#i am living a life vastly improved by the fact that i learned how to

[evienyx]

any advice for newbie fanfic writers or new writers in general? I always have trouble trying to "paint a picture/ describe a scene and happenings lol thanks :D

I feel like I say this every time, to the point that its like a cop-out answer, but, genuinely, you really do just gotta practice.

Its like with any type of art. You won't get better at drawing if you don't just draw. You won't get better at an instrument unless you play the instrument. I didn't really notice my writing getting "better," but looking back at the earlier chapters of Fractures and comparing them to my newer stuff, it's clear that I have.

Past that, I mean one thing I do is I read all of my stuff out loud. I try to see if the words that I've written put the right image in my head. "Painting a picture" is a hard thing to do with writing, and a lot of the time its less about the amount of words that you write and more about the way that you use a smaller amount of space.

Crack open a thesaurus. Don't use bigger, more obscure words just for the sake of using them, but find ones that might work better. At the same time, though, don't be afraid of common words. I use "said" quite a lot, even though a million English teachers will yell about how basic it is. Much of the time, though, the emotion comes from the actions the characters take outside of the dialogue tag.

There are a few things you can choose to focus on when it comes to "painting a picture" that will set an overall mood quite easily. One of the most simple and yet most effective is weather. Describing the sky, the time of day, what the sun looks like. It can add tension, or drama, or can even stand to emphasize the state the characters are in, like when its a nice day but they're going through something hard.

Everyone's going to have a different writing style, too. Sure, you can copy someone else's, but if you're just writing yourself without trying to emulate another author, you're going to have your own style.

Personally, I tend to do a lot of comparisons to describe things. I pinpoint a few details and call back to them throughout a chapter or a story. Oftentimes I like to get a lot deeper into the character's mindset and examine that for a good while before pushing the plot forward. One of my friends, on the other hand, is a lot more straightforward with her writing, sort of trying to tell it as it is. Both describe what needs to be described, just in different ways.

If you're really struggling with trying to figure out how to "paint a picture" in the reader's head, try thinking through the different aspects of the scene. Anything that you can describe. Then, pick what actually needs to be described to understand what is going on. The positions of the characters, the vague setting, things like that. You don't need to go super in depth, because the reader knows, even subconsciously, how to fill in a lot of the detail on their own. You really are just here to "set the scene."

As I said before, though, no matter what advice you take, the only true way to see solid improvement is through actively writing. It doesn't need to be stuff you publish, but I would encourage it, since feedback is an enormous help as well. Either way, though, just keep writing, and reading it back, and then writing again, and you'll see improvement, just as with any type of art.

(Also, and I mean this with my whole heart, for the love of god, Kill Your Darlings.)

(Thank you and goodnight.)

[daquanshell]

The Business Model

One thing I love about being an independent agent is that I largely have a choice on how I do business, provided I am smart enough to take full advantage of my employer(s) compensation plan, adhering to compliance in marketing and advertising, and making enough money to both take care of myself and grow my business.

Currently, I feel as though I’m maximizing the last category, but there are opportunities to improve in the first two categories. So, the purpose of this post is increase my professional exposure, by becoming a little bit more transparent about the business model I use, my general approach, and the type of content you guys can expect on here.

Introduction Letters

I work on a personal introduction basis, usually opening with either a letter (like my last post) or a handshake and an exchange of business cards. This personal style of doing business makes it really to filter out who I’d like to do business with since it always boils down to me asking the following five questions:

Has anyone endorsed or nominated this entity?

Have I ever introduced myself to said entity?

Do I have enough information to write an introduction letter?

How should I deliver the letter?

How should I follow up?

As long as the answer to the second question is yes, I compose and deliver the introduction letter, once the letter is delivered, we move on to the first step.

Step 1: Gathering the Facts

The first step centers around gathering the facts and feelings about the person while laying the foundations of our relationship. During this step, the goal is to begin regularly meeting the person face-to-face, gather both the facts and their feeling regarding their financial situation, and obtain a nomination: the approval of the suspect from a trusted advisor.

Usually, a face-to-face meeting is a video call unless the prospect lives close enough to visit at some point throughout the week. Personally, I love in-person business meetings since you have the advantage of eating or drinking together, and I've learned to apply that to virtual meetings, and it's one of the reasons I still dress up and go to coffee shops or restaurants even if the meeting is not on-site.

Step 2: Completing the Financial Analysis

The second step, once enough information has been gathered, is to complete the financial analysis worksheet, and to complete a written report that contains multiple packaging options for the potential client. The goal of the report is to explain the advantages AND shortcomings of the different packaging options while offering the client a choice.

Think of the packaging like a starter Pokemon, where the different packaging options all have similar value, yet appeal to different personality traits.

For example:

Packaging A: $54,000 Whole Life Insurance

Packaging B: $25,000 Whole Life, $200,000 Term Life

Packaging C: $500,000 Term Life

All the options would have the same annual premium, yet vastly different payout amounts and requirements. The first option offers the lowest payout, but the payout is guaranteed. The second option offers a higher payout but only a smaller portion is guaranteed, and the third option offers the highest payout but neither the payout nor the premium rate is guaranteed, and its likely that the premium will increase over time, assuming the client wanted to maintain the same level of protection.

Step 3: Regular Face-to-Face Reviews

The final step is continuous, yet a little more nuanced. At it's core, the third step is just repeating the first two steps. There are a few different scenarios that we call "Automatics", or scenarios in which we automatically reach out to the client to schedule a meeting. Some examples are a birthday, anniversary, birth, death, graduation, in addition to inquiries and client requests.

What I love about this step is that its about more than just selling or presenting different products to the client, but it's all about deepening the relationship and serving not just the client, but the communities in which the client is a part of. This is what ties everything together.

Closing Statements

One of the hardest parts about launching a career in any industry is how easy it is to get distracted in the beginning, at a point where it's critical to build the persona required to sustain client builder activity.

The persona, is the key. In my opinion, the persona of a financial representative is that of a person who is groomed, well dressed, and chooses their words carefully.

With that, I feel that while this post is not enough on it's own to give a person a full picture of what I do, I don't think that's the point. I feel as though its enough to give a person an idea, which can be built upon (or deconstructed) as our relationship continues to develop.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 7: Sneaky Temperature Check

Title: In Which Howl Worries About Sophie

Fandom: Howl's Moving Castle (book)

Sophie is tired and careworn and doesn't realize she has fallen ill. Howl comes to her rescue once more, and turns out to be an awfully good caretaker.

(For those who have only seen the movie: Elementary school-age "Markl" in the movie is high school-age Michael in the book. Howl, Sophie, and Calcifer are very much the same.)

Most of the time, living in a moving castle with a wizard and a fire demon made for a very interesting life, and a vastly different one than Sophie had led trimming hats for her family’s hat shop. However, there were times Sophie was grateful for her upbringing, especially when it came to helping to raise her younger sisters. After all, being able to care for someone who needs help is a skill no one should lack.

That was driven home to Sophie not long after the dramatic events involving the Witch of the Waste and her fire demon. Howl and Sophie had broken spells and contacts galore, and were well set up to live happily ever after in the moving castle, with a newly-freed Calcifer along for the ride. However, not a week after the Witch and her fire demon were defeated, Michael came down with a bad cold. Sophie chalked it up to all the stress from the weeks prior, and too much magic flying around. Howl hardly seemed to notice his apprentice sneezing all over everyone, and was much more interested in Sophie, now that she was back to her proper age and properly in love with him. 

It wasn't until Michael's cold took a turn for the worse and he was laid up in bed and not around to help that Howl paid it any mind. However, as everyone knows, there's no cure for a cold, not even with magic. In a matter of days, despite Sophie's efforts, Michael became seriously ill when his cold developed into a nasty case of pneumonia. After this, Sophie hardly left his side. She felt unreasonably guilty that she had somehow caused this, or hadn't cared for him properly in his cold's early stages. Sophie's sister Martha and Michael had plans to get married after Michael's apprenticeship, so of course Martha was beside herself as well. The sisters practically lived in Michael's room during those days, keeping watch to ensure he got no worse, as he lay in bed wheezing laboriously.

Michael finally did start to improve, with some assistance from Howl's magic, and Sophie and Martha breathed a little easier along with Michael. However, since Martha had her own apprenticeship to worry about, Sophie still felt quite obligated to sit often by Michael's bedside and keep him company, especially when Martha was working. 

Howl clearly began to feel neglected. He dealt with it admirably when Michael was most ill, but when Michael started to recover, Howl began to seek some attention as well.

"Sophie, come out and walk in the garden with me. It's a beautiful day. Perhaps we can even pick some flowers and reopen the flower shop today.

"Sophie, I just read about a very interesting spell that you might like. Come here and I'll teach you.

"Sophie, come tell me how you'd like your room laid out so I can start to modify the castle. You can't sleep under the stairs forever.

"Sophie, come here and sit by the fire with me. Calcifer is bored and wants you to talk to him.

"Sophie, the bathroom is a mess. I need your help to clean it.

The petitions quickly went from hopeful to petulant. Sophie sensed his frustration. However, she was too concerned about Michael and Martha to pay him much mind. She had an excuse every time as to why she couldn't rest.

"I don't have time for flowers right now. I need to make another pot of broth.

"My mind is too scattered to learn a new spell. Another day. 

"I couldn't think straight enough to plan a whole room. And I really don't need to move. My cubby hole is perfectly fine.

"I can't sit when I have bedding to clean, and anyway my voice is worn out from reading to Michael.

"Then clean it yourself! I'm not the only one who can scrub.

As Howl became more annoying, Sophie became angrier, until she was brushing him off before he even spoke with a look or a curt gesture, especially when he began to ask if she was coming down with something and she had to tell him she was fine multiple times a day.  At one point  there was only icy silence between them after she snapped at him for standing in front of Calcifer when she needed to cook, and he called her a nagging fishwife. When she shot back saying that must mean he was the fish, Howl stormed out to Market Chipping in high temper. She didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

A few days after their fight, Sophie again found herself in front of Calcifer cooking. Michael finally had an appetite for something other than broth, and with Calcifer gone for part or all of most days when it wasn't raining, she took the opportunity to cook on him whenever she could. However, for once she wasn't chatting with the demon, but was simply attending to her task in a haze of fatigue. After a moment, she sensed Howl standing at her side looking at her, which flared up a familiar spark of irritation.

"If you tell me to "come" do anything with you today, I'm going to scream, Howl. Don't bother me," she said, not looking at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Howl conjure up a chair and push it behind her. "I'm not asking you to come anywhere, I'm asking you to sit right where you are. Please rest for a bit, Sophie dear. You look as if you're about to collapse."

The true concern in his voice made her bite back the sharp response on her tongue. She let a small sigh escape instead, which turned into a dry, raspy cough. "I just haven't been getting much rest," she said after a moment. "I'm all right."

"You've also kept that cough for weeks now, and it's getting worse and not better. Sit, please. I insist on it. I'll watch the bacon."

"I'm just a little under the weather," she mumbled weakly. Yet she found herself sinking into the chair almost against her will. The fact that he was being so insistent intrigued her even in her tired state, since he was usually so non-confrontational. "I'll sit for just a moment to please you. But don't even think about sitting with me. I'm still mad at you, and I don't want to talk."

"Not a word to you will cross my lips," he said primly. The fact that he wasn't taking the bait to pick a fight with her was also suspicious. She watched him closely out of the corner of her eye, leaning back into the chair as she did. She really did feel much better sitting down and breathed a small sigh of relief, which became another cough. She tried to lean back and rest as she had been instructed to do. It occurred to her that she had been more lightheaded these past few days than she had been the whole time she was an old woman.

True to his word meanwhile, Howl took over the bacon, wrapping a gilded sleeve around the handle and striking up conversation with Calcifer, which Sophie didn't bother to follow. Instead she sleepily admired Howl's handsome profile, and thought for the hundredth time how much better his eyes looked now that he had his heart back. The pendant in his ear danced as he spoke, and watching it sway lulled her into a doze almost immediately.

She woke with a start when she felt something press against her face, which turned out to be Howl's hand.

"I knew it," he crowed. "You *are*feverish. Otherwise you would never be so irritable. Poor, dear Sophie, you must've caught Michael's cold. I imagine you're feeling awful."

She brushed his hand away wearily. "And so what if I am? There's too much to do. I don't have time to be ill."

Howl frowned, then without a word he effortlessly picked her up, bridal-style, and began to carry her up the stairs. 

She tried to push his arms away, but he was stronger than he appeared for how slight he was-- or else he was using magic. She wore herself out quickly fighting him, instead succumbing to a coughing fit.

He carried her directly up to his bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. She half-heartedly tried to roll off the other side to get down, but Howl stopped her with one hand. As she sunk into the obscenely comfortable mattress, the weight of her fatigue fell over her fully, and she stopped fighting, instead yawning hugely. 

"There now, you see? You're exhausted. And you're not leaving this bed for a few days until you're better, lest I have two cases of pneumonia on my hands.”

"But I can't stay in your bed. I should be in my bed," said Sophie sleepily, even as Howl tucked her in.

"I won't let you sleep on that straw mattress one more day. Before you're recovered, you shall have a proper room and bed. Be honest Sophie, the reason you're so against having a real room here is because that makes your being here and what you and I have together permanent, and that scares you. That's why you've been avoiding me too. Michael being ill was just a convenient excuse."

Sophie guiltily avoided his eyes. "I suppose that might be true. It's just such a big change, moving in permanently. And it's all so surreal still. Sometimes I think you and all of this must be a dream, because it feels too good to be true."

Howl took her hand tenderly, kneeling by the bed. "And I thought I was supposed to be the one afraid of commitment, not you. Dearest, I feel the very same way. I'm terrified to see where this road leads, as well as terribly excited. But we'll go slow and take our time and figure it out together. That's what we seem to be good at, if nothing else.

Sophie kissed his hand, a wave of emotion flooding through her. "Thank you, Howl. I needed to hear that." A nasty bout of coughing prevented her from saying anything further.

"And here I'm keeping you talking when you're ill. Hush now and rest. Here, drink some broth. It's yours so I'm sure it's wonderful. I haven't seen you eat properly in days." He conjured a bowl and spoon out of nowhere.

"I can barely swallow. My throat is too sore," she mumbled, embarrassed at how much he had been noticing, while she had been ignoring him.

"Just a little for now, to give you some strength. I'll mix a potion for your throat in a bit. You're under my care now, never fear."

"What about Michael? He needs looking after too," she croaked wearily, sipping on the broth, which was indeed delicious.

"I'll be fine with Martha's help. You need looking after more," came a weak voice from behind them. Both quickly turned to find Michael leaning in the doorway, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket, and looking as pale and weary as he did determined. 

"I knew you were getting sick too," Michael continued. "You've been so tired and subdued. I told Howl he needed to check on you."

"Not that I needed him telling me so! I already had planned to look after you," Howl said, giving Michael an injured look.

Sophie couldn't help but smile at the two men in her life, tired as she was. She knew whatever else her future would be in the moving castle, she would never want for entertainment or affection ever again. 

[buytheticket]

this past march (2022) was the 10 year mark of me starting hrt. it’s really wild to think about being on testosterone for 10 (ten) entire years and just about thinking how it is to be living as a trans person in this present time.

i’ve also been on tumblr for like...12? years? though i haven’t been active for awhile. i basically started my transition on tumblr- i had a blog where i’d make really pathetic text posts under read more tags and post like “2 months on t” pics and get way too into personal details about my life. i got rid of the blogs that stuff was on but i kinda wish i kept some of it as like a journal. which is why i’m makin a brand new tumblr! i’m in the very first steps of getting a metoidioplasty!

I really wanna document the process, my experience and just keep a journal of what this is gonna be like. i think it’s important to keep a record of something like this, i think it’s something of value anyone can do. i really liked those fuckin like historical girl diary books? like the “’my sorrow knows no bounds’: a depression era diary” books. anyway, i think you learn a lot about the past thru a first hand account like a journal, like how shit really felt from day-to-day life.

i felt tumblr is the best place to do writings like these too, and a lot easier for me to keep up with than like a paper journal. i also like the cycle of it all, talking about such a late stage transition thing on a webiste where i talked about my very early stage transition but like this time i feel in such a much better place and be much more cognizant of what i’m sharing about myself and why cause like i want this to be a jounral but also a detailed account of how to go about getting bottom surgery. it’s oversharing with boundaries!

main caveat here: this process will be really influenced by a whole bunch of factors so the info i want to share might apply to a small number of folks. i do want to note down some basic facts about myself and my situation so it’s clear where i’m coming from and how that lead me to where i am and what i’m able to access

I’m 28, started to transition around 17. had, for the most part, supportive parents that helped me get what i needed (was able to get on t as soon as i turned 18, my pops paid for my name change, had health insurance, new name and pronouns went reasonably well with them) was born in california and always lived in states and cities where i had access to gender affirming care. i’m white and present pretty masculine/binary and, for a lack of a better term, am “cis passing”. i’ve had my share of negative/bad/uncomfortable experience with trans stuff but i feel fortunate that i’ve had a by all accounts easy time transitioning. i have a good therapist and am doing well in therapy and making really good progress. i am also on low dosages of zoloft and adderall to help with clinical depression and anxiety, and moderate adhd. i’m able to easily access the adderall and didn’t have much trouble getting my prescription like some folks do. i have a BA degree which made me eligible for my current job. I have a decent salary, good benefits and ample sick and vacation time. i also live in new york state where gender affirming care is required to be covered by insurance companies based in the state and gender identity is covered under the state’s human rights law

i want to say all those things cause they’re privileges and circumstances that mean i can get a meta- like i can get the time off paid, i have the means to travel into nyc for consults and the surgery, pay for lodging and food and really most important of it all a really supportive partner to help me with all of this. my living situation vastly improved a couple of years ago and i’m better equipped mentally to dedicate time to prepping and healing from the surgery

i’m really excited to do this! and document it, i hope it can help a couple of people out. i’ll make a few more posts about how i came to the decision and what i’m looking to get done along with the steps i took to get insurance approval and scheduling, the paperwork of it all lol

(also if any one knows an andrew who lived in the philadelphia area around 2012-2015 dm me, he is an online friend i’ve lost contact with)

[gamenvs3000f21]

My current relationship with nature, how I got here and who offered me my sense of place:

I have lived most of my life in the calm and quiet suburbs of Mississauga, where I experienced a lovely balance of nature that was not quite wild but also not quite tame. Currently, I live in the beautiful city Guelph and experience a faintly higher frequency of nature than I did in my hometown. This change in landscape has taught me a new respect for the often-overlooked elements of nature and has improved my understanding of living things.

