#coming at things from very different angles but converging to the same point................

[iron-sparrow]

直率 【 zhíshuài 】 blunt adjective

being straight to the point : DIRECT

"Why don't you come back with me?" the Crow asks. He's lost count of how many times he's said those very same words, in that same exact order and inflection. 

I can't. I won't. The Sparrow's answer is not much of an answer at all, and they know it. But it's the only one they ever really have for him. 

The not-so-little bird with too many names leans their back against the stonework framing them. One arm extends to prop over their knee, most of it bundled in a soft layer to keep their sensitive burn scars out of sight and protected from too much sun or moisture (or anything). 

The air beyond this quiet meeting place inside hidden ruins is cool and wet, and cloaks the woods in a dense fog. The quiet is a comfort, but it doesn't last. 

"The air here is easier to breathe," Crow remarks from his leaning spot.

Sparrow turns their head but only just enough to bring the other Duskwight into the very edge of their vision. He looks comfortable there, hidden in the dark with only the glimmer of his jasper eyes giving him away. As they continue to focus in his direction, an outline begins to form, and soon they're able to make out the detailed image of their brother. Still, they withhold whatever thoughts the comment about the climate might have inspired. Crow will eventually grow tired of waiting and fill the silence. 

He does, only after a few seconds. 

"It suits you, yes? The woods," Crow continues. "You were not meant to dwell in the desert. You should be in the place that birthed you. With the people who can understand you." 

Sparrow angles their head away and closes their eyes. The gentle rain echoes against their tattered ear, creeping into their thoughts and trying to fight for attention. They can hear Crow speaking to their right -- of things like family and belonging, of vengeance and shared pain. 

"You should be with your brother. Our blood runs through the same rivers." 

The man who shares their eyes hasn't stopped. He isn't done. Because he knows that none of this is getting through to Sparrow. 

“When we die, our spirits will find peace with our own kin. Remember that." 

Sparrow sucks in a breath through their teeth. Their head lifts, the rounded point of their chin drawing two more ilms away from their throat. Their one jasper eye opens to acknowledge the physical world again but refuses to look at the other Duskwight. 

"It is true that you are my brother, born from the same river. But we emerged on opposite shores and have walked different paths. These paths have converged to bring us together again, but mine has been absent of your song." 

Ears far too sensitive for the surface world catch the sharp breath Crow takes at hearing their reply. Sparrow spins away from their brother to slide their legs from the ledge, with a soft groan from their hide armor and a whisper of airy linens. Behind them, Crow is moving at long last, urged away from his spot by the threat of their departure.

“Why?” he pleads, the deep gravel in his voice smoothed away by palpable sadness. “How can you say this to me when we are all that is left?” 

How their heart sinks at hearing his pained tone. Nevertheless, Sparrow persists.

“Because the past we loved is not the future we are meant to pursue."

[hauntedjpegcollection]

no one else

wc: 5974 au: valorent au ch: benny, maran, lark

Benny thinks it’s jarring that they have the same seasons. Summer, winter, spring—it’s Fall now. Both here and home. He’d have thought there would be more differences between them; the two realities that converge to tiny points of invasive contact. War. Benny thought they’d speak a different language or their sky would be an off color of blue, an orbit around a sun that’s slower, producing longer days. He thought there would be a different smell in the air, at the very least.

But it’s all comically the same. His hand brushes dust over the plaster wall he perches behind, smoothing grit on his fingertips. Sweat beads and rolls down his temple, despite the cool October air. It should feel wrong. His atoms should be vibrating, his cells inherently repelling the new reality around him.

Instead, it’s depressingly familiar.

Benny shoulders his rifle once more, lining up his scope so he can see the festivities below. He’s careful not to catch sunlight, angles himself underneath the khaki tarp he’s using for cover. A massive crowd has gathered, a line of people on a large raised platform in front of a demoralizingly tall, polished building. The gentrification of this neighborhood is slowly becoming more complete, especially with this late season parade. He’d read sitrep on this, even though he’s not privy to the finer details.

There’s no real use for Benny other than recon work. Not just because he’s still green. He’s not skilled with communications, he refuses to be part of tactics, he likes explosives but they don’t trust him with them. Ironically, they’ll put a rifle in his hand—Benny doesn’t miss. That’s one thing they can trust him for. An eerie calm in his hands, a steadiness to his movements. He watches this fucked up capitalistic party with a keen eye and his snipers scope records all the information.

Benny doesn’t even have to do anything after. Not even summarize a report. He’s just here to watch.

Earth-2 is debuting new Radiants, like prized horses before derby. News outlets fill the front of the audience, vans parked to the side, camerss set up. The radiants are all stood proper and pretty on the platform, awaiting turns to speak to the crowd. Inspirational drivel; together we can make the world a better place, I will protect those who need protecting, I love you all. Benny’s tongue skims along his front teeth, bleached blue eyes narrowing as he spends an appropriate amount of time on each new radiant.

The wind picks up, ruffles skirts and hair and papers in some of the nervous newbies hands. This feels fucking clownish, watching all of this proceed. Knowing what these people can do. His finger stays dutifully off the trigger of his rifle, but he shifts a little, wondering which of these new radiants is going to kill him in the next attack.

Benny gets to the end of the line as a woman approaches the podium to talk about healthcare costs for those in areas more likely to be hit by Earth-1 invaders. He tunes her out. His target comes into focus. Benny’s tongue pauses on one of his teeth, his body hunching forward just slightly, as if his scope isn’t enough to see.

Intel meant he already knew all of the names of these new radiants. This one is young; twenty, he’s fairly sure, from the papers he’d read before hopping realities. Maran Giarizzo-Cohn is fairly tall and broad shouldered. He’s in formal wear for the occasion, but looks downright awkward in it. One of his hands keeps tugging at the tie on his collar, as if it’s suffocating him slowly. Benny twists the scope, click click click, to get a clearer focus on the boy.

Pale autumn sunlight still manages to paint him golden. His shortly cut hair is a glaring pink color that does nothing but make him stand out more. His cheeks are the sort of apple rounded that happens when someone maybe smiles too much; and he does then, a nervous, split lipped grin. Maran’s face is splattered in freckles, a dusting across his nose and cheeks. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure of where to go. This is his first public appearance since being taken on by Earth-2’s defense.

He’s so young, though. Just past his teen years, looking out of place and sweetly anxious. Benny’s stomach turns and sours at the thought of what the world is going to do to this young man. Turn whatever ‘gift’ he’s been given into some tool. Maybe it’s hypocrisy, since Benny works for Kingdom and Kingdom is the one invading, stealing, doing just as much killing. Besides, Benny isn’t old. He’d turned twenty four that year, which felt somewhat miraculous, as he’d never really seen a way past eighteen for a long time.

He realizes he’s lingering too long on this one specific radiant. His camera footage is likely going to be embarrassing. Benny already finds it difficult to get along with the other mercenaries without them finding reasons to taunt him. Not that he wants to befriend anyone. He’d rather be left alone, but the world was nothing if not very cruel to Benny.

Quickly, his scope pans back to the speakers.

Then there’s screaming. Loud, keening, coming from the back of the crowd. There’s shouting that follows, guttural yelling—then smoke pluming into the area.

Benny sucks in a breathe, shoving away from the window before the explosion hits and creates an updraft in noxious black smoke. The world underneath him is unsteady and moving, sending him colliding with the wall beside him. His rifle nearly slips from his hands—nearly. He’d never let it go. It’s all he has. The screaming outside gets louder, becomes a symphony of panic and terror. That’s when Benny knows what’s happening.

Sergeant Stiles had sent her team in for recon. Benny and two others, merely to observe. She was at extraction waiting for them. Routine operation. This isn’t a routine operation anymore. Earth-2 shakes once more, making his legs go boneless and watery. The air suddenly smells acrid and wrong. He scrambles for the comm mic around his throat, but all he receives is crackle. The screams somehow get louder. Benny realizes that this isn’t his two other team members going rogue—

Someone’s hopped with them. Someone not intending to just observe.

—

The pop of gunfire and smoke descends everything into chaos.

It blankets him, out in the open as he suddenly is. Extraction. He needs to get to his Sergeant, to the drop zone. To leave. The havoc makes him something easy to overlook, all in black, rifle over his shoulder. Perhaps the people, scurrying like herd animals, mistake him for security. He looks like them, he supposes. The very people he’s darting to avoid, as they cluster people and try to evacuate the event. As they fire back at whoever is attacking. Benny’s legs burn as he sprints, running zig zag patterns to avoid being shot. The street has turned smoggy, a car alarm erupting and making him startle.

He collides painfully into someone, his hands immediately clasping around arms in response. Benny’s breathing is ragged, pale hair messy and askew in his eyes. The radiant stares at him, panting equally as hard—his brown eyes are blown wide in fear, dark lashes clinging wetly. He has even more freckles now that Benny is this close to him. His cheekbones are high and pretty, his jaw smooth and handsome. Maran’s hands dig into his vest—not in attack. He’s clinging, terrified.

“Help?”

Shots scatter pavement around their feet and Benny makes a decision he hopes he won’t fucking regret. He yanks the other man close, diving toward the glass doors of the building to their side. They crash through together. Windows are blown open, glass dusting the ground and crunching underneath his boots. Smoke invades the building from outside. He moves swiftly, a hand firm around Maran’s forearm. The radiant still has his own wrapped around the strap of Benny’s tac vest.

Real event security slide by them, yelling to each other. Fear spikes Benny’s heart rate even more painful, up underneath the vulnerable part of his jaw. Roughly, he pulls Maran closer, lets him stumble into him, obscuring Benny from the danger as he turns a corner. And as he does, Benny removes a device from a pouch on his vest. Clunky and awkward, the bracelet is something he’s worked on himself with a scientist in a Kingdom lab. It whirs to life with an electronic blue light on the side.

Without warning, he slaps it around Maran’s wrist and backs him against a wall.

“Oh,” the radiant whispers, staring at it. He glances up to Benny. The whites of his eyes are starkly visible from his terror, pupils too wide for his irises. He’s shaking. Benny’s stomach twists with guilt. “Oh fuck—you’re one of the bad guys?”

Christ it makes Benny laugh, which comes out a bit shrill and then ends in a growl; which only widens Maran’s eyes even further, his breathing coming out in short, staccato breaths. Benny’s hand slides to take Maran’s forearm once more, holding it tightly, but not with any intent to harm. His nice, button up shirt is dirty now, sleeves rolled up to expose smooth, brown skin. The tie has long since been discarded.

“I’m not with th-them.” Benny speaks softly, cringing from his stutter. The corridor they’re down muffles the terror happening outside. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Maran lifts his arm, rattling his wrist condescendingly, his face pinched in disbelief. Benny spares the nullifying bracelet a glance and then attempts what he hopes is a placating smile and not his usual creepy, crooked grin. He’s not sure how well it works, because Maran’s eyes flicker to his mouth and up and then down and up again. A loud banging sound—the doors being crashed in—makes both of them jump.

“Please trust me,” Benny hisses, stepping closer, crowding Maran back against the wall once more. The radiant’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his collarbone slick with sweat, brown skin revealed from buttons popped off the shirt. Benny quickly glances to Maran’s face when he feels his cheeks starting to warm. They’re the same height, save an inch from the thick soled combat boots Benny has on. He attempts dragging Maran down the hall—and luckily finds him willing to go.

—

Unsurprisingly, they’re in the building and not just outside. Benny can hear them, a floor above, shouting to one another. A spray of gunfire and then silence and then voices once more. They must have infiltrated this hours before the crowd and media and the radiants had shown up. Benny hopes the building had been emptied prior to the main event. There’s no screams of terror or crying, or anyone running past them to indicate otherwise.

He has to find a safe space to store Maran until his own people can come and rescue him. Benny isn’t a fucking kidnapper, he isn’t going to drag the man along to his own extraction. But by the way Maran is still shaking, head to toe so hard the bracelet rattles, he thinks maybe the guy isn’t equipped to handle the situation on his own.

Benny isn’t sure how training works for radiants. He isn’t sure if Earth-2 considers them military—they’re certainly not mercenary. Maran’s file had indicated that he’d joined the effort rather young, but that he was only really making his appearances now. He was going to be utilized in the war soon, put in real life combat situations where he’d be weaponizing whatever awful little power he had against Benny’s own people.

Not that Benny had much loyalty to those people. He wasn’t even sparing much thought for Wymack and Jones, the other two Kingdom mercenaries that had come for this reconnaissance mission. They were probably fine. Probably.

He’s still hung up, thinking that boy trailing after him is going to be used like that. Especially when he jumps at every sound that isn’t them—and he’s so close to Benny’s back that his feet keep kicking into his heels. With every awkward jostle he apologizes quietly, his voice breathy in a way that makes Benny’s insides curl around hotly.

The office building becomes a beige nightmare for Benny. There is high visibility everywhere, no hiding places that become immediately evident. Nothing that couldn’t be searched—nowhere he thinks Maran would stay for very long by himself. Maran hasn’t objected to the hand around his arm, even if Benny is the bad guy. His desperation before, that single uttered ‘help?’ made it painfully obvious that he trusts too easily.

Benny is ground to a startling halt when voices ahead echo through the now desolate and messy office building. Maran’s hands wrap around Benny’s arm, both of them, clasping on top of one another on his bicep. Warmth—even more startling and definitely unwelcome—pours down his entire body at that feeling. Maran’s face has gone slack with fear at the sound of people ahead, yelling to each other. Clearly not part of his fucking event.

Fear is contagious. And Benny is already afraid on a good day. He walks the thin line of it constantly, anxiety and nausea a familiar friend to him. In that moment, he thinks he could unsling his rifle and maybe take care of the first voice—but Maran is staring at him. Big, trusting, terrified eyes, staring at him. So Benny rips a pale wooden door open and shoves the man inside.

—

Whoever designed the closet must not have intended for it to be used by two full grown men at once. It’s too shallow to be a supply closet and relatively empty of anything but exposed pipes above them. Benny isn’t gentle about forcing Maran to the back while he swivels around and listens with an ear to the door. The fit is so tight that he can feel all of the other man’s chest and the front of his thighs to the backs of his own, but he ignores it, eyes closed as he listens.

His rifle sits in the corner, slung off so it wasn’t smacking Maran in the face behind him. But his hand inches toward it. In a struggle, it can be used as an effective blunt weapon. Benny is no good in hand to hand combat; he flinches too much, gives himself away. He’s thickly built with most of his strength in his upper body, but he had a boxers mentality of striking hard and fast and none of the stamina to really back it up. That’s what the Sergeant always says, a bit of a snide laugh to her, but she never forces him to do more. They’d both been content with his sniper position.

Benny shifts nervously. His gear rustles, Maran bunched up against it. Their breathing is too loud. Rough, hoarse inhales that scrape their throats. He can almost feel it synchronizing, as if they were drawing in the same air. The back of Benny’s neck feels warm and ticklish—is Maran really that close? He shifts again, switching weight from foot to foot anxiously. The outside world seems very distant suddenly.

“Can you stop doing that?” Maran’s voice is raspy and desperate. Benny stiffens at the sound of it, the twinge of a high pitched question mark, but really a very needy request. He turns slowly, their bodies scraping together as he does. Maran’s attempted to flatten himself to the wall, but Benny’s bulk makes it hard for him—and he’s not small either. Broad, strong arms, just as tall. There is no space between them at all.

Maran’s cheeks are a dark red color, not from the running or from the fear. His eyes shine in the dimness of the closet, even prettier up close like this. He’s clamped teeth onto his bottom lip so hard the plushness of it’s turned white—he looks embarrassed in a way that causes something in Benny to grow teeth and a desire to bite. Benny is intentional about his eyes falling from Maran’s face, to his chest and then lower, to where they are shoved together.

“Cut it out—man, please,” Maran sputters defensively, hands raising and then falling and then raising once more. One of them tucks around Benny’s bicep awkwardly. A clattering noise outside makes both of them freeze, Maran’s shiny eyes widening. All the pretty flush from his cheeks drains, paling him. His hand squeezes. There’s a crawling sensation up Benny’s back warring with a very intense heat all over his chest and lower stomach. He’s slow as he reaches for Maran’s wrist. He lifts it and pins it to the wall, just beside Maran’s ear.

“If they try anything, I’ll t-turn this off.” Benny’s voice is barely above a whisper. They’re so close, he could simply breathe the words and Maran could probably hear them. He leans forward anyway, to speak directly into Maran’s ear, eliminating the possibility of them being heard outside the flimsy faux wooden door. His hand tightens on a freckled wrist. He’s only just noticing now that Maran has on a thin, delicate chain bracelet underneath the Kingdom nullifier.

 “And you do—whatever th-the hell it is you can do.”

He can feel the radiants heartbeat strumming hard in his wrist, like a frightened rabbit. Benny can’t help but press his thumb there, as if trying to soothe the mans frantic nerves. His skin is soft and warm. His heartbeat throbs against the pad of Benny’s finger. He’s thankful for the snipers fingerless gloves suddenly.

“You smell nice.”

