, regarding Hidan's long awaited (or maybe not) appearance - my own interpretation of this character is that he is someone who is constantly craving violence. he is not the only one among Akatsuki to be like that (Deidara is quite similar in that regard!), but with his religion being the most important facet of this character and said religion literally being based on the principle "kill thy neighbour", he is the guy who is by far the most likely to start shit over the smallest of things. one of the tragedies that I personally see in the younger generation of Akatsuki - Hidan, Deidara and maybe a little bit Itachi - is that they can not live peacefully. The main motivators behind Akatsuki are Nagato, Konan and Obito, all of them belonging to the same older generation that fought in the Third Shinobi World War and got completely wrecked by it, which is why all of them are going to such lengths to reach their perceived absolute peace. However, the results of their actions and the existing system is the children of the Third Shinobi World War, the very same one that just can not perceive peace at all. To them, living means fighting, and that's what they were taught their whole life.

anyway, as it's been mentioned, Konan kind of has every member of Akatsuki one a leash when they are in Ame, so no one is allowed to just attack civilians, even if you really want to. and this really clashes with Hidan's religion.

now, as usual, Kishimoto just kinda created Jashinism and abandonded it at that, even if that's an actual goddamn god that can give real power to its followers. huh. HUH.

so anyway, I'm trying to make something of an actual religion out of bits and pieces that got thrown around in the manga. at the time of writing this post, I can't even remember if there's anything more than "there are some prayers before/after sacrifice (and for some reason Hidan is annoyed to do them)" and something something non-believers are not tolerated. I am not even sure if I hallucinated half of it, but anyway, as of right now, my version of Jashinism has a thing about regular human sacrifices - which is a big problem when your boss stations you at a village where you really shouldn't kill anyone, so Hidan's already pissed about this fact any time he comes into Ame. his only options are either non-villagers (which are rare) or dragging his ass somewhere far enough from Ame to find someone unlucky enough to get sent straight into afterlife.

and about that - in Jashinism, you are not sending someone into Pure Lands (which is the actual existing plane for souls in the universe as far as I am concerned)/heaven/hell, you are sending these people to Lord Jashin himself. now, what type of people does he prefer? and that, kiddos, comes down to whoever commits the murders in his name. Hidan prefers the strong, as Jashin-sama fights those sent to him/bathes in their blood/enjoys the glory of victory/yada yada, another priest might be more about "Jashin-sama endlessly celebrates with them during his banquets, drinks and makes love to them", so they would be more focused on women, you get the idea. so, another issue with Hidan at the beginning of this chapter - Deidara, by losing her arms, cucked him out of fighting through the Land of Lightning to get to Nii Yugito and then fighting her too. and now the best thing he can do for Jashin-sama is some stragglers making the mistake of coming through the war-torn Land of Rains (which is a name of the country where Ame is. and yes, I completely made it up. canon does not have a name for it :)) cuz of course it doesn't. is the Village Hidden in the Rain situated in the Land of Rains stupid? yes. do I care? not really). really small fry compared to the ninja of one of Five Great Nations.

and, I guess, another thing that I think is pretty believable is that Hidan is not an actual priest of Jashin, he is only one of the followers that interpreted dogmas in a certain way, which is why he's just on his own like that. this explains why he's irritated at the need to complete the prayers, but ultimately follows them through - he saw an actual priest do them. now, as for what I imagine his backstory being (which is not important for the larger AU, so I'm pretty sure nothing too spoilery is gonna be out) - Hidan was born at the beginning of the Third Shinobi World War, right in between Land of Fire and Land of Lightining. His mother was a prostitute offering her services to the wealthy visitors of the hot springs, and the child was an unfortunate accident of that. The war breaks out, and so the woman ends up in complete and utter poverty, and, with the kid's bizarre looks - red eyes, white hair, an albino - she presumes him to be the source of her misfortunes. She sells him to a cult that is growing in popularity as the desparation starts to settle among the people forced to survive through the terrors of war every day - and the cult, in particular, is interested in the child due to the color of his eyes, as Jashin values everything blood-alike, which is why they do not use him as a sacrifice. instead, he becomes something of an errand boy, and when he does not do chores for the members of the cult, the priests do various experiments on him, testing his connection with Jashin's favor. eventually, he grows up, and becomes a Jashin follower too, and a quite feverent one. looking at the main dogma - kill thy neighbour - Hidan eventually realizes that this applies to the other people in the Jashinist commune as well (which is a line the priests usually draw), so he kills them all one day. Is his immortality the result of priests experiments? Is it due to him truly following through on Jashin's will? Who knows, but Hidan's power undeniably is connected to the cult.