For instance, I have learned the importance of respecting and appreciating all the small insects that populate and sustain the land that surrounds me. In the past, I detested all insects that came near me and I was always on guard to swat away any inquisitive bugs that dared approach me. However, after observing the beautiful effort my fellow neighbors have put into growing insect friendly gardens in hopes to conserve and grow their populations, I have changed my outlook on these creatures. Instead of viewing them as a pest or nuisance, I now admire their curious nature and their uniquely beautiful appearances.

I guess you could say that the people who have helped me find my current sense of place in nature are in fact the unknown strangers that make up my neighborhood. While this may be the case, I am thankful for their interpretation of nature because it has helped change and develop mine. As a result of their influence, I no longer plan my garden strictly according to aesthetics, but rather to attract and sustain all sorts of insects and other animal life. Thanks to this development, I am finally able to observe hummingbirds in my own backyard for the first time in my life.

I have now grown to realize that my interpretation of nature is centered around observing the uniqueness of every individual lifeform and the beauty in finding individuality in seemingly identical beings. Similar to how every human is vastly different from another, no two plants or animals of the same species look or act the same. Often times, I like to stop and identify the differencing elements that separate one specimen from the rest. For example, there may be some squirrels outside my window that look relatively identical at first glance, but upon further investigation, it is clear that they all display their own unique behaviors and physical attributes. 

I hope that after reading this, you go out and pay closer attention to the living things around you and pinpoint the many unique qualities each lifeform carries.

[tylerperrycbdbuys]

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[yubsie]

Something in the Air

Summary: Hera has her own ways of knowing how Kanan is feeling. Or, five times Kanan's pheromones were a problem and one time they weren't.

Notes: Okay. So this one actually seems like I should explain myself.Victory's Price casually mentioned Hera detecting human pheromones in the middle of a Zoom meeting. This has certain implications. And then Rogue Podron screamed "Fanfic prompt! Yubsie!" in the middle of an episode.Never underestimate my willingness to write fanfiction on a dare.

Rating: T

AO3 Link: Should you prefer

1. Attraction

Hera knew that Kanan was attracted to her when she invited him on board. She thought she knew what she was getting herself into.

She wasn’t quite ready for him being attracted to her when all the air circulated within the ship. Maybe she could improve the filters in the life support system. She hadn’t really thought about human pheromones when she was setting the standard parameters.

The flirting was one thing. It was entertaining enough some days, even if she had far too much work to do

It was the realization that he was still attracted to her when he  wasn’t  flirting that was going to drive her up the wall. They were just supposed to be eating breakfast. The basic porridge accompanied by their vastly different mugs of caf might just be the least sensual meal imaginable.

And yet, every pheromone screamed that he was thinking about her.

She wanted to say something. But what could he do? It wasn’t like he had conscious control over any of this. She could send him to take a shower, but that wouldn’t help for long.

The fact that he wasn’t flirting meant he was trying to avoid turning mealtime into an awkward situation. He couldn’t help that every pore betrayed where his true attention lay right now.

“We’ve got a job today.” Hera took another bite of the porridge. Maybe if she just focused on how incredibly beige the cooked grain was it would get both of them back down to a sensible level.

“What are we looking at?”

“Imperial fuel delivery. Should be enough to keep us flying for a few standard months and still pass on plenty to my contact.” And, of course, the further advantage of making life just a little bit more complicated for the Empire. A delivery that made this much of a difference for them was barely a rounding error to the Empire as a whole, but they were particular about these sorts of things. The local despot would still have some accounting to do for this. It might slow him down a bit.

“We hitting them in orbit?”

Hera shook her head. “We’ll be taking the Phantom down. They’ll be vulnerable in transit.”

In open air. She hadn’t planned it for this reason, but she was going to take advantage. Set the scrubbers to run an extra cycle

2. Discomfort

There weren’t many good places for a clandestine meeting on this planet—none of their usual seedy cantinas or crowded marketplaces. The spaceport wasn’t the bustling sort of place where they could do a drop in passing.

But the Empire did so like building its museums. They had a vested interest in spreading around their particular version of history. The local populace was encouraged to visit to learn the splendor of their overlords. And conveniently enough for people who were barely scraping by as a very small rebel cell, admission was free of charge for all to come learn.

She didn’t need to pick up the pheromones to know that Kanan was uncomfortable. She’d done her best to arrange the meeting as far from any Empire Day-related exhibits as she could but... it wasn’t that big a museum. He hadn’t said much when the date crept by last month, but it troubled him enough to know this was a bad idea. Who in the galaxy didn’t have their share of scars if they were old enough to remember that time?

“If you’re not feeling well, I can do this one on my own.” Having a crewmate had definitely made a lot of things go smoother, but she’d done missions on her own before. She could get out of this situation if she had to.

“No, I want to have your back. I’ll be okay.”

Every subtle signal in the atmosphere said otherwise. She was getting used to ignoring every indication that he was attracted to her. That managed to fade into generic background radiation for their lives. This feeling wasn’t just new, it was more intense. “Look, I can read you too.” She didn’t know how often he actually used the Force for that. Certainly it had been months since she’d seen him do anything flashy, but pheromones only told her so much.

Kanan sighed. “I’m not saying I like it here. But I’m not going to leave you hanging.”

“Then I’m going to need you to actually focus.” It wasn’t the first time she wished she could just send him to take a long shower. That was an even less practical solution than usual

“Let’s just get in and out.”

Hera scanned the room again, looking for the most boring exhibit possible. There had to be something full of dull economic numbers instead of numbers that turned painful events into dry figures.

The glorious cabbage industry of this planet was just what she needed. She rested a hand on his elbow and pointed him over. As an added bonus, it wasn’t very popular.

“Don’t look at any of this. Just look at me.” Maybe she could get him back to being attracted to her. That seemed to be more or less his default state. Change the balance of the feelings. “Talk to me. About anything.”

3. Anger

The seedy cantinas had problems of their own, but she was used to them. She wouldn’t have needed pheromones to be on guard against the men in these places. She knew what they saw her as. She could handle them, she’d handled them plenty of times.

It was nice to have someone else along with her though. Sitting at a table and discussing podracing while waiting for the contact to approach was a definite improvement over sitting at the bar and fending off advances.

“It’s all about having the engines perfectly in tune.” It wasn’t Kanan’s preferred form of entertainment, but he was managing to say something that sounded like he actually paid attention and wasn’t just choosing a topic of conversation that sounded innocuous to prying ears.

He was wrong, but that was perfectly acceptable in a cover story. She wasn’t going to let him just keep being wrong, though. It wouldn’t look good, for one thing. “It’s about the pilot. Give a novice too much machine and they won’t be able to handle it.”

The two humans who approached weren’t interested in subtlety. “I like a girl who knows her racing.”

Hera suppressed a sigh. This might be the usual setting for meeting their contacts, but these situations were always going to be annoying. “Not interested.” She’d been dealing with this her entire adult life and for a few years before that. Every Twi’lek girl was warned about it from a young age.

She didn’t need the stink in the air to tell her what brought them over to this table. Just eyes to see the way they both leered. “Come on sweetheart, you can do better than him.”

“Not interested.” Telling them he wasn’t along like that would only make them more persistent.

“Ah, come on. We all know you girls are just looking for the right man. Place like this, you’re looking at him.”

She was ready for most of what she faced in a cantina like this. But she suddenly realized this hadn’t happened since Kanan had joined the crew. She suddenly detected a set of pheromones behind her that she’d never felt from Kanan before.

She’d experienced Kanan irritated plenty of times. But never angry.

“I’m just here for a drink. Which I have.” She rested a hand on Kanan’s arm. She didn’t think he’d do anything rash but.... this was new. Very new.

“I’ll get you a drink.”

Like she was ever going to take a drink from a strange man in a seedy cantina. Twi’lek girls were taught about that one from the time they could speak. They had to be.

She was used to it. Kanan wasn’t. “The lady has her drink.” She could see his hand twitch into a fist from the corner of her eye.

She should have prepared him better for this. Made a plan. Because right now, what she was sensing in the air was enough to make  her  want to punch someone. That would just mean leaving without the information. She kept her hand on her drink (just good sense) and pulled closer to Kanan. “I’ve got this,” she whispered.

They were particularly irritating, but she just needed to fend them off until their contact showed. That meant making sure she and Kanan weren’t the ones the bartender wanted gone. She’d need to get another drink eventually just to make it worth the owner’s while, but she’d navigated this situation countless times.

“You’re really picking him? There’s better quality humans all over this place.”

It shouldn’t matter if she was picking Kanan or picking to sit and drink in peace. But she needed them gone.

The sense of anger wasn’t going down. Maybe she could solve two problems at once. She slipped into Kanan’s lap, draping herself over him in an altogether familiar way. She felt the ripple of surprise through his entire body at the move. “I really am.”

Kanan pulled her drink closer to them. Very thoughtful. And she could be pretty sure he wasn’t about to start any barfights with her sitting on top of him.

“If you don’t mind, we’re busy.”

There were other pheromones in play now, but maybe she didn’t mind those ones so much after all.

4. Fear

They spent so much time getting into fights in dark alleys. It was one of the true constants of their relationship, from the very beginning. It should almost start to feel routine.

All they could do was duck. Fire. Duck again. Get another shot off.

Hera would have preferred the handoff go smooth, but a lot of things happened that didn’t necessarily align with her preferences. She could still keep the situation under something resembling control. Or at least she could keep her head.

The actual job was already done; that should count as a win. They didn’t have any suspicious packages on them. By all rights, they shouldn’t even be the interesting targets right now.

And yet. They were the ones getting shot at.

“I don’t think these guys like us, Spectre One.” They didn’t look like they were Empire. Not directly, anyway. So maybe they’d personally annoyed them somehow.

“Getting that impression, Spectre Two.” Kanan rolled behind a large trash bin and kept firing back.

They needed to find a way out of here. Hera backed as far behind cover as she could manage and pulled out her commlink. “Chop, we need a pickup five minutes ago!”

Chopper warbled some rude comments about the nature of linear time, but she trusted him to get over there as fast as actually possible.

Meanwhile, their opponents kept closing in. Did they just want them dead, was that what this was about?

Bounty hunters would want them alive. There weren’t any specific bounties on them last any of their seedier contacts had heard, but the Empire would always pay to get their hands on rebels. People who couldn’t cut it up against the big name targets might want to go to this much trouble.

Or they could have just stolen the cargo and gotten a much easier payday. Their plan didn’t make a lot of sense, and yet it was still making things incredibly difficult. “Persistent.”

They could analyze the motivations once they survived this.

A blaster bolt flew way too close to of her lekku and she had to dive on top of Kanan to avoid it. For all the flirting she never had to worry about him taking anything the wrong way in a fire fight. They both knew where they stood when they were in mortal peril. Everything got simpler then.

So she wasn’t expecting any pheromone spikes, no matter how cozy they’d just gotten. He did have  some  sense of the right moment and this was about as far as it could get from that.

They’d had plenty of time to get used to being around each other since Kanan first came on board. Kanan attracted was just a reality now.

Kanan afraid was brand new. “I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

She moved quickly, shooting back at their charming pursuers. She tried to push everything else out of her mind.

Chopper needed to hurry up.

5. Attraction, Again

The seedy cantinas were never a particularly pleasant experience, but at least they were familiar. Hera knew what they were getting into, knew the dangers and how to blend in.

These fancier events were foreign territory for both of them. The people who attended them were just as dangerous as the ones at the seedy cantinas, but they sparkled. They would still kill you if you were in their way, but they were never quite so honest as just a blaster in a back alley.

At least in the seedy cantinas, she got to wear comfortable clothes. She belonged in a flightsuit. Too bad that would make it look like she was some sort of rebel interloper here to cause trouble at the party.

Which was ridiculous; she was just a rebel interloper here to collect an intelligence drop at the party.

Fancy people at fancy parties wore slinky dresses. And if they were rebel interlopers, they tried to make sure the length could tear free to get her knees available to run in an emergency.

She could tell that Kanan was uncomfortable before he even made it out of his cabin. At least that made two of them. They’d had to borrow the formalwear from their contact. It was the right look, even if they were going to feel ridiculous the entire time.

And then he actually saw her and the pheromones became overwhelming.

“You look...” The way that men looked at her at the fancy parties would be the same as at the seedy cantinas. But coming from Kanan, she knew it was all genuine.

It was still going to be incredibly distracting. More so than from anyone else. “Like I wandered off from somewhere else.”

“I’m just saying. I’d never ask you to wear this getup, but you pull it off .” The look in his eyes finished that sentence just fine.

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know.” Was that as distracting in the Force as the scent of human pheromones in the air were for her?

Could she even really blame it on the pheromones when she would have been interested anyway? There was more than one reason to want out of these ridiculous outfits right now.

“Trust me, no one is going to be looking at me.” Which was, of course, part of the plan. Keep every nefarious eye on her while Kanan actually took care of the handoff. She wasn’t above exploiting those exasperating tendencies wherever she went. It was a good plan. She just wanted it to be over with.

“And that is why I need you to focus .” If only so she could focus.

She was fully prepared to ditch these ridiculous shoes if she had to. Boots weren’t going to fit this look at all. Until this actually went south, she had Kanan playing the gallant escort, helping her up the step while she wrangled the skirt.

She assumed the way that he flexed his fingers after letting go was meant to be some part of the act. Kriff, that man could make it hard to focus on a job. How was  he  going to get anything done if he was projecting such an overwhelming feeling into the atmosphere?

The Force probably could do that. You certainly didn’t hear stories about the great Jedi getting distracted from their mission by a pretty face or a set of legs. They must train for it.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t. Especially not for tuning out attraction from someone she actually did feel the same toward.

“Focusing. Thinking about nothing but boring things. TPS Reports. The colour beige. That terrible holoseries Zeb loves. X-Wing fuel consumption rates.”

Not exactly sweet nothings, but having him whisper irritation in her ear was the most thoughtful thing he could have done in the moment. Endearing, but she could work with that.

And One Time They Weren't

The job had not gone well. By any stretch of the imagination. It was going to be one hell of a debriefing to work out all the specific ways it had gone wrong because she couldn’t just write “everything” in her report and call it a day. It was accurate, but it wasn’t useful.

The intel was bad. The Empire was ready for them. Their contact wasn’t where they were supposed to be. Even the weather had suddenly turned against them. Someone  not her  was going to have to figure out the particulars of how  all  of that had managed to happen at once.

For now, she just needed the kids to stop fighting. Bad enough that they were crawling through the mud trying to get back to the Ghost, it didn’t need to happen with a soundtrack. It probably wasn’t anything any of them had done that was behind all this. The mission had been doomed going in.

“You didn’t have to tackle me into the mud puddle!” Zeb did look quite the fright with his fur standing on end. She was going to have to give him first dibs on the shower, he was worse off than the rest of them.

“I could tell Sabine’s bomb was going off too soon, you’re welcome for keeping you from getting blown up!” Ezra said.

“I told you to get clear!” Sabine yelled.

Hera pinched the bridge of her nose. “All of you stop. We got through it. That’s what matters.” Not asking the kids to help with the report, that was for sure. She didn’t need their theories on who’s specific fault it was. “Go get cleaned up.”

It was going to be a pain to get the seats clean again, but she needed to get them in the air and out of here before any more company showed up. If the kids didn’t stop squabbling soon, she would set them to scrubbing it down. Or possibly the entire ship. With toothbrushes.

At least their unexpected company didn’t seem to have friends in the air to continue their ridiculous day. A few clever moves later and they were safely off the planet. Zeb was going to be in the shower for a while. Ezra and Sabine were going to be fighting for a while and Chopper would probably wade into the fray. She was just going to stay right here until they worked it out and it was her turn for the shower. No sense tromping mud anywhere else on the ship.