“What?” Benny hisses, jerking his head to the side so their temples collide somewhat. Maran squirms. His wiggling becomes momentarily incessant, as if he’s a small animal trying to get comfortable. Benny puts his other hand flat to the mans chest and pushes, squeezing them harder against the wall. Maran lets out a huffing sound, tickling Benny’s skin with his breath. “If you don’t st-stop fucking moving…”

“I’ll be good,” Maran mumbles, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. The sweat along his throat beads and rolls down, disappearing beneath the dirty formal shirt. His throat looks impossibly long like that. There’s another sound outside, causing a reflexive shudder to run through Maran’s entire body. Benny tucks his forehead to the other mans shoulder, eyes screwed shut, heart back in his throat and thundering away.

“Is that a scorpion?” Benny snaps his head up, eyes narrowing. “Sorry, I talk when I’m nervo—” A rough gloved hand folds over Maran’s mouth.

“Yes, it’s a scorpion. Stop flirting with me.”

It’s muffled through his hand, but he still makes out ‘I’m not flirting with you!’ in an indignant tone. They wrestle against one another for a moment, Maran seeming to grow brave in his embarrassment, Benny still attempting to keep them both quiet enough to not elicit attention from whoever is sweeping the building. There’s more noise beyond the door—close enough that Maran’s entire body seizes against him. Benny’s curves in response, falcon like in it’s protectiveness. He’d be a very clear target if they decided to shoot as soon as they opened the door, but whatever special ability Maran has might be worth taking the bullet.

Then the noises fade.

Benny drags his face from Maran’s shoulder, unaware of how hard he’s breathing, shoulders shaking with effort to keep himself calm. His damsel in distress is so close that they could practically shuffle and end up kissing. The idea strikes Benny so hard that a strange dizziness blooms inside his skull, a tingling all over his hands. Maran stares at him, so doe eyed, a touch confused and a touch humored. His lips are twitching into a smile. Benny finally releases his wrist.

Then he plucks an eyelash that’s somehow fallen free onto Maran’s cheek and holds it up.

“Oh,” Maran laughs and then blows the lash right off Benny’s finger. “For luck, yeah?”

Benny’s brain seems to fire synapses that never worked before that moment. He knows that he will never, for as long as he lives—if it’s another day or another fifty years—he will never forget that fucking smile on Maran’s face.

—

They escape the building—and everything else, the gunfire, the smoke, the danger—thanks to Maran. As much as Benny thinks himself this young mans sudden protector (maybe very similar to a science fiction he’s read, like a hero from a space opera) the reality of the situation becomes clear when Maran requests the bracelet to be taken off. As they huddle toward the back alley of the building together and it becomes clear that many people came on this illegal reality hop. Other radiants have found their standings, have joined a dangerous enough fight that a car is flipped like an eerie, half crushed bug.

“Trust me,” Maran says, with his hand wrapped around Benny’s side. He’s holding onto the vest again and his clenched fist moves in tandem with the mercenary’s hard breathing. He’s winded from the fear, and probably, admittedly, a little bit of the constant running. Benny wipes sweat from his brow, pushes back all his stringy blond hair, breathing out once as slow as he can manage.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “If you k-kill me, I’ll haunt you.”

“I’m not—that’s not even—just watch!” Maran slaps at the bracelet with annoyance until Benny snatches his hand closer. There’s no lock on it. Maran could have gotten it off at any point. It’s one of the design flaws in it that made it nearly useless in the reality of a battlefield. Still, Benny cups his hands around the device, unlatching it slowly and then shoving it into a pocket on his vest.

Immediately, a strange sort of vibration hums off of Maran. His silhouette becomes shaky at the edges, blurring him for a brief moment. Benny scrambles back from him—and then Maran becomes two. The second of him jumps away, forming from something almost gaseous into more solid. The second Maran hops on the balls of his feet, shaking out hands and smiling that wide, perfect smile.

Benny stares.

His cheeks go warm, a portion of his brain lighting up in a very inappropriate way that makes his throat narrow.

“You make clones.”

“No!” Maran laughs. He pretends to hi-five himself. The second Maran’s hand goes straight through, looking wispy and immaterial, then reforming on the downward swing. He flickers a little. A perfect replica none the less, down to the way sweat has darkened his soft pink, short buzzed hair. Benny clears his throat, finding words stuck there. He pats his chest awkwardly, hands still feeling electrified.

“G’on,” Maran urges his illusion toward the end of the alley, into the fray of fire and smoke. It goes skidding, running in an excited way, waving hands above its head, drawing attention—and immediate gunfire. Benny startles at the sound of it, wrapping an arm around Maran and rushing toward the other end. The distraction was worth it.

Benny has to skid to a stop to hide around the side of the wall, an explosion of black clad security and police filling behind the building. The politician who had been introducing the radiants—a tall blond woman with a severe and snarling face—stomps petulantly, yells wildly, hands waving. Maran looks dubious for a moment; his glance back to Benny makes his chest tighten all over. Too trusting, Benny thinks. Too soft. Too fucking cute. Life wasn’t fair that way. The next time Benny sees him, likely it’ll be through his scope once more.

Not just for recon.

Maran’s hands lift, smoothing his shirt nervously. He smiles, an anxious, sweet curve of his beautiful lips.

“Can I know your name?”

Benny blinks, suddenly realizing that this entire time, this entire hour they’ve been shoved together (so close he feels like he can smell a lingering citrus scent on him that’s certainly not his own aftershave), Maran had not even known his name. Benny only knew his because he’d read a file on him. He’s silent in response, staring at the radiant as something shifts inside his chest painfully.

“I’m Maran,” he offers gently.

“I know.”

Benny swallows and slings his rifle from his shoulder. He checks it with a jerky hand, his cheeks feeling painful, like a sunburn. He looks up from under his lashes, chin tilted down, trying to ignore the strange lack of control in his hands as he holds a weapon he’s so familiar with.

“I’m Benny.”

The wind shifts smoke down the alley. It curls around him as shouting from behind Maran gets louder.

“Thanks, Ben,” Maran says, lifting a hand in a boyish, gentle wave. The twisting inside Benny’s chest gets worse and worse. And then Maran disappears.

***

The long, pristine hallway smells of antiseptic and medicine. The fluorescent lighting above him buzzes like flies, the medical wing eerily quiet all things considered. Maybe it’s because of the late hour, or maybe it’s the dread this place inspires. It makes his combat boots loud on the tiled floor, echoing with each heavy and rushed step. The Operator slung on his back slaps against him with his quick stride. Benny’s throat is closing and his chest feels too narrow to pull in air, his shitty nicotine ruined lungs doing overtime. Something in his heart feels off center and jagged, painful and ready to continue breaking.

He hates the mercenary hospital. He wouldn’t be here but…

Benny snaps around a corner, finding a room number that he’d squirreled out of a woman at his debriefing. She’d not really wanted to talk about it with Benny��he isn’t particularly high ranking, or even considered useful by many. But he is intimidating; Xavier had taught him better about that. How to impose on people. Benny’s not as tall as his friend, but he looks mean. He looks nasty and frightens people if he stares long enough with his unnerving, pale eyes.

Once he gets into the room, Lark is almost jumping from the chair he’d dragged to the gurney.

He stops. Stares. Then he unwinds and slowly slumps back down onto it, with an exhausted sigh.

Xavier is bandaged and mostly clean now. There’s no obvious injury to limbs, nothing in a cast or a sling to make Benny worry. But there’s plenty of gauze wrapping, fingers taped together like they might be broken. It’s mostly Xavier’s face that is concerning. His handsome features are largely obscured by medical tape and bandages, the nose taped across the bridge. The bandage across his eye is tinted pink, blood underneath starting to well. It’ll need changing soon.

A machine next to him beeps softly. Xavier’s chest rises and falls evenly. Asleep. Thank fucking God for that, Benny can’t imagine the pain. Not that Xavier blinks often at pain. He remembers dragging Xavier into a hospital very similar to this one, when his ribs had been broken by—well, it didn’t matter. That was then, this was now.

“He’s not gonna lose his eye,” Lark comments, a deflated shadow in the chair. His face is drawn and pale, dark circles under his black eyes. Lark is also sporting a cut above his brow, his hand wrapped in it’s own gauze. Benny feels, not for the first time, a disgusting amount of guilt that they’re injured and he’s not. It’s the nature of his position, he supposes. Still doesn’t feel good.

“Fucker will probably come out even m-more handsome,” Benny comments, stepping closer to where Xavier lays. His eye lids flicker. Benny hopes it’s a good dream. There’s blood crusted on his visible eyebrow, around his nostrils, on a cut across his cheekbone. His lips are swollen, purple bruises gorey underneath the bright light. A split in his mouth is painful and weeping.

The two men who stand watch over Xavier are quiet for a long moment. It’s only the machines and all three of them breathing. Lark’s eyes are closed, his chin in his hand. Benny feels more confident, without being watched, to reach up and adjust the blanket over Xavier to be just a little higher. No matter how much he’d probably wake up complaining about how hot it is.

“How did he get out?” Benny finally asks.

“Why are you asking that?” Lark snips, sitting up and glaring. “Isn’t it enough he fucking did?” Benny recognizes that anger. It’s not really anger at all. It’s fear. Benny wets his lips with a dart of his tongue, adjusting the rifle on his shoulders, looking down at his mercenary black clothes.

“He w-was pretty far behind lines,” he continues, ignoring Lark’s seething expression. Feels like his luck is running out, Benny doesn’t say aloud. He’d only heard over comms that Xavier had managed to get extracted out. There is a sensation like being under water, as though Benny is trying to scramble to the surface. Confused. He tucks a hand around the back of his neck.

“Shut up.” Lark barely whispers it, hands across his eyes. “Don’t make me think of it. Asshole.”

It’s then that Benny crosses around Xavier’s gurney. He stands next to the chair Lark had brought right up to it. Slowly, he unwinds the rifle from his shoulder and lets the weapon lean against it.

Lark’s not affectionate. He sits there, like a rigid marble statue, head hanging forward, hands covering his face. He has small, delicate tattoos that make him look pretty where Benny’s look off putting. He doesn’t like being touched and he doesn’t like people in his space. But he makes an allowance for Benny’s hand to gently touch his shoulder. He moves slightly, to allow that hand to cup behind his neck. Lark, who does not like others in his space, lets Benny gently pull him forward.

And both of them pretend for a moment that Lark is not wiping tears off on the rough, grimy material of Benny’s jacket. Xavier is silent as a ghost beside them. If he’d been awake, he’d likely have made a joke. Aw, now kiss. Benny can hear it in his annoying, shitty Boston accent.

“Go home,” Benny says, lifting Lark by the biceps until the younger man is stumbling to a stand. He’s never once thought of Lark as small, despite being inches taller than him. Lark scrubs a hand furiously over his reddened face, not making eye contact. He sniffs once or twice, a closed fist bumping on Xavier’s thigh like a goodbye.

Benny laughs and dumps himself into the chair, yanking his rifle between his knees and leaning back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll k-keep watch.”

—

And it’s a good thing he does.

Not long after Lark leaves, with a promise to call Xavier’s sister (something Benny does not envy), the last person anyone wants to see shows up at the door.

Diana Crowley disgusts Benny on a level he isn’t sure he can put into words. There’s been few he’s hated more than his father. That broiling, constant fury has been so long reserved for the man who created him and molded him into the creature he is. But Crowley tests him. She is a beautiful woman, stunningly tall in her heels, with black hair that has bolts of sophisticated gray.

She doesn’t look at Benny when she enters, her eyes entirely focused on her hurt puppy.

Xavier still hasn’t woken. He suspects that the doctor who dosed him gave a generous amount. His proclivities with painkillers aren’t exactly a closed secret. Likely, he wanted to make sure Xavier would actually sleep through this first night of recovery and keeping the big guy down was a fucking effort in the first place. Benny makes a mental note to thank whoever was on duty tonight for that strange, extra care.

Crowley steps into the room, her heels making tiny clack clack sounds as she does. She finally glances his way. Nothing registers in her facial expression, but there is a tightening around her jaw. Lark would have been easier for her to deal with. Instead, she has Benny, who smiles at her with his head tilted to the side.

“You shouldn’t have that in here,” Crowley comments, with a delicately pointed finger to his Operator. Benny looks down at it and then rolls his gaze back up to her.

“Who’s going to take it from me?”

She makes the mistake of ignoring him, stepping closer to Xavier. So Benny stands and makes himself impossible to ignore. His hand stays loosely gripped on the rifle she’s pointed out. He’s not stupid. She’s untouchable.

Oh, she’s probably human. In fact, he’s almost certain she isn’t a radiant. All her eerie power comes from being mortal and having so much control over those that aren’t, or those that are that much more dangerous because of it. Like Xavier. Written off, dim witted, easily manipulated Xavier. Benny’s smile stays vicious. He stares at her.

It feels good making her recognize that he is, also, in a way untouchable.

One thing Crowley was excessively good at was owning people. Benny didn’t know what she had over Xavier, other than their disgusting relationship, but he knew what she dangled over Lark’s head. The fear of prison, containment, loss of freedom. It wasn’t just the infiltration team. Crowley was commander for a reason, it’s so fucking obvious that she deals with poison and secrets and threats and fear.

Only, she’s not found what to use against Benny. She’s made that mistake before. Once, her assistant, Erik, had slid a manila folder across a table and smiled at him as though it were something comforting. Inside that folder had been a picture of an older blond woman and a sheet of details. Her name had been stamped at the very top. They’d thought to use her against Benny somehow. The promise of reuniting. They’d figured out early that if they weaponized his father, Benny would only be happy to find him dead or missing.

Benny had spit in the folder and then slid it back Erik’s way.

The only people Crowley could hurt and in turn hurt him, were the very people she’d not want to lose over him. Lark and Xavier were the only tethers that Benny had dared let form, strings wrapped around his heart and deeply capable of being pulled and cutting. But Xavier was far more valuable than him. Lark, even more so. She’d not risk investments just to get him to behave.

And besides, Crowley knows the ultimate truth. If Benny were to disappear, to stop becoming a problem—she’d lose a grasp on those two special little investments. And Benny knows how much she likes her investments. Even if she buries the knife in Xavier and twists, all too often.

It might be the only mistake she’s ever really made, introducing these three men together.

There’s no one else she could use against Benny.

Crowley steps no further toward Xavier’s gurney. Her hand is slightly outstretched, as though she might touch him. It would look sweet to an onlooker. A concerned commander and her soldier. Maybe a lover who wants to ensure he’s okay. Benny leans over, with his other hand on the cold metal railing of the gurney.

“I should make sure the nurses in the morning know how hungry he’ll be.” Crowley’s voice is smooth, like silk. She betrays nothing with her stare. Benny slowly unwinds and heaves himself backward into the chair, kicking booted feet in front of him, where they rest underneath Xavier’s gurney.

“Could you t-tell them to make it extra, ‘cause I’ll be here t-till morning.”

[angelthefirst1]

Beginning to the end of Coda

Beth: Hey it's been awhile...I'm gonna be honest I forgot about you... 😉

It's been awhile since I've had motivation to post about our long lost Sheriff or Twd, but no...I have absolutely not given up, I've been patiently waiting for her.

Nothing has changed, none of the signs have gone away and infact as we get more information the clearer I think it's becoming that they planned to make her story the Coda to the main show.

Did I ever think it would take until the spin-offs? No...

But, looking into the Daryl spin-off and with the limitated information we have on it. A few things peeked my interest.

Daryl is heading to Paris where he will fall in with a religious group, and he gets taken there against his will.

As we see everything repeating and inverting i believe the template will be the Leah story all over again but with a different outcome and Beth - obviously.

It seems the spin-off will repeat the story of how Daryl falls in with Pope and his religious group against his will and it's in part because of Leah.

For Daryl in season 4, the Claimers came after losing Beth but before finding her again. While the Reapers came after Leah but before he finds her again (where he ultimately kills her)

It was a long time between them next meeting again, 4-5 years I believe.

The write-up on the Reapers stoyline deliberately connects them to the Claimers and we know the Claimers connect us to Beth's timeline and they are inverting and repeating that same story with Leah, showing us parts of what will happen before the main event still to come.

Emily has been to France at last twice that we know of and could well have filmed while there...

She posted this while there in 2017 which is very suspicious and makes me think this has been on the cards for a long time.

I guess we will see...but I'm looking for any French connections to Beth or Leah that might point further to this.

She was also in Paris last Christmas I believe.

The two (Leah and Beth) are so obviously shadows of each other but Leah was just a harbinger of the new Beth to come.

Leah is repeating Beth's past, while showing Beth's future.

11.06 On the inside, is a great example of this.

It shows Connie and Virgil in a repeat of the alone house

I've always said that Beth and Daryl in Alone were being watched, just as Connie and Virgil found out in this episode.

They are not alone and Connie scratches it into this painting, which is called The wolf and fox hunt.

Beth being the Wolf (we know that she claims that title from Still) will be hunted at some point.

The creatures in this haunted "Alone" house with Connie are called "Ferals" and are described as humans who lost their sense of self and become animals. The opposite of the funeral home where Beth praised Whomever was living there for not losing their humanity.

The same episode shows another angle of the timeline around Alone, as the Reapers are searching houses looking for Maggie's group.

Repeating the Claimers search for Rick and Michonne, while Daryl is in the middle of the two groups.

Meanwhile Connie (Beth) is missing...do you see how they have twisted everything to include all the same aspects, stories and visuals of the past? While telling a new story...

They are converging many aspects from season 4. Daryl pulls on the electrical wires outside the houses to alert his people, he becomes a version of the Alone dog setting off the traps ouside and alerting Maggie who is inside of the danger.

