#instead of simply being destroyed by fire or decay

[feliciadraws]

Thinking about the Gävle goat and how there is something oddly beautiful about how it was eaten by birds rather than either burning or rotting

[pinkiepiebones]

Hearth

written for the prompt "domesticity"

Count Dracula, Prince of Wallachia, Last of His Name, had a familiar. Most vampires did, one would suppose. Familiars are creatures that usually begin life as humans but become something, well, more than human (but still far, far less than a vampire, to be clear). Familiars are devoted to the vampire and do anything the vampire demands. They are somewhat like upright guard dogs, albeit with more refined housekeeping skills.

Count Dracula's familiar- Renfield, if it must have a name besides "Servant"- had been at his side for some forty years now. Or was it fifty? Neither of them really kept track; calendars are a tool of the mortals trying to make sense of their meager existences. But it had been a while to be sure. Count Dracula had time to make his expectations known to Renfield, and Renfield, to his credit, was doing a well enough job that the Count kept him around, even bringing him back to life a time or two (although, it could be assumed that the Count simply thought it less time consuming to raise Renfield from the clutches of death than go about finding a new familiar).

Oh, Renfield is dead right now.

Dracula had risen early, just after sunset, to the lovely aroma of fresh blood. He opened his coffin and stood, expecting his dog to be at his side, anxiously and excitedly awaiting commands. Instead he found bodies, which was alright, but not as good as having the blood pre-drained into a nice decanter and the bodies tidied away. He called for Renfield inside their mental link.

Nothing.

Dracula sighed and ate breakfast, then sought out his disappeared familiar via scent. Renfield typically smelled the same even after all this time: anxiety, shame, greed, freshly turned earth, chitin, and stale blood. Occasionally there were hints of lavender.

The Count found the crumpled body of his familiar in the study of their latest castle hideaway. Based on the blood on the walls and floor, and the stakes sticking in Renfield's chest, it seemed to Dracula as though a ragtag group of vampire hunters had mistaken Renfield for a vampire and died in their attempts to subdue him. The bodies nearer to my room, Dracula reckoned, those must have been the second unit tasked with destroying the coffin.

It was all amusing, really.

Dracula knelt and pulled the stakes from his familiar's cold and lifeless body. He scooped the familiar up in his arms; rigor had not yet set in so the body sagged like bag of anesthetised snakes. He took the body to the closest part of the castle with a fireplace. When they had first met, Renfield had commented on the fireplace. Called it 'cheerful' or something insipid like that.

Dracula dropped the corpse in front of the fireplace and got a fire going, then gathered some rugs and blankets and dropped them around Renfield's body. Dracula was being far, far too kind, he knew, but Renfield had done a downright decent job of keeping the hunters at bay, and he deserved to come back to life in the smallest bit of comfort.

Dracula readied himself to open his forearm and bleed his healing blood on the body on the floor when a thought crossed his mind.

.

The process of coming back to life sucks. It fucking sucks. There is no eloquent, flowery, verbose way to write this: being dead, and then not being dead, sucks shit.

Renfield's body shudders and snaps and jolts as whatever intangible bullshit that animates all living things worms itself back into the mesh of nerves and veins and meat that make, uniquely, Renfield. He blinks, blind for a bit as his eyes had experienced some slight decay in this latest momentary death. He gropes at his chest, fingers clumsily poking into the as of yet still mending holes left by the stakes. The first coherent thought that slithers across the expanse of reinvigorating neurons in his half-decayed brain is

"Fuck, I really liked this shirt."

As feeling and synapses mend, Renfield attempts to stand, but a firm set of claws on his shoulders weigh him down.

"Sit. You'll take a while to be back to your ...familiar self," Dracula says, chuckling at his sparkling wordplay. He drops a blanket on Renfield and Renfield struggled out of it like a newborn kitten, all limbs and no sense of equilibrium. Renfield sniffles, half to clear the blood from his rejuvenating sinuses and half to test if his sense of smell is back. He blinks again, now able to discern shapes and a few colours out of one eye.

"Did ... did you cook, Master?"

Dracula is damn near giddy as he sets a tray between Renfield and the hearth. "It's been so long since I've cooked food," he sighs happily, "and I no longer have a sense of taste for the stuff, as you know, but-" He smiles just out of Renfield's view. "You did a good job, Renfield. So I wanted to do something."

He halts before 'for you' can slip put and fuck up their master/servant dynamic.

Renfield's bloody fingers grope at his throat to make sure, yes, my esophagus is intact, and he digs in to the meal as quickly as a halfway repaired familiar can. He makes a little noise that confuses the count.