She felt the flicker of air as the cockpit door slid open. She didn’t need any other senses to realize who it was. For one thing, there was no accompanying argument.

Kanan slid into the co-pilot’s seat. “Well, that was a day.”

That about covered it.

There was always that standard background radiation of her life. It had been a long time since she’d actually needed pheromones to pick up on Kanan’s moods. But she still noticed them every now and then. And right now, she couldn’t help laughing. “Really? Even now?”

They were exhausted. They were covered in mud. They had bruises in places they were both going to question in the morning. The kids were at each other’s throats.

And yet, he was still actively attracted to her in this specific moment.

Apparently that was a challenge, because he decided he didn’t need to be collapsed in the seat after all. Not when kissing was an option. “Every moment you’re around.”

[arcticdementor]

Media Twitter does not hate Substack because it’s pretending to be a platform when it’s a publisher; they don’t hate it because it’s filled with anti-woke white guys; they don’t hate it because of harassment or any such thing. I don’t think they really hate it at all. Substack is a small and ultimately not-very-relevant outpost in a vastly larger industry; they may not like it but it’s not important enough for them to hate it. What do they hate? They hate where their industry is and they hate where they are within their industry. But that’s a big problem that they don’t feel like they can solve. If you feel you can’t get mad at the industry that’s impoverishing you, it’s much easier to get mad at the people who you feel are unjustly succeeding in that industry. Trying to cancel Glenn Greenwald (again) because he criticizes the media harshly? Trying to tarnish Substack’s reputation so that cool, paid-up writer types leave it and the bad types like me get kicked off? That they can maybe do. Confronting their industry’s future with open eyes? Too scary, especially for people who were raised to see success as their birthright and have suddenly found that their degrees and their witheringly dry one-liners do not help them when the rent comes due.

…

Life in the “content” industry already sucks. A small handful of people make bank while the vast majority hustle relentlessly just to hold on to the meager pay they already receive. There are staff writers at big-name publications who produce thousands of words every week and who make less than $40,000 a year for their trouble. There are permanent employees of highly prestigious newspapers and magazines who don’t receive health insurance. Venues close all the time. Mourning another huge round of layoffs is a regular bonding experience for people in the industry. Writers have to constantly job hop just to try and grind out an extra $1,500 a year, making their whole lives permanent job interviews where they can’t risk offending their potential bosses and peers. Many of them dream of selling that book to save themselves financially, not seeming to understand that book advances have fallen 40% in 10 years - median figure now $6,080 - and that the odds of actually making back even that meager advance are slim, meaning most authors are making less than minimum wage from their books when you do the math. They have to tweet constantly for the good of their careers, or so they believe, which amounts to hundreds of hours of unpaid work a year. Their publications increasingly strong arm them into churning out pathetic pop-culture ephemera like listicles about the outfits on Wandavision. They live in fear of being the one to lose out when the next layoffs come and the game of media musical chairs spins up once again. They have to pretend to like ghouls like Ezra Klein and Jonah Peretti and make believe that there’s such a thing as “the Daily Beast reputation for excellence.”

I have always felt bad for them, despite our differences, because of these conditions. And they have a right to be angry. But they don’t have much in the way of self-awareness about where their anger really lies. A newsletter company hosting Bari Weiss is why you can’t pay your student loans? You sure?

They’ll tell you about the terrible conditions in their industry themselves, when they’re feeling honest. So what are they really mad about? That I’m making a really-just-decent guaranteed wage for just one year? Or that this decent wage is the kind of money many of them dream of making despite the fact that, in their minds, they’ve done everything right and played by all the rules? Is their anger really about a half-dozen guys whose writing you have to actively seek out to see? (If you click the button and put in your email address, you’ll get these newsletters. If you don’t, you won’t. So if you’re a media type who hates my writing, consider just… not clicking that button.) Or do they need someplace to put the rage and resentment that grows inside them as they realize, no, it’s not getting better, this is all I get?

It’s true that I have, in a very limited way, achieved the new American dream: getting a little bit of VC cash. I’m sorry. But it’s much much less than one half of what Felix Salmon was making in 2017 and again, it’s only for one year.

You think the writers complaining in that piece I linked to at the top wanted to be here, at this place in their career, after all those years of hustling? You think decades into their media career, the writers who decamped to Substack said to themselves “you know, I’d really like to be in my 40s and having to hope that enough people will pitch in $5 a month so I can pay my mortgage”? No. But the industry didn’t give them what they felt they deserved either. So they displace and project. They can hate Jesse Singal, but Jesse Singal isn’t where this burning anger is coming from. Neither am I. They’re so angry because they bought into a notoriously savage industry at the nadir of its labor conditions and were surprised to find that they’re drifting into middle age without anything resembling financial security. I feel for them as I feel for all people living economically precarious lives, but getting rid of Substack or any of its writers will not do anything to fix their industry or their jobs. They wanted more and they got less and it hurts. This isn’t what they dreamed. That’s what this is really about.

…

My own deal here is not mysterious. It’s just based on a fact that the blue checks on Twitter have never wanted to accept. I got offered money to write here for the same reason I got offered to write for The New York Times and Harper’s and The Washington Post and The LA Times, the same reason I’ve gotten a half-dozen invitations to pitch since I started here a few weeks ago, the same reason a literary agent sought me out and asked me to write a book, the same reason I sold that book for a decent advance: because I pull traffic. Though I am a social outcast from professional opinion writing, I have a better freelance publishing history than many, many of my critics who are paid-up, obedient members of the media social scene. Why? Because the editors who hired me thought I was a great guy? No. Because I pull traffic. I always have. That’s why you’re reading this on Substack right now.

…

A really important lesson to learn, in life, is this: your enemies are more honest about you than your friends ever will be. I’ve been telling the blue checks for over a decade that their industry was existentially fucked, that the all-advertising model was broken, that Google and Facebook would inevitably hoover up all the profit, that there are too many affluent kids fresh out of college just looking for a foothold in New York who’ll work for next to nothing and in doing so driving down the wages of everyone else, that their mockery of early subscription programs like Times Select was creating a disastrous industry expectation that asking your readers directly for money was embarrassing. Trump is gone and the news business is cratering. Michael Tracey didn’t make that happen. None of this anger will heal what’s wrong. If you get all of the people you don’t like fired from Substack tomorrow, what will change? How will your life improve? Greenwald will spend more time with his hottie husband and his beloved kids and his 6,000 dogs in his beautiful home in Rio. Glenn will be fine. How do we do the real work of getting you job security and a decent wage?

…

But how do things get better in that way? Only through real self-criticism (which Twitter makes impossible) and by asking hard questions. Questions like one that has not been credibly confronted a single time in this entire media meltdown: why are so many people subscribing to Substacks? What is the traditional media not providing that they’re seeking elsewhere? Why have half a million people signed up as paying subscribers of various Substack newsletters, if the establishment media is providing the diversity of viewpoints that is an absolute market requirement in a country with a vast diversity of opinions? You can try to make an adult determination about that question, to better understand what media is missing, or you can read this and write some shitty joke tweet while your industry burns to the ground around you. It’s your call.

Substack might fold tomorrow, but someone would else sell independent media; there’s a market. Substack might kick me and the rest of the unclean off of their platforms tomorrow, but other critics of social justice politics would pop up here; there’s a market. Establishment media’s takeover by this strange brand of academic identity politics might grow even more powerful, if that’s even possible, but dissenters will find a place to sell alternative opinion; there’s a market. What there might not be much of a market for anymore is, well, you - college educated, urban, upwardly striving if not economically improving, woke, ironic, and selling that wokeness and that irony as your only product. Because you flooded the market. Everyone in your entire industry is selling the exact same thing, tired sarcastic jokes and bleating righteousness about injustices they don’t suffer under themselves, and it’s not good in basic economic terms if you’re selling the same thing as everyone else. You add that on to structural problems within your business model and your utter subservience to a Silicon Valley that increasingly hates you, well…. I get why you’re mad. And I get that you don’t like me. But I’m not what you’re mad about. Not really.

In the span of a decade or so, essentially all professional media not explicitly branded as conservative has been taken over by a school of politics that emerged from humanities departments at elite universities and began colonizing the college educated through social media. Those politics are obscure, they are confusing, they are socially and culturally extreme, they are expressed in a bizarre vocabulary, they are deeply alienating to many, and they are very unpopular by any definition. The vast majority of the country is not woke, including the vast majority of women and people of color. How could it possibly be healthy for the entire media industry to be captured by any single niche political movement, let alone one that nobody likes? Why does no one in media seem willing to have an honest, uncomfortable conversation about the near-total takeover of their industry by a fringe ideology?

And the bizarre assumption of almost everyone in media seems to have been that they could adopt this brand of extreme niche politics, in mass, as an industry, and treat those politics as a crusade that trumps every other journalistic value, with no professional or economic consequences. They seem to have thought that Americans were just going to swallow it; they seem to have thought they could paint most of the country as vicious bigots and that their audiences would just come along for the ride. They haven’t. In fact Republicans are making great hay of the collapse of the media into pure unapologetic advocacy journalism. Some people are turning to alternative media to find options that are neither reactionary ideologues or self-righteous woke yelling. Can you blame them? Substack didn’t create this dynamic, and neither did I. The exact same media people who are so angry about Substack did, when they abandoned any pretense to serving the entire country and decided that their only job was to advance a political cause that most ordinary people, of any gender or race, find alienating and wrong. So maybe try and look at where your problems actually come from. They’re not going away.

Now steel yourselves, media people, take a shot of something strong, look yourself in the eye in the mirror, summon you most honest self, and tell me: am I wrong?

[rendevok]

are you still working on plenty of fish in the sea? I love your art style and the story's so cute ^^

Hi, dear anon. Thank you so much, I'm glad you seemed to like that particular project! However, I regret to inform that i dont really intend to finish the story any longer. It HAS been a year now after all, so my style and interests have vastly changed.

Still, i do believe i owe it to those interested to explain the story as it would have played out (in fact i had a stream on instagram last month where i explained it some), so without further ado... here is the story of Plenty of Fish in the Sea...

-

The story had been organized into words & themes, as you may have noticed. So here is that list and then, my notes on the projected story that eventually devolve into my specific brand of storytelling and very poorly thought out (but cheesy) dialogue. Try your best not to judge me since it would have likely been altered and improved once i worked my way through it, and keep in mind i am 100% an amateur.

cover/prologue

drown/savior

waking up/scale

sighting/caught - (i made it this far in terms of finished/posted art!)

storm/plunge

marooned/together

wound/care

curious/weak

gift/open

missing/heart to heart

ship in the night/hostage

in knots/jailbreak

savior/drown (ll)

scale/waking up (ll) - ^these were intentional mirrors of the first 2 main parts

heart on a string

plenty of fish in the sea

Here are my notes that follow these themes:

The story with a prologue, wherein, a young Lance saves a young Keith from drowning, and Keith is left with the memory of a boy and a brilliantly colored scale

Ffwd to the future, Keith is a sailor (not a captain, sorry) who is secretly hunting this mer with the scales that are impossibly valuable (or so he’s been told his whole life). Sure being a pirate gets him some riches but nothing like what the whole tail of scales would! Keith is not truly sure why he’s spent so much of his life fixated on this scale, but he has. So he’s done everything in his power to learn about mer people (what little there is known) to be able to properly track down and capture this mer.

One stormy night he is disturbed from his slumber, called to the deck for help and soon enough he sees the cause for alarm - a mer has been caught in their nets while the storm tossed it about. And of course its not just any mer, it’s the mer. Keith, being Keith, does what he can in the moment - he attempts to cut the nets free of the ship (after all, this is HIS mer to catch), but not a moment after succeeding in his attempt, the sloshing throws him overboard, and soon enough, he falls prey to the violent crashing of waves, sending him into a chilly darkness.

When he awakens, he finds himself on a shore, and soon enough he realizes its an island - he is in fact, marooned. He does what he knows he should first- look for sources of fresh water and food. He has some luck with the food, though not so much with the water (that has him concerned but not entirely hopeless). In his wanderings about the island, he finds that he is not alone. The merman is there with him, which would be a curious thing, were it not for the nets he’s still tangled in and a wide gash across his back. He attempts to approach to appraise the damage more closely, but is met with the hostile hissing of the merman. Keith does his best to try and reason with him, but he simply does not want his help

However, Keith is not really one to let things be. Never has been. He finds his own food, and a small amount of water. He offers some to the mer (who has managed to untangle himself, though still very much injured) responding with only hisses and glares. Keith leaves the food within reach. This process continues for a day or so, before the mer finally gives in and accepts the food. Keith finally asks again if he can help. The mer declines.

So this continues- Keith offers what food he can, the mer picks what he wants and leaves the rest. After a week of this, the mer disappears from his spot, and Keith assumes he’s finally left, only he is met with the mer in a different shore of the island (the one he had been spending his nights)

Now that he is mobile he seems much happier (though maybe not 100% active). He talks with Keith, and Keith cant really do much about it. He asks him things about humans, showing much more interest in humans than his first impression let on. Keith has his own burning questions, but most of them stem from all that time convincing himself he wanted to find this very mer and skin him alive.... kinda hard to imagine doing when he’s becoming much more human. Lance (as he has finally given his name) finally admits he cannot leave because he is still recovering. He can fish for small kills around the island, but he cant leave and swim out in the open ocean just yet. Keith internally feels a stone drop in his stomach. If only he had such a positive future to look forward to.

One day, Keith brings Lance a handful of oysters to feast on, and during he finds none other than a pearl tucked in the muscle of his meal. He is less ecstatic than Keith, who offers how rare and precious they are to humans. Lance gives him the pearl, which he tucks away with the scale that he keeps tucked by his heart in a small container on a string. Keith smiles quite a bit after receiving this gift, and Lance is left to feel conflicting positive emotions over it.

One sunset, after a quiet day (from Lance, he hadnt been very talkative) Keith notices him resting over by some rocks, back turned to Keith. Keith approaches and before he can keep Keith from seeing, he sees Lance is playing with a blank spot in his scales. Keith knows just what is missing but he asks whats wrong anyway. Lance is nervous but he responds: He lost a scale. He was still very young, and he saved a human from drowning - something he was scolded for back then. Interacting with humans is forbidden, but Lance wasnt about to let some kid like him die. However, while not completely unheard of for mer, losing a scale so young was not a good thing. He often felt ashamed for that blank spot in his tail - a reminder that he was missing a piece of himself - and this was just one of those times. Keith sits close and offers his condolences, and continues to say that saving someone was very kind and heroic of him - he only wishes humans were so kind to him as child. He lived most of his life as an orphan, finding a mentor only to have him leave on a ship and never return. Lance is sad to hear this. He misses his family right now, sure, but he knows he will find his way back. He will never miss them like Keith misses his. Lance might have a missing scale, but its nothing compared to the love Keith has been missing nearly all his life.

And so, tied up in the depths of Sendak ship, Keith sits with his guilt. He got Lance caught by the most ruthless hunters out there and was helpless to do anything about it. And he... he thinks that he would rather see Lance free. He’s a person, and he cares more than anyone he has ever met. He has a family. His life is worth more than anything a king could offer for his scales. He’s irreplaceable - especially to Keith. But now.. there isn’t hope. He’s stuck, and probably falling for a merman whos about to get skinned alive. He sheds a tear, hoping beyond anything that Lance somehow manages to escape.

Not a moment later, someone bursts through the door: Shiro. Keith is shocked to say the least, as is Shiro, but there really isn’t much time to spare seeing as how he’s being broken out. Keith grabs his belongings from the corner and shuffles out with him to the deck, where they emerge into the fray. Keith can see that all the mer are being kept on deck in cages, and sets off, blazing a trail through the fighting to go and free them.

He breaks through every chain, telling the mer to leave as soon as they can, he finally makes his way to Lance, who had been set apart from the others. Its closer to sendak, who is crossing swords with shiro. He slices through the chain one last time, freeing Lance, who is startled and tries to speak, but before he can, keith is being affronted by Sendak. They lock swords, Keith pushed to the rail, barely holding off. Sendak suddenly hisses - lance has picked up a sword and swiped at the back of his legs. Keith thinks this is his moment to slip from this position, but before he can move, Sendak kicks the wind out of him, and sends him overboard. He crashes into the icy waves, quickly choking on the water and struggling to find which way is up. Slowly, he chokes, he sinks, and finally, he gives into the creeping darkness. He sees a faint flash before his vision fades to black and he loses consciousness. At least, he thinks, that Lance has a chance at freedom.

To say he is surprised he opens his eyes again is an understatement. The sun glares and makes his head ache, his lungs and throat are sore and raw from the seawater, breathing is painful, but he’s alive. The sun is suddenly not so bright, and when he tries to see why- Lance is above him blocking it out. It reminds him of when he had been saved before. Lance is saying his name and it’s like an angel calling to him.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Lance makes a confused coo “I’m pretty sure the last time, you were the one to find me.”

Keith lets out a small laugh, which is painful, so he smiles instead. “I was the child you saved. Thats what i was trying to tell you before...”. When he looks at Lance, even in his tired state he can see the wheels turning in Lance’s head. Keith sits up, to face him better.