also one final fact that I think would be pretty neat - Hidan is illiterate. He can not read, he was never taught by the cult, and Academies only exist in Five Great Nations, with schools being practically non-existent in the minor nations. Kakuzu is the one who has to do all reading for him.

so, back to the original point - Hidan's really pissed at Deidara, because he's now back to being stuck in Ame. Again. And now fuck knows how long, because the entire hunt got paused as everyone in the Five Great Nations is losing their shit after that attack on Suna, so Hidan's come to throw his frustrations out. He's naturally always itching for a fight, so later in the chapter he's actively seeking it with Deidara, because boring and peaceful existence is unnerving for someone like him (and yes looking over corpses with Kakuzu is in fact pretty boring).

They, theoretically, should have already been in the middle of it, and yet the agreed hour came and passed, and Konan was yet to be seen. 

So, to summarize what had happened: Obito's a bitch and changed the meeting place at the very last moment (just because he can); Konan, being busy doing something actually productive (can't be my buddy Obito, he's here to angrily grunt and huff and stomp his feet) does not have the time to learn that the place had been changed, she's actually out and about in the village, discussing Deidara's condition with both the doctors and Kakuzu, taking her painkillers, doing other chores around the village, yada, yada. And it's at that moment when she comes across a Kumogakure squad, which take up even more of her time.

Now, Kumo is not actually there for the main base of Akatsuki. In fact, Pain and co were pretty stringent with information leaving the village, so the world at large has no idea that Hanzo had been killed years ago and other formations similar to his have also been destroyed by Akatsuki, the very same terrorists famous worldwide. Everyone except for Iwa (which, after almost a decade of using Akatsuki's services, should have some sort of inkling as to where it's all coming from AND be aware not to stick their heads into the wasps nest, I think) presumes that Land of Rains is still completely war-torn (kinda right) even 17 years after the end of the last major war, and Amegakure is still the single most messiest all out battlefield for all sorts of local gangs and foreign ones too (in particular, Suna, Iwa and Konoha as major players, using the locals as pieces to fuck the other players over). Now, the specifics for each village are a bit different, as Iwa is actually quite aware of Akatsuki having a complete control over the village and de-facto the country; Konoha and Suna, being allies and sharing intel, both are aware that their operations in Ame have been cut pretty swiftly, which they presume to be Iwa's doing; Kumo has no idea regarding these things at all, so they are assuming everyone is still going at it; and Kiri being too busy with their own civil war.

So, why were these Kumo dudes passing by? Well, their goal was actually Land of Rivers and Land of Winds, to assess the events that had taken place there and get as much intel on Akatsuki as possible. Raigake already had the spies in Suna, but they are hiding amongst civilians, and there is only so much information that they have. Welp, too fucking bad that they decided to use Ame as a shortcut, because they walked straight into Akatsuki's lair. oopsie.

(none of them are going leave Ame. most of them are going to be sent to Jashin-sama directly, and the leader will be interrogated and later discarded)

Gods fucking knew the conversation with Zetsu made him fantasize of forcing these two through something similar.

Sidenote: Obito (and Deidei) are always using "gods" instead of the usual "god", that's due to the fact that both Japanese (which is pretty much the baseline for all cultures in Naruto world because Kishi couldn't be bothered making up something more distinct) and Chinese (which is what I am using as reference for Iwa's culture) cultures have systems of beliefs that have multiple gods or even spirits as these sort of higher entities. If you're seeing "god" somewhere, that's probably Google Docs successfully revolting against me and changing it to the more common phrase. I am currently unsure if I am going to be changing it when it comes to the other three major Nations (Kiri is certainly another case where people believe in numerous gods, as I imagine the culture in the Land of Water to be something closer to countries in Southeast Asia, like Indonesia or something; Land of Wind is something akin to Arabian peninsula and Land of Lightning to something North American/Western European).