"Oh, Master, this is splendid! I can't taste so good right now, but I can feel the warmth of it! Master, you are far too kind to a wretch like me."

Dracula beams just beyond Renfield's scope of vision. "It is a dish called paprika hendl, servant. An old favourite. I ate well tonight, and now you must, too. To speed up the healing process."

Count Dracula considers his options.

He sits down beside his familiar and basks in the sun-like warmth of the fire with him.

[continuations]

The World After Capital in 64 Theses

Over the weekend I tweeted out a summary of my book The World After Capital in 64 theses. Here they are in one place:

The Industrial Age is 20+ years past its expiration date, following a long decline that started in the 1970s.

Mainstream politicians have propped up the Industrial Age through incremental reforms that are simply pushing out the inevitable collapse.

The lack of a positive vision for what comes after the Industrial Age has created a narrative vacuum exploited by nihilist forces such as Trump and ISIS.

The failure to enact radical changes is based on vastly underestimating the importance of digital technology, which is not simply another set of Industrial Age machines.

Digital technology has two unique characteristics not found in any prior human technology: zero marginal cost and universality of computation.

Our existing approaches to regulation of markets, dissemination of information, education and more are based on the no longer valid assumption of positive marginal cost.

Our beliefs about the role of labor in production and work as a source of purpose are incompatible with the ability of computers to carry out ever more sophisticated computations (and to do so ultimately at zero marginal cost).

Digital technology represents as profound a shift in human capabilities as the invention of agriculture and the discovery of science, each of which resulted in a new age for humanity.

The two prior transitions, from the Forager Age to the Agrarian Age and from the Agrarian Age to the Industrial Age resulted in humanity changing almost everything about how individuals live and societies function, including changes in religion.

Inventing the next age, will require nothing short of changing everything yet again.

We can, if we make the right choices now, set ourselves on a path to the Knowledge Age which will allow humanity to overcome the climate crisis and to broadly enjoy the benefits of automation.

Choosing a path into the future requires understanding the nature of the transition we are facing and coming to terms with what it means to be human.

New technology enlarges the “space of the possible,” which then contains both good and bad outcomes. This has been true starting from the earliest human technology: fire can be used to cook and heat, but also to wage war.

Technological breakthroughs shift the binding constraint. For foraging tribes it was food. For agrarian societies it was arable land. Industrial countries were constrained by how much physical capital (machines, factories, railroads, etc.) they could produce.

Today humanity is no longer constrained by capital, but by attention.

We are facing a crisis of attention. We are not paying enough attention to profound challenges, such as “what is our purpose?” and “how do we overcome the climate crisis?”

Attention is to time as velocity is to speed: attention is what we direct our minds to during a time period. We cannot go back and change what we paid attention to. If we are poorly prepared for a crisis it is because of how we have allocated our attention in the past.

We have enough capital to meet our individual and collective needs, as long as we are clear about the difference between needs and wants.

Our needs can be met despite the population explosion because of the amazing technological progress we have made and because population growth is slowing down everywhere with peak population in sight.

Industrial Age society, however, has intentionally led us down a path of confusing our unlimited wants with our modest needs, as well as specific solutions (e.g. individually owned cars) with needs (e.g. transportation).

The confusion of wants with needs keeps much of our attention trapped in the “job loop”: we work so that we can buy goods and services, which are produced by other people also working.

The job loop was once beneficial, when combined with markets and entrepreneurship, it resulted in much of the innovation that we now take for granted.

Now, however, we can and should apply as much automation as we can muster to free human attention from the “job loop” so that it can participate in the “knowledge loop” instead: learn, create, and share.

Digital technology can be used to vastly accelerate the knowledge loop, as can be seen from early successes, such as Wikipedia and open access scientific publications.

Much of digital technology is being used to hog human attention into systems such as Facebook, Twitter and others that engage in the business of reselling attention,  commonly known as advertising. Most of what is advertised is  furthering wants and reinforces the job loop.

The success of market-based capitalism is that capital is no longer our binding constraint. But markets cannot be used for allocating attention due to missing prices.

Prices do not and cannot exist for what we most need to pay attention to. Price formation requires supply and demand, which don't exist for finding purpose in life, overcoming the climate crisis, conducting fundamental research, or engineering an asteroid defense.

We must use the capabilities of digital technology so that we can freely allocate human attention.

We can do so by enhancing economic, information, and psychological freedom.

Economic freedom means allowing people to opt out of the job loop by providing them with a universal basic income (UBI).

Informational freedom means empowering people to control computation and thus information access, creation and sharing.

Psychological freedom means developing mindfulness practices that allow people to direct their attention in the face of a myriad distractions.