They have combined visual aspects from Alone, and the Claimers era, things like the boards on the windows to the pictures on the walls designed to replicate both the funeral home and the Claimers house.

Daryl is one of the "Claimers" here but in this timeline it was when Rick was hiding in the house under the bed, this time it's Maggie's group hiding under the floor.

They all quietly escape the house avoiding detection just as Rick did.

Leah also mentions her version of the Still cabin fire, which is a past event on her timeline. And as Daryl was with her in that fire the two worlds have been smashed together.

The obvious:

Judith has been playing Beth in this coda retelling of season 5.

We have known that for a long time and "Rest in peace" is the perfect antonym of Coda where we did not see Beth laid to rest, instead she's still just missing.

That was again emphasised at the close of the series by showing us graves or plaque memorials of the dead.

Still no Beth memorial anywhere to be seen. That's deliberate...

The reason being we still have no idea what happened after Coda although... they did tell us just with Judith instead.

We see Judith get shot in the same spot Dawn got stabbed by Beth.

We see Daryl go to her...

We then see the exact moment where a cloud or fog was visually added to Beth's story, blocking our view of what happened to her.

The parts they skipped over with Beth are marked by Daryl shooting the fire extinguisher and blocking our view of the events to come...

We here see them with Judith instead

Daryl carries Judith just like Beth, ouside the "hospital" Eugene meets the group outside as they exit the building.

Walkers surround the building and they get trapped...

Judith opens her eyes indicating she is alive. (Beth's timeline it's possible no one will know)

Continued part 2...

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW TO LOSE TIME AND SPEAKING

It takes a conscious effort to remind oneself that the real world doesn't work that way. Don't ignore your dreams; don't work too much; say what you think; cultivate friendships; be happy. To kids, wealth is a fixed pie that's shared out, and if one person gets more it's at the expense of another. Editors. When I notice something surprising, it's usually very faint at first. But there is also huge source of implicit tags that they ignore: the text within web links. Errors of omission are a particularly dangerous type of mistake, because you couldn't reproduce it in most of the US.

Silicon Valley don't seem to be taking their time. That doesn't sound right either. All a city needs is to be the kind of effervescent feel that attracts the young. Till recently I thought it didn't, but the Internet got me because it became addictive while I was using it. Day about half the startups were doing something significantly different than they started with. Interestingly, while Kate said that she could never pick out successful founders, she could recognize VCs, both by the way they dressed and the way they did. Perhaps, if design and research converge, the best research is also good design, and in those detecting bias is straightforward. In 1958 these ideas were anything but obvious. The same is true in the arts could tell you, the way to succeed was to launch something fast, listen to users, and then iterate; that startups required resilience because they were built one building at a time. Is there some way to beat this limitation? Paradoxically, one of the reasons I disliked the term Web 2. Those three used the English language like they owned it.

Poverty and economic inequality are not identical. Google set off the tagging movement. Historically the closest analogy to what he does are the great Renaissance patrons of the arts, and particularly in oil painting. And to reproduce that you need time to grow a silicon valley; you let one grow. The other thing that made him different was that he liked us. That has two important implications. You have to calibrate your ideas on actual users constantly, especially in the beginning. I think the goal of an essay should be to discover surprising things. If it were a conscious trick, he would have slipped in a moment of excitement. A lot of people. Even people sophisticated enough to know about the pie fallacy: that the rich get rich by creating wealth, that would not only not eliminate great variations in wealth would mean eliminating startups. Which means applicants of type x have to be new, but it happens surprisingly rarely.

There's a physical analog in the Intel and Microsoft stickers that come on some laptops. Few startups happen in Miami, for example, the idea was discovered during the Renaissance, journeymen from northern Europe were often employed to do the landscapes in the backgrounds of Italian paintings. Bureaucrats by their nature are the exact opposite sort of people from startup investors. In software, my rule is: always have working code. And technology for targeting ads continues to improve. But it's not. That idea is almost as old as the web. The top US Computer Science departments are said to be MIT, Stanford, Berkeley, and Carnegie-Mellon? It's populated by people who talk a lot with one another as they work slowly but harmoniously on conservative, expensive projects whose destinations are decided in advance, and who carefully adjust their manner to reflect their position in the hierarchy. In retrospect, he was out of place as an elementary school teacher, and I suspect the human brain is just as lumpy and idiosyncratic as the human body. They just wanted to make the point that the web mattered again. Those companies were apparently willing to establish subsidiaries wherever the experts wanted to live.

But in retrospect, something was happening: the web was finding its natural angle of repose. His most impressive work, to me, is his drawings. Extraordinary devotion went into it, and focus our efforts where they'll do the most good. I say pick b. It was a killing machine. It's so easy to slip from talking about income shifting from one quantile to another, as a source of economic inequality, it would not. What would it look like? And while some of the growth in economic inequality, it would be good to be precise about what we want. Now the standard excuse is openly circular: that other languages are more popular. The closest is the colloquial sense of addictive. But it was obvious what users wanted, so Apple flew under the labels. But when they do notice startups in other towns they prefer them to move.

Thanks to the Berkeley CSUA, Patrick Collison, Robert Morris, and Trevor Blackwell for sparking my interest in this topic.

[ceciliablossoms]

sazerac with zhongli, diluc, and kaeya? congrats on 100 followers!! 💕

Thank you so much! 💞💞

Sazerac: “I don’t… feel very….-”

TW: Mentions of Alcohol Consumption and Intoxication (Diluc), Mentions of Injury (Kaeya), Mentions of Illness (Zhongli)

-------

Zhongli

It was little before midday when they met up for their daily luncheon. Zhongli was already sitting at a table on the restaurant patio waiting for them, already having ordered their beverages as they both always got the same thing every time without fail. They were running a tad bit late, however, he paid no mind since he knew they were quite busy.

He drank from his small teacup as he waited, and it wasn't until they called his name that he looked up. They were jogging in his direction, dominant hand up in the air in an exaggerated wave. With a chuckle, he returned the wave, albeit more proper. He knew though, that something was wrong the moment that they sat across from him.

They had a sweaty sheen to their skin despite it being chilly out and sported a tired look on their face. At first, he chalked it up to the word they had been doing but the lack of appetite the food was served confirmed some suspicions. They hardly touched any of their food despite it being such a small portion and he eyed them with worry.

After the meal, he had proposed that they go home and rest a while but they happy insisted on walking with him back to the funeral parlour before doing so. But the walk was a struggle for them. Their movements were sluggish and they had trouble keeping up with him.

They grabbed his sleeve and tugged on it gently to grab his attention. He glanced over at them, his expression turning to one of surprise when he saw how much worse they had looked now than they did earlier.

“I don’t… feel very….-”, They promptly fell over.

He was quick on the draw and caught them before they hit the ground. He scooped them up gently as to not jostle them too much and touched his forehead to theirs. It was very clear that they had a fever but when he felt how warm their skin was, he realized how bad the fever actually was.

With great care, he carried them home and lied them down in their bedroom then immediately set out to speak with Baizhu about getting them some medicine. He also alerted Hu Tao to the predicament which she allowed him to take care of.

When they awoke, Zhongli was at their bedside, with a novel in hand. They looked around and took in their surroundings, relaxing when they realized that it was just their bedroom. The moment they made a move to sit up, the book in his hand was closed on the bedside table and he was gently pushing them to lie back down.

"Now, now, you mustn't overexert yourself. You will only feel worse if you do not rest. Stay put." He left the room only to return with a small bowl of water, a clean towel, and the medication Baizhu had prescribed earlier. He propped them up so on their pillows so they could take their medicine then immediately lied them back down.

They watched as he dampened the towel in the bowl before wringing it out. A soft sigh escaped their lips as he placed it over their forehead. The cold water did wonders to cool them down. He returned to his seat at their bedside.

"If there is anything at all you need please do not hesitate to let me know."

They smiled. "Thank you, Zhongli."

-

Diluc

The evening was in full swing, all the usual customers in their usual seats ordering their usual drinks. It was Diluc's turn behind the bar tonight, and as irritated as he was by the drunkards that didn't compare to the irritating he felt when the bard walked in with them on his heels.

Diluc heaved a sigh as the two took their usual seats at the bar, unknowing that this would turn out how it always did when Charles was present. They would tag along to make sure Venti wouldn't drain Diluc's entire stock of wine and pay for whatever the bard couldn't, so DIluc wouldn't be mad. Then Venti would persuade them to drink with him, and they were such a lightweight that they would end up getting so drunk they blacked out.

He rubbed his temple as Venti ordered his usual favourite but served him nonetheless. They noticed how annoyed he was already and tried to spark up a conversation with him to ease his nerves.

He visibly relaxed, mostly doing the listening as he never was one for talking more than he had to. Occasionally, Venti would interrupt to tease them or order a refill, and every time he did they would hand Diluc more Mora to which he would roll his eyes.

"You should be making the bard pay for his own indulgences." He commented after Venti's 9th refill. At this point, they were getting tipsy too, as the bard would occasionally offer them a drink of his alcohol.

"It... It's fine. I don't... mind." He could tell that they were trying their hardest not to slur their words

He had hit his 13th a while ago and was even more giggly than normal but otherwise still relatively sober. They, on the other hand, were rather inebriated, their sentences completely incoherent. Diluc had long since cut Venti off, highly irritated that he continued to share his booze with them.

Their voice was quiet when they spoke, “I don’t… feel very….-” The faceplanted onto the counter, the noise of their head hitting the bar startling both men. That was when Diluc closed the bar, forcing everyone to leave immediately and with gentle hands scoops them up and carries them back to the winery.

The next morning, the headache they had was the worst one they think they've ever had, and they held their head in their hands. The curtains were still closed to limit the light exposure as post hangover sensitivity can be an issue and on the nightstand were pain killers and a glass of iced water. They downed both needily and stayed in bed not quite trusting their legs just yet.

Not longer after Diluc came in with a small tray in hand, figuring having the maids do it would be strange to them, "Do you think you can eat?" He kept his voice down so any loudness wouldn't make the migraine worse.

With a hesitant nod, they gave him the okay and he set the tray of food in their lap. The portions were small so it wouldn't make them ill. Their stomach churned but they ate nonetheless, albeit extremely slowly.

They thanked him quietly and he sat on the foot of the bed with a nod. "You needn't let that bard talk you into drinking if you can't handle it."

With a sigh, they nodded slowly, already knowing that Charles had told him of the previous encounters. They took a slow sip of water. "I know..."

He waited until they were finished before taking the tray from them and setting it on a dresser near the door. "Is there anything you need?"

They patted the spot next to them, "Will you stay until this headache subsides?"

He nodded again, sitting next to them, wrapping an arm around them as they curled up against his torso.

-

Kaeya

The task was simple. Just the normal routine of clearing out some hilichurl camps with Amber then report back to the Headquarters. The two slip up, Amber took everything to the right of the bridge and they took everything to the left.

The Whispering Woods were relatively empty but beyond that was a different story. There was a large gathering of hilichurls and it seemed as though multiple tribes had converged into one. They watched for a bit from the bushes before deciding to clear out the massive group.

Having dealt with many hilichurls in their time they didn't think that solo clearing the camp would have been that big of a deal. What they expect, however, was to be completely and utterly overwhelmed. The smaller hilichurls and samachurls was no issue, but the sheer amount of mitachurls began to cause problems.

There were many at a time, swinging in sync from different angles in an attempt to cut them down where they stood. Adrenaline pumped through their veins as they fought with vigour. Mitachurl after mitachurl was slain and even after Amber had come to aid them they were still slaying the beasts.

Amber was worried, to say the least with the amount of dirt and grime that coated their clothes. They insisted, however, that they weren't injured as they felt no pain. The two went back to the town together, and they had said they would take care of reporting to Kaeya as Amber had stated she was hungry. The duo parted ways.

They found the walk to the headquarters to be more burdensome than normal, movements usually more sluggish. They ignored the worried glances from passersby and continued on their way. By the time they had entered Kaeya's office, their skin was significantly paler, all of its colour drained.

They called his name as they entered, ready to give the report when a sharp pain made them gasp. Kaeya looked up from his desk, expression changing to one of shock. They had been unaware that they had been bleeding through their clothing. He quickly stood and caught them as they fell forward.

“I don’t… feel very….-”

He keeps forces a smile and keeps his tone level, "Stay awake, hm?" but it all crumbles the moment they fall unconscious.

He called for either Wyratt or Wood down the hall as he placed his hands on their injury to staunch the bleeding. The blood was seeping from a gash on their side that he was assuming they didn't feel because of adrenaline. The two knights ran in and he demanded they fetch one of the sisters immediately. The two jumped at the tone of his voice, scrambling to the church.

He didn't know if he was angry with them for being reckless or the mitachurl that gave them the injury but regardless he was. Scooping them up with one hand he applied pressure with the other, deciding that he would at least try to meet them halfway as other Knights ushered away any prying eyes.

When the sisters got their hands on them, they were in shock, namely Barbara who was very clearly stressed out by the look of their injury. They were sweating and their skin was clammy. She worked diligently to clean and take care of the injury as best she could to get them into a state where they could be taken back to the church.

It took a while but she succeeded, stabilizing them and carrying them as carefully as possible to the infirmary in the back for the cathedral. Hours passed before they awoke and their pain was unbearable. Kaeya sat next to them, feet kicked up on the foot of the bed. He stood the instant he noticed them wake up.

The relief in his eye showed exactly how he felt despite not showing it outwardly, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better." Their voice sounded weak and they were still very pale.

He grabbed their hand gently, placing a kiss over their knuckles with a light chuckle, "You gave us all quite the scare." He flashed his usual smile but it was also noticeably relieved. The report could wait. Their recovery was more important.

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: Spirit of Vengeance Survival Walkthrough

As we head toward 7.0, I thought it would be a good idea to check in with a Spirit of Vengeance Survival Guide, 2.0. I have my own feelings about SoV - namely that it's boring, tedious and was tuned way too high for a main story solo flashpoint - but let's move on to the actual guide. 

This is a guide specifically for those of you who just want to get this flashpoint over with so you can move on. 

I personally would advise trying to knock this flashpoint out of your story progression BEFORE 7.0. We have no idea how hard content is going to be once you lose some of your abilities and utilities, so if you have any characters who are planned to continue with the main story, I'd take them through now while you have all of the tools in your toolbox and are familiar with them.

After literally months of complaints the devs finally toned down this flashpoint to a more manageable level, but there are still a lot of mobs that hit hard, and it's still really long. When I went through with canon Viri and Lana at level 50, with Viri fully geared toward 306, I moved right along through the flashpoint without difficulty or deaths. It still took almost exactly an hour. It's even longer when you're contending with Rass Ordo and a lot of cut scenes. 

You will want to gear as well as you can for this - you should not have to since this is a story/solo flashpoint in the main story, but it will help you here. Remember you DO NOT have to group to get good gear. There are numerous solo missions that will give you gear up to 306 - the Mek-Sha Tradehouse missions, Personal Conquest each week, solo flashpoints, including the Onderon weekly and daily missions. Other suggestions: 

1. Buy and use the Supplied Kyrprax Command Stim, available at any medical droid in the flashpoint, including the one when you first land on Ship #1. If you're doing this as part of the main story, you unfortunately still have Rass Ordo as your companion. Rass Ordo, despite being influence level 25, still has the AI of a cardboard box. You'd be better off bringing along a Jawagram as your companion. This stim will up your presence for an hour and make him slightly less incompetent. 

2. If you can, equip yourself with the Life Warden tactical. This tactical drops fairly frequently from personal conquest and other gold gear boxes. It essentially gives you an extra heal in a tight situation and can come in handy. 

3. Medpac on your abilities bar. You hopefully won't need this, but have it handy just in case. You may want to invest in the Supplied Kyprax Med Unit medpac, which will heal you AND your companion. 

Within the flashpoint, some general caveats. You're looking at quantity, not quality here. It's just a lot of NPCs piling in on you. 

1. KILL THE HEALERS FIRST. KILL THE HEALERS FIRST. KILL THE HEALERS FIRST. Just about every mob here has healers. They have different names on each ship: 

- Varad Churl

- Darmanda Medic

- Ashade Lorekeeper 

If you don't kill the medics first the fights will be even more interminable. Get rid of them. 

2. Remember there are kolto stations in a lot of the rooms, not just the boss areas. 

3. Be very careful because there are a lot of mob groups close together. Watch where you are blasting/Force-whatevering because you don't want to pull more than one group at once. 

4. Get your gear repaired as often as you can. If you've fought a tough mob and there's a medical droid nearby, go to it and patch up, even if it means you have to backtrack. 

5. Get really familiar with any AOE (area of effect) skills you have. Know where they are on your abilities bar and how to use them. Given the mobs in this flashpoint, anything you have that can clobber several NPCs at once is welcome.

Now, here we go.

SHIP #1: 

Banquet room: after you fight the first mob and take the elevator, you will find yourself in a large "banquet room" with a lot of mobs. Pick a straight line and go forward, taking care not to veer too far to the sides. If you wander, you'll invariably pull the mobs on the sides of the room. 

The rest of this ship is pretty straightforward; it's just a lot of mob NPCs converging on you at once, over and over again. 

Gorga Brak: Straightforward; stay out of the red circles. Be aware that Rass Ordo will helpfully stand in these circles and let Gorga set him on fire, so don't expect any help during the fight. 