But anyway, this phrase made me remember a meme I had in mind when I imagine the chain of command in Akatsuki

Not sure if this one ever reached the foreign internet, but it's a pretty famous one on the Russian-speaking side of things. Zetsu (and kinda Madara) screams at Obito, Obito screams at Pain and Konan, Pain and Konan scream at the active operatives in Akatsuki, and, finally, Akatsuki take everything out at everyone else

It was such a shame that the giddy satisfaction in his chest had to be extinguished by the loud voice shouting profanities in a distinctly eastern accent.

I think I've mentioned it somewhere, but I believe that people in different countries should have different accents. It's not so noticable with people who have been gone for years (pretty much every member of Akatsuki not named Konan and Pain), but Hidan's a recent hire, and he'd been at the organisation for less than three years, so he still has something remaining there. Also, "eastern" is because Land of Hot Springs is to the east of the continent.

though something strange within him, some weirdly familiar and old thing stirs in his stomach at the idea of who this voice belongs to and why its owner is in Deidara's vicinity now. The thing is whispering to him a number of possibilities, and none of them are to his liking

That's jealousy, buddy. Now, why is it familiar? Because that's the exact same feeling he experienced whenever Rin would be approached by Kakashi or any other guy Obito's kiddie brain would consider a rival for her love. Thankfully, at the time he could not tear them to shreds, and generally he had a much more sane mind. As for now, well... let's thank Madara and his plant pets for training Obito so well to not go on murderous rampages (even if he really wants to).

People in Akatsuki have various degrees of usefulness to him, and along with it they invoke different levels of disgust and irritation within Obito whenever he had to or wished to interact with them every once in a while.

Again, Hidan and Kakuzu are so absurdly funny when you remember the bullshit their bosses are up to. All of them are high off their own self-importance and how THEY are the ones to bring peace to the world that does not understand how important and vital their plan is, and how everyone should totally follow it to be happy. Then there're other guys at Akatsuki, who are also about the higher ideals and such.

And then there's Mr "I wanna murder a shit ton of people for my murder god"🤝Mr "I wanna murder shit ton of people for money. And their hearts to keep me strong and healthy"

I'm pretty sure this shit is giving Obito aneurism ahahahaha. He's the type of guy to hate everyone else's murderhoboness, while blissfully ignoring his own, because he's "justified" in it.

one of them just happened to stand now, arm pressed against the door frame as he lazily took up the way into the room, Akatsuki cloak gone, revealing his tanned upper body with barely visible remnants of scarring healing up

People in Akatsuki usually leave with their coats on, as, besides being the trademarked merchandise of the organization (c), they are actually pretty comfy. But Hidan's been dragging his ass through the village for half a day, so his got soaked in the rain, which is why he dropped it at his room and went up to shout his frustrations at Deidara.

Obito realizes it to be not the only thing disturbing the comforting icy wall separating him from the rest of this world. He is not used to this feeling, and the urgency it awakens in him, like something unacceptable will happen if he does not intervene this instant.

Jealousy again, but now with an added bonus - Obito's afraid Deidara'll find other men in her vicinity attractive! In particular, Uchiha "I shall not reveal my ankles until marriage" Obito fears Hidan's half-naked sigma aura. It's kind of a mix of his own body trauma from what he is, the years he had spent hidden away from others and his upbringing making him a prude to everything slightly sexual.

Mind you, at the moment neither Deidara nor Hidan are interested in that. Deidara's head is full of her failure and her helplessness, and Hidan's pissed at getting sent back to Ame from Kumo. Both of them want to wreck shit, and hard.

Becoming her partner should prove to be easier than trying to keep everything together while switching between a mask of an idiot and an old arrogant fool.