UBI is affordable today exactly because we have digital technology that allows us to drive down the cost of producing goods and services through automation.

UBI is the cornerstone of a new social contract for the Knowledge Age, much as pensions and health insurance were for the Industrial Age.

Paid jobs are not a source of purpose for humans in and of themselves. Doing something meaningful is. We will never run out of meaningful things to do.

We need one global internet without artificial geographic boundaries or fast and slow lanes for different types of content.

Copyright and patent laws must be curtailed to facilitate easier creation and sharing of derivative works.

Large systems such as Facebook, Amazon, Google, etc. must be mandated to be fully programmable to diminish their power and permit innovation to take place on top of the capabilities they have created.

In the longrun privacy is incompatible with technological progress. Providing strong privacy assurances can only be accomplished via controlled computation. Innovation will always grow our ability to destroy faster than our ability to build due to entropy.

We must put more effort into protecting individuals from what can happen to them if their data winds up leaked, rather than trying to protect the data at the expense of innovation and transparency.

Our brains evolved in an environment where seeing a cat meant there was a cat. Now the internet can show us an infinity of cats. We can thus be forever distracted.

It is easier for us to form snap judgments and have quick emotional reactions than to engage our critical thinking facilities.

Our attention is readily hijacked by systems designed to exploit these evolutionarily engrained features of our brains.

We can use mindfulness practices, such as conscious breathing or meditation to take back and maintain control of our attention.

As we increase economic, informational and psychological freedom, we also require values that guide our actions and the allocation of our attention.

We should embrace a renewed humanism as the source of our values.

There is an objective basis for humanism. Only humans have developed knowledge in the form of books and works of art that transcend both time and space.

Knowledge is the source of humanity’s great power. And with great power comes great responsibility.

Humans need to support each other in solidarity, irrespective of such differences as gender, race or nationality.

We are all unique, and we should celebrate these differences. They are beautiful and an integral part of our humanity.

Because only humans have the power of knowledge, we are responsible for other species. For example, we are responsible for whales, rather than the other way round.

When we see something that could be improved, we need to have the ability to express that. Individuals, companies and societies that do not allow criticism become stagnant and will ultimately fail.

Beyond criticism, the major mode for improvement is to create new ideas, products and art. Without ongoing innovation, systems become stagnant and start to decay.

We need to believe that problems can be solved, that progress can be achieved. Without optimism we will stop trying, and problems like the climate crisis will go unsolved threatening human extinction.

If we succeed with the transition to the Knowledge Age, we can tackle extraordinary opportunities ahead for humanity, such as restoring wildlife habitats here on earth and exploring space.

We can and should each contribute to leaving the Industrial Age behind and bringing about the Knowledge Age.

We start by developing our own mindfulness practice and helping others do so.

We tackle the climate crisis through activism demanding government regulation, through research into new solutions, and through entrepreneurship deploying working technologies.

We defend democracy from attempts to push towards authoritarian forms of government.

We foster decentralization through supporting localism, building up mutual aid, participating in decentralized systems (crypto and otherwise).

We promote humanism and live in accordance with humanist values.

We recognize that we are on the threshold of both transhumans (augmented humans) and neohumans (robots and artificial intelligences).

We continue on our epic human journey while marveling at (and worrying about) our aloneness in the universe.

We act boldly and with urgency, because humanity’s future depends on a successful transition to the Knowledge Age.

[tsutsumi-kaina]

Theory: AFO Gave Tomura Decay (Part 2)

Continued from this post (link!)

Warning: This post has spoilers for both the most recent chapters of MHA (up to ch. 316) as well as spoilers for Vigilantes (up to ch. 109).

Straight to the point:

5. Tomura’s eyes and hair change color with the activation of Decay

It’s easy to write this one off as the anime making questionable choices about Tomura’s color scheme yet again (five years of baby blue hair ya’ll)— but just for giggles, let’s just assume that Horikoshi did intend for Tenko's natural eye color to be black, just like Nana and Kotaro. 

Now, there's a theory that Decay's activation destroyed all of Tomura's melanin, which is a theory I enjoy because it totally tracks (albinos lack pigmentation and they have "red eyes" because we're seeing their blood vessels rather than the actual color of their irises). I also like the “his hair went white from the trauma” and “he straight up went super saiyan” theories, because I’m a sucker that kind of specifically anime bullshit. 

But what if none of those theories are right? What if there was another reason why Tomura's hair and eyes change color? What if the change was meant to foreshadow something just a bit more... sinister?