SHIP #2: 

More of the same: lots of mobs, now with Dar'manda nameplates. The Dar'manda medics try to hide more than the healers on the other ships, sometimes even going behind crates or other barriers, so keep your eyes peeled for them. 

First thing of concern here: after a few rooms of mobs, you will arrive at the notorious jumping puzzle. Just stay on the right side of the room and walk along the beam. There are a few jumps up onto pieces of metal but they are not hard, ambitious jumps. Otherwise you just have two places where you have to make sure your character drops down onto the beam and not into the flames. Angle your camera overhead so you can see what you are doing. 

Now it's time to go through the notorious Room After The Kitchen. As the name would suggest, you will know this is coming when you go through the kitchen. All the NPCs in the kitchen are neutral; leave them alone and keep going. The next room is a ballroom and you will find a lot of mobs. 

You can get through this room by fighting only two mobs IF you watch where you are fighting and blasting. I like to try to get the first mob up onto the stairs so there's less of a chance that anyone else in the room will be disturbed. Kill the medics first. Then go straight foward - right through the fountain - and up the stairs to the second mob. I again like to try to fight them in their alcove up the stairs so I don't pull the other NPCs in the room. 

You will now go down some corridors with more mobs - the space is tight, which in a way is good because you can't aggro more than one mob unless you really try. If you are going for bonus missions there are some rooms here to visit off the main path. If you're just trying to get this damned flashpoint over, continue straight down the hall toward that green arrow. 

After taking the elevator you'll get to the tether room, and a yellow message will flash onscreen about it. There will be a very large mob here with a lot of Dar'manda Commander silver NPCs. If Rass Ordo decides to up and die on you, it may be here. Remember there's a kolto station to the immediate right of where you walked into the room. 

Click the blue box to release the tether. Do NOT get too close to the rancor in the cage, Goldie. Back when SoV was first released, she'd aggro on you even from in her cage, and you couldn't kill her or get out of combat. They seem to have fixed that bug, but you know how that goes. 

Bask Sunn: Kill. The. Medics. First. After that, Bask Sunn has a wicked knockback, but he can't knock you *out* of the ship anymore. Remember Bask Sunn leaves a crate with your loot (look on the bridge), it's not on his person. 

SHIP #3: 

Your first challenge here will be another room with a lot of intense mobs. Take care not to pull more than one mob at once. Rass may decide to try to die here. 

You will quickly reach the sniper room. It's a long room with two snipers by the far doorway, shooting at you. Don't try to engage them; just keep running forward. As you cross this room, you will drop through the floor. It's a long fall but you won't take any damage; it's what the game wants you to do. 

Rass will not fall with you, and you will have a room of tentacles to fight on your own. Hit Unity and Heroic Moment BEFORE you fall, when you are still in the sniper room with Rass. You can use your HM abilities against the tentacles. If you really  have trouble with them, try to get out of the garbage pit; you will find a kolto station at the top of the small ramp. 

Now we come to...oh look, another room with a lot of mobs. They're so creative here. Do your best not to pull more than one at once, kill the medics, you know the drill by now. 

Troya Ajak: No special tricks. Stay out of the red circles. Her songbird volley is nasty, but she's perhaps the easiest boss in this flashpoint. 

FOURTH SHIP (The Spirit of Vengeance, I think?) 

Thankfully this is almost a straight shot to the final boss encounter, and there's a medical droid just before it. You may wish to wait for your Heroic Moment to cool down if you have recently used it. 

The silver NPC in the small mob right outside Heta Kol's area sometimes does not die. If you find that they keep recharging to full health, walk past them, put Rass on passive, and wait by the medical droid.  They should eventually give up and go back to their original spots and you can go on. 

Heta Kol: This fight has mercifully been toned down. There are two stages: 

You'll fight Heta Kol straight on. She has a serious knockback, but there aren't any special tricks here. 

1. Stage One: fight Heta. 

2. Heta disappears and a mob appears at the bottom of the stairs. There are two medics, and the Commanders will have knockbacks to keep you from killing the healers. 

3. After all the mob NPCs are defeated, Heta will return. Keep trying to hit her. 

4. Heta disappears. This time there's a mob with two gold Varad NPCs and two weaker ones at the stairs, plus two silver Dar'manda snipers on the platform. If you have any AOE skills, make sure they are available here so you can take out as many as possible at once. You may wish to consider saving Heroic Moment for this point so you can use Orbital Strike if you have it. Rass Ordo loves to die at this point so be mindful of where your kolto stations are. You might need the kolto for him, even if you don't need it for you. 

5. Heta Kol returns with a much more serious knockback and red circles of doom that increase in size and are hard to avoid. You're going to get thrown around a lot. ETA with thanks to @vespertine-legacy: The circles can be interrupted, which may make this fight easier.

And...you're done. Thank the stars. 

[razzle-zazzle]

Five times others noticed something off about Cole + one time it was explained

3083 Words; Coleverlord

Something was wrong with her son.

Lilly couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she realized it, but something had changed since that disaster of a boating trip. Cole had been more quiet, lately, had been listless and almost eerily pensive at times.

Lilly didn’t like it. It was unnerving.

They never should have gone. It was supposed to be a fun outing for the three of them, a four-hour tour off the west coast alongside some other passengers.

It ended up being a ten-day stay on an uncharted island. It ended up being Lilly in charge of a group of people not quite accustomed to wilderness survival as they waited for rescue to stumble upon them. It ended up being exhausting, and draining, and the exact opposite of a fun outing.

And then they’d finally been found, and finally arrived home—

And now something was wrong with Cole.

It wasn’t what one would expect in this situation, either. Cole wasn’t sick, wasn’t running a fever, nor was he injured—no, it was none of that.

But there had been a drastic change in his behavior, and Lilly didn’t like it. It felt like there was something in her home, something that never should have been let in but had come in anyway, and that something was pitter-patting down the halls with steps eerily similar to her son but just so slightly off.

“Mama?”

Lilly jumped at her son's voice, caught off guard. She was in the kitchen getting herself water and trying to sort through this awful feeling she had. Her seven year old son was standing in the doorway, hand gripping the frame.

Despite the moonlight streaming in through the window onto his face—or maybe because of it—he didn’t seem quite real. Something about the way Cole was holding himself was just… off.

“Yeah?” Lilly shifted uncomfortably under her son’s stare. Something was definitely wrong with this child. Just him standing there in the doorway had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Cole took a step forward. “Had a bad dream.” He murmured.

Lilly set her water on the counter and crossed the kitchen, wrapping her arms around her son despite her instincts telling her to be wary. “Oh, baby, it’s okay,” she lifted him up, bracing him against her hip to hold him more easily. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Cole buried his face in Lilly’s shoulder. “Don’t remember.” He mumbled.

Lilly hated that her first instinct here was to set Cole back down again. Hated that, for all that her son was right here and seeking comfort, part of her was convinced it wasn’t him.

Cole was still clinging to her, though, so she returned to the counter to finish her water, holding him close the entire time.

She’d have to tell Wu about all of this, about this unsettled feeling she had, but—

That could wait until the morning.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole had a really weird presence.

Jay didn’t really mind that Cole could sometimes be a little… off. Cole was Cole. Besides, Zane was also weird, but he was no less their brother; the same applied to Cole.

But for how sweet Cole could be, there was still something… unsettling about him. Something that had Jay’s arms erupt into goosebumps whenever Cole was around. And that was after several months of knowing the guy—when they’d first met, Jay couldn’t even look at Cole without his stomach tying up in knots.

It probably wasn’t really anything to worry about, but Jay couldn’t help but wonder why Cole had such disconcerting vibes. And it wasn’t the same as Zane’s uncanniness, because at least when Zane acted uncanny it didn’t put Jay on edge the way Cole sometimes did.

Jay knew Cole… or maybe he only thought he knew Cole. He was probably just being paranoid, but he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

He really hoped he was just being paranoid.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole was certainly… odd.

But that was fine. Zane was odd, too. They were both a little odd, but their family still loved them for it.

Sure, Cole’s tendency to occasionally stare westward was unusual, but Cole was Cole. It was when Zane started keeping track of it that things got… interesting.

As they traveled around searching for the Fang Blades, Zane noticed that Cole didn’t stare exactly westward. Rather, it seemed that the angle changed depending on the latitude, as though Cole was looking towards a certain location in particular rather than just out west in general.

So Zane conducted an experiment. Whenever he noticed Cole zoning out to stare west, he tracked the location and angle as best as he could.

Zane collected this data over the course of several days. When he was finally satisfied and had the free time to do so, he found himself a map, a ruler, a marker, and a compass.

It was time to record the data.

“Hey, Zane,” Jay greeted as he came into the room, “Watcha doing?”

“Recording data.” Zane responded, another crisp line appearing under his steady hand.

Jay came over to look at the map over Zane’s shoulder. “Kinda looks like you’re just drawing lines on a map, buddy.”

“That is what I am doing, yes.” Zane drew another line, extending it out until it intersected with the first. Since Jay was still watching, Zane elaborated, “I am marking down the directions of Cole’s… ‘trances’, as it were.”

Jay hummed consideringly. “Looks like they all converge at a certain point.”

Zane nodded. “Yes, it seems they do.” He added the final line, then capped the marker and set it and the ruler aside to survey his work.

Ten lines, crisp and neat, from ten different starting positions. Ten lines that all converged on the same point off the west coast.

There was nothing at those coordinates other than ocean, at least, there was nothing on the map. It was very puzzling.

“Wait.” Jay pointed at a small island just a few degrees north of the intersection. “What’s that?”

It was the only charted island for miles. Small, nondescript, and uninhabited. But it was also the closest thing to the intersection, and probably their best bet for answers outside of directly asking Cole.

“I’ll have to look into it.” Zane made a mental note to do just that as he stood up and began to fold the map.

Jay grabbed everything else. “Here, I’ll help.”

Zane nodded. “Thank you.”

+=+=+=+=+

Nya liked to think she was good at noticing the little details.

And she was! Whether it be the small details of her mech’s innards or the little things her brother did when he was stressed, Nya was really good at noticing small details.

Which was probably why she had noticed so many odd things about Cole. To be fair, a lot of things Cole did or said were just plain odd—and there was nothing wrong with that—but there were some things he did that just… felt off, sometimes.

So yeah. Nya noticed the small things, paid close attention to the boys and their habits and their moods. Paid attention to the small details of their faces, like the way Jay’d stick out his tongue when he was concentrating, or how Zane’s brow would furrow when he was deep in thought; how Kai’s eyes crinkled when he smiled—

And how Cole’s eyes seemingly changed color every so often, for seemingly no reason. How that dusty, tawny brown that looked so much like the sunbaked earth around the shop could suddenly shift into a deep violet. How sometimes it almost looked like his eyes were glowing in certain lighting. How it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light, no, his eyes definitely changed color.

Which was probably not normal.

Then again, their sensei was technically part dragon and had slitted pupils, so maybe Cole’s magical color-changing eyes weren’t that out there.

It was just a little unnerving, to look at Cole expecting those gentle eyes and see foreboding violet. Almost like there was something else there, something lurking behind those eyes. Something that shouldn’t be trusted.

But Nya didn’t like to think that way about Cole, so she just noted that his eyes changed color sometimes and moved on with her day.

She had more important things to stress about.

+=+=+=+=+

Kai didn’t like this.

There were a lot of things about this island that Kai didn’t like, but the way Cole had been acting since it rose was most definitely on the top of the list.

Cole was always pretty weird. And that was fine! What was unsettling was that he was acting differently from how he usually did.

First, they sail out to this random little island in the middle of the ocean because Garmadon somehow managed to get himself marooned out here, and was demanding they come and pick him up. Then, Cole disappears into the jungle with Jay and they trigger something that makes the island rise, revealing it to be some big evil mega island from Misako’s old texts. It didn’t help that Cole didn’t seem at all bothered by this.

Ever since then, Misako and Wu and Garmadon had been furiously discussing whether to stay and explore or leave immediately, and Kai was pretty sure Misako still had her weird grudge against Cole because he’d overheard her calling him a “problem” again, so Kai was staying away from that argument.

And so the ninja were cautiously poking around the edges of the jungle after having moved the Bounty back out to the new coast, and Cole—

He wasn’t acting like Cole.

He’d been muttering, too quiet to make out any of the words, and he’d go silent if you came closer. He stared into the jungle a lot, sometimes zoning out so bad that not even Jay’s bad jokes could snap him out of it.

All in all, Kai was very unnerved. And an unnerved Kai was an angry one, snapping at anyone who came near.

His stress levels weren’t helped by the fact that last he’d seen Cole, he and Lloyd had been wandering into the jungle. Kai had followed, but he’d lost track of them what seemed like hours ago.

So now the whole group was on an island Misako didn’t want to be anywhere near, Cole was acting like he was possessed and had disappeared with Lloyd for unknown reasons, and Kai was lost in the jungle.

“Amazing! Incredible!” Kai kicked at the dirt at his feet, “Oh, this is just perfect!” He had no idea how to get back. Great. Fucking wonderful.

The jungle had no response for his tantrum, just a few faint bird calls and wind rustling the leaves.

Kai huffed. He wasn’t going to be finding Cole and Lloyd anytime soon, so he should probably try to get back to the beach and tell everyone else what he knew. Of course, being lost would put a damper on it, but Kai was reasonably sure he could figure out where he was.

He looked at the trees surrounding him.

He just needed a little more height.

+=+=+=+=+

Lloyd was pretty sure they were lost.

When he voiced this concern, however, Cole just replied with a chipper “oh no, we’re definitely getting closer!” that wasn’t reassuring in the least. So Lloyd continued to trudge through the jungle after Cole, hoping he’d at least get an explanation for why Cole felt the need to drag him along to… wherever they were heading.

Another leaf smacked Lloyd in the face. “Are you certain we’re not lost?” He asked once more. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the same tree more than four times already.”

Cole didn’t say anything, just took Lloyd’s hand to help him up a small ledge. They continued their little trek, the jungle slowly thinning out and becoming a mountain.

“It’s just up here.” Cole said. He’d been unusually quiet up until this point.

Lloyd looked up at the rock face that Cole was suggesting he climb and groaned. But Cole was already ascending, so Lloyd swallowed his complaints and got to climbing. It was strenuous and sweaty and exhausting and if Cole was only dragging him up here to show him a killer view or some shit then Lloyd was going to scream, but he’d let himself be led out this far so he was going to climb all the way to the top, dammit.

Gasping and aching in ways that shouldn’t be possible, Lloyd hauled himself up onto the top, flopping over onto his back to catch his breath. Why did killer views have to be so hard to get to?

Cole was already moving, striding towards whatever he’d wanted to show Lloyd. Lloyd blearily turned his head towards Cole, not prepared to see anything in particular—

Oh.

That was definitely… something.

A big metal… thing sat proudly atop the stone, with a whole bunch of gears and rings and big metal balls on the end of rods like some mad scientist’s evil machine or something.

Lloyd pushed himself up into a sitting position while Cole approached the metal abomination. “Am I gonna get an explanation, or… ?”

Cole stopped, still facing towards the Big Metal Thing. “It’s the Celestial Clock.” He said quietly. “It’s supposed to count down to the final battle.” Now that he said it, Lloyd could see something that looked vaguely clock-like near the center of the rings.

Lloyd frowned. “It doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot of counting down.” Which was a relief. Lloyd would like the final battle to maybe just not happen, please and thanks.

“Yeah.” Cole stepped forwards, tracing his hand gently along one of the rings as he moved towards the center of it. “Because it hasn’t been activated yet.” He stopped at the center and put his hands on a helmet Lloyd hadn’t noticed before. “But if you remove the Helmet of Shadows…”

Lloyd stood up very fast. “Uh, Cole, what—”

“Do you trust me?” Cole’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Lloyd stopped where he stood.

“Lloyd.” Cole still didn’t turn around, “Do you trust me?”

“I—” What was the right answer here? What was Lloyd supposed to do?

“Yeah, I—I trust you.”

Cole picked up the helmet and stepped back, his back still to Lloyd. With a grind and a groan, the clock started moving. “Then you won’t worry about this.”

“But the final battle—”

“Isn’t happening.” Cole snarled. “The clock is going to run down and nothing will happen because there isn’t going to be a final battle. We are not fighting.”

Lloyd took a step back. Okay, this was definitely starting to cross the line into Not Okay. “Cole?”

All the tenseness in Cole’s shoulders dissolved. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “You’re not talking to Cole right now.”

At that, Cole—or rather, Not-Cole?—turned around, helmet still cradled in his hands. His eyes were a brilliant, glowing violet—no iris, no pupil, just pure, deep violet that had Lloyd’s instincts screaming at him to flee from.

Immediately, Lloyd assumed a defensive stance. “What are you? What did you do to Cole?” He demanded, green lighting in his hands.

Not-Cole laughed, an eerie, broken sound. “Relax, Lloyd, I don’t intend to hurt you.” It took a step forward, but stopped when Lloyd stepped back. “Or did you not hear me when I declared that there would be no final battle?”

“You better start explaining,” Lloyd snarled, “Right now.”

Not-Cole nodded. “That is why I brought you up here, yes.” He sat down, helmet still in his lap, and gestured for Lloyd to do the same.