The old arrogant fool is Madara, btw :)

It is just a coincidence he happens to run into Deidara. There is no ulterior motive to this boy.

No one knows how old Tobi is, but off the vibes people generally assume he is in his late teens/early 20s, so he's in the same category as the three youngest of Akatsuki and the servants as the Tower, which is why it makes people a lot more laidback around him.

(don't mind Obito turning around and screaming at Konan and Nagato as the dang little shits that ruined his, Madara's plan)

Hidan, a shinobi barely fit to be a member of Akatsuki, notices nothing, even as Obito's mask nears the guy's left shoulder just about a palm's length away.

Hidan's is objectively the weakest member of Akatsuki. sorry. his qualifications is literally "can't be killed by Kakuzu" lol. which is why his senses are kinda duller compared to the professional killers trained by the Hidden villages

Ume, sitting by the wounded girl's side and cleaning away the utensils after an unsuccessful meal, judging by the tray of mostly untouched delicious-looking dishes

It's been mentioned here and there, but Deidei's current vulnerability is driving her paranoia to new levels. She's generally pretty distrustful due to her history, but her hatred of being perceived weak makes her hurt herself, as it can be seen from her barely eating, even with her arms gone. She refuses to rely on servants for that, she does not want to eat from other's hands, and Konan pretty much had to force her to accept food at some points (ultimately leading to the scandal she started, and after which she returned to her rooms). Also one of the reasons why Obito can feel her pelvic bones sticking out while he's battling his virginity and trying to mentally hype himself up for the main act, hehehehe

But why does something still remain restless and uneasy while Deidara is forced to stay here, unable to protect herself or even care for her body?

Helicopter hubby is at the scene ahahaha. Buddy just wants to stand guard at her door and sweet treats for good (and not so good) behavior.

Fist clutching by his side, Obito prepares his voice for the upcoming performance, trying to subtly straighten his back and spread his shoulders to make himself bigger in comparison to Hidan

*national geographic voice* and here you can see the interested male ruffling up his feathers in an attempt to look more attractive and get the female's attention away from another male

also shoutout to that fucking height difference between Tobi (175 cm) and Obito (182 cm). how does he do it? no clue. but I'll use it to fuel my headcanons that Tobi is slouching all the time to look less intimidating cuz he's bigger almost than any other Akatsuki not named Kakuzu or Kisame (who's absurd by any standard).

Tobi's now sad she doesn't like him, he really would have loved a funny chimp doing tricks for a pistachio or something... Oh, wait, but isn't that... Hidan-san?!

As far as I remember, chimps are one of the most terrifying apes there are. They are absolutely fucking vicious, and unpredictable. Don't mess around with the chimps, or they will fuck you up.

but the not-so-subtle glances Rumi was sending towards the prominent shapes of abs made him want to punch a hole through the stomach of this waste of a shinobi.

Yes, Obito's angry because women (or maybe just Deidara) apparently might like a male eye candy before them.

On that note, if you remember that Rumi has had a lot of boyfriends, well, she isn't exactly the type to say no to a good time. Simply put, she might have had a fling or two with Hidan.

if that wasn't for Deidara-chan being the dumbest little bitch..." Who the hell allowed you to address her like that? Am I not aware of something? Are these two closer than I presumed?

Hidan actually does adress Deidara by "-chan" in canon (when Deidei tries to warn them about Naruto). Besides a term of endearment, it's also a way for someone to address something weak or pathetic. Simply put, Hidan is insulting Deidara in that moment, just as he does here.

It's still a giant breach of social status to be suddenly switching to this, which is why Obito freaks out.

You'll be a very bad boy if you continue being so harsh on her. Some higher power might punish you for that!"

Obito's referring to himself here, of course

"You piece of fucking sanfan, I'll rip your tongue out!" Obito sharply whips his head around just in time to see Deidara almost knock the half-cleaned tray over for the second time

I think I already mentioned the Iwa-specific insults, and here Deidei's pissed enough to resort to them. This one is "shit" or something along these lines.