“I didn’t know for sure until you told me you saved a human all that time ago. If you’re not convinced, I think this should be convincing enough” and he pulls his little bottle out to let it display it’s contents: the pearl, and of course, a glimmering scale, it’s beauty only rivaled by the tail it once was a part of, sitting a few feet away.

“You-”

Keith opens the bottle, and takes it out, to hold and admire in his open palm.

“For a long time, this was my only belonging. People tried to take it, to buy it from me. They told me it was worth more money than i could ever imagine, but... I could never bring myself to sell it.” He looks up then to see Lance stunned into silence. Keith smiles, in a sorrowful sort of understanding. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

He then holds his hand out to Lance, offering him the scale he said was like a missing piece of him.

Lance lifts shaky hands and settles them on Keith’s one, not touching the scale. Keith continues:

“Thank you, Lance. For saving me then, and now.”

After a long moment of silence between them (the shushing of the beach hardly audible) Lance finally speaks.

“I never thought I’d see this again,” he speaks quietly, as he stares down at his scale in Keith’s hand. “But knowing that you found it, cherished it, took care of it, and kept it safe.... I know it’s where it belongs.”

Lance gently closes Keith’s palm around the scale and kisses his knuckles. “Keep it,” Lance looks up, and when he looks into Keith’s eyes, its like he can feel his heart and soul pouring out, “and promise me you’ll think of me every once in a while.” Lance smiles rather sadly.

Gaze flicking back to his hand, where the scale lies, Keith’s heart flutters at the implication behind his action, but stutters at the thought of Lance going away forever (as the words seemed to imply). He takes a deep breath, looks back into Lance’s eyes, their depths calling to him, as though this is the only moment he will ever have to express himself. Maybe it is. His hand reaches up to caress his face, and hold his gaze.

“You’ve saved me from drowning twice. I could hardly manage to forget you before I really even knew you. I’ve been looking for you for what feels like my whole life, and now that I’ve found you... you think i could somehow manage to not think of you every day?” Keith leans in, and kisses his cheek.

“I’ll always have a piece of you here,” he brings his closed fist to his chest, “right by my heart. I am the one who should ask to be remembered.”

“Though...” his thoughts trail as he looks down at Lance’s lips, “I selfishly wish I wouldn’t have to.” Lance breaks his stunned silence, hand coming up to hold Keith’s on his cheek. “Keith....”

Keith lets out a small pained laugh as his heart constricts, removing his hand to help replace the scale to its place in the bottle, and around his neck. He looks at it fondly and softly speaks, “There is this saying we have - about finding love - ‘There are plenty of fish in the sea’ -and it’s true. There are plenty of people I could learn to love, but... the one I want is you.”

The relief Lance feels upon hearing this has his heart swelling, pushing him forward to crash their lips together. Keith is startled at first, but quickly melts into the kiss, moving to wrap his arms around Lance’s neck. They kiss until Keith feels like he’s drowning again, though this time he’s not opposed to it.

And THAT, dear anon, is why you should never be afraid to ask questions. I hope this maybe gave you a little peace, a laugh, something to stir your little klancer heart.

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: A Day in the Life, Part 2 (Chapter 15)

For @thisonesatellite​​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​​, and I hope you are not too drunk (and) or jet lagged to enjoy it ❤️❤️❤️

In which efforts to break the curse continue. Henry has an important meeting and reunites some old friends, Captain Book begins, and we learn more about the subtle knife. 

SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might  help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.

Rating: M

AO3

-

A Day in the Life, Part Two:

Henry’s third stop on his busy Saturday was the pawn shop. It was just as he remembered it, or at least as much as anything in this Bizarro World version of Storybrooke could be as he remembered. The sign above the door still read ‘Mr Gold’, and inside the shop itself was still cluttered with wondrous and mysterious things. It had been dusty and dank and somewhat grim when Henry first returned to it three weeks earlier but now was much cleaner and better organised, brighter, and welcoming in a way that it certainly had never been before. 

The front door was unlocked and Henry went right in. “Hi Mr Cassidy!” he called out as he closed it behind him. 

“Hey, Henry,” came his father’s voice from the back. “Be right there.” 

“Okay!” Henry looked around as he waited, peering curiously into the display cases and trying not to think too hard about where everything in them had come from. Despite all the improvements, the fact that the pawn shop was stocked with stolen things was still pretty creepy in his opinion. He hoped that after the curse broke Neal would give them back to their rightful owners and not hoard them for his own gain the way Mr Gold had. 

Henry hoped for a lot of things from Neal after the curse broke.

It worried him a bit, if he was honest, wondering what was going to happen to them—to all of them, really—after the curse. He and Neal had spent so little actual time together that Henry wasn’t sure how much of his image of his father was real and how much was wishful thinking. Killian had told him loads of stories of “Bae” as a boy, and Emma, once they got their memories back in New York, had finally told him the truth about the watches and giving birth to him in jail. But they seemed like such different people, Killian’s Bae and Emma’s Neal, and both were so different from Henry’s impressions of the man he’d met that he felt more confused than ever. At this point he wasn’t even quite sure what he wanted from the man or even what kind of man he hoped Neal would turn out to be. He only knew that he couldn’t turn his back on his own father, not even when that father had abandoned his mother and by extension him. 

(“That’s not entirely fair, lad,” Killian had said a few weeks earlier when they were having lunch together, just the two of them. “He didn’t know you existed. Perhaps if he had, he’d have made a different choice.” 

“Maybe,” Henry replied. “But he still left my mom in jail.” 

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “So he did, and I also find that difficult to forgive. I’m certain he regrets it, though.” 

Henry thought for a moment. “I’m not sure it matters that he regrets it,” he said. “Not if he doesn’t admit it was wrong and try to make up for it. Mom says he never even told her he was sorry.” He looked up at Killian. “Do you think he ever will?” 

Killian took his time answering. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know if he will ever understand just how deeply he hurt your mother. Truthfully, I feel I know the man far less than I did the boy. I’d like to believe that Bae is still in there somewhere, but Neal unfortunately seems to be a bit too much like his father.”

“Yeah,” said Henry. “But even Rumplestiltskin did the right thing in the end. He sacrificed himself to save us from Pan. Maybe my father will do the right thing too.” 

“Who’s to say but that he will,” replied Killian. 

Henry thought a bit more, then said firmly, “I’m gonna give him the chance to try.” 

Killian smiled at him, the proud smile that always made Henry feel warm inside. “I think that’s the right decision,” he said. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”)

The curtain separating the front of the shop from the back shifted, and Neal appeared. He smiled at Henry. “Hey, kid, what’s up?” 

“Nothing special. I was just wondering how things are going here?” 

“Good, yeah, good.” Neal smile turned a bit awkward and he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a learning curve, not gonna lie. But I’m getting the hang of it. Think I’ll be able to open next week.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah. Hope so. Your dad’s been a lot of help, showing me the ropes of how to run a business. Tell him thanks from me, will you?” 

“Sure. Or you could come to dinner with us tonight and do it yourself.” 

“Dinner? What, like, at your house?” 

“Yep! My dad said it was okay if I asked you. He’s making burgers and he always makes too many, and we just thought you might like some company.” 

“Oh.” Neal blinked in confusion, a look Henry had come to realise meant he was thinking about something that would never have occurred to his cursed self on its own. “Um… sure, okay. Thanks.” 

“Cool! It’s above the bookstore. You know where that is, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So just ring the bell and we’ll come downstairs to get you. About seven?” 

Neal grinned. “I’ll be there. Thanks, Henry.” He shook his head and his grin shifted into an odd little smile, wistful and slightly sad. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Henry. 

“Oh, nothing, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking. About how much has changed these last few weeks.” He leaned back against the register, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, it’s weird, right, the way those old records just showed up one day in the mayor’s office?”

“Yeah. Very weird.” Henry struggled to keep his face blank.

“I didn’t even know my father owned a pawn shop.” Neal frowned. “I don’t remember much about my father, actually.”  

“That’s probably why you didn’t know,” said Henry. 

“Yeah, probably. Anyway, it’s changed my life, you know. I never wanted to be a janitor, but—” he shrugged “—there wasn’t really anything else I could do. Now I can do this. Some kind of luck, huh?” 

“Oh yeah,” said Henry. “Luck.” And his mom’s magical forgery skills that were second to none. “I’m really glad, Mr Cassidy. I hope you’ll like working here.” 

“Yeah, thanks. I really think I will,” said Neal.

~

“You came to inquire about the subtle knife.” Oisín smiled, leaning back in his chair. “May I see it?” 

Emma huffed in annoyance, reminding herself that he was their best chance to find answers despite his supercilious nature and the supremely irritating way he always knew about things before they happened. She opened Killian’s satchel and took the knife from it.   

Oisín’s face was calm as she carefully removed the knife from the plastic evidence bag where she had kept it wrapped since she’d taken it from the loft, but there was a glint in his eyes that Emma recognised, having seen it in Killian’s on more than one occasion. It was the look of a man about to get his hands on a treasure he never imagined he’d have the chance to touch. She held the knife out to him and he took it almost reverently. 

“It’s extraordinary,” he breathed, letting his fingertips trail along the blade, and Emma couldn’t suppress an eye roll. What was it with men and weapons, she thought. Even the supposedly wise immortal ones were hard for them. 

“What can you tell me about it?” she asked. 

The look he gave her was nearly as sharp as the knife itself. “What do you already know?” 

“Not much. There’s mention of it in a book Henry found, but that was the only reference any of us could uncover. The book said that it was the sharpest blade in existence, and could cut through the fabric of reality, whatever that means.” 

“That is correct,” said Oisín. “The blade of Æsahættr is two-sided, as you can see.” He held the knife up to the the shop’s dusty window, catching the faint light with its two-toned blade. “It was forged of two different metals. This side—” he indicated the shiny edge “—can cut through any substance in any realm, while this one... can cut through the barriers between the realms themselves.” 

“So you’re saying that someone could use this knife to—to cut a portal between two realms?” asked Regina.

“Indeed.” 

Regina and Emma exchanged a look. “So that’s how she did it.” Regina sounded almost awestruck. “That’s how she made the portals.” She shook her head. “That’s—well, it’s terrifying magic.” 

“Terrifying indeed,” said Oisín. “And also extraordinarily dangerous. The energy that divides the realms is dangerously unstable, as well as being very powerful and difficult to breach. Cutting permanent portals into it brings vastly unpleasant consequences. I’d advise you not to attempt it, if there is any other method of realm travel at your disposal.” 

“We don’t need realm travel,” said Emma, just as Regina exclaimed “Permanent portals?”

“Yes, permanent,” Oisín replied. “It is possible to close them but doing so requires a delicacy of touch and a close relationship with the subtle knife, neither of which I believe your sister is capable.”

“That’s probably true,” said Regina, just as Emma exclaimed “A relationship with the knife?”

“Oh yes,” said Oisín, returning his attention to Emma, mirth twinkling in his emerald eyes. “The subtle knife always has a bearer, and though I cannot See who that bearer is, I am certain it is not Zelena.”

“She probably stole it,” said Regina. 

“That seems likely to be the case. And also likely that she forced the bearer to cut the portals.” 

Emma was frowning hard. “So how would someone go about becoming a—a bearer of this knife?” she asked. 

Oisín smiled, the smile of a man who has lived long and seen much, most of it unpleasant. “In the time-honoured way of passing a magical weapon from one hand to another,” he said. “By killing the previous bearer.” 

“Hmmm.” Emma’s frown deepened. “And is there any way of identifying the bearer?” 

“Perhaps, though it is difficult to be certain. The lore of Æsahættr is vague at best; in most realms it is entirely unknown and in others spoken of only in hushed whispers. Even I had believed it a myth, until I perceived its presence in this land. All I can tell you is that in some of the whispers there is mention of the bearer suffering injury to his left hand in the process of obtaining the knife. The loss of fingers, I believe.”

“Hmmm,” said Emma again. “Okay. Just one more question. You said that this side—” she pointed at the shiny edge”—can cut through any substance in any realm?” 

“Yes.” 

“What about magic?” 

“Oisín’s eyes glinted again. “In theory, yes. But I rather suspect you knew this already.”

Emma nodded, slowly. “I saw it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I wasn’t sure I could believe what I saw. I was fighting Zelena, I had her trapped within a containment spell… and Henry just—he just—cut the spell open. He sliced right through my magic.” 

Regina drew in her breath sharply. “He did?” 

“Yes didn’t you—oh, I suppose you couldn’t see the light magic?” 

“Not as clearly as you, no. But could Henry?”

“I imagine that young Henry perceived the magic more than strictly saw it,” remarked Oisín. “Perception, not sight, is what guides the subtle knife; the barriers between worlds are invisible to all eyes. That which one can perceive, however, one can cut.” 

~

Henry’s fourth stop of the day was Granny’s, just in time for lunch. The diner was busy as always, bustling with people and noise, and when the crowd parted and Henry caught a glimpse of his grandparents tucked away in a corner booth staring at each other with the same dopey looks on their faces that he saw all the time on his mom and dad, he couldn’t hold back a gleeful grin. 

“Hey, Archie,” he said, sliding onto a stool next to the erstwhile psychiatrist, who looked tired and hopeless and and very wrong dressed as a miner, with grime beneath his fingernails and settled deeply into the lines on his face. His wire-rimmed glasses had been replaced by safety goggles and his hair looked thinner. Nevertheless he greeted Henry with a warm smile. 

“Hello, Henry,” he said. “How are you?” 

“Good! Can I ask you something? 

“Of course.” 

“Have you ever considered getting a dog?” 

When Henry first began his quest to return love to the people of Storybrooke he had opted for little suggestions, gentle hints designed to nudge them in the right direction. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that with this curse subtlety was futile, and that they responded to nothing but what his dad called “sledgehammer tactics.” Hey, Belle, have this book. Here, Neal, take this pawnshop. So, Archie, how’d you like a dog? The direct approach was the only one that worked. 

“A dog?” Archie replied. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Really? Because I think you’d be great as a dog dad.” 

“A dog dad…” Archie’s voice trailed off and a dreamy look settled in his eyes. “I’ve never thought of getting a dog.” He frowned in confusion. “That is, I don’t think I have. But actually… yes. A dog. Yes. That might be just the thing.” 

“Uh huh,” said Henry, who was keen to waste no time. “I saw one today I think you would love. A Dalmatian.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep. At the animal shelter. He just got there today.”

“A Dalmatian,” said Archie. “That’s the black and white spotted ones, right?” 

“Yep. I petted him, he’s really friendly. And he really needs a home.” 

Archie looked uncertain. “I don’t know if I could take care of a dog, Henry. I work long hours, you know.”

Yeah but you won’t for much longer, Henry thought. Not if I have anything to say about it.

“Just go meet him,” he wheedled. “I’ll come with you if you like.” 

Archie warred with himself for another moment then nodded. “All right. I’ll meet him.” 

~

It was barely a quarter past two when Belle arrived at the bookshop. Killian was busy helping customers and didn’t see her right away. It still surprised him how much business the shop drew in, considering the place only existed to give him a respectable and non-suspicion-raising occupation and a reason to move to Storybrooke, and also as a means of getting books of magic to a place where Emma could have access to them, both to help her rediscover her own magic and to give them all the information they would need to take on Zelena. It had certainly fulfilled all those roles, admirably, but now that the curse was near to breaking Killian had begun to think ahead. He would need something to occupy his days, and what with his ship and his crew most likely stranded in Neverland with Blackbeard as their captain, a return to piracy or even a more respectable ship-based occupation was firmly off the table. His only real option was to keep the bookshop.

The more that he thought about it the more appealing the idea grew. He truly loved his little shop, the light and airy space all his own that he had organised and furnished to suit his tastes. He loved his books, the way they smelled and how they looked lined up neatly on his shelves. He loved matching those books to the people who sought them, loved both the pleased looks on his customers’ faces and the satisfaction of closing a sale. He loved the mental exercise of keeping his accounts and tracking his inventory, of looking through catalogs and choosing new books to purchase. Books that of course he would need to read himself in order to make recommendations to his customers. That prospect in particular he loved. Killian still found this realm frustrating and baffling in many ways but one thing that could be chalked up firmly in its favour was that it possessed a true wealth of reading material. He calculated he would need to live at least another three hundred years just to get through it all.

He began to think about expansion, about new genres he could introduce, popular titles that would attract new customers. Soon plans and ideas that started small had grown and grown until they were lodged firmly in his mind, refusing to be ignored or brushed aside. He wanted to do this, he realised, wanted it quite intensely, and for the first time in his very long life he had the luxury of choosing to do precisely what he wanted. Which was a surprisingly terrifying prospect but also a very welcome one. 

Killian completed his sale then turned to greet the new customer with a smile that froze on his face when he recognised Belle. Though Henry had texted him to expect her visit he instinctively braced himself for her anger, her disgust, before he recalled that she was cursed and didn’t remember him. 

“Hello,” he said, forcing himself to relax. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“Are you Killian Jones?” 

“Aye.” 

“My—my name is Belle. Belle French. I, uh, know your son.” 

“Ah, yes. I believe he mentioned you. He recommended a book to you?” 

“Yes.” Belle’s face lit up. “A wonderful one. And he said, um, that you might be looking for an assistant? Here?”