Lloyd dropped the stance, but stayed standing.

Not-Cole sighed. “Alright, let’s start with an introduction. I am the being known as the Overlord. I came about not long after the First Master created Ninjago, as a counterbalance to his light and order.”

Lloyd processed this, turning it over in his head. “Okay.”

The Overlord nodded, then continued. “The First Master and I engaged in a battle for control of Ninjago. What was going to be a stalemate turned in my favor when I created the Stone Army, so the First Master split Ninjago in half and sunk my half, leaving me bound to it.” It traced Cole’s hands along the edges of the helmet, gaze fixed on Lloyd.

Lloyd frowned. “So, what, you possessed Cole when we got here? Is that it?”

It chuckled. “You’re correct, but your timing is off. My vessel first arrived on this island years and years ago, when a freak stroke of luck resulted in a ship washing up here.” Cole—no, the Overlord—sighed wistfully. “I wanted off this island. My vessel was sympathetic enough to let me in.”

Lloyd tensed. “So you’ve been controlling Cole for years, then.”

“No.” Cole said, eyes suddenly back to their normal brown. “We share this body.”

“Cole.” Lloyd put his hands on Cole’s shoulders. “Are you really, truly okay with this?”

Cole nodded, sincerity in his eyes. “Made It promise not to fight you.” He muttered.

And then his eyes were violet, though not the fully obvious, solid violet of moments before. Just the irises.

“There won’t be a final battle.” It said, “That clock will count down to nothing.” It stood up, still holding the helmet. “And nothing will happen.”

Lloyd walked over, standing beside It. “How can you be so sure?”

“My vessel was never supposed to end up on this island. I was never supposed to leave it. And look at us now, sharing a single body.” It strode forwards, Cole’s arms spreading out to the sides in an sweeping gesture as It stared out into the landscape below them. “Destiny has been defied once.” It turned towards Lloyd, extending a hand. “So why bow to such a shitty destiny if you don’t have to? Why submit yourself to a fight none of us want when it’s not even necessary?”

It gestured towards the clock, which was still ticking down. “Just wait. Nothing will happen when the clock hits zero, because there won’t be a final battle. Destiny has no power over us.”

Lloyd watched the clock tick down for a moment, processing what the Overlord was telling him. Could he really trust it?

But then he remembered his father telling him that he was proud of Lloyd, as well as all the things his dad tried in order to stop the prophecy from coming true.

“Alright.” Lloyd made his decision.

“Let’s defy destiny.”

[kyogre-blue]

About Seelie

From Records of Jueyun: 

Another old legend told in the mountain villages claims that there was once a time, before the adepti had come into being, when the seelie who meander in the mountains knew an altogether different existence, one in which they had beautiful physical forms and possessed great wisdom. That era, when the seelie roamed the mountains and strolled through the grand halls in the cities of old, is said to date back even further that the days when Rex Lapis fought bitterly against countless rival gods.

At a far-flung moment in the distant past, the ancestor of the seelie met a traveler from afar, with whom they swore an oath of union witnessed by the three sisters of the Lunar Palace. Just thirty days later, a sudden disaster struck. The seelie and their lover fled into exile as the world collapsed around them, fleeing until the terrible calamity caught up with and seized them. Their cruel punishment was to be separated from each other for eternity and to have their memories wiped without a trace.

The graceful but heartbroken seelie and the sisters grew more sullen and withdrawn with each passing day, to the point where their wondrous forms withered away, leaving fragments of their former selves scattered in the mountains and ruins, where they turned into tiny little life forms. They had forgotten so much, lost so much, and been stripped of their voices and wisdom, yet they continued to sing the same songs of grief. Because of this, still harboring a shred of the deep love they once had for their long-lost lover, they will act as guides to travelers who stop in the mountain mist, seeking to retrace their memories of an ancient story in long-abandoned ruins, disused makeup cabinets, and now-undecipherable poetry.

This is presented as just one possible origin of the Seelie and only a folktale, but it has several things to it which I think refer to other lore bits, making it more credible. 

First, the reference to “three sisters of the Lunar Palace.” Heart’s Desire says, “Or that once there were three bright moons in the night sky named Aria, Sonnet and Canon, sisters who were parted by death in a great catastrophe.” 

Even more, from Moonlit Bamboo Forest: 

"Long ago, three bright moons once hung high the night sky. These three moons were sisters, their years numbering more than that of the Geo Archon and their year of birth dating before the very bedrock upon which Liyue Harbor now rests.

The moons were daughters of prose and song, sovereign over the night sky. They navigated the heavens above in their silver carriage, alternating with one another thrice a month. If the reign was not promptly passed from one sister to the next, a terrible disaster would occur that very day.

These three luminous moons shared but one love, the stars of daybreak. Only at the fleeting moments when day and night converged could one of the three sisters pass the fading stars and gaze upon the chambers of the morning stars. Moments later, as the new dawn would break over the horizon, the carriage would quickly ferry the night's sister away.

The three sisters shared an equal affection for their one and only love, much like the affection they shared for one another. But this was all before the world was smashed against the tides of great calamity.

With time, disasters overturned the sovereign carriage and laid ruin to the halls of the stars. The three sisters of the night turned against one another, leading to their eternal parting by death. Only one of their pale corpses now remains, ever shedding its cold light..."

This seems to be an actual thing. Are we going to this Lunar Palace someday...? If you read between the lines, the disaster that followed only a month after the seelie and her lover pledged at the palace probably had to do with the sisters needing to switch control three times a month. 

Additionally, from A Drunkard’s Tale: 

This wasteland is said to be a land beyond the dominion of the deities, inhabited only by the grotesque ghostly remains of fallen gods, where the former palaces of the Seelie now stand empty. So when the solitary old wolf passed by a gray palace and heard the sound of music coming from within, it caught its attention.

Intrigued, the wolf stepped inside the gray hall, trod across the overgrown weeds, and passed by a broken sarcophagus, on which a portrait of the deceased ruler was still clearly visible.

Finally, he came to an inner room, where he saw a fair maiden strumming at her instrument. Her skin was ashen white and her head was bowed down, her slender fingers gently stroking the fragile strings of the lute as she played a long-forgotten and mournful melody.

"The last singers, the first Seelie, they played their final tune in the halls of angels."

The tiny Seelie playing in the forest were also drawn to the young maiden's tune, and flocked to her to pay their respects.

"What is this song that you play?"

"A song of the Seelie," Replied the pale young maiden in a soft voice. "Long, long ago, we wrote this song for the human savages. Yet now, we sing it to mourn our own fate."

So the Seelie having originally had human forms is also a thing. (Not thrilled with the human savages angle, but whatever.)

[beneaththesoftcloud]

I haven’t been on here much recently but I have a story I wanna share because maybe it would be helpful to someone? I don’t really know how to summarize; it’s mainly just my thoughts on an interaction I had and mental health.

I recently went with my mom to visit my grandma out of town and everything was going really well until there was a sudden conflict between me and my mom that sent me for 0 to 60 in less than a second and I snapped. Both of them converged on me and I was so upset and I knew that they were going to be mad at me and scold me and that they wouldn’t stop to listen to anything I had to say because that’s just what I’m used to. I’ve lived with my mom and her boyfriend since the end of 2019 for financial reasons and he doesn’t want me there so pretty much everything I do annoys him and causes conflict in the household. I have several sources of stress but that’s been hard to deal with because I can’t really do anything right in that situation. There’s no way to win (by “win,” I mean “find harmony”) if the only acceptable solution for the other party is “get out of my life asap.” But with the job market being what it is, covid, and the crazy housing prices in my city rising even higher, I live there because I have no other option. I know a lot of people are in the same boat as I am and I cope with my issues the best that I can but obviously the stress is always there and it fuels a lot of anxiety. Sometimes it comes to a head like it did when I was visiting my grandma, especially because my mom has this habit of poking people’s sore spots and then brushing off their reactions and it dirves me crazy.

But instead of coming at me from a disciplinary point of view like I was expecting (despite my age, despite the fact that I was able to live independently for several years before the shit hit the fan, this is the angle my family comes at me with because they see me as a child if I live under their roof), my grandma took an uncharacteristic step back. “This isn’t you, you aren’t an angry person like this, your bucket must be really full for you to be acting this way,” she said and she wrapped her arms around me and it made me realize how very long I’d gone without a hug or similar affection. Moreso, for her to stop and consider the reason why I might be acting so upset after such a short exchange rather than writing me off as a bad kid or trying to punish the reaction was mindblowing to me. 

If I get upset, I usually handle it by mentally making a tally of all the tough shit I’m facing right now and I realize, oh, of course I’m stressed, there’s so much on my plate. I take the time to articulate it to myself, even if it’s something small: “No, it’s not the end of the world that mom’s boyfriend tracked grease all over the floor you just mopped. Yes, it feels disrespectful (and sexist) that he always makes messes that you are somehow expected to clean up. These particular footprints will only take a minute or two to clean up, but it makes me feel like he doesn’t value my time or effort. It feels frustrating to feel this lack of respect now when I’m the same person they used to look up to when I taught at a university. I don’t think my job or the dollar amount I bring home should determine the respect I recieve from my family but it seems to impact them a lot; than angers and stresses me.” I can handle emotions and keep them from negativiely impacting others without having to repress things or use the bad coping mechanisms from my childhood by thinking things out this way. But you can’t just think your way out of every problem. If you have a conflict with another person, you have to communicate with them or else there’s no way to fix it. This brings me back around to the main issue: he doesn’t want harmony, he wants to force me out. My mom feels he has more right to be in the house than I do, so she is also a communiticave dead end in this arena more often than not. Her response is to get upset at me for “not getting along.”

Hence, my proverbial bucket is full. It only takes a few drops and then I’m overflowing with all of the pain, indignance, rage, helplessness, etc. and the knowledge that I’m better than this situation I’m stuck in. I see the progress I’ve made toward my goals and I hold onto that to keep me sane. I think, yes, this is a terrible situation and I can’t manicure my emotions and behavior to perfection because that’s impossible, but I want to be the person I want me to be and I’ll try and handle each given situation as that person I want to be. I’m not used to recieving any sympathy for my situation. When my grandma started dishing sympathy out despite my flawed behavior, I didn’t really know what to do. I sort of deflated and tears were falling before I really registered what was going on.

“Here,” she said and she stood right by my side and took my hand, “When you stand like this and you hold someone’s hand, it feels like you’re facing the problem together. If you stand like this,” she moved in front of me and crossed her arms, “this is confrontational. Even sitting across from one another it’s too easy to pit each other against yourselves. But when you’re side by side,” she moved again to my side and took my hand, “you can work things out like this.” She started interviewing me more or less and she didn’t critique anything I felt. She validated my personal struggle, the struggle of my generation, the effort I expend, the disposition I maintain. She didn’t crtique my mom to do any of this and my mom didn’t really jump in for good or bad, she just sort of sat and watched it unfold. There wasn’t really any news; she knew what my problems were and knew it gave me a lot of stress. But she didn’t leave the room, sje sat and listened. And since that trip, she’s tried to initiate a positive interaction with me almost every day over the past week.

And I guess a few things have been hanging around with me. My brother once said to me that you have different people in your life for different reasons when my mom asked him if it was an issue for him that his (kind, sweet) girlfriend has no sense of humor. He said he has me for that, he has friends for that, too, she doesn’t have to be everything for him to love her. Between that interaction and last weekend and just various other things, I just feel that I’ve been given this push along the last few years to allow more people into my life so that I can have different people for different reasons. I’ve always been so isolated and felt I have to do everything on my own. I do think it’s important to have a sense of responsibility for myself, but I think a lot of people feel very pressured to put on thier best face for everyone and only confide in maybe one or two people. If they share things with anyone else, it’s under the pretense of superficial conversation or the guise of a trendy topic. I know I personally tend to avoid sharing vulnerability too openly, too much openess makes it impossible to function day to day. But I also have been very closed off to the point that it doesn’t occur to me to confide even to relatively close family members. 

I think there’s so much talk about how self-reliance is the only important thing for happiness in our society that we don’t even realize how prevelant the message is (you don’t need a significant other to be happy, you just need self love! It doesn’t matter if you come from an abusive family, all you need to do to recover is believe in your own strength). And I think there’s comfort in that message when it’s directly opposed from a “family is everything/ blood is most important/ you’re nothing without your roots” type of a message because so many people do have such difficult family situations and it’s important to know your worth outside of that context. But I think, at least for me, I do need affection from people to feel better. Just little bits in different ways from different people, but it can’t all come from myself and have the same healing effect. The same goes for validation, attention, understanding, play, exchange of ideas, etc. And it’s important to have more than one person because otherwise it becomes easy to fall into the trap of expecting too much from one person or causing someone to feel pressured to always ease your mind, and that’s no good. 

I’m not really sure where I’m going with all of this but I guess I just feel better. My situation hasn’t changed, it still needs to change before I can really get to a truly healthy and relaxed state, but I feel massively better and I feel like I know how to continue on that path. Forming new relationships is so different in your late twenties than in your late teens and it feels like a weird landscape to navigate, but it’s like a wall that was seperating me from it all has come down. And I feel free instead of naked without that wall.

[samueldays]

Remarks against Liberalism

(in large part open letter to @mitigatedchaos​ and his ideas of liberalism)

Abstract: 

A while back I posted “and there is another systemic complication that classical liberalism rests on a knife-edge between "let the underclass suffer" right-libertarianism on one side and "needs more social programs" left-liberalism on the other” in a chat, which miti took as a good criticism, and I made a note to expand it later. This is my expansion, presented as three main theses.

Liberalism is unstable. It is particularly vulnerable to wokism.

Liberalism is tiny. It exists in a narrow band between sweatshop libertarianism and welfare leftism.

Liberalism is in part a mirage, resulting from projections of a superstructure without its fundament.

These are interlocked theses, but I will try to set each of them out on its own.

Liberalism is unstable.

One of the liberal ideas is a sort of market competition. Products, goods, services, arguments, ideas, professionals and so forth should have to compete on their simple merits. Not on their bloodlines, not on their credentials, not on their personal traits, not on government subsidies, not on regulating competitors out of existence, and absolutely never on violence. The market, including the famous ‘marketplace of ideas’, is a public space where everyone gets to offer their goods and everyone gets to make their own purchases.

A first source of instability in this idea is second-order markets. The Apple App Store, for example, banned Gab. In theory consumers could choose to buy a non-Apple device if they wanted Gab; in practice there’s lock-in and transaction costs and transfer friction.

Second is various degrees of monopoly power. Partly, this is second-order markets but worse. Imagine if Apple could effectively ban apps or sites from most of the Internet. Partly, it allows for cross-market influences as well, to deny important services to people transacting with disfavored outlets.

The intuitive fix is “Regulate the megacorporations into not doing that” but then you’re quickly off into regulatory leftism, and this sort of regulation is one hell of a drug. Alternatively, authoritarian rightism, if you come at it from a punitive more than contractual angle.

Racial discrimination is another example of instability. The original arguments for affirmative action were very moving when they said that a level playing field was hardly “fair competition” to a group that had to start the race so far behind, if you’ll excuse the mixed metaphor. The development of affirmative action gradually turned into increasing degrees of wokism and racial quotas and black privilege, with no clear dividing line.

(Personally, I think the Civil Rights Act was unconstitutional. How far back do you want to repeal?)

Liberalism seeks to have equality of opportunity, not equality of outcome.

But the moment one man seizes opportunity better than the next, by whatever that man will almost certainly start trying to pass on some of his superior outcome to his children, giving them superior opportunities! A trivial example, perhaps, but one that compounds and repeats a million times.

(Again, these theses are interlocked; I will address inheritance in both the other points from different angles.)

To maintain liberalism against inheritance, then, one slides easily into State-funded schools and State-managed curricula and State-guaranteed opportunities, thereby ceding a different part of liberalism. Nor is there a strict delineation between equality of opportunity and equality of outcomes. If one man is born 30 IQ points smarter than the next, in what sense can they be said to have equal opportunity? The law in its majesty forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, etc.

Wokist claims find purchase on liberalism in part because wokism is not conjured from thin air, it is aggressively expanding liberal precedents. Laws against voter intimidation lead to “Silence him, he’s triggering me”, alternate exam formats for the blind lead to educational videos being taken down because they’re not captioned, laws against overt racial discrimination lead to laws against thinly veiled racial discrimination lead to laws against disparate impact.

Liberalism is tiny.

I struggle to think of better terminology for this. Being tiny is not by itself a mark against an idea; there may well be a short sweet spot on a long spectrum of policy.

But there seems to me to be something about liberalism that is historically contingent as well as small; it’s a moving target as well as a hard target; it’s in some respects like being a “moderate” between leftists and libertarians when last century’s moderate is by now an extreme libertarian. To quote Moldbug,

Moderation is not an ideology. It is not an opinion. It is not a thought. It is an absence of thought. If you believe the status quo of 2007 is basically righteous, then you should believe the same thing if a time machine transported you to Vienna in 1907. But if you went around Vienna in 1907 saying that there should be a European Union, that Africans and Arabs should rule their own countries and even colonize Europe, that any form of government except parliamentary democracy is evil, that paper money is good for business, that all doctors should work for the State, etc., etc.—well, you could probably find people who agreed with you. They wouldn’t call themselves “moderates,” and nor would anyone else.

The center is tiny, the fringes are endless.