I also should really start putting down a vocab of Iwa insults to keep them consistent

An idea passes through him - of blue eyes behind heavy golden bangs giving the very same look to that crazed murderer, who was still young and somehow, through his god's blessing or some other bullshit, never paid a price in permanent scars for being a stupid useless weakling in Akatsuki - and it makes Obito want to growl.

Welcome to Obito's long list of insecurities, in particular his age in comparison to Deidara (let's be honest getting infatuated with someone a decade younger than you is probably one of the least bad things Obito did in his life) and his disfigurements (which Hidan does not have). Now, I am not actually sure how the fuck Hidan is not covered in scars head to toe (as the scar on his neck stays after Asuma cuts it off), so my guess is that he can not grow limbs and organs back, but his body can eventually recover it fully if they are sewn back for long enough time.

In any case, all the more reasons to torture Obito mentally😚😚😚😚

"And I am serious when I say I will not be dealing with anything if the final product will start to rot, or the brat never regains control of the chakra in that limb.

There's a bunch of complications that could have happened with Deidei's recovery there, because she (and even he in canon) lose arguably one of the most tools a shinobi can have - their hands. Now, obviously, the physical loss of arms is crippling for anyone, so the things that Kakuzu would have sewn onto her might have never responded to her brain's orders, becoming useless sticks of meat, or could have been outright rejected by her body (unlikely with her right one, as, well, that's literally her real arm, just in pieces); the next layer of issues is in the hand seals produced by shinobi's arms, and that kinda is connected to Deidara's unique issue - her hand mouths. All of it is connected to her chakra system reconnecting with the rest of her body, which should be resolvable with Kakuzu's threads jutsu, but still, complications are possible! And if there were to happen, Deidara might have lost the ability to outright use jutsu or just her art, which would have been devastating for her (and likely would have been the reason for her death, as Akatsuki have no real use for her if she is permanently crippled. now, Obito might have had some uses, but he would need to be very callous, assholish and crafty to pull this off)

"Madara, I understand that such... display is unacceptable, however allow me..."

Yippie! It's the thing! They said the thing!

Wow it took me a while to get there. Anyway, yes, the circumstances of this conversation were about as I planned before starting this fic. The scenes in Ame after Deidei's return did change a bit with the apperances and some order of events, but ultimately were as I planned.

What was not planned - at all! - was the entirety of chapter 11 aka the "death note mind tennis between Obito and Zetsu"! Yes, this one scene (more like a fucking 22k word chapter) occured completely naturally, as I was writing the fic and realized that Black aka Madara's mind copy would not let everything that Obito did slide, so there should be a confrontation of some sorts. The most important bit of this chapter - Obito's realization and the decision to join Akatsuki as Tobi - was supposed to take place somewhere around his conversation with the servant girls, while they would be discussing the vacancy in Akatsuki after Sasori's death and who should be the replacement. This is actually what they are discussing in chapter 10 before Obito interrupts them - I've decided to use that moment for him testing Tobi's lovestruck act, but the dialogue between the girls in that moment is a reference to what was originally supposed to happen before the entire Zetsu confrontation idea was concieved.

Also yes the entire "Nagato" dropping is a power thing, which is the exact same thing that Zetsu does to Obito. Remember the picture from above, folks🤣

"A lost boy had finally become a man and discovered his footing in this world, thus rejecting the advice of a foolish old man who had been guiding him on this path all these years.

I'm still laughing my ass off at this bit. Bro you are younger than Nagato, quit your yapping lmao

Pushing his ankle on top of his knee, Madara fully sits on top of what used to be Sasori's spot, palms pressed into the edges of the table.

Yeah, since the start of the meeting Obito has already taken his place according to the ring order, so everyone in that scene is sitting like they are members of Akatsuki

Three-Tails has just been recently reborn after the Fourth Mizukage had been killed..." it would seem like the rage of that day would never leave him, just as the bitterness of failure, of being too fucking late, and the agony of commiting the same mistake years before that, with her... but Obito pushes it all away, because he is Madara, and Madara knew nothing about any of that.