Bloody Henry, thought Killian, with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. You drop one mention that you’re thinking of expanding and he runs with it. Still, he couldn’t deny that the quickest way to nurture Belle’s love of books would be to surround her with them. The lad was undeniably clever. 

“I’m thinking about it,” he said. “Are you interested in the job?” 

“Y—” Belle took a deep breath. “Yes. I am.” 

“Well, why don’t you sit down and we’ll have a chat about it,” said Killian, gesturing to the sofa at the back of the shop. “Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea?” 

“Tea would be lovely.” 

What the hell, thought Killian, as he went to make the tea, why not? When the curse broke she would doubtless be angry and scared of him again—and who could blame her?—but then he knew he’d be dealing with rather a lot of that once Storybrooke regained its memories. He might as well take what steps he could towards demonstrating how he had changed and hope that would be enough to convince people to give him a second chance. 

~

“Perception,” echoed Emma. “Right. Okay. I think that’s all we needed to ask.” She turned to Regina. “Unless you have any other questions?” 

“No.” Regina shook her head. “This has been very informative.” 

Emma held out her hand for the knife and Oisín, after one last long look and a subtle caress, relinquished it. Carefully, Emma replaced it in the reinforced evidence bag and tucked it back into the satchel. She leaned the satchel against the leg of her chair and turned back to Oisín with an expression both resigned and expectant. 

“What?” he asked. 

“We’ve learned what I came here to learn,” she replied. “So we’ll be going now. We need to get back to Storybrooke before it gets too late.” 

“Indeed. It was lovely seeing you, even for a short time.” 

Emma frowned. “Is that it?” 

“Were you expecting more?”

“Well, I mean, aren’t you going to give me some cryptically wise parting words?” asked Emma. “You usually do.” 

“Not today,” said Oisín, amusement dancing in his eyes again. “I believe you know everything you need, and also that you understand the import of what you know.” 

“Well that makes a change.” 

He laughed, a light, musical sound that rang out far more loudly than it ought to in the small space of the shop. “You know, Emma, I’m very proud of you,” he said. “You were hardly the easiest pupil I have ever taught, but you are by far the most accomplished. And I don’t just mean your power, that you were born with. I mean your attitude and your approach to your magic. How you have let go of your fear and resentment of it. How you’ve embraced it. I believe that had you not, even Hook’s most determined efforts to restore it to you could not have been successful.” 

Emma flushed, still not wholly comfortable with praise, and gave a little shrug. “It’s all down to him anyway,” she said. “He always says that magic is a part of me and that he—” she grew pinker and glanced at Regina out of the corner of her eye “—he loves every part of me.” 

Regina did not sneer. Instead she flushed slightly herself and smiled a small smile, as if remembering. 

Oisín nodded in satisfaction. “It’s as I hoped then.” He leaned back in his chair again, his expression soft and almost wistful. “I used to weep at the waste of that man,” he said. “You must never tell him that I told you this. I wept in mourning for the loss of what he could have been, for the good man so deeply buried beneath anger and vengeance that I feared he would never be seen in more than glimpses. That he would destroy himself without ever knowing who he truly was, or could be. Until you, Emma, gave him a reason to know it. You saved him.” 

“He saved me too,” said Emma, thinking of how closed off she had been before she met Killian. How lonely. How lost. “We saved each other.”

“Yes,” Oisín agreed. “That was the first part of your story. A part I believe is now approaching its end. There are far more parts to come. Enjoy them all, together.” 

He stood and waited as Emma and Regina followed suit, then held out his hand. When Emma took it as if to shake, he grasped hers between both of his and held it tightly. 

“What will you do now?” Emma asked him. “I—I don’t think Killian and I will be coming back here. Once we break the curse... well, all my family is in Storybrooke and he really loves that bookstore. I’m pretty sure we’ll be staying there. Are you going to stay here?” 

“No,” Oisín replied, “I’m no longer needed in this place. I shall return to my home, and my Niamh. But you know how to find me, should you ever have need of me again. Or simply wish to say hello.” 

“We might actually do that,” said Emma, smiling. “Thank you.” 

Oisín returned the smile, squeezing Emma’s hand. “It’s been an honour, Emma Swan, now Jones,” he said. “Give my regards to your husband and son. And to the rest of your family—” his eyes flitted to her belly, so briefly she nearly missed it. “—when they arrive.” 

~

Belle left the bookstore an hour later with a new job and a bag full of books, most from Killian’s own personal collection. 

“I’m working on diversifying the inventory,” he’d explained. “And your input on the best ways to do that would be greatly appreciated. At the moment we don’t stock very much light, entertaining reading material. However I believe I have one or two things of my own you would enjoy.” He piled book after book into one of the cloth bags printed with the Jolly Roger Books logo and handed it to Belle with a grin. “I look forward to hearing what you think of them.” 

She felt happier than she could remember feeling, all but dancing along the sidewalk in her eagerness to get home and start reading, absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of quitting her job at the market and going every day to that beautiful shop full of books and light and Killian’s friendly smile and interesting conversation. Even the odd hints of regret that she could see lurking behind his eyes felt relatable, and though she’d only spent an hour in his company she felt almost like he was a friend already. 

Books and a friend, thought Belle, with a flash of insight and a sudden clarity that swept away the apathy and confusion that had clouded her mind for as long as she could remember. She stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk as a feeling of revelation washed over her. That’s what had been missing in her life, the cause of the emptiness she constantly felt but never could quite manage to explain. All this time she’d thought something was broken in her, when really she’d just needed books. And a friend.   

~

Henry met Archie outside the animal shelter late that afternoon. Archie smiled his familiar, warm smile but Henry could see he was nervous. 

“Henry, I know I agreed to this but I’m not so sure it’s really—” he began. 

“Just meet the dog,” Henry interrupted. “It won’t hurt to meet him.” 

He pushed open the door and held it, looking back expectantly. “Come on,” he encouraged, and slowly Archie followed.  

“Back again, Henry?” David smiled at them. “Yep! Mr Nolan, this is Archie,” said Henry. “He’s the one I told you about, who might adopt the new dog.” “Might,” emphasised Archie with a nervous smile. 

“No problem,” said David. “We only allow adoptions when we think it’s a good match, for the animal and the human.” Archie nodded, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Henry, why don’t you take him back to meet the dog?” David asked. 

Henry had to force himself not to run. He hurried to Pongo’s cage where the dog seemed to be waiting, wagging his tail. ���Here he is,” said Henry eagerly. “Isn’t he great?” 

Archie approached the cage slowly, his eyes going wide behind his safety goggles. “He’s—he’s gorgeous,” he whispered.  

“At the sound of Archie’s voice Pongo gave a small bark and his tail picked up speed, moving so fast it was a blur. He poked his nose through the bars of the cage and whined at Archie. 

“Look!” cried Henry. “He likes you already.” 

“Ohhh,” said Archie, moving towards the cage, hand extended. “Hello, boy.” 

Pongo licked his hand, and when Archie knelt down, his face, covering it in sloppy, loving kisses. Archie laughed, his face lit up with joy. 

“Well he certainly seems to have chosen you,” said David’s voice from behind them. 

“He definitely has,” Henry agreed. “You’ve got to adopt him, Archie.” 

“I don’t—I’m not—I can’t—” Archie looked helplessly at Pongo’s pleading eyes and sighed. “I will,” he said. He looked up at David. “If it’s okay—” 

“Of course,” said David. “There’s some paperwork to do, but after seeing you together I’m more than happy to sign off on the adoption. Congratulations.”

Archie nodded, still looking a bit shell-shocked. 

“I’ll go get everything prepared, you come to the front when you’re ready,” said David, He took out a key and unlocked Pongo’s cage. The minute the door opened, the dog leapt on Archie, squirming delightedly. 

“What are you going to name him?” asked Henry. 

“You know, I have no idea,” said Archie. “I never actually expected this to happen. Have you got any suggestions?” 

“How about Pongo?” Henry suggested. 

“Pongo,” Archie repeated, and the dog barked happily. Archie smiled. “Is your name Pongo?” 

“Woof!” said Pongo. 

“Well, that seems definitive.” Archie laughed. “Pongo it is, then.”

He stood, his hand still on Pongo’s head. “Thank you, Henry,” he said. “I had no idea I needed a dog, but I think...” he frowned and shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Somehow, I think he’s just what I was missing.”  

“No problem,” said Henry, mentally ticking another name off his list. “I knew you guys would love each other.”

~

Emma poofed herself and Regina straight from Queens to Killian’s apartment. Transporting the both of them over such a distance and then back again had exhausted a great deal of her magic, and if she went to the station first she doubted she’d have enough left to poof from there to home. And as she and Killian were still cautious about being seen together in public, she didn’t want to walk to his place or drive. It wasn’t worth the risk of anyone observing her going into the bookstore after it was closed, or spotting her bug parked in front of it. 

Henry and Killian were already there when the white smoke swirled up from the ground and they appeared. Emma went straight to her husband, knowing he would be worried about her, and allowed him to run his hands over her and look probingly into her eyes, assuring himself that she was okay in both mind and body. Regina gave a hug to Henry and a nod to Killian, then left to get ready for her date. 

“Regina and Robin Hood,” said Emma, snuggling into Killian’s side and relaxing against him. “I still can’t quite believe it.” 

“It’s so cool,” said Henry. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Emma smiled, thinking about the new softness she’d witnessed in Regina that afternoon. “So how was your day, kid?” 

“Good!” Henry’s face lit up. “I did so much! I found Pongo and got Archie to adopt him, and Dad’s gonna give Belle a job, and I invited my father for dinner.” 

“Your fa—Neal? For dinner?” Henry nodded. “What, here?”

“Aye,” said Killian, running his hand soothingly up and down her arm. “It was Henry’s idea but I agreed. We thought it might be nice to include him in a family meal, even if he doesn’t know that’s what it is.” 

“He’s really lonely, Mom,” Henry chimed in. “Everyone in town is, but him especially. I think the love he needs might have to come from us.” 

“But… then why did we give him the pawn shop?” 

“To get the pawn shop open again, mostly,” said Killian. “And to give us an excuse to meet him. But we didn’t really expect him to discover any love there. Remember, Swan, that Bae was abandoned by his mother and ran away from his father. He found a home briefly with the Darling children but that was taken from him, and I’m sad to say that during his time in Neverland he didn’t really become close to any of the Lost Boys. Henry thinks and I agree, that what Neal really needs, what perhaps he’s always needed, is a family.” 

Emma nodded. “I can see that, I guess. But how are you going to explain me being here with you guys? Won’t he think that’s weird?” 

“So we just don’t explain it,” said Henry. “The curse has kept him really isolated. I don’t think he knows you’re supposed to be married to Walsh. He doesn’t seem to know very much about what’s been going on in town, and almost nothing about his father.”

“Huh,” said Emma. “I guess that makes sense. It was the same with Regina. She was really isolated working for my parents.” 

“Aye. Allow people to interact and you risk them forming attachments,” Killian agreed. “I imagine that any kind of genuine connection between people would have threatened the integrity of the curse.” 

“Well, okay,” said Emma. “That sounds like a solid plan, and I’m on board. But I need a serious nap before I deal with Neal or anyone else. I’ve used so much magic today. When’s he supposed to get here?” 

“Not for a few hours yet,” said Killian, kissing her hair. “Go have your nap, love. We’ll be sure to wake you in time.” 

Henry watched as his parents cuddled for a moment then shared a soft kiss, watched his mom head off to their bedroom and watched his dad watching her go. He thought about his grandparents making doey eyes at each other that afternoon at Granny’s, and about Archie and Pongo’s joyful reunion. He thought about his mom so excited about her date with Robin, and about Belle discovering books and his father coming to have dinner with them. He smiled to himself. A day like this one was just about worth getting up early for. 

-

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[the-writerly-night-owl]

Feeding the Gossip Train

Open Heart/ Naveen and MC friendship + minor Ethan x MC romance 

Summary: When Ethan won’t help Clarissa set up Sienna and Danny, Naveen steps up to the plate. Only for him to in turn help out Clarissa and Ethan at the same time.

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy this! I don’t follow this prompt as exact so I still hope it fits well. For the 41 Days of Cheer day 28, quirky.  

Clarissa just sighed happily as she swung her purse into her locker. Her nice clean black pants and an empire waist royal blue shirt made her feel extra pretty today. Mainly because it was just about the holiday season. Not only that but she found herself in a secret relationship with Ethan and spent yesterday on a date with him.

“So how was it?” asked Sienna sliding up to her as she put on her white coat. “Your date with you know.” She had that large grin on her face as she passed her the stethoscope.

Looking around Clarissa just let out another happy sigh. “Pretty good actually. Honestly I’m just waiting for it to all come crashing down but I’m enjoying it when I can.”

She had to be pragmatic of course. If word got out, they both could be in big trouble. Or what if things went public and just the relationship just fell apart shortly after? There were too many variables to consider so she just took it one day at a time.

Sienna just sighed herself and rested her chin in her hands.

“I get it, I’m just living vicariously through you. My last date with Jimmy wasn’t so hot,” said Sienna.

This time it was just her turn to round on her. “Sienna, I don’t like seeing you go out on these meaningless dates. I mean what about Danny? If I can date, well you know, then you can totally see him.”

Looking a little bummed her friend just shook her head. “I’d like to, but I don’t know wouldn’t it feel a bit strange?”

“I mean maybe at first but I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

There was a ping from pager requesting her at doctor Banerji’s office. Oh she looked at Sienna who just raised her eyebrows at the page but said nothing. They hurried off to start their day as she wondered what Naveen wanted her for.

On the way there she had seen Ethan coming in the same direction as her. She paused wondering if Naveen had anything to do with this. They locked eyes for a moment before checking to make sure that they were truly alone. She smiled softly at him as he just cleared his throat.

“You look nice,” he said after a minute. “That color suits you.”

A bit surprised she looked at him with a teasing look on her face. Boy ever since they had been sneaking around, she had been doing it a lot more.

“Was that a real compliment?” she asked fanning her top out.

“Forget I said anything.”

He had knocked on Naveen’s door and heard nothing. A little worried he had pushed the door open to find that he wasn’t even here. Confused he and Clarissa shared a look not sure where he had gone. The page specially said that he wanted to see them in his office. Before either could really act on how to find him, the door behind them had shut. Then a click from the knob.

Hurrying over Clarissa had tugged at the door only to discover hat it was locked. They were going to have to check on their patients and Naveen was playing matchmaker!

Ethan had knocked on the door as he could make out a figure just off to the side. There had to be just one tiny 5-inch-wide window just to see in.

“Naveen come on,” said Ethan as Clarissa was doing her best to hide her laughter at this entire situation.

“I’m not letting you out until you’ve kissed at least once,” he said just outside the door. “There’s a reason why I have a window on this door.”

Next to her Ethan had turned red at this. She had finally broke and dissolving into laughter and leaned against the door. He was just playing with them as she just pulled him by his tie closer to her. With that instruction and worried for her patients (although her pager didn’t exactly go off) she pressed her lips against his. Arms circling around his neck as he eagerly kissed back, his hands at her hip almost reaching her butt. Not long after there was another click from the doorknob.

“See that wasn’t that bad,” he said as he opened the door for them to come out. “You my friend.” With that Naveen put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Need to live a little. I spend my time knowing hospital gossip. You should spend yours with this wonderful young lady, she did cure my sepsis after all.”

Clarissa just rolled her eyes still amused at the whole thing.

“I think you vastly over estimated the importance of my role in that,” she said as something clicked in her mind.

“Nonsense, I enjoyed getting to you know you and value you in my life.”

With that Ethan just rolled his eyes ready to interject with something but changed his mind. Instead he shook his head but kissed her cheek turning to leave.

“Hold on Ethan. Naveen since have this knowledge hospital gossip what do you know about the nurse Danny and Doctor Trinh?” she asked a bit mischievously.

Ethan just looked at her a little confused as a small smile graced the face of Naveen. He looked around making sure that they were alone once more before nodding.

“Well she has feelings for him, and I think the other way applies. Would you mind helping me set them up? It won’t be too difficult…”

Naveen had already started to nod his head yes in agreement. Meanwhile Ethan had shook his head no. A bit disappointed she had hoped that he would help.

“Both of you care to your patients. Clarissa have them be at the main desk in about twenty minutes or so I think I have something in mind.”

With that they had parted as she wondered what he would do. She had figured that they would plan together. A bit mystified she had walked off to meet her first patient and then continued to do her normal rounds. Twenty minutes had passed and still no Naveen at the front desk. What if he forgot?

From across the way Ethan had nodded at her. Just down the hall was Naveen talking to a nurse about something or another.

“Naveen,” she said catching up to him. Clarissa had already managed to get Sienna to hang around the desk at least once today. Now she was sitting there again, and they might not get a chance.

He had seen her and their conversation from early seemed to click in his mind. Then he cleared his throat loud enough to attract attention. Naveen had used his cane to help him cross to the desk and his other hand on Clarissa’s shoulder.

“I have an announcement,” said Naveen causing a few people to peer outside their rooms. Sienna had already got up to leave from sitting next to Danny. “You two sit down if you please.”

“What are you doing?” she whispered to him.