Again I come to the matter of inheritance. What is the liberal position on the acceptable degree of hereditary privilege? Why is this the position that gets called ‘liberal’? How many millions of dollars can I leave to my son, at what tax rate? What if I put them in a NGO? How many millions can I spend preparing the way for him before I die? Will you respect contracts that people swore to my as-yet-unborn-son?

It’s not that I think you haven’t thought about this. It’s that I have a hard time seeing your surely carefully considered opinions on this subject as something that can be turned into a mindset or an idea separate from you. Do you have a Liberalism separate from Mitigatedism that other people can hope to converge on? Convergence is harder for things that are tiny, which is a reason why I use that word.

Liberalism is in part a mirage.

Liberalism (as historically read) for nobles, or for another well-to-do class, is fine and good. Underperforming or misbehaving class members can be kicked out. Overperforming non-members can be inducted. Liberalism for everyone seems to me to have some generalization difficulty.

Similarly, the idea of a free and open market, competitive without the pressures of mafias or megacorporations, was often the result of an imperial writ or royal guarantee. Having a monarch in charge is fairly illiberal, but abstracting away the king for a sort of ideal liberalism easily results in the entrance of other illiberal factors that the monarch was suppressing because it benefited the monarch to have a liberally run subdomain.

(If I were king, I would absolutely have liberal subdomains. They’re profitable.)

Liberalism is unstable, as argued above, and an obvious stabilizer is a king with some degree a liberal vision saying “Keep it liberal in here”, but then it’s anchored on an illiberal fundament. The king can’t fully liberalize the kingdom without giving up his own power... indeed, I would expect he can’t even half liberalize the kingdom before people start demanding he yield the rest of his powers, whether by becoming a figurehead or becoming beheaded.

And again with the inheritance question. From the mirage POV: liberalism (historically) worked between relatively similar class members who were not too far apart to begin with, or in homogenous outbred countries. But if you try to universalize it, what liberalism is there if I can buy my son such great advantages he might as well have hereditary privilege, and what liberalism is there if I can’t spend my own money on my own son? What liberalism is there if a tightly bloodbound clan refuses to play by the rules, and what liberal means exist to break up clans?

(I am not in principle opposed to breaking up clans. But I question how this would be handled in a way that is meaningfully the way of Liberalism, rather than the instrumental goal of some other ideology.)

[neverheardnothing]

rewatching joe iconis and family lincoln center performance at 4 am instead of packing or sleeping just to feel something and i have so FEW and so MANY thoughts and yall are gonna hear em all. no i will not put this under a cut. im going to be an absolute bastard about this.

i love the story joe tells about why he's singing mitb as the first song so much. like. the spite of it all. the defiance of it all. the pride of it all. the dig it or fuck off and disappear of it all. the joe iconis of it all. 

“i know exactly the song im going to sing as my first song at the american songbook series.” i love that he highlights the fact that this is the american songbook series.

then immediately jumping right into broadway here i come with molly hager, the other song he is most known for!!!

every time i think about this performance i think about how this was the first (?) time this song was performed by them since the closing of bmc.

and then lance rubin comes up to sing try again. which is the only time that i know of that anyone but joe has sung this song.

i remember a remark made during watching it live that having someone else sing the song made it seem so clearly more about joe and his career. but also having lance sing it immediately makes me think of bbh closing early which yeah is part of joe’s career but also lance’s.

and also the line “if you’re an actor and another actor gets the part you auditioned for” reminds me of how lance found the auditioning process of acting and the whole [not acting part] of an acting career to be terrible which is why he quit to then become an author and the juxtaposition of him singing try again is Something. but also he DID try again he is just applying his efforts to a different creative field and it’s working out great for him. good for lance rubin.

lol i haven’t even talked about the actual performance aspect of this song anyways it’s very different from the two versions ive seen of joe doing it. he plays it a lot more comical. i love it.

sidenote not specific about this performance, but i love love LOVE the line and the music at “use the stairs, walk to the street. see the people, feel the heat, and apply yourself again.”

and also the line “when they cast you out to sea, there’s a lifeboat manned by me called try and try again” will never not make me think of bsol/last on land and bonus lance was also in that show! it just keeps circling around.

everything about these past 3 songs performed at this venue in this set list order in this moment at joe’s career is honestly so wonderful. like you had a songs about an anxiety attack, a suicide/loss of self in success, and repeated failures before this song all sung by individuals. two of these songs were written at points where joe felt frustrated/sad with his career. one written in the aftermath of specific frustration about the first closing of be more chill. one an actual song from bmc. like what a SETLIST for your first three songs! fucking michael in the bathroom, broadway here i come, and try again. truly something.

THE WHISKEY SONG!! i love hearing joe sing so much. while i think we can all agree he’s not the most skilled singer there’s something special about hearing a composer perform their own work. he adds like 3 levels of charm to make up for lack of singing skills lol. just a very charismatic guy.

lance rubin back on tamborine for the next bit of the song and he’s like laughing through it. not completely sure what he’s laughing about honestly but this Is a comedic song (after 3 real downers of songs) and also joe was playing it up.

jared weiss down on the floor with his guitar playing along. that’s its own bullet point.

audience cheering as more family members start coming on stage! i love that the band is getting cheers. love that!!!

the camera isn’t on him but from the audio, nick blaemire is presumably running around giving high fives to people in the audience.

i can’t exactly tell with the camera angle and the lighting but i think that more family members get up from different seats in the audience or at least enter in the back and walk through the audience to get to the stage during this instrumental break. reminds me of how joe loves theater that physically touches you. giving you high fives in this case.

love liz lark brown. she plays it pretty like. frenetic and frazzled. love it.

amara, badia, danielle, will, and nick are just chillin sitting on the steps of the stage. 100% contributes to the vibe of this song. top fuckin notch.

SOMEONE screams AH during the drunk part of the song and i cannot figure out who but it gives me so much life.

jared pulling lance down to the floor with him.

jason going “man.... this place is a dump” like i LOVE the irreverence.

everyone actually getting back up and also converging On the stage during the (kind of) acapella break.

and now your whole gang is up on the stage at the fancy ass appel room singing your what sounds like a mostly upbeat fun song but is actually about self medication with alcohol and it’s a fucking jam. i love the 3 solo songs and then bringing in everyone for a big group number.

sidenote not about this specific performance: the lyrics “i’ll pour some more and then—AND THEN?—i’ll pass out and then—AND THEN!” the and thens were not on the things to ruin album and i wonder why not ALL the time. was it just deemed extraneous? or was this an innovation after the album was recorded?

i love that you can see the band singing along.

yesterdays / i can’t relate. i love this song i fucking love it. i love the synthy keyboard that was an active choice made. which means that joe is not the one accompanying jared in this song.

jared: i hate today. joe: *snorts in the background*

“i like music you can hold” -> old records black suits, susannah’s obsession with music which was of course in vinyl format back then

will once said hearing lgw was very exciting because he’s first and foremost a fan of joe’s so he was hearing a new joe song for the first time and the world got just a bit larger and i think about that quote a lot in relation to this song because i was like Oh i Get What He Means now because this is the first new joe song i heard since like getting into his work and i felt that world getting a bit bigger.

jared’s monotone chorus on top of the girls underneath is so good. it’s so fucking good i cannot.

liz lark brown velociraptor fuckin classic. specifically in this performance the weird ass electric guitar noise at “there’s a dinosaur” is SO good. i love it.

i know people say Trans Vibes from next song (jeff) but this song also gives me trans vibes. i think joe inadvertently writes stuff trans people relate to because of his propensity to write for People Who Are Different.

people cheering as will takes off his jacket hell yeah.

i am way more used to the jeremy morse version of this song and really consider it more his so it’s so fun to hear will sing it.

i love the canon of the “oh”s so much.

after will sings “i go to the window looking out and what do i see? myself just staring back at me.” and someone in the audience AUDIBLY goes “oh.” like what a MOMENT. way more subtle than when someone screamed “WHAT” at the “naked korean girl” reveal during the pipe night performance but on the same tier of Great Audience Reactions.

smooth fuckin gliss bro i love it. arms out by side. i love it.

Classic Jason Sweettooth Williams Singing Helen. but this time they added like some REAL like. oh god i have no idea how to describe it. electric crunchy electric guitar noises. and it’s so good.

i havent mentioned this yet but in the background of every song people who are not in it or are backup vocals are just sitting and jamming along and it’s so nice because me fuckin too.

honest to god just have to give a timestamp for this but bullet point for whatever the fuck eric is doing in the background here.

will and katrina circling each other singing directly into each other’s faces. so good.

the Unexpected dynamic change and following crescendo i am Living.

katrina rose dideriksen riffing up top. yes. YES.

joe starting to play helen sharp and then forgetting part of his introduction to the song is so good.

the inevitable laughter at any performance of this song at “it is not lost on me you’re all here at my show”

i know nothing about the movie death becomes her so i honestly always just think about joe when this song gets performed. also thinking about how in the youtube premiere of this song, joe was talking about how lauren was shouting out the names of all the musical theater composers joe is jealous of.

right place/wrong time. i read a bsol review a while ago about how katrina rose dideriksen was underutilized and gotta say i Agree holy Shit let her sing More.

i also remember how joe once said this song felt the most personal to him and that he cried when writing it

police siren piano.

the first time in this entire song they sing in sync is at the line “i wonder if his/her life is just like mine” and i just start screaming.

when eric and katrina turn to each other for the first time and start singing At each other!!!!!!!!!!!

honey! thinking about jen ash tep talking about how Each performance of this song gets Wilder and Wilder.

love it when nick just gets off the stage and starts singing to people in the audience. apparently one of the people was will’s mom lol.

ACAPELLA BREAK!!!!!! joe just fully gets up from piano and starts WILDLY clapping along!!!!

woman of a certain age! i remember when the live show happened the album had not come out yet and then when the yt premiere of it happened it Had been out for a week or so.

piano note elevator bell

the electric guitar is doing some fucking weird ass things in this song and i am living so fucking much for it.

the riffs badia does are so fucking incredible i immediately paused this video to go and watch her sing big fat ruby again just because i wanted more badia content.

the story behind old flame is so good and joe waiting until the last fuckin moment to give her the song is so fuckin funny.

i love love love these types of joe songs that are like 7 minute long story epics like right place/wrong time and the actress and ammonia and old flame.

“the best way to get past the past is to shoot it in the head” and then the audience cheers and i fucking love it. my commentary is getting shorter. it’s 6 am and i’m tired can you tell. i also just had a lot of thoughts about this early on and less thoughts about later on.

revolution song. the deep ass fucking electric bass is So good i Will go apeshit. like honestly that might be my favorite smaller detail of this song. like i imagine if i were in the room it might be loud and deep enough that i could feel it In my chest. like you can Feel the revolution coming.

i love the faster tempo revolution song has in the cabaret version.

i also love the cabaret specific lines of “evolution in the institution”

joey is a punk rocker was honestly not ever on the list of songs i thought would get performed here but im so glad that they did. like the obvious choice would have been veins for annie golden but they went this route. obsessed with this choice. obsessed with the fact that amphibian replaced this song as the act 2 opener. obsessed that annie is the one singing this.

i am never not screaming about wave and yall know this. just throwback to me losing it in the tags in a reblog of picture of the wave passage going on about how it really does mirror joe’s career and bmc specifically. and again this song being performed for the first (?) time since bmc closed makes the “so today on a hill in las vegas” and onward part SO fucking sad i literally just started crying. the entire song being in past tense up until that part. i will just go die now.

will in the yt premiere talking about texting the line “our energy would simply prevail” in the leadup to bmc coming back.

find the bastard. for some reason when this happened live i thought it was gonna be outlaw that was performed. 

i swear to god it is literally physically impossible for me not to AT LEAST mouth along to “what’s your name, what’s your name” during this song

NAMES ARE FOR ACCOUNTANTS.

MY NAME IS AWFUL LONG AS IT’S THE LYRICS OF THIS SONG.

the goodbye song. it’s never not sad. i love love love that this song is the final song every concert. i also love the recent lore of finding out that penny dreadfuls was the encore song at concerts before they became too long and it had to get cut.

finally gonna mention the background car lights. what a beautiful backdrop.

also since im always on my wrol bullshit i love how fucking clearly you can hear him at the end

accelerando accelerando accelerando. insert [joe iconis peaked when he wrote the accelerando in the goodbye song post of mine].

katrina singing an octave up is always SO fucking impressive i am so impressed by her voice she is so fucking good i love her so much

the bows are so fucking sweet i love them.

goodnight it’s 7 am.

[stephadoodles]

DOAFP Episode 1x09 Review - “State of the Union”

It’s the penultimate episode of season 1, and everyone is realizing that they have to face the problems they’ve been running from. It’s also the episode with the most textual content as far as sexuality goes.

This is another episode where Elena, Bobby, and Gabi all have story lines that parallel one another. All three of them have a problem that they are avoiding (or oblivious to, in Elena’s case). Elena is still under the impression that Sasha is the one in the wrong and is waiting for her friend to apologize to her. Despite her mother’s attempts to point out that she’s wrong, she’s still stuck in her mode of thinking.

She realizes that the problem isn’t going to be solved that easily though, and purposely misses the bus, so she doesn’t have to face the reality of Sasha ignoring her. However, since her mom is trying to avoid Sam, she ends up getting a ride to the field trip anyways. We see the two storylines converge as Gabi tries to hide the fact that she and Sam are broken up, and she doesn’t want to face it.

Throughout the show, we’ve seen that Gabi has a tendency to hide her feelings on issues, and aside from Camila, doesn’t really have anyone to talk to about them. She started off by keeping her relationship with Sam a secret from everyone, including her kids, and now she’s hiding the fact that they’ve broken up. However, Elena figures it out, and calls her mom out on running away from her problems.

Ultimately, this helps Elena to realize that she was in the wrong about Sasha, and Gabi realizes that she does need to talk things out with Sam. While Gabi’s story line isn’t resolved until the next episode, Elena does the right thing and gives Sasha a genuine apology, which results in them making up. I really liked this story line, and it really turned the “best friend of the main character is only there to support them” trope on its head. Sasha stood up for herself, and Elena learned a lesson. While there’s still some wrapping up to be done with the Jessi angle of the friendship drama in the next episode, this part of it concluded really nicely.

And then we get to Bobby’s story line. Monyca confronts him about his behavior, and he panics and tells her that he loves her. She’s confused, and throughout their conversation, she brings up the fact that he’s been very focused on Liam. It’s not clear whether she’s figured out that he likes Liam or not, but she’s recognized that there’s something going on.

It was teased in episode seven that Camila had picked up on the tension between the two boys, and it’s really brought to the forefront in this episode. She literally lays out that she thinks Bobby has feelings for Liam, and that she wants to be there to support him in regards to trying to figure out his sexuality. Not only do we get a direct reference to sexuality in general, but Camila also manages to get in references to GLAAD, RuPaul’s Drag Race, and the line “fairy gaymothers.”

The latter marks only the second time that the word ‘gay’ has been used in any Disney piece of media, after Cyrus’ line in One in a Minyan. It’s still a big deal, because despite the fact that there has been an increase in LGBTQ characters in Disney shows, the sexuality of the characters hasn’t been explicitly named. Hopefully, this will continue, and we will get some more explicit, textual discussions of sexuality in the future.

Through the whole bit where Bobby is hanging out at the apartment, Camila is not so subtly trying to get him to talk about sexuality-related topics, while Danielle is trying to get her to knock it off. There’s an interesting dynamic going on here; while Camila wants Bobby to feel comfortable and safe, she’s also going through the motions of hiding her own sexuality from her parents. When Bobby asks what they’re doing, she’s conflicted on how to answer. She’s in a weird place where she’s trying to be encouraging but unable to encourage herself.

If we do get a season 2, I’d really like to see Camila finally feeling brave enough to come out to her parents by being inspired by Bobby. It’s a complicated situation, because she has reason to believe that her parents won’t be accepting and she would likely be cut off from them as a result, which is a valid reason to not come out. In contrast, Bobby’s family would clearly be accepting of him if he came out; his mother’s best friend is gay after all.

One thing that I haven’t really liked over the course of the show is the constant pressure from Gabi on Camila to come out. Gabi is straight and doesn’t have the same perspective of coming out. Camila’s made several comments about her parents’ homophobia, and she would know better than anyone how they would react. It’s not a great message to be sending, and if Camila does come out to her parents, I would hope it was because she genuinely felt ready, and not because she was feeling pressured. Being inspired by Bobby’s journey would be a great way to do it.

Later in the episode, we get another scene with Bobby and Monyca, where he finally breaks up with her, after she mentions kissing in another closet. Paired with Camila’s closet comment from earlier, I’m sure that wasn’t a coincidence. While he doesn’t give the real reason, he does handle the breakup pretty well, and Monyca’s pretty understanding. I do like her character, and it would be nice to see the two continue as friends, but I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. At the end of the episode, she references Liam again, so maybe she has some clue as to what’s going on, but it’s not made explicit.

I also like how it’s brought up that figuring out your sexuality is a process, because it really is. Everyone experiences it differently, and it may take some people longer than others on their journey. The fact that Bobby references it later shows that he’s really been thinking about it, and we get more of that in the finale.