Unreliable narrator my beloved. Obviously, he knew everything about Rin's death

your best bet in the latter's case is to pray for Hashirama's granddaughter's stupidity and her not following the recommendations given to her by the elders' council."

Sorry, but I'm with the council of elders on this one. Naruto being the sole nuke of Konoha should really not be allowed to roam freely just cuz he feels like it, especially if one of his teachers is not there to keep him from doing stupid shit

The mistakes of the Kazekage capture mission shall not occur again, for from this moment onward, my eyes will watch you.

Obito's using "eyes" on purpose, because he doesn't want others to know he's only got one

His smile grows wider while he watches shadows dance within Konan's gaze, but then... it is almost as if something gives out within her.

Ohohoho, what did Konan think about here? Ohohohoh, I guess you'll need to read about it later, ohohohoh.

Ok, done with chapter 12, now onto chapter 13&14!

(which, as always, were intended to be one, but then things got out of hand)

the title

"Don't stick your fingers in your cake" is a vague and funny (in my opinion) way to describe the events of the porn scene that ultimately takes place, with Obito sticking his fingers in the juicy juicy cake he has finally received for all his suffering🤭it also mirrors the title of LTFG chapter 4 - "Ladies don't eat their cake with their hands" - where Deidara gets her cake, plays with it and even eats some of the cream🤭

"Wow, that was close... Thanks for not making a red splatter out of Tobi, Rumi-san!"

Is this a reference to Kannabi? Possibly :)

I've heard Kakuzu-san talking of something really scary like "interest rate"!

My uni forced me through so many economics courses that now I want to use Kakuzu as an excuse to drop the bullshit I had to study into the fics as a joke. A way to traumadump, if you will

She was not a threatening sight at the moment, dressed in a simple pair of black shorts and dark tank top, her body no longer littered with bruises and cuts, and her hair returning to a familiar style, but with the ponytail remaining low and messy, and numerous strands were scattered along her pale shoulders. 

I imagined the hairstyle Deidei is wearing at the time is something similar to the one we see during the recruitment flashback. I love it a lot, and I thought it would be something that would be both quick and easy for the servants to make (without getting on Deidara's nerves for too long)

Obito can't help but roll his eye at the white-haired woman's stuttering and awkward glances being sent everywhere that was not Deidara, who had pushed the chopsticks and the bowl away and grabbed something from the table, slowly clutching it in her hold and staring at the other two

So what does Deidei do in this scene? She's exercising her hand and the fingers in particular. She is learning how to use chopsticks again (not too successful) and kneading clay, both with her fingers and her hand mouth (also not really good). One of the reasons she had that argument with Konan - she really should not be trying to do any of that just yet, while everything is still healing together, but Deidei's feeling desperate about her own weakness

"I knew Konan-san was cold and unfeeling, but to make prisoners out of her own people! Ah, no, Tobi can't even imagine how horrible she is! Don't worry, Rumi-san, I am totally going to tell all of this to Pain-san–"

Two jokes in one Tobi phrase - one about Konan's true (seeming) nature, and the other with addressing Pain as equal when Tobi should really not be doing that

but his frustration quells as she swiftly collects the pretty bowls and utensils before grabbing the tray and bolting straight towards the door.

Deidara broke one of Konan's sets last chapter, and this one is also one of hers ahahaha. I mean, no one except her needs to eat among Akatsuki leaders at the Tower (Pain and Obito are kind of undead, and Zetsu just kinda wants to snack on human corpses, they don't actually need it), so she should be the one to buy dish sets

If Tobi'd been in your place, he'd be on cloud nine, no, ninety, if there were nice girls around him all the time!" If she is interested in Tobi, then, surely, a mention of other women would rile her up and make her talk about that incident, right?