“Winging it.” With that he cleared his throat and watched as a few nurses and doctors in the area glanced over at them. “It has been brought to my attention of the importance of mentorship and work place relationships. I find that is important to have a good work life balance and make sure that the other has his head screwed on properly every morning.”

Clarissa looked at him a little nervous of where he was going with this. Around her a few people watching just chuckled. Sienna and Danny had smiled at each other softly and Clarissa held her breath wondering where this was going to go. They should have really planned something!  

“Any way I’m encouraging engagement with your fellow co-workers if it doesn’t affect your work negatively, in fact we should be improving it. We spend most of our days with each other and should all get along. So, I’d like everyone to find someone that could foster each other’s growth. We can all learn something from each other, doctors and nurses alike. I know that I have befitted teaching Doctor Ramsey and he mentors our very own Dr. Sinclaire. You are never too old to learn. It’s not required but in the spirit of learning maybe find someone. They could be sitting right next to you.”

Aww Danny and Sienna had that light blush on their cheeks as they shared a look. Wow, if this was Naveen winging it, she wondered what his normal speeches would be like. Naveen caught her eye and winked. Oh, this was an interesting development.  

Everyone around them clapped politely with a few people nodding along. The new interns taking his words very seriously.

Now within earshot she could hear Sienna whisper to Danny that his speech was inspiring. Naveen seemed to see them and grinned himself. Then cleared his throat making everyone look at him again.

“Looks like we already have a pair,” said Naveen gesturing to Sienna and Danny as they looked like deer caught in the headlights.  

“Okay,” said Sienna. “Danny would you like to be the one to keep my head screwed on every morning?”

“Only if you’ll be mine.”

Aww that made Clarissa just smile softly as everyone in the room turned to each other. Some with gossip about the two. Some looking for a buddy themselves.

“Carry on with your day and I want you all to reach your full potential. I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed to find love like it has with…” He coughed again as some phlegm came out. Clarissa hitched her breath. He wouldn’t say anything. Would he? “With my love of this hospital. Who am I to discourage relationships if its love? If you leave it at home of course. Now enjoy your work.”

With that he had leaned against her after letting go of the desk. His cane still supporting him as Ethan had hurried on over. From the desk she could see Danny and Sienna hitting it off some. That speech really didn’t work did it? That wasn’t much of a plan as she had hoped it would be.

Once they were alone again doing Clarissa turn to Naveen.

“Wait a second did you really just push them together by saying that it’s okay to date our co-workers?” she gasped. Well as long as it didn’t affect their job and it remained professional of course, but really Naveen?

“Okay is really pushing it,” said Ethan cautiously.

“Why not? I mean you two could be together publicly rather then secretly.”

That was a two-fold plan as she looked back at Danny and Sienna. She had gotten up and ready to head off but not before whispering something in his ear. Grinning he had given her a thumbs up before heading off to their duties.

“That is an unusual way to set them up. Almost to the point where I was going to say it was rather quirky,” said Clarissa. “I was just going to suggest just talking with them.”

“This was just more fun,” he said.

Clarissa just giggled softly as Ethan just stared at him a bit surprised. Still being a little cautious and noticing that they were alone, he kissed her cheek. Grinning Clarissa put a hand on his arm squeezing him softly before their beepers went off.

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[talesofsonicasura]

Erase The Future

One of the things I work hard to improve is writing characters established from many different series or genre. Mainly, I focus on characters who are quite difficult to write for new writers due to lack of information about them or the type of personality they have.

This little fic of mine involves one such character, Urizen from Devil May Cry. Warning: Contains minor spoilers!

Summary: Demon King Urizen has crushed every challenger to his hellish throne with pure unmatched power. To him, nothing could stop him from claiming his power and title as the Ruler of All Hell. Until a rift of time and space drops him a little gift... And turns world into a crash course dummy.

Two brothers with hair of snow and eyes of ice. Both separated by tragedy and doomed to face it once more. Cursed to spill their own blood continuous to the floor. When the tree of blood grows is when it begins. The tree's downfall is where their lives would end. Their fate can be challenged to change if intervened. An outside source to show both what they were too blind to see.

This single savior was born of misfortune and death at their first breath. Abandoned for being born inable to see and cast out in the worst of nature's disasters...A dangerous blizzard in the coldest tundra. Through kindness of another let the soul grow strong. A titan of champions is what they become. Though failure to this task was prominent promising a fate far worse than death.

Yet… To the heir of a frozen kingdom, Dyna Crown Fleur, the results were worth a cursed fate. For kindness and mercy, was long overdue for both tragic souls.

Qlipthoth, a demon tree that grows in the Underworld. It feeds on the blood of human life to blossom a single fruit that when eaten, crowns a demon the Ruler of Hell with boundless power. This tree currently rose at the center of Red Grave City and grown vastly from the millions of lives it slaughtered. Deep within the tree and sat on a makeshift throne, was a colossal devil covered in brambles and thorns named Urizen.

Power, absolute power is what this very behemoth sought. Yet, he was about to learn power came in many forms and so did Karma. The vast grove and network of blood filled vines began to shake within the Qlipthoth's center. Amongst the blood pool, the devil covered in deathly gray plant life light flashed immensely confused amongst the multiple hollows on his body. "What is this? This...power I am sensing." A gravelly voice from the devil as he lifted his hand up.

To him, this strange energy was...pure. Unlike the taint familiar with demonic power of all kinds, what he was sensing felt...calming. Not that of angels but of harmony, silence and peace. It was enticing to his senses that the devil couldn't help the urge to tear off the thorns covering his true form just to feel on his own hide. He needed to see what it was.

With a wave of his hand, the pool of blood at his feet began to change forming a mirror reflection of a different part of the Qlipthoth. Bright blue shined when a single line appeared above one of the roots before forming a large emerald tear. A rift in time and space was what the massive devil realized. Yet, what stepped out of it before it closed had him bewildered. It was a human woman.

She stood around 6'2 with forest green hair, skin a soft light peach and eyes a pure clear and crystal aquamarine. The woman wore a thick dark velvet winter dress decorated with elegant gold vine like embroidery and the emblem of a crown wearing animal, a golden wreath around her neck with a small rainbow jewel held at the center and the biggest oddity was the lack of footwear.

While Urizen didn't care for those lower than him, he could see the vast beauty of the human female. What really grew his interest was her walking. With every graceful step she took, plant life from grass to even flowers grew on the Qlipthoth floor. He could feel the blood from those sections fading as if the plants were absorbing and purifying it. They were becoming normal human plant life by the pure energy that was coming from her.

"Very interesting. What are you to purify even the Qlipthoth with mere touch and bewildered me so? Bring her to me." Urizen spoke as vast insect like chittering echoed through the blood tree. The woman only known to herself in this world as Dyna traversed the vast expanse of the blood channeling growths around her. Despite the gruesome and hellish landscape around, she was not afraid.

"A tree...no a grove that feeds on the life essence of others. I can feel the very souls trapped in these brambles cry out in pain. Wallow in sorrow no more with every step I take. Let your souls finally slumber as new life blossoms forth." Her voice soft and sweet like pure honey as more of her vibrant plant life covered the Qlipthoth floor with each step she took.

Her blue eyes caught the vast amount of moving gray around her. Inhuman beasts that held the form of an ant crossed with both spider and human easily in her sight no matter how fast they scurrying or well they hide. Beady red eyes, thorax covered in blood red jewels, jagged pincer like maws and thin scythe like claws. "I know you are there. My eyes are much sharper than others. It'll be better if you show yourself." Dyna spoke stopping as the large insect creature landed in front of from above.

It was a bit larger than her in height and grotesque but she still remain unbothered by her unnatural guest. "You are a worker just like a colony of Combee. Your species must provide substance to this tree. Honestly, it's a poor job considering the many remnants of the souls trapped in your home's woodwork and state of your hierarchy. Judging from you not attacking me, you're here to lead me to whoever rules over this current colony." Dyna questioned as the insect nodded its head.

"Lead the way then please." She said as the creature or Red Empusa guided her to Urizen's throne. The very devil himself was watching her as the insect demon lead her through the tree. He was impressed by what he had seen so far. She easily deduced the Empusa's nature and reason, the Qlipthoth's basic way of growth and remained undeterred by the hell around her. He cleared the image as Dyna walked into the room.

The Empusa immediately scurried off afterwards not wanting to stay anywhere near the tree demon's range. The woman looked up at him as Urizen could see her form far better than from his blood mirror. Those eyes of hers were beautiful up close. Pure uncut aquamarine that even diamonds couldn't hold a candle to the clear hue. Faint accents of gold by the corner of her eyes merely enhanced the elegance. He'll get a better look after seizing her for himself.

"You must be the one who planted the seed for this massive vampiric tree. Quite cheeky to have it bloom in the middle of a human settlement. Urizen, or should I say the Devil of Vergil Sparda?" Dyna questioned as those words had Urizen get onto his feet. The tendrils of his body snapping a bit from the Qlipthoth as blood spilled to the floor while the devil stood at his full height glaring down at her.

"I never gave you my name or my origin. Who are you human?" Urizen hissed in annoyance as if the name burned. Ignoring his hissing, Dyna took out a strange ball from her dress sleeve. It was half red and half white with a button outlined by black stripe. She tossed the sphere in her hand repeatedly as if she was juggling it. She didn't even look away from him still performing the act. "My name is Dyna Crown Fleur. For why I am here… I here to stop this devastating tree from growing any further. Tragedy must come to an end and if it means defeating you…"

Dyna grabbed the sphere out of the air before facing it as Urizen with a glare on her face. "Then I won't hold back." She declared voice firm and strong. The devil chuckled before sitting on his throne easily amused. He produced a blood red crystal in hand before reconnecting his tendrils to the devilish tree. "Very amusing. Dyna Crown Fleur, show me just how you will defeat me." Urizen mocked. The little sphere in her hand was a mere toy to him.

"Your aura is nothing but a phantom cloaked by putrid life of the thorns protecting your body. That blood red crystal merely an extension of dauntless darkness. To throw life and mind at you now will get me nowhere so instead. I'll have my confidant shatter your barrier first!" Her cryptic words had him baffled but...he realized that little ball was NOT a mere plaything.

"Pyros, prepare for battle!" She tossed the ball into the air as a flash of light shot forth. From the light materialized a creature Urizen never seen before. This creature was a bipedal white tiger covered in crimson striped fur, its chest was gray with a white cross like pattern, large tufts of crimson fur around the muzzle, shoulders, legs, a tail with a ring of spikes around it, yellow and verdant green eyes, large fangs and claws and a belt of pure flames around their waist.

"Incineroar!!!!" The beast howled unleashing a pure shockwave of power from its pure battlecry alone. To Dyna, this creature was her Incineroar Pyros, a Pokemon she grew up with from her homeland to survive. "What kind of creature is this you summoned to dare challenge me!?" Urizen growled clearly thrown off by Pyros' special ability: Intimidate. Intimidate weakened the attack power of every opponent Pyros faced so the fact Urizen felt threatened had proven the ability had work.

"Incineroar, the Heel Pokemon. His species will refuse the orders of those they don't trust with pure nonchalance. However once presented a decent challenge, they are relentless. Pyros, give him a mere taste of your nature with Fire Blast."Dyna ordered. The Heel Pokemon opened his mouth full of flames before hurling a massive star like cross of it at the demon king. A blood red barrier immediately materialized around Urizen but even the demon had to shield himself from the intense flames as it crashed into the shield.

Blueish green lights brighten greatly noticing the large spider web cracking across the surface of the stone and his barrier. "Darkest Lariat." Pyros burst from the flames like a spinning bullet to Urizen's view and hit the barrier with a powerful lariat. The barrier immediately shattered from the brute force of Pyros' attack. Even the crystal supplying the barrier exploded from the immense power the Incineroar unleashed!

'What kind of power is this?!' The devil couldn't help but think. This Incineroar, manifested enough power to overload his barrier but another strike to destroy his magic crystal at the same time. His half breed brother couldn't even crack it unlike this burning beast! Then came insult to injury.

"Fury Swipes." Pyros' claws glowed white as the talons grew into long blades. The Incineroar didn't hesitate to repeatedly tear his claws through Urizen's armored hide and scratching up the devil's exposed mouth like an angry cat. The tree demon roared in pain swatting at Pyros but the Fire/Dark type easily dodged returning back into battle position in front of Dyna with a wild grin on his face. The demon king immediately sat up not caring about snapping off his thorn like tentacles from the tree itself again.

The cat scratches over his face and tears through his hide revealing multiple glaring orange eyes upon her form. He was absolutely furious. This human woman was mocking him in his own throne room. His fury ignited upon the mischievous grin that grew on Dyna's face. It exploded when the woman had the audacity to SING an insult to him.

"I am the tallest of mountains. I am the roughest of waves. I'm the toughest of terrors. I am the darkest of days. I'm the last one that's standing. Don't try to stand in my way. Cause I've been up against better. Just take a look at my face. Causing if you're messing with me, I am a dangerous weapon. I am the sharpest of blades. I'll cut down in a second." Her sweet voice destroying his precious silence with pure sass.

"I see the part that you tried to hide. That you are merely a scared babe behind a monster of a lie. The fact that you aren't as strong as you think on the inside. To remove half of yourself was your folly. Absolute power you say? No, that's the humiliation that made me merry and jolly!" Dyna taunted as Urizen howled in absolute rage.

Multiple tendrils sprout from the Qlipthoth around her slithering like angry snakes around the livid demon. "You've managed to infuriate me more than that damn treacherous spawn I dare call brother. A queen must know to never disrespect their king! I'll tear your summon in half before I claim my first generation with your bloodline, my dear Hell Bride and soon to be Queen of Hell." Urizen declared. He flinched when both trainer and Pokemon merely chuckled.

"Hold back Pyros. I'll take it from here." Dyna spoke as the Incineroar stepped back and she took a step forward with eyes closed. He flinched once more as the woman opened her eyes. "Cause I was born in this pain. It only hurts if you let it." They were a pure glowing cyan as if burning with pure power yet...he thought he saw sadness for a moment.

"So if you think you can take me then you should go and forget it." He lashed out a few of the roots towards her at lightning speed with a snap of his fingers. Cyan light enveloped the attack tendrils before she waved her hand away. Those glowing roots we're slammed into the Qlipthoth wall hard enough for each to snap in half. "After all this time your back for more. I won't stop until THEY know my name. So I'll take what's mine and start this war. I'm coming at you like a tidal wave."

He didn't hesitate sending more roots at her. Yet she continued to cut them down with no effort. She was doing the same thing he did to his half breed brother and every single insect that dared to challenge him. She made him feel helpless.

"When everything you know has come and gone. You are at your lowest and I am rising higher. Only scars remain of who I was. What I find in the ashes, you lose in the fire. When there's no one left to carry on. This is a illusion, open up your eyes and… The pain persists I can't resist. But that's what it takes to be infinite."

That same cyan light snaring him and every Qlipthoth root he was controlling at the moment. "Psychic!" They were immediately slammed into the walls of the throne room with enough brutal force that his tendrils exploded into blood upon impact and Urizen shattered his throne underneath his own body.

The Devil picked himself up and glared heavily with glints of fear now exposed. More of his armored hide had shattered now revealing half of his beastish azure face with multiple piercing eyes, monstrous fangs and short crown of jagged horns. Green eyes going from fear to pure surprise at the soft smile she now held. A smile that held no malice.

"Now I can see some of your beautiful face from that ugly mask you wear. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder as they say. That beauty for me is the person under the shell of armor they use to hide their own weakness. Their true self in many terms." Dyna spoke softly for it was enough for the Devil to blink.

She had immediately disappeared once he did only to reappear right in his face hovering softly in the air. That same cyan light bathing her body as she floated daintly before him. 'Is she part fae? No...not even faes hold such elegance, grace and so much raw power. No, it must be a goddess that stands before me.' Urizen thought as he unconsciously reach his hand out to her.

"So look around you and tell me what you really SEE. You live a lie and that's the difference between you and me. I have the power. Let me show you what it's it all about. It's only me and you- Who is gonna save you now?"

Dyna laid a hand on his crown of horns and everything around him just...stopped. Then came flashes of memories... and the unknown pain to follow. Her eyes reflected those scenes from the human half, half breed brother, weak women that fueled his weapons and the human whelp whose limb was missing but also those he wasn't familiar with. Then these odd sensations slammed into him from every single one. These odd things hurt him somehow with every death or wound that he caused but none scathe his body.

It stopped when a gentle touch pressed his forehead and eyes widened upon the sight. Dyna Fleur Crown had laid a kiss on him. His mind went blank. This woman made no sense. She threatened him, had her beast shatter his barrier and scar him, she brought him down to his knees, searched his memories and forced new ones with this strange pain for each one. Now, she had the audacity to kiss him.

He blinked in response only to see her on the back of her fiery beast Pyros. A soft smile on her face and the same for the Incineroar. "V, Dante, Nero, Trish and Lady. Your human half and the ones you have harmed the most. Urizen, Devil of Vergil Sparda, I will give you a single warning. If you feast on the fruit of this hellish tree, then it will be me you shall face instead of your brother. And unlike him, it won't be a fight. It will be your true downfall. Reflect on the past once more." Was all she said before Pyros burst out of the throne room.