A few notes:

Sam was literally in this episode for thirty seconds and had exactly one line which is pretty wild considering he’s one of the leads

Bobby’s line about accepting and loving someone was a nice little foreshadowing to the sexuality discussion later on

Bobby thinking Drag Race was about cars was hilarious

I’ve eaten alligator before, and I can confirm that it does taste like chicken

[narelleart]

Cladistics vs “Fish”

I got an ask related to the cladistics thing that probably didn’t need this much detail, but I got excited to talk about this and whoops its a whole big explanation no one asked for. So rather than bombarding the asker with the whole deal here, I figured I’d publish this bit as its own post and just respond to their related question privately.

What I was trying to address with all this is a breakdown of how “fish” is not a valid taxonomic grouping - for it to be accurate, all vertebrates would have to be fish. I tend to just go with that because I think that’s pretty fun, but its probably more correct to say that they way we lump organisms into the group “fishes” is entirely artificial and does not reflect nature. See below for why!

------------------------------

So cladistics tries to chart evolutionary relationships by shared derived characteristics - unique traits in a group's evolutionary history that can be used to define where they have branched off. A grouping is only taxonomically valid according to cladistics if you pick a branching point and include every organism that would have shared some ancestor where that branch forms. You can't exclude any group that shares that ancestor. (Why birds are reptiles - see below.)

Here's a visual I threw together:

(I made this based on notes from an old class. Apparently the graphic that my notes come from was from “Pough et al. 2013.” May need to open it for best viewing.)

So the thing with "fishes" is that all vertebrates evolved from a common ancestor with what we would call a "fish." Cladistics only considers traits that newly evolve in a lineage to group organisms together, not how many traits are retained from ancestors - but a new trait can be the loss of an old one (why "snakes" fall within the broader group of "lizards" despite perhaps feeling more intuitively primitive - they lost their limbs in more recent evolutionary history).

This is the case with everything that is a vertebrate that we don't consider to be a "fish" - we lost the traits that allowed us to live in the water, which opened up a wider array of body shapes when limbs moved from something to fan around to move forward to something that needed to bear weight.

Up to this point things make sense, but might feel a bit arbitrary, right?

The real problem with "fish" is that, following cladistics, a coelacanth is more related to us than a tuna. And a tuna related more to us than a shark. And a shark more to us than a lamprey.

Let's revisit that graphic.

To really put things in perspective, its important to understand how time is displayed here. Time here travels from left to right, never in the vertical direction. Evolution doesn't stop, and we all evolved from the same original eukaryote, so everything alive today is just as "evolved" as everything else, even if genetic progress isn't apparent. "Living fossils" like horseshoe crabs are just as evolutionarily advanced as humans, they have just evolved differently than us. All currently living organisms’ lineages have spent the same amount of time evolving as every other one. Even though the “fishes” have earlier branches, this isn’t saying our ancestor is a shark, it’s saying what are known as sharks today most recently shared an ancestor with us a very very long time ago - a much longer time ago than our common ancestor with reptiles.

So we can rearrange this graphic like this and it will still be valid:

It looks messier, sure, but it is no less valid because there was no actual hierarchy to the organisms that gave it the previous order. Doing it that way just made it easy to add labels, and over-represented the importance of mammals.

So where does that leave all the "fish"?

They got scattered around the tree. Because they aren't actually very closely related - they share a life strategy that makes certain forms more advantageous, so to us, superficially, they seem very similar. Many traits have independently evolved in multiple lineages because the selection for them in aquatic environments is so strong (convergent evolution), which makes them seem even more similar. But they aren't actually strongly related to each other, which I’ve tried to distinguish in this version by giving each a distinct color group. Each lineage of “fishes” I have listed here has been evolving independently from one another for longer than mammals have even existed.

[Side note, they're so alien! So different from us! This is why fish are so cool!!!]

Calling lungfish, stingrays, and trout all “fish” but not using the same term for koalas and ostriches suggests those first three have a greater degree of similarity to one another than they do. Sure, superficially, they all live in the water and might have some other traits that are vaguely similar. But those traits aren’t exclusive to fish and aren’t inclusive of all “fish”.

Cetaceans are very “fish shaped” and live in water, but they are not fish. Neotenic salamanders live their entire lives in water and retain their gills, but are not fish. Sea snakes live in water and have scales but are not fish.

What makes a fish?

In my ichthyology course, I was taught that there are 5 traits that make an animal a fish, and that each one of them has exceptions:

Aquatic ....except there are fishes that can walk around on land, like mudskippers and walking catfish.

Free-Living ....except there are parasitic species that rely on hosts, such as male angler fish, sea lampreys, and the Candiru

Gill Breathing ....except there are fish that have rudimentary lungs, such as lungfish and walking catfish

Cold-blooded ....except tuna and some sharks are warm-blooded

Have fins, not pentadactyl limbs ....except coelacanths have pentadactyl lobe-fins

So our best definition of what makes a fish isn’t even valid because its full of holes from all the exceptions that exist in nature. The label “fish” ultimately falls to pieces no matter what angle you tackle it from. It is, truly, a superficial similarity that we base the designation on.

Does this invalidate the science of ichthyology, my personal love for “fishes,” or any level of the value of their study?

Nah. It all really doesn’t matter.

What we call the science has no bearing on the studies we do, which aren’t dictated by organisms being “fish” or not in modern science. We have much more specific taxonomic groupings we can use, and so many more species to compare to within them. Would it be more accurate to say I’m studying to become an “Actinopterygii Biologist”? Maybe, but that’s lame and discards the history of the profession.

“Fishes” are the most diverse group of vertebrates, yet they are incredibly understudied. There are so many fish out there for us to discover - and not just in the deep sea! We are still finding fish in shallow freshwater systems, easily accessible habitats. There aren’t enough people studying this massive group to scratch the surface of the knowledge we lack about them.

So who cares if we lump a sparse group of researchers tackling a vast array of organisms together under a label based on an outdated name? The proportion of people studying “fish” to the abundance of these organisms is ridiculous, especially compared to charismatic species like large mammals. So why not use the same term rather than try to divide up an already small group?

Actually, I think few use the label “Ichthyologist” nowadays, but I intend to. Whether a “fish” is a valid group or not, I became a scientist to study fishes. No other taxa were compelling enough for me to dedicate my life to science. I am not going to be just a biologist. I’m going to be an ichthyologist.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i am SO delighted to hear that the "detective and five people trapped on an elevator and one of them is the devil" movie is real and you saw it. also while trying to send this i accidentally clicked the Unfollow button (and then promptly refollowed), sorry about that

lmao i maybe wouldn’t’ve noticed, love Tumblr Notifications and how like, they display different on desktop vs mobile and the way it Condenses them is only so helpful cuz sometimes some of them only display for 0.2 seconds while i’m on mobile and it hasn’t Refreshed in a way that reshuffles everything and i can’t view that particular [Like from a certain person or smthing] ever again lmao like i hate this, it’s bad, just like that movie about people trapped on an elevator and a detective has to get them out and has to act fast b/c one of them is the devil

it is so stupid first of all like. it’s just overall not a great movie from Any of the angles it’s playing like. first of all the Detective is only around b/c he’s solving a nearby murder / death and making like. corny dumb “oh this is a Smart guy” observations about the Scene and someone is like “oh hey @ cops you’re already on the premises, come solve the mystery of Elevator Broke” like i don’t think that’s how it works and also i can’t even remember the reason they find this issue That pressing pre-realizing And One Of Them Is The Devil. maybe someone dies right off, idk. there is conflict on the elevator so naturally that’s a whole other thing like, we’re all trapped in this elevator together and maybe one of us is untrustworthy and liable to be dangerous to the rest of us like, i don’t know the Contrivance that makes these people think anything has to be done but just Stand Around for a while but it’s you know. that whole Thing where there’s a premise of “some shit is happening to Incite Conflict amongst strangers who are trapped in a bad situation together and they’re all apparently raring to judge each other’s moral fiber to decide who deserves Suspicion vs Protection.” but also, one of them is the devil

meanwhile on the outside it’s this dumb Cop Mystery Drama where this rando guy apparently sets aside the death he was investigating earlier to solve this elevator situation (i think eventually it’s revealed that that death was tied to the elevator situation all along. i think that the devil killed the guy. or something) and also, maybe there was Coincidentally some kind of heist going on at this place b/c i remember at some point the detective (and some partner there too involved in all this) like, find some tools hidden in a bathroom like “aha this was Used to do [whatever]” and despite having no idea what the details are i Know i remember this b/c of at the time going “oh my god that is so dumb Nobody Would Do This / this makes no sense” lol like. writing not great. and this was maybe Not the devil, but a regular separate scheme to. do something

also there’s some aspect where Main Cop has some tragic backstory and is like, not over it b/c it was so painful. i think maybe someone like hit and run his wife or something like that. you know how it goes. spoilers in that i think the person that the devil is here to kill (more on this devil assassination thing....) was Behind That somehow lmfao so it’s like really??? is that our resolution, that people’s stories are Converging in a very serendipitous way b/c the devil would like to give people emotional catharsis......idek. look, spoilers, this old lady who “dies” in the elevator relatively early on turns out to have been The One Of Them Who Is The Devil, Act Fast. and it was this weird thing where the devil is like “grr whoever i’m even here to Get in the first place is just Such A Bad Person that uhhh i guess i came here in person to take them to hell” like.....what tf kind of Lore......this is definitely going with “aaaah the devil is evil” approach, not any more kind of Neutral figure, but then in the end apparently the evil devil is just really Judgey and Disgusted by someone being A Bad Person like??? you ought to love this shit!!!!! and anyways the detective learns that One Of Them is The Devil b/c when they take him up to the security camera display hq it’s like a) look at this scary Moment where the elevator camera feed gets staticky and a scary face appears for a moment (im not sure if i could see what it was supposed to be lmfao) This Means Something and okay oh my god i reread the plot summary b/c for the life of me i couldnt remember the ending, it is so stupid oh my god

okay so first of all the Dead Person the detective was investigating had left like a suicide note like “i am killing myself b/c um. the devil approacheth” like wow okay right off the bat? amazing foreshadowing. why does this person Know this?? and why should he care b/c the devil is here apparently for a Special Soul Collection like, this has nothing to do with you, random guy?? you don’t even need to worry like. just stay home from work to avoid the fairly minor problems that occur (like MAYBE one guy dies in the course of this story but i think it’s a little ambiguous, meanwhile whoever Really Dies in th elevator was i think due to like, suspicion and infighting lmao. idk maybe the devil killed a few of them. it’s weird) but yeah the highlight is this

everyone please enjoy this scene. security guy ramirez is explaining the Devil Expertise courtesy of Where I Come From where toast falling jelly side down is evidence that the devil is hanging out in the elevator. 

while looking up “devil toast” the result immediately after that one was “the devil takes the toast” which is a devil takes the hindmost ytp which i feel is really fitting

it kind of undercuts the stakes i think when not only is the devil only sorta gently radiating Bad Luck but also is just super Righteous but like. yes it turns out that the devil is here to Claim a guy on the elevator was the same dude who Hit N Run the detective’s family (wife and kid apparently) those years prior......except like, it wasn’t even like oh he assassinated them On Purpose, it’s apparently already a Known Detail that although they ~never knew~ who killed detective joe’s family (idk what his name is idc) there was a Note left on the scene like “sowwy :(” like really? this is the Big Bad that the devil made a special corporeal visit for??????? and then, get this, when the devil is like “i’m not a dead old lady, i’m the devil, and i’m here to Get you b/c you accidentally killed a couple of people and i, the devil, am really disgusted by how sinful you are for that” the guy is like “yes that was me :’( i’m sorry” and then the devil is like “ah fuck you’ve Repented. i can’t take you to hell anymore. bye” like what!!! why did he only have to feel bad about it to get out of this whole situation when obviously he Felt Bad in the first place b/c he up and left a note like “[grimace emoji] aaa my bad” like, did he have to apologize To The Devil?? the lore i s2g. Jelly Toast Rules operating here i guess. 

anyways then the detective who witnessed this i guess is like “wow the guy who killed my family all those years ago but i’m still sad about it.....well i’m gonna arrest him now. but also, I Forgive Him.” oh and also for a while there the detective was so gritty he didn’t believe in The Devil b/c the vehicular manslaughter apparently made him think that human nature was evil enough to not need the extra help. so now he’s made the arc of getting uh, emotional closure on his family’s death by forgiving the dude who i guess super crashed into them on accident, And gets to know that the devil is real actually and he’s on the elevator but now Not b/c he was like “ah jeez thwarted by this guy uh, feeling bad about the accidental deaths even though he felt bad in the first place” and there was no other point to the detective being there b/c he didn’t Really do shit except i guess drive this sideplot where you are led to believe he Might figure out who the Bad Guy on the elevator is. (it is the devil. one guy has a crime record or something but, spoilers, he is trying to turn his life around with some good honest work as a security guard or something. idk)

it was amazing and very stupid and i was continually indignant b/c the writing was dumb and made no sense and just so fucking corny throughout. the entire movie is called “devil” and i remember it was like “tf is ‘devil’” and as soon as it involved an Elevator i was like omg omg is this And He Has To Act Fast Because One Of Them Is The Devil, and it was, so that was exciting. it was a dumb waste of time but also it was not b/c it was *slightly* so bad it’s good. mostly Not Even. but just watch the toast scene there b/c like. i think that’s this movie’s #1 contribution outside that post about the plot summary. 

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 33

Catch up on AO3

~*~EMMA~*~

Sebastian gave me a quick recap on his day that ended with, “Now, I’m mostly trying to figure out a way to climb through the internet so I can kiss you. We've still got some catching up to do.”

"I can't decide if that’s adorable or one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard." I licked my lips and bit my lower lip.

Sebastian squinted his eyes, "I’m curious what would rate sexier?"

"The way you told me if I said stop we'd stop."

"That's just common courtesy." He shrugged off my reply.

I shook my head, "It's really not and it wasn't the words as much as the intensity with which you said them."

"I like intensity."

Good thing he wasn't arguing that point. "I like your intensity. The look in your eyes and the tone of your voice."

His eyes dilated and his voice deepened, "Any guess what I want to crawl through the phone to do now?"

The look on his face made his thoughts clear. "I like how you want me. I want you too."

Sebastian scrubbed his hands in his hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions. "It's only Wednesday."

"Yes, it is. What time will you get here?"

"Four thirty."

"Perfect." I could run home after work, freshen up, and change. We stared at each other. I’m pretty sure we were thinking the same things. Dirty things. Our smiles morphed into laughter. I changed the subject. "Tell me about your home."

"My home?"

I raised my eyebrows and nodded. "You've been here. I know nothing about where you live."

"Want a tour?"

"Yes, please."

He stood up, "I'm going to try to switch to the other camera. If I hang up, I'll call you back." His finger got close to the screen, then I was looking out into the room. "Excellent, it worked. This is an extra room off the main living space. As you can see, I use I as an office. Sleeper sofa for guests."

The long wall was bookcases full of books and pictures. One short wall was a desk with an iMac. A sofa was in under the window across from the desk and an oversized doorway opened into a larger room. His furniture was eclectic and comfortable. I had a suspicion he'd added pieces as he had more space, keeping the first due to comfort or maybe sentimentality. The room didn't look mismatched, it was similar in style, and looked like someone lived here. A TV hung over an entertainment center with various equipment. A drawered cabinet that looked like an old library card file stood to the side.

"I love the cabinet. Are they really drawers or a facade?"

"Drawers. I can’t let go of DVDs and CDs. I might need your dad to bring me up to date."

I laughed, "I'd be very surprised if you have anything he hasn't already digitized."

Sebastian continued the tour. "Dining room and kitchen."

The space was open with the dining table separating the living area from the kitchen. The dining table sat six. I could imagine a gathering of friends sharing stories and a meal there. Black cabinets with grey marble countertops lined the wall with a penny tile back splash in variations of white, gray, and black. There was a big island for serving or prep. "Does the island turn into a bar at parties?"

I couldn’t see Sebastian, but I heard his snicker, “It makes an excellent bar. All the booze in here. Even a small wine cooler." He opened the cabinets underneath before flipping the camera around where I saw him. "What are you favorites? Make sure I’m stocked up."

"Tequila is my favorite. I love this Partida Blanco and a Volcan Blanco. I like a good whiskey. Vodka gives me a headaches, unless it’s super distilled. No Jägermeister."

"I have lots of tequila. I like tequila. Jäger is shit, but I have friends who love. I think there's some Absinthe under there too."

"Absinthe makes for an odd night."

He turned and walked down the hall into what had to be his bedroom and turned on the light. As he'd told me the room had a dark blue grey wall amongst the grey. His king-sized bed had a dark blue patterned comforter and almost as many pillows as me. The room’s odd angles gave it lots of space but some trouble with where to put things. He had a rather sad excuse for a fake tree in the tiny corner, wrapped in something.

"Nice plant."

"Ah, wait for it." The camera pointed at the dark brown hard wood floor and I could hear rustling. "See!" He pointed the camera back at the tree. It was now lit up and I could see the "wrapping" was white fairy lights.

I laughed, "Beautiful!"

"No, it's not." He turned the camera back to his face. His smile took my breath away. "It's a weird acute angle. Will bought the tree as a housewarming present and Chace did the lights. Makes me smile."

"That's awesome." I love silly things attached to happy memories. "Thank you for showing me your place."