Obito trying to reverse-psychology Deidei here, and fails because he's the only one between them two who's coping and seething whenever anything mildly male-shaped passes by his crus

Obito prefers not to think about Sasori - a useless waste of time for a useless piece of trash that died by his grandmother's hand, seemingly out of his own volition, based on Zetsu's report

Okay, so the logic is here as follows: Sasori willingly dies by Chiyo's hand -> Chiyo realizes this and tells this to Sakura -> post-Chiyo's death Sakura reports this to Sunakure -> Zetsu, stationed in Suna and Kiri in the timeskip after Obito returning Deidei to Ame, learns this -> Zetsu tells this info to Obito after their entire confrontation about Obito's loyalty and goals and thinking with his perverted dick

Overall, it would seem all of the rooms for the members of Akatsuki operating outside Land of Rain were designed and furnished by Konan, which is why this one did not differ much from the other one he had been to - Itachi and Kisame's 

Obito brings the medicine to Itachi's rooms directly, so he should have seen the general interior there

It is at that moment Obito realizes that another figurine is standing by his side, a bit farther than the clay mess - a paper scorpion.

It's the same one as in LTFG. Deidara sees it in chapter 1

Konan-san gave you a gift to cheer you up after Sasori-san kicked the bucket, but you don't seem to like it. Should she have made it look more like him? An old guy crawling around like a turtle?"

Obito does know Sasori's real appearance, but he should not show Deidara that Tobi knows it too, at least without a reason, which is why he's describing Hiruko here

"Yes, yours," Deidara emphasizes, glaring at him. "If you hadn't gotten in the way, I would have been fine. Nobody would be asking how I messed up so badly that weakling like you had to save me. Get it through your thick skull: I. did not. need. your help. Never did, and never will. Try playing a hero with me again, and you are not seeing the light of the next day, got it?"

In the original version of this paragraph I had a "Never did... and never will." A quick moment of hesitation on Deidei's part. But during editing I realized that it's prolly a bit too soon to have her having these sort of doubts, so I removed it, and now Deidei's is dead certain in her being right about this

The future is certain and clear.

This phrase is mirrored in the ending of chapter 14

"And for future, remember one important thing: I am the one who is always on top, hm. No exceptions.

So yeah, when I was mentioning how Deidei rides the guy she was with in LTFG? I was pretty serious🤭Tobi isn't getting to do anything in a more... well... active position until he proves himself worthy (and no one did that yet with Deidei)

"Unless you've secretly got some mysterious dojutsu that can make gals soak up their panties, you're doing a very shit job."

man do I love random references to Obito's Sharingan lol

But the reality greets him with something so mundane and yet unexpected. Still, somehow, it all comes together, and cements the reality of the situation: Deidara is truly fully revealed before him at her most intimate.

Personally, not a fan of unshaved look, both in men and women. But Obito is such a virgin he can easily take Konan's title as an Angel in that regard, and Deidei is on active duty for months, so I'm pretty sure neither of them is going be well-groomed, so to speak. Also, I'm pretty sure the time period doesn't even have this as some sort of common fashion fad, so unshaved it is.

Sometimes, Obito couldn't hold himself back, and he would tear his hand away from the awaiting loins, watching in fascination how strings of cooling slick formed between his pale digits.

I find it so bizarre that canon and even some fans draw Obito tanner than fucking Sasuke or Kakashi. My buddies, this guy literally had not felt the sun's touch in almost two decades, he is absolutely pure flour colored beneath there.

That's an actual thing that sometimes happens to hymen. Happens with girls in sports, and, if I remember correctly, really not that uncommon along horse riders lol.

Calm down, fool. It is not uncommon for kunoichi to get hurt and lose it by accident. You have read it in the books you have lent to Guruguru.

Deidei's been part of the military since, like, six, and on the run since she was eleven, so Obito's guess is not that crazy

(he's still coping and seething in reality lol)

And this might be the single hottest thing Obito had seen.

So, why is Obito so vehemently against being treated like a property when talking with Deidara, but reacts like this when she is actually using him? The answer is: he's fucking horny, and when he's horny, his dick is the one that does the thinking, not his brain. And his dick would really prefer if they got dominated by someone hot and pretty.

Aaaaand that's about it for the notes on FQTP! Thanks to everyone who was reading, now it is truly finished, and I can go onto other project! Until later!