The Incineroar soaring across the tendrils with fire exploding from every pounce and step. She was gone just like that as Urizen could only stand in silence. The woman didn't make a worthless threat. She held the power to back up her declaration not just her beast alone. "Dyna Crown Fleur... could have ended me with a flick of her wrist. Forced these strange irritating sensations onto me even now… Yet spares my life…" Urizen spoke using his tendrils to repair his broken throne in seconds.

Multiple exposed eyes staring at the scars covering his form's broken armor from his throne's blood pool. "Summoner from another plane… Wielding of a beast of intense flame… Eyes that mirror my past… Power far more pure than an archangel… And beauty matched with cryptic knowledge…" He sat on his repaired throne how in thought. "Who are you… Dyna Crown Fleur?"

And that's it! Yes, I crossed this little story with Pokemon to show just how different Dyna and Urizen are. Urizen who only relies on his own power and himself versus Dyna who not only is powerful on her own but works with her Pokemon to overcome any challenge.

For Urizen, the goal of this fic is for him to realize the same that happened to dear old Sparda. To find his own reason to fight for the sake of others, his own justice.

Dyna's origins is related to a Pokemon that will relate and revolve around the Part 2 DLC for Sword and Shield, Calyrex the Crown Pokemon.

Dyna- A term or prefix often use to mean power. Ex: Dynamo, Dynamic, Dynamite

Fleur which is French for Flower.

Dyna Crown Fleur, the Crowned Flower of Strength.

Song used: Infinite from Sonic Forces

[sage-nebula]

I finished both the main story and the postgame story of Pokémon Sword, so I figure I’ll type up a little informal review on it, if for nothing else than to have my thoughts on record.

Overall: I liked it, and think despite Game Freak’s failings, it was an improvement over both the Kalos and the Alola games.

First, just from a gameplay standpoint: While I’m still upset about the National Dex being axed, as well as upset over Mega Evolution being axed, and mad about Mimikyu being nerfed even though I knew last gen it would happen, overall gameplay improved VASTLY in this game when compared to the Alola games especially. True, your outfit is still ugly when you’re on your bike, but the music doesn’t change to something hideous, and you can use the bike to maneuver over both land and water. The curry minigame in Camp might be a bit finicky, and the play options are limited (+ I miss being able to pet my pokémon), but Camp lets all of your pokémon out at once, and they can interact with each other, and I think that’s really great. Additionally, I like the immersion of being on a journey and being able to set up camp and cook. It’s nice. Customization is far better in this game than in previous games (even if I found the perfect outfit right at the start and never changed it---though hell, that’s a bonus), I like controlling everything with the buttons rather than using a touch screen, the wild area is a lot of fun to run around in, I like having pokémon visible on the overworld . . . overall, I just find it to be an improvement over the Alola games in terms of gameplay in virtually every way. At least for me, the Alola games were not very much fun to play. I loathed the Ride music and the fact that I was using someone else’s pokémon instead of my own (and as a result had to walk everywhere since they didn’t give me a goddamn bike), the customization options were really lacking, the level balance was horrible and so grinding was an absolute chore, Refresh was annoying because your pokémon were dirty after basically every single goddamn battle and you could only tidy one of them up at a time, and so on and so forth. The Galar games aren’t perfect, but in terms of gameplay they’re a huge improvement over Gen VII and that makes me breathe a sigh of relief at least, because the most important thing about video games is that they have to be fun to play. If you’re not having fun because the mechanics are bad, there’s a problem.

As far as the story goes, it definitely had its issues, most notably in the fact that Chairman Rose’s goals were never properly explained, the cover legendaries didn’t really factor in much until the postgame, and the fact that Chairman Rose and Oleana were evil at all felt more like a “well we have to have some evil organization in here huh” than anything else---like Game Freak was trying to adhere to tradition rather than writing a villain-based story because they genuinely wanted to write one. The whole situation surrounding Macro Cosmos (a company that I keep forgetting the name of because it wasn’t mentioned until the end) makes a bit more sense to me now than when I originally finished due to reading someone else’s explanation of how Rose was a PokéVillain who had already won by the time the story starts, given that he owns and controls everything in Galar (literally, he controls the very energy they need to keep the lights on and their houses warm), and so what he does is more about maintaining that (thousands of years into the future?) than anything else. Which I get, but . . . it still makes his actual actions and motivations feel weak and poorly explained.

But despite that, as well as a few other flaws (the annoying enemy characters in the postgame, the fact that Marnie was TRAGICALLY underused), I actually did enjoy it. Despite my disdain for organized sports in real life, I liked that the Gym Challenge was set up as a tournament in which your rivals participated (and that there were many other participants, too) because finally it felt like there was a reason to go after the badges, versus doing it just because the Gyms were there and you wanted to become Champion for no reason. The fact that more and more NPCs started to take notice of you as you progressed as well is another thing I liked. Although I hated that we couldn’t customize the Gym uniform (it’s so ugly!!), I did like having a personal number (mine is 494---Victini’s National Dex number), as well as the fact that it was yet another way for the fans in the game to identify you. Not only that, but having your rivals be fellow competitors in the Gym Challenge was also a nice touch. Sure, Hop was yet another hometown friend, but the others were just fellow competitors that took notice of you, and I really enjoyed that.

Speaking of Hop and the other rivals, the characters were, I felt, by and large another improvement over Kalos and Alola games. Aside from the antagonists in the postgame (who were poorly designed and also terribly annoying), as well as Gym Leader Gordie, there aren’t any characters that I really disliked, and in fact, I found the development for most of the major ones (in particular Sonia, Bede, and even Hop) to be pretty good.

A bit more detail on that: 

Sonia: Honestly, Sonia is probably my favorite character from these games (although Marnie is a close second). I am absolutely surprised by her and how much I came to love her considering I wasn’t too interested in her before the game was actually in my hands. Sonia is set up as being a twenty-something-year-old who fancies herself her grandmother’s assistant, but honestly is just kind of languishing at the beginning of the game and doesn’t really have a clear goal---to the point where her grandmother boots her out and makes her travel the region exploring the history to learn more about the Dynamax phenomenon. (And yes, Sonia is definitely in her twenties; both she and Leon refer to themselves as adults, and these games were created in Japan, where the age of adulthood is 20. So while we don’t know their exact age, we know they’re at least over 20.) Sonia is a little miffed about this at first, but as the story goes on she becomes more and more interested in and passionate about her studies, which culminates in Professor Magnolia passing the lab coat over to her. And it was at that point I realized: Although Professor Magnolia is the official professor at the start of the game, the fact that she has absolutely no impact on the game whatsoever (or at least very minimal impact) is because the real professor of the game is Sonia. We interact with her regularly, she helps compile information about what’s going on with regards to the game’s main plot, she guides and influences both the player character and Hop, and ultimately she comes to realize her own goal and dreams. The fact that an adult character in these games got to have an arc like this---one where she wasn’t sure what to do with herself at first, but came to find her own dream and take over the lab---was absolutely wonderful to me, an adult player. Sonia was definitely a refreshing character for the series and I was so, so proud of her when she finally got her lab coat, found her goal, and started living her best life. Sonia’s brilliant and I’m a huge fan.

Hop: On a personal, personality-level, I find Hop to be kind of annoying. He’s the type of person who would wear me out quickly in real life, and I honestly would have preferred if the primary rival was Marnie instead of him (since I feel him eating up so much screentime is part of why Marnie got shafted---but more on that later). But that said, I feel like Hop was Hau done right, that his character arc was well-written, and I love that we see him finally step out of the shadows and find his own path at the end of the postgame story. Hop, like Hau, has a famous relative that he looks up to and wants to surpass one day. But Hop, unlike Hau, also takes his training seriously from the start, struggles and shifts through various strategies as he tries to figure out what it is that he should do rather than just sticking to the same thing and hoping that it produces a different result, and ultimately concludes that he can do something different with his life, that he can change fields and make a name for himself his own way, without having to live up to expectations of what others think of him, or what his brother has done. While Hop resembles past rivals in the series in various ways (e.g. Barry’s impatience, Hau’s famous relative), he also sets himself apart by having a clear and defined character growth arc, culminating in his capture of the other mascot legendary and his newly appointed position as Sonia’s research assistant. I’m not personally a big fan of Hop’s, but as a character I think he was well done and I don’t dislike him either. At the very least, he easily tramples all of Kalos’ rivals (not that that’s hard, since the Kalos Friend Group is the most annoying set of rivals the series has ever seen), and I like him more than Hau as well. (The fact that Hop doesn’t delegitimize child abuse the way Hau does in USUM is a big point in his favor.)

Bede: On the other hand, I love everything about this little shithead. I love that we finally, FINALLY have a jerkass rival for the first time since Gen IV. I love that even after his character development (which he gets!) he doesn’t stop being a jerkass, he just becomes slightly less of one. (Very slightly.) While it was touched upon only a little, I like that the reason why he’s such a little asshole is because of how Rose and Oleana were using him (Oleana is the one that gets blamed, but it was Rose who gave Bede his first pokémon and endorsed him, and then later in Hulbury acted like he didn’t even know who Bede was, thereby implying that Bede feels that he has to work extra hard to gain Rose’s approval and attention), and that once he was taken in by a good guardian (Opal), he improved not only as a trainer, but as a person. It was so great to see Bede finally happy near the end of the game, once Opal took him in, and also great that even though he was a little shit to everyone around him, he also treated his pokémon well (and thus wasn’t a “he’s an asshole so he uses his pokémon as tools!” type). Bede’s great. I love Bede.

Marnie: I also love Marnie, though as I’ve said numerous times, she was critically underused. Despite the fact that her older brother is a Gym Leader, Marnie has pretty much no impact on the plot, barely shows up at all, doesn’t appear in the postgame story at all (even though she’s a Gym Leader now!), and overall feels like she’s just sort of . . . there. This frustrates me not only because I love what little we do see of her (the fact that she has a south London accent is already a huge plus in her favor, along with her design, battle music, and overall character), but because I feel this happens all-too often with female rivals in Pokémon games. Granted, it’s not like we have a surplus; aside from the opposite-gender player rivals, the only dedicated female rivals we have in the entire series apart from Marnie are Bianca and Shauna (because given that Lillie doesn’t battle for the majority of the story, she does not count as a rival). Shauna, like all the rivals in XY, has an ineffective, weak team and doesn’t really accomplish anything at any point. And while Bianca’s team is fantastic and she does end up becoming Professor Juniper’s assistant in the second game, in the first game she’s sidelined after her Munna gets stolen and spends the rest of the game with her spirit broken as a result of it (which, IMO, is the one being flaw in BW’s otherwise excellent storytelling). So to get another dedicated female rival, only to have her barely be involved in the plot at all and not really go through any meaningful development is incredibly disappointing. If there is a follow-up game to the Galar games, I hope Marnie gets more to do. (And as a side note, Team Yell is in a similar situation to Macro Cosmos; it honestly feels like they only exist because Game Freak feels they have to have an “evil team” at this point, much like Skull in the last gen.)

This is long, and also it’s almost 3am and I’m tired, so rather than typing up blurbs for all the other characters, I’ll just give short lists:

Other characters I loved: Nessa, Kabu, Bea, Opal, Raihan

Characters that were OK but had certain things about them that were off-putting to me: Leon, Chairman Rose, Oleana

Characters I’m completely ambivalent about: Professor Magnolia, Milo

Characters I hated: Gordie, the Sword and Shield brothers I’m not even going to bother to remember their names because they were that fucking stupid

And that’s it, I’m going to go see if I can sleep now.

[thehanniecorner]

Yes, I realize that this post is coming out nowhere near January, but I have been finding it difficult to keep up with blogging lately, so it is what it is, right?  Hopefully, things have calmed down enough in my life that I can get back to writing semi-regularly, but no promises yet!  Regardless, I read a lot in January and am eager to share my thoughts with you.  Let’s get started!

I hope this reaches her in time – r.h. Sin

Rating – 1 Star

Unfortunately, I started off my year with what may turn out to be my least favorite title of 2020.  I hope this reaches her in time is a poetry collection, and while I like to pick up poetry once in a while, I didn’t connect with this collection at all.  First of all, it felt like there should have been a little more editing, as I found a number of sentences and word choices that I think might have just been typos.  Beyond that, the poetry itself reminded me of the “Tumblr style” where poets just break a normal sentence into multiple lines to make the words feel deeper than they really are, which is not a style I enjoy at all.  The good news is, however, that my reading can only get better from here, right?

Emergency Skin – N.K. Jemisin

Rating – 5 Stars

After reading an incredibly underwhelming title, I decided to give N.K. Jemisin’s Emergency Skin from Amazon’s Forward collection a try, figuring that an author this popular couldn’t possibly let me down.  Thankfully, my instincts were right and I loved this short story so much.  Given how short this experience is, I don’t want to give too much away, but I will say that this is a phenomenal science fiction story with the best usage of second person narration that I have ever seen in literature.  This was my first title by Jemisin and I can’t wait to read more of her work in the future.

Randomize – Andy Weir

Rating – 3 Stars

Since I loved Emergency Skin so much, I wanted to give another short story from the same collection a try, which led me to Andy Weir’s Randomize.  This wasn’t bad at all, but I didn’t love it to nearly the same degree as Jemisin’s work.  The hardest part for me is that the central premise, involving the security of gambling machines and whether they can be hacked or not, felt both flimsy and info-dumping in its setup.  The ending was pretty satisfying and I had fun reading this, but I came away from the story feeling like not enough had really been done with the universe.  I’m hoping to get to more of the Forward short story collection a try in the coming months, so I hope I enjoy the others more than I enjoyed this one.

Interview with the Robot – Lee Bacon

Rating – 4 Stars

I decided to pick up an Audible subscription recently in order to read more audiobooks, and Interview with the Robot was one of the Audible Original productions available one month, so I decided to pick it up.  This short audiobook with a full cast follows a robot who looks like a young child.  She gets apprehended by the police and has to tell her strange life story to a social worker in charge of her case.

While listening to this story, I had a smile on my face from beginning to end because it was just so charming and adorable.  That said, however, there were a few pretty good twists and turns that I didn’t see coming and definitely made me feel a lot of empathy towards the protagonist.  Overall, my main complaint is that it was just too short, at around three hours of listening.  I want more from this world in the future, so I hope some sort of sequel comes out eventually.

The Last Wish – Andrzej Sapkowski

Rating – 3 Stars

2020 is the year that I work my way into adult fantasy, and other than reading Game of Thrones last year, reading The Last Wish is one of the first titles that I have ever picked up in the genre.  This series follows Geralt, a witcher, which is a type of mutated human that fights monsters, as well as the many people that surround him.  This specific book is a short story collection that follows, for the most part, Geralt as he goes from contract to contract, killing monsters.

I love the lore and world of the Witcher universe, but I’m not totally convinced that I appreciate the writing style.  It’s hard to tell if this is because of the translation or this is the intention of the original author, but there was a lot of distance between the narrator and the events happening, which made me feel disconnected from the story.  I still intend to continue on, especially after I completely fell in love with the TV series, so I hope that I will connect more with future books and get used to the writing style.

The Outsider – Stephen King

Rating – 4 Stars

Stephen King is an author that I should read way more than I do, because I only pick up one or two of his books in a year, but I almost always enjoy them.  As it turns out, The Outsider is no exception.  This horror novel follows a group of detectives as they investigate the death of a young boy in a small town.  The obvious suspect is the town’s little league coach, as the evidence is quickly mounting up against him.  As the case opens up, however, conflicting details emerge and the truth becomes more difficult to grasp.

Overall, I really enjoyed the mystery and couldn’t stop reading for the entirety of this 600-page tome.  Stephen King has a way of making long books feel like they go by in an instant.  Unsurprisingly, however, the ending was incredibly underwhelming.  Additionally, The Outsider is connected to the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, which I didn’t know, and I got pretty spoiled for the events of that series, which is unfortunate.  On top of all of this, I would like to take a moment and point out that the graphic depictions of the child’s death did not really need to be so detailed, much less have those horrific details brought up at least a dozen more times over the course of the book.  It just felt gratuitous after a while.  I enjoyed this book immensely, but the details I mentioned above kept it just barely out of five-star territory.

Every Heart a Doorway – Seanan McGuire

Rating – 4 Stars

Since The Outsider was quite a lengthy read, I wanted to pick up some shorter titles again, leading me to finally pick up the start to a fantasy series that has been on my radar for a long time:  Every Heart a Doorway.  This series follows a group of children that found doorways to their own personal versions of Narnia and Wonderland.  At some point, however, their newfound homes kicked them back into the normal world and they have to learn how to cope with returning to their own life.  A halfway home of sorts was founded for children struggling with this task, and as it turns out, bringing a bunch of children together who have all gone to vastly different worlds can cause some pretty crazy antics and disagreements.

I love the characters, but didn’t find the plot of this overly engaging.  Given that my rating is still high, it’s clear that my disinterest in the plot wasn’t a deal-breaker by any means, but I just struggled to stay interested, especially given that I guessed the big plot twist almost immediately.  Since these books are so short, I will definitely be reading the sequels.  In fact, given how late this wrap-up is, I can say with great certainty that my February wrap-up will have a lot of news regarding my progress on this series.