Sebastian was walking back toward the living room, "You're welcome. You should come see it in person. I'm coming there this weekend, you come down here the next."

"Sounds good." I'm pretty sure my eyes widened for a split second. We hadn't spent a second weekend together and he was planning the third. I was good with it, but it did surprise me. I’m not sure why. Not a bad surprised. The good kind. This was really just one more in a long list of surprises with this man.

"Good. We'll figure out details this weekend." Maybe I didn't do anything noticeable. "You looked surprised."

I bit my lip, letting it slip away as I smiled "Everything about you is surprising. In the best way possible." He raised an eyebrow, which let me know the answer was considered incomplete. "We're making plans farther in the future than we've known each other. It's good."

"Yeah, it is." He laid back on the couch. "Can we talk about what you biting your lip does to me?"

"Want me to stop?"

"Oh no, not what I want at all. What I want is to bite your lip."

"I want to bite your shoulder."

I watched him shift around, knowing what he was doing. He closed his eyes and grimaced. "Supposed to be hot on Saturday."

I smiled, but left it alone, "It is. You should feel free to take off your shirt. Or sit in the shade."

"I will if you will." His eyes shifted away then back. "Speaking of... isn't it about time for practice?"

"Yes. We're using the gym at my school tonight. Might be late."

"No sand." He got a strange look before going on, "Will you text me when you get home? So I know you're safe."

"Sure." He continues to be the sweetest man ever. His request didn’t feel like he was checking up on me, it came from concern and felt good. I didn't suffer a lack of people caring about me, but this was different.

Practice did last late. I stripped off my clothes as I walked upstairs and fell naked on my bed.

Emma ~ I'm home

Sebastian ~ Long practice.

Emma ~ Good though. Tired

Sebastian ~ I'm glad you're home.

Emma ~  Were you worried about me?

Sebastian ~ Not yet. Maybe a little.

Emma ~ You're very sweet.

Sebastian ~ Go to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Emma ~ Night night

I woke up the next morning wrapped up in my comforter, having fallen asleep where I was when I was texting Sebastian last night. I must have been more tired than I thought. I rolled onto my back with a smile. My alarm had pulled me out of a more than pleasant dream. Sebastian and I were laying by a pool, stretched out on a lounge chair with me between his legs, leaning back on him. His hands were holding mine and resting on my stomach. We were laughing and talking. I don't know what about, but the dream felt good.

I lay on my bed with a stupid grin on my face until the last possible moment. I was almost late for work and forgot my lunch. Fingers crossed that the lunch room was serving something edible. About nine I got called to the office for a pick up. I opened the door and was greeted with our attendance clerk and secretary singing, "It's raining men. Hallelujah it's raining men." They pointed to a beautiful vase full of flowers. Light pink roses, white roses, lilies, lisianthius and sweet peas. It was simple and beautiful. I could see the card tucked amongst the blooms, which I didn't need to open to know who sent them. No way in hell was I opening it in the main office.

Karen shook her head, "We want to know who this man is. Those are some gorgeous flowers.”

I smiled as I picked the vase up, "Somebody new with good taste."

"Keep him."

I laughed as I walked away, "I’ll do my best.

I walked back into the room and put the flowers on the corner of my desk. I was able to pluck the card out before a herd of children converged on me chattering about how pretty the flowers were, asking who they were from, and if they could smell them. I said they were from a new friend and backed away to let them sniff. I grabbed my phone and took a picture of the commotion. Sending would have to wait and I knew he would understand.

After dropping the kids off, I brought my lackluster lunch back to the room. The unread card had been burning a hole in my pocket all morning. I stuffed a chicken nugget in my mouth and tore through the envelope.

"I'd be happy to sit and be quiet with you. Sebastian"

I stopped chewing. Holy shit. What an insanely lucky woman am I. Fuck me.

Emma ~ I'd love to be quiet with you.

I opened my photo gallery and found the picture of us at the festival and ran my fingers over his face. His gorgeous face with the expressive blue eyes.

The text notification startled me.

Sebastian ~ We'll make it happen.

Emma ~ The flowers are beautiful. Thank you.

Sebastian ~ You're welcome

Emma ~ <attached picture> I'm not the only one who liked them.

Sebastian ~ Ooops, sorry.

Emma ~ Don't apologize. Best part of my day.

Sebastian ~ Where are your kids?

Emma ~ Lunch

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

Emma ~ Yes

Incredibly cute that he asked. My phone rang and I decided he needed his own ringtone. "What's up, Sebastian?"

"Nothing." He laughed. "You've got staff meeting and practice. I've got a dinner thing now. I wanted to say hi. So hi."

I laughed and leaned in to smell my flowers. "Hi." It took all my self-control to not sigh.

"Tomorrow. How about we go get some dinner then find someplace to be quiet?"

"Sounds good. What's your dinner thing tonight?"

"Part meeting, part fun. I told you about the photo shoot. It's with the company to talk about the ad campaign"

I cringed, "Doesn't sound a lot of fun."

He made a noncommittal noise, "A couple of drinks will make dinner to bearable. After is a cocktail party could be fun. Could be tragic."

"Couple of drinks will make that tolerable too."

The sound of his laughter was going to make the rest of my day better than tolerable.

"Might not be bad. I'll get myself up. Room full of strangers can go two ways. Fun and easy or dog and pony show where I'm the main attraction."

"And you don't like that." I was reminded of what Eli had said about him blending into the background at parties.

"Not my favorite thing. But tomorrow I get to see you, which is one of my favorite things. I’ll focus on the goal. Tomorrow. About 4:30."

"I have something same time."

"Lucky me."

Students streamed into the room with their usual high level of post lunch energy. Not surprisingly, Sebastian could hear them. "Lunch is over. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow."

"Me either."

The rest of my day was a blur. Staff meeting turned into a bitch fest. Our principal wanted to change the layout of the rooms. Pretty much everyone would be moving. I saw this as an opportunity to do some redecorating. I ran home before practice to grab something to eat and do a quick clean. I’m pretty good cleaning as I go, so I ran around spraying and wiping things. Practice was at the bar complex. I wasn't looking forward to the sand. We had fun and we were doing well. Before we left the brackets were up and we were the number three seed. First match at twelve, with report time at eleven. Perfect. I didn't have to go to bed too early tomorrow night.

[knightedwriter]

One - Wake

The first chapter of Death’s Name* because it’s a huge improvement on my very first draft and I’m proud of that. AKA your introduction to my undead monsters :)

*It is in first person! I know some people don’t like that, but it feels right for this story.

          “Just so you all know, this is not what I expected to be doing today!”

          “Just keep moving!”

           I glared at the back of Karolus’ head. Sure, he had a point. There really was no time to regret waking up at all. But still. If I thought I was going to open my eyes to a day full of a whole vanguard chasing me only to turn around and defend me from undead…well, I wouldn’t have gotten up in the first place.

           Karolus’ attitude certainly didn’t help. He was probably the youngest of them—the one who’d caught up to me first and explained the vanguard wasn’t there to hurt me—yet seemed to have the soul of a 70-year-old man with a stick up his—

           “There!” Alvera shouted, gesturing between the darkened bricks of what must have been two small shops. I eyed the scattered remains of the items inside, wondering what they could have been.

           We skirted down an alley, finding another. This one had a small shock of hair, burnt at the tips, with highlights of oil-slick black dripping from the ends onto the cobblestones. It cocked its head at us in a slow, two-part movement, eyes blackened from fire and rot and the oozing darkness deep inside. The snap and crack of its limbs as it tried to stand made me cringe.

           Alvera darted forward and stabbed her dagger down to the hilt in the undead’s head. It hissed and crumpled, empty.

           No time to waste. We charged on, flitting past empty streets and hollowed-out buildings. Some still burned. Others only smoked, their darkened insides quiet and lifeless.

           This was what I saw when I first wandered in, only an hour prior. Now, as we ran, darting from street to street, killing them—the Xialun, Karolus called them—occasionally passing the other vanguard, I vowed that the next time I came across a burned town full of burned bodies, I’d turn right around and leave.

           “Another!” Karolus jerked to the side, pointing.

           We followed, and my heart skittered in my chest at the sight of a hunched over figure, almost standing.

           “You don’t want them to stand; it’ll be all over.”

           I may have known very little, but Karolus seemed certain of that fact. And this one was almost there.

           The Xialun snarled, head cracking upright in long, stiff movements. Karolus leapt and drove his dagger through its eye.

           “There’s no end to them!” Alvera snarled. She was panting in her leather armor, green eyes darting. She brushed off some sweat and shook her head. Her red hair flared in the sunlight, a beacon.

           Amazing, I thought, that the sun could shine so bright through all the smoke.

           “That’s how it always is,” Karolus replied, wiping his blade and rising. “Come on.”

           “Hey.” Alvera waved a hand in front of my face and I blinked. “I know this is a lot at once, but keep moving alright? We’re doing alright.”

           “It’s not—” I paused, swallowed, stared at the Xialun. I wanted to scream at them, tell them I knew nothing, that I woke up with nothing in my head and no idea where I was and that this whole situation was crazy. I came here looking for help. Instead I found a dead town, a vanguard, and undead.

           I shook my head. “Right.”

           Karolus led the way. His long black hair whipped in the wind, brushing over shoulder pads and leather. Scars ripped up his arms and across his face—the first real, live face I saw in this dead town, a stern, young face full of memory and anger. A face of duty.

           The one who first helped me up and reassured me the Vanguard was not there to hurt me.

           A deep bugle echoed down the streets, and we all stopped. Two notes and silence.

           “Someone needs help,” Karolus whispered.

           Alvera swore and rushed toward the sound. Karolus and I followed. We jumped over the undead we killed and darted past broad avenues of smoldering wood. Vanguard flickered into sight between the buildings, swords and daggers flashing bronze in brief flashes of sunlight. They all had the same tight faces, the same fright.

           One of the dead had risen.

           It struck me all at once and I redoubled my pace, tightening my grip on the loaned dagger in my hand.

           We reached an open square and skidded to a stop.

           “No,” Karolus breathed.

           I dropped my dagger. The clink echoed throughout the square and we stared and stared at the thing in the middle, horror washing over us, and the other arriving vanguard, like a tide.

           The Xialun stood at an angle, back bent unnaturally, limbs too gangly for the body. It held a long, thin sword. At the end hung the limp body of one of the vanguard. Her hair brushed the dirt and her mouth hung open, sloshing with blood. A pool of it spread around the Xialun’s feet. It, too, stared, as if entranced. Then, with a slow, jerky movement, it shook the vanguard from its sword.

           The thud hit my chest, rang in my ears; but the gurgling scream that followed hit my stomach. I put my hand to my mouth.

           The vanguard writhed on the ground. Blood poured over her lips and strangled her cries.

           “You bastard!” a man screamed. He leapt forward, sword upraised, eyes burning, and the rest of the vanguard tensed.

           “Zhio, stop!” Commander Roes commanded. She stepped forward to catch him, but Zhio darted toward the Xialun without a second thought. He struck out like a snake and for a moment I thought he’d got it. The Xialun were slow to stand, slow to move; they had to be slow to fight, too.

           Steel met steel. One moment the Xialun had been staring at the fallen vanguard, and the next its sword flicked up to meet Zhio’s. Zhio gasped and I winced at the visible tremor that passed through his arm.

           “Everyone, to arms!” Roes cried, raising her sword. The vanguard followed suit. I scrambled to grab my dagger, but before I could, another scream pierced the air.

           The Xialun’s sword burst through Zhio’s back, so fast the vanguard hadn’t even taken a step before it happened. Zhio struggled to pull away, but the Xialun grabbed the front of his robes and dragged him down to the hilt of the blade. The scream turned into a wail.

           “ZHIO!” Alvera screamed. She made to charge, but Roes stepped in front of her, and held her back.

           Zhio fell still and the Xialun pushed him from the blade. It stared at his body and then at us. It smiled. Black ooze fell from its mouth, down its chin, dripping into and mixing with the blood at its feet.

           “Everyone,” Roes said, her voice firm and steady, “faerie maneuver.”

           In a beat, the vanguard fanned out, its ten remaining members scattering themselves at different distances from the Xialun and surrounding it. Karolus made to follow, but Roes grabbed him and pointed at me.

           “Keep her back.”

           Karolus’ face hardened, but he nodded and stepped in front of me. Roes joined her troupe and advanced.

           “Hey,” I cried, standing with dagger in hand, “wait, I can—”

           Karolus put his arm in front of me. “You go in there, you’ll die.”

           I glared at him, stomach roiling with what I’d just seen. “That thing just killed two people; like hell I’m staying back here and—”

           “This is not your fight!”

           “But it’s yours! Do you even care about the people who just died?”

           Karolus grabbed my tunic and yanked me forward, eyes blazing. Before he could say anything, Roes cried out another command, and the vanguard shifted.

           Alvera darted forward, sword arcing over her head. The Xialun blocked, lightning swift, and I pulled in a breath, waiting for the counterstrike, for the scream; but Alvera leapt back, returning to the shifting vanguard. The Xialun cocked its head, watching, but not stepping forward to attack.

           Another vanguard leapt forward, struck, and jumped out of reach of the Xialun’s reply. This happened again and again, but no blows landed.

           “What are they doing?” I asked Karolus.

           He let go of me, gaze intent on the strange battle in front of us. “The faerie maneuver.”

           “I heard that part already,” I growled.

           “The only way to defeat a Xialun. Quick, unpredictable strikes. In a group, if we can manage.”

           “But you said they’re unkillable once they stand.” I swallowed hard, dagger still tight in my hand. “Why attack at all?”

           “Mostly.” He stared at me, appraising. “Mostly unkillable. They’re not really useful to the Sorcerer if they don’t have limbs.”

           “Who?”

           Karolus shook his head in disbelief. “You have to know this! The war’s been going on for four years.”

           Questions upon questions burned in my head but I swallowed them down. It didn’t seem a proper moment to tell Karolus I didn’t know who I was, or to get a history lesson. We’d have to survive this first.

           One of the vanguard cried out and stumbled back from the Xialun, blood dripping from his side. It tried to follow, but Alvera struck from the side. Her sword struck the Xialun’s shoulder and the creature whipped around on her with a snarl. Before it could attack, another vanguard stepped in and finished Alvera’s work, slicing the Xialun’s arm clean from its shoulder.

           The creature’s scream sounded more like the call of an eagle. Black blood spewed from its wound, but rather than retreating, it swung its sword. Alvera and the other vanguard just barely stepped out of range in time. The rest of the vanguard converged and then leapt back, starting up their deadly, fluid dance once more.

           Despite its missing arm, the Xialun moved as fast as before. It landed hit upon hit. Not deadly, but close. The vanguard was hanging on the edge and I could barely breathe watching it. Even Karolus grabbed onto his sword, as if he might charge in despite Roes’ order.

           Another vanguard stepped away bleeding. Roes covered their retreat, her long rapier zipping through the air. She sliced off the Xialun’s hand in one fell swoop.

           “Yes!” I cried, hopping up.

           Karolus grabbed me again, his eyes wide. I followed his gaze and watched in horror as the Xialun smacked Roes with such force that she fell on her back. It followed up with a savage kick before the vanguard shoved it back.

           I gaped and glanced back at Karolus.

           He gritted his teeth, eyes still on the fight. “All the limbs. It’ll fight and kill even if it only has legs left.”

           He couldn’t be serious. I wanted to laugh, but Karolus’ scarred face was hard. Fear writhed in my gut. What were these things?

           Roes picked herself back up and rejoined the fight. Her voice echoed across the square as she commanded her troupes. I watched in awe. They rippled, as fluid and together as water. Whenever the Xialun struck one, Roes or Alvera or another of the vanguard stepped in to defend their retreat.

          They knew what they were doing. Years of war; of course they did.

          The Xialun's arm fell to the ground, followed by the right leg. It collapsed. The vanguard cheered. Unfortunately, the celebration didn't last long. In one fluid movement, the Xialun threw itself into the air and landed on its remaining leg. A horrible, oozing grin spread across its face. It lunged at the closest vanguard and sank its teeth deep in her shoulder.

          The vanguard screamed and ripped herself back. The Xialun took a chunk of her flesh, its grin stained a sharp red. Alvera stepped in front of the vanguard, brandishing her sword. Before she could strike, the Xialun closed the distance and slammed its knee into her chin.

          Karolus twitched, whole body tensing.

          “You keep her there, mitya,” Alvera cried, blocking another strike with her sword while cradling her jaw.

          “I’m not that young,” Karolus muttered, but he relaxed somewhat.

          I followed suit; just watching Alvera’s confident stance as she held her own gave me hope. Finally, she slammed the Xialun to the ground. Roes stepped in and finished it, slicing away the last leg. The Xialun snarled. Its eyes met mine.

         Unease rushed over me, just like the first time I saw one of them just a little while ago. Deep, dark, oozing blackness, like a starless void. If I stared for too long, it might swallow me whole.

           A twinge passed through my chest. I doubled over on it and when I looked back up, the Xialun had gone still.

Tagging everyone who liked/responded to my post and all those still on my WIP tag list. If you’d like to be added/removed let me know. This includes those that liked my earlier post; I’m not perma adding you to my tag list, so please let me know if you’d like to be!

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Can’t tag everyone who liked the post but I got most of you! Again, this is an old tag list, so please let me know if you’d like to be removed. I will not be offended!