Outer Order, Inner Calm – Gretchen Rubin

Rating – 3 Stars

I like to try reading books that push me out of my comfort zone, and it has been a long time since I read anything that might be considered a part of the self-improvement genre.  Therefore, as a chronically messy person, I thought reading Outer Order, Inner Calm might be an interesting adventure, given that the whole book is dedicated to getting rid of unwanted junk to keep life peaceful.

This was an incredibly easy read.  The writing style was simple and easy to digest.  Reading it was actually a pretty pleasant and relaxing experience.  That said, however, I’m not sure how useful I actually found the book, as the advice felt like it was playing it pretty safe.  For the most part, the tips went like “Get rid of things you don’t use anymore” and “Clean your house” with about 75 different variations, each.  I’m glad I read it, but I don’t think I got much out of it.

Everything My Mother Taught Me – Alice Hoffman

Rating – 4 Stars

My final read for the month of January was another short story from an Amazon collection like the Forward collection.  This is Everything My Mother Taught Me, and it’s my first attempt at reading Alice Hoffman.  This follows a young girl who is living at a lighthouse and trying to navigate coming of age with her dysfunctional mother around her.  I can’t say much more than that given how short the story is, but I did really enjoy this.  This is a common complaint for me with short stories, but the main reason it didn’t get five stars is because it just didn’t feel fully fleshed out.  When I read Emergency Skin, I felt like Jemisin did a phenomenal job of packing a full story into a short amount of pages, and Everything My Mother Taught Me didn’t manage this as successfully.  I’m still quite eager to pick up more books by Hoffman, however, as I enjoyed her writing style.

Well, now that it’s almost March, I have finally shared what I read in January.  What did you read in the first month of the year?  Let me know in the comments below!

  January 2020 Reading Wrap-Up! Yes, I realize that this post is coming out nowhere near January, but I have been finding it difficult to keep up with blogging lately, so it is what it is, right? 

[alexhaydenxii-blog]

The Man Who Changed the Philippines

A short story

On a non-descript grey room, there sat a man wearing the orange jumpsuit of a prisoner and opposite him is a man wearing a navy-blue polo with his eyes looking intensely at the prisoner. In his hand he had a ballpen and the other hand is on his lap clenched in anger. As a journalist Martin must learn to control his emotions, or else this jackpot would go away like a fly chased by a human hand.

The prisoner didn't smile, he simply stared at the journalist waiting for an answer. Alexander is studying this man before him, observing every little body language he sends out involuntarily. He noticed Martin's jaw clenched and sweat forming on his forehead. The room given to them has good ventilation, why the hell would this man sweat profusely? He asked himself that. Finally the cold and silent atmosphere improved when Martin finally said something.

He laid out his phone on the table and pressed record. "I am Martin Andreas, the journalist assigned to interview Mr. Alexander Reyes, convicted drug lord and terrorist."

It was at this moment that Alex broke his silence by laughing. "Whoa, terrorist sounds a bit too much, what about a multi-billion drug lord who earned billions of pesos throughout my entire career." He boasted with a huge grin on his face, like a kid who found out that he is the top of his class.

Martin ignored his comment, but it made his heart pump hot blood throughout his veins. He felt an urge that made him rub both of his hands and take a deep breath before speaking. "As you have known I am interviewing you here today about your deeds that changed the country Mr. Reyes." Alex replied by nodding. "You were a notorious crime lord that caused the crime rate of this country to go up by 72%. Tell me, why did you choose the path of crime in the first place? You were an excellent lawyer, who came form a very prestigious schoo. what made you decide to become an infamous criminal in the first place?" Martin asked, preparing to take down notes.

A response was formed right away and Alex answered. "Short answer would be I wanted to change this country for the good, long answer is that I thought being one of the good guys would help me change the system of this country but I was wrong. Do you know who is Senator John Santos?" The reporter nodded.

"Of course you do, you're the one who reported his death on television. John Santos and I were close friends and we share the same passion to change this country. He became elected as Mayor of Manila and he ran for the Senate and won. That victory was the final nail in his coffin. He stepped on a lot of dirty politicians during his term and made laws that actually helped our country. Obviously the corrupt government officials wanted him out of the picture and they succeeded. He was gunned down on his own home with the rest of his familu and up until now no one knows who ordered the hit. Can you imagine that, his wife and three kids lied there bleeding with him." For a second Martin saw a hint of pity on his eyes, but only for a secomd.

"It was you." Martin suddenly said. The sudden interruption caught Alex off-guard, he simply smiled. "Oh wait, yeah now I remember. People thought I did it, but it's all bullshit. When there are no facts present, people turn to rumors and stupid theories which they use as an answer to the unknown." To Martin this is clearly bullshit, but then why would he need to lie since he is already convicted to rot here in this jail. Martin said nothing and let him explain.

"God this interview makes me feel old. If I remember I was a lawyer back then. A lawyer who is pissed off at the system. Can you imagine how many of the fuckers that I nearly convicted but was released due to their deep pockets? Fucking bastards. John's death was a blow to me, and also served as my epiphany. I decided that, in order for me to make real change, I must adapt and beat the assholes in their own game." Martin was surprised to see tears forming on the convict's eyes, tears that he fought hard to hide.

Still his arrogant tone is the same, but Martin could see the sadness in his eyes as he was speaking. "So you believed that by poisoning millions of Filipinos with the drugs you brought to this country, and also instigating a massacre in Binondo that killed defenseless Filipinos children and adult alike, it would change the Philippines?" Martin said, raising his voice. "Yes, I do. I worked so hard to be the drug kingpin of this country. I did what was necessary. Charles Darwin once said that the strong should survive and the weak shall perish. That's what happened. Those weak enough to try the harmful substances I brought died, those strong enough fought back against me and forced the government to do their jobs properly." The sadness he once had is now gone. He was like an artist, boasting his magnum opus to the world.

"5 million Filipinos died because of you Mr. Reyes, 5 million." Martin said, his face now turning red. "So? Should I care that 5 million useless Filipinos died? Filipinos that are what you call in Tagalog "palamunin"? Should I care about--"

"Because of that stupid shoot-out with the Chinese Triads in Binondo my sister died!" Martin shouted, standing up and striking the metal table with his hands. Alex didnt even flinch, he just stared at Martin. "The two guards outside despise me because I did something nasty to their families before, if you decided to vent out your anger on me with your fists you are welcome to do so." Alex mocked.

Martin grabbed him by his collar and raised his fist, clenching tightly. Should he do it? His face deserves to be reduced to a bloody pulp. He deserves so much pain, and all that power lies in his hands. Martin can't, it seems like an invisible chain tightened on his hand that prevented him from punching. He tried, tried so hard but he can't. Martin simply screamed, screamed like a bloodthirsty barbarian. His scream echoed loudly on the room. He punched the metal table instead before sitting down and taking a deep breath.

"Huh, your principles got the better of you. I admire that Martin, I am very impressed. Anyway, back to the main topic. If it weren't for me, those drug lords, crooks and politicians I dumped on Manila Bay would still be alive, stagnating this country. If it weren't for the gang war in Binondo that escalated into masaacre, the President wouldn't have the balls to push the Chinese out of our country. I'm sorry Martin about your loss, but look around you, I greatly reduced crime and corruption due to stricter laws that punish criminals and the sudden boom of rehabilitation centers in this country." Alexander's voice now started to get intense as he explained.

"Because of the great panic I created that disrupted this country, you wouldn't have the strength to fight back against the system. I served as the rallying cry for you to rise up and fight! Look what happened? Senators, Mayors and governors are being imprisoned left and right. They are replaced by Filipinos who have the country's interest first before their own. Yes, I did kill 5 million people, I had to do it in order for the next 5 million Filipinos about to come out of their mother's womb yo have a better life Martin. Now, tell me if I am still a terrorist." Alex said, his gaze now intensifying as all his words were delivered proudly, no inch of remorse present at all.

Martin had a thousand words he wanted to say to him, questions and insults but at this moment he was speechless, as if he accidentally swallowed his own tongue. The alarm rung out and the guards outside announced that the interview is up. Martin turned off the recorder, picked up his notepad and phone and walked out the room, without saying anything. He was in deep thought, he felt like being his teenage self again suffering with existential crisis. Everything around him seemed unreal. He thought of heroes as someone who is the epitome of all that is good in this world, someone who'll preserve life at all costs. But Martin lives in the real world, the real world where the Rules are different and there is no good and evil. Maybe Alexander did save this country, or maybe he was a mass murderer who condemned millions of lives to their deaths. But one thing is for sure, Philippines is vastly different from what it used to be. Perhaps the end really does justify the means.

[kali-tmblr]

Snowbirds of a Feather: Parallels in the Lives of Qrow and Winter

I didn't pay much attention to Qrow and Winter as a potential couple in their introductory scenes in "Brawl in the Family" because I was so blown away by the improvement in the writing that those scenes represented. Such economical exposition! Yes, the couple's relationship could be called "cute", but there wasn't any real "meat" to it at the time. It wasn't until a volume and a half later in "A Much Needed Talk" that it became clear that the two of them had lived parallel lives on opposite sides of the track.

Let's revisit those scenes from the start of Chapter 3. Not a lot has really happened yet. So far there's been students fighting in the Tournament, vaguely underhanded maneuvering from Cinder's crew, and a flashy, drunken stranger watching the fights unimpressed from a barroom TV. Then an equally flashy ship flies overhead, and Weiss runs off showing more joy than she's shown in the entire series to this date. The drunkard also notices the ship, and declares it a warning of a far bigger fight than anything going on at the Tournament.

Weiss introduces the audience (although not Ruby who is standing right beside her) to her flashy older sister, Atlas Special Agent Winter Schnee. It's a painfully awkward meeting. My first reaction to Winter was, "What a tin-plated asshole." A second later it became, "This is the most socially awkward character in an entire show full of socially awkward characters, and probably the shyest as well, hidden underneath a thick armor plating of formality."

In their meeting the Schnee sisters are each "code-switching" with each other between two different behavior models without seeming to find anything odd about it, and giving poor Ruby (and the audience) a case of whiplash, as well as a sense that things are seriously messed up in the Schnee family. Weiss vacillates between excited little girl and cold formality, with a side order of abusive to Ruby when Ruby is informal. Winter vacillates between cold, sneering, condescending, and abusive; and mere cold formality. In the case of both sisters it quickly becomes clear that cold, sneering, condescending, and abusive within a hierarchical structure is what they grew up with. Winter can sneer at and abuse Weiss, but Weiss can't do the same back at Winter. Instead, she abuses the lower-ranked (to the Schnee family) Ruby. More to the point, Weiss and Winter obviously expect nothing else from each other. It becomes clear that they do care about each other, but they don't know any other way to show it.

But while sneering condescension and abuse is clearly the default mode in Winter's mind for meeting with her little sister, it's not the mode she stays in. She overtly makes an effort, not once, not twice, but three separate times in one conversation to code-switch from abusive condescension into the merely cold, militaristic formality that she must have picked up at the Atlas Academy. It obviously doesn't come naturally to her in speaking with her sister, it's the abusive condescension that comes naturally, but darn it, she keeps trying!

It's heartbreaking.

This scene is just so elegant. It not only introduces Winter and shows us a ton of details about the Schnee family dynamics, but it also provides callbacks to Season 1. The audience is reminded of what Weiss was like when she arrived at Beacon and how much progress she has made in socializing. We're also given a hint as to maybe why Weiss chose Beacon over Atlas Academy if that's all the social skills her sister learned there. And we're also given the contrast between the cold formality of the Schnee sisters and the loving warmth of Ruby and Yang. At the end of the scene Winter and Weiss are headed for the dorm, where I am eagerly looking forward to Yang teaching Winter a lesson on the proper care and maintenance of baby sisters, especially baby sisters who also happen to be Yang's teammates, which may or may not involve fisticuffs.

I'm still waiting for that scene, because that's when the story takes a turn.

The drunkard lurches forward, easily decapitating two of the latest models of Atlesian Knights in spite of being unable to walk in a straight line, and begins hurling insults on the Atlas military directed at it's highest ranking member present, Winter. He calls her ship "gaudy", which while it is objectively true, is also ironic coming from the only man we've met who wears a cape. She calls him "Qrow", the name of Ruby and Yang's heretofore unseen uncle, and he calls her "Ice Queen", to the confusion of Weiss.

In this scene what Winter doesn't do is even more interesting than what she does do. She's being insulted by a falling down drunk, and she DOESN'T respond with the same sneering condescension she just used on her own dear sister, even though many people routinely use that tone with drunks. She maintains a now angry formality. He's handing her opportunities to sneer on a silver platter, and she's not taking them. This tells us that sneering condescension is a holdover from her childhood, not something she normally uses in her adult life.

More importantly she allows her own little sister to prance right up to this drunkard and confront him. She doesn't react at all when the drunkard puts his hands all over her sister's head and uses it for balance before gently pushing her sister to the side. This scene tells us one of two things. Either Winter doesn't care about her little sister's welfare, or she is convinced that even though obviously incapacitated by alcohol, with his motor functions, vision, and reason clearly impaired, the drunken man is in spite of this no threat to the young woman. That level of conviction speaks not only of lots of prior experience, but a high degree of trust in spite of their current animosity.

The insults continue with Qrow upset about Ironwood's humiliation of Ozpin before the Vale council at the end of Volume 2 , reminding the audience of that development. However much the two leaders have been downplaying their disagreement in their personal meetings, it obviously has their loyal bannermen up in arms.

(Some people have assumed that Qrow and Winter were former lovers, but I don't see anything here that really supports that premise. They're simply arguing over policy. Lovers would have a more thorough knowledge of each other's buttons.)

Winter holds her ground until Qrow starts threatening to blab state secrets in the public square, then she changes tactics. Unfortunately for her she attacks him instead of grabbing him by the arm and dragging him somewhere out of earshot. But it's fortunate for us, as we get the best 1v1 duel so far.

As good as it is, it's also clear Qrow is holding back. Judging from the Ursa we will see Winter summon in the next episode, so is she.

Qrow keeps one eye on the Beacon Tower, and when he sees Ironwood coming up behind Winter, he goads her into attacking an unarmed man in front of her superior. In this way he publicly humiliates Winter as Ironwood's proxy in a similar manner to how Ironwood has publicly humiliated Ozpin with the council. The action is childish and petty, but not personal, a drunken, juvenile payback.

Winter's opinion on the prank isn't known, but she is clearly furious.

Then the action switches to inside Beacon Tower, where it becomes clear that both combatants are intensely loyal to and highly valued by their respective Headmasters, although Qrow outranks Winter and has her thrown out. Then we move on to info dumps and plot developments galore.

The way these scenes fold so much information inside them is vastly improved over the first two Volumes. But as lovely as our snowbirds look together, there's no real reason to ship them - yet. That would wait until we began to get Qrow's backstory in Volume 4. Once Qrow begins to talk about his childhood, it gradually becomes clear how much his life story has echoed Winter's life story. Shall we count the ways?

1) Horrible childhood: Qrow grew up an unloved, unwanted child in a chaotic, abusive bandit camp, and quickly becomes the camp scapegoat. From what we have seen Winter grew up in a home that was cold and abusive, where order and affection came from the servants, not her parents.

2) Grew up in the shadow of a narcissist: Winter grew up in the shadow of her narcissistic father Jaques. Qrow appears to have grown up in the shadow of his narcissistic sister Raven. Both narcissists have shown that they only regard other people as tools or enemies, including family. This tends to leave a child with major insecurity issues.

3) Escape to Academy: Both Qrow and Raven made it to Huntsmen Academies, where they encountered genuine order and a semblance of fairness for the first time. The Academy was the first decent thing that happened to them, and in that environment both of them blossomed.

4) Remade themselves into the Headmaster's pets: Both characters appear to have used their time at their respective Academies to reinvent themselves. Both of them took the ethos of their schools and their Headmasters to heart. Each one strove successfully to become their Headmaster's trusted eyes and ears in the field.

5) Flashy exterior, insecure interior: In each case a flashy exterior conceals deep insecurities.

6) Guilt over children: This one's a bit of a stretch, but not much. Winter constantly telling Weiss she has to be strong sounds like guilt over the fact that Winter had to leave Weiss behind in an abusive situation in order to go to Atlas Academy. As for Qrow, after growing up unwanted I think he would have panicked over Yang and Ruby growing up motherless, tried to be there to help Tai as much as he could, and felt guilty about having to leave on missions for Ozpin, which wouldn't help his drinking any.

7) Socially Awkward: They're both socially awkward. Winter conceals her social awkwardness behind a formal exterior. Qrow hides his social awkwardness behind drinking and physical seperation.

8) Arrested Development: Both of them successfully escaped traumatic childhoods and reinvented themselves as Teacher's Pets, completely loyal to their respective saviours. And there both of them seem to have stopped maturing. Growing any more would have meant questioning their idol, and neither one was willing to do that. We saw how Qrow was shaken to his core when the man he reveres turned out to have feet of clay. Should Ironwood fall from grace, it will be no less traumatic for Winter than Ozpin's fall from grace was for Qrow. But perhaps on the other side of that they will both finally find themselves standing as their own people.