Presented Without Comment

Through Dabi/Touya’s story we know that quirk factors do have an effect on things like hair color, and can even change a person's hair color upon activation— when Rei’s quirk factor becomes “dominant,” we see that Touya's hair gradually begins to turn white as his body changes to become more suited to an ice quirk despite his own quirk being fire-based.

That sound familiar?

So, Tomura's change to red eyes and white hair specifically  starts to look more than a little insidious if we assume that A) AFO has always  planned to turn Tenko into a new vessel, and B) Tenko actually got his first “dose” of AFO in the form of Decay + a pseudo-vestige, and his body has been gradually changing to become more hospitable for AFO's quirk factor. Exposure to AFO’s quirk factor (and it raging around inside of him like a damn virus) may be the true cause of Tomura’s palette swap.

6. Tenko is 5 when decay manifests, even though it’s been repeatedly stated that age 4 is the latest age that quirks manifest.

This point has also been discussed to death, with people arguing that Tomura simply had to amass enough hatred for Decay to fully manifest (see point 2 on why this “explanation” was most likely just AFO being a gigantic fucking troll). I’ll instead encourage folks to evaluate this point from a narrative standpoint— Hori drew attention to Tenko’s age and his quirklessness for a reason.

“Will he like me if I get my quirk!?”  Uhhh....

And Tenko likely having been born quirkless leads to the next point:

7. Tenko, The Quirkless Wonder (or: how having a quirkless vessel is an integral part of AFO’s plan to snatch OFA and not straight up fucking die in the process)

Tenko being born quirkless makes him a perfect candidate to tolerate the simultaneous burden of both OFA/AFO without his lifespan getting completely drained in the process-- the nomufication surgery was more likely just a measure that was taken to make sure Tomura's body was strong enough to make use of both quirks right away.

8. You know what? *beats the dead horse anyway*

Man, isn’t there a sale at Men’s Warehouse you’re late to???

I know I said I wouldn’t touch on this point but come the fuck on, mister twenty-four-seven biz cas isn’t even trying to hide it 

Bonus Points:

Machia's sense of smell - Machia tracks others through scent, and is somehow able to locate Tomura after the LOV has hidden themselves deep within the mountains. This is in spite the fact that they've never met before (Machia literally asks Tomura "Are you the one who succeeded AFO?"-- so we can assume he was not secretly tracking or observing Tomura from afar).  We know that if Machia's never met a person before, he obviously can't track them via scent-- we see this when he has to stop and literally ask Mina for directions during a flashback. But he still manages to track down the LOV when not even the police/heroes had any inkling of their location. So. If Machia and Tomura have never met before, how was Machia able to find him? As funny as it is to imagine AFO rubbing a pair of dirty sneakers in Machia's face like he's an overgrown bloodhound, I'll put forth the following theory-- Machia was sniffing out Decay's quirk factor rather than Tomura himself. If Decay was formerly in the possession of AFO, and/or if a part of AFO’s quirk factor already exists inside Tomura, then tracking him down is a cinch for Machia.

AFO's pasttime is villain creation - There's a whole scene in Vigilantes where AFO discusses the true nature of a "villain," then brags about being able to create villains by causing imbalances in one's quirk + giving people unsuitable quirks + stimulating quirks with a "violent will" and forcing them to go haywire. It's, uh. Fairly damning, to say the least.

AFO may have used Decay to kill Nana - This one is more conspiracy theory than actual theory, and it may seem like a huge stretch, but hear me out! In its untrained form, we see that Decay reduces people to chunks instead of dusting them-- but it leaves their hands perfectly intact. It feels far too coincidental that AFO just so happened  to leave Nana’s hand intact after killing her, and apparently decided to preserve that hand for 30 years on a total whim— and then, wouldn’tcha know it, Tenko just so happens to manifest a quirk that pulps everything but miraculously leaves the hands of those victims perfectly intact. And AFO being sick enough to give a little boy who wants to be a hero the same quirk that killed his hero grandma is a given at this point.

 - - - - - - - - -

Anyway, I get that a lot of folks dislike this theory because it takes away a lot of Tomura’s agency-- but honestly, his entire character arc has been about him trying to rediscover his true self and reclaiming his agency after a lifetime of having his identity abused out of him by pretty much everyone he’s ever met. AFO was always going to be the final boss of that character arc, which has been less about “becoming the greatest villain” (and hoo boy people on twitter are reeeeally hung up on this particular misconception about Tomura’s arc) and more about discovering his true convictions and “becoming his own person”-- Just as Izuku’s character arc is about becoming his own person and learning to actually value himself, rather than him just becoming All Might 2.0 who acts as a hero at the complete expense of his own personhood.

I don’t feel that Decay being an implant from AFO harms Tomura’s character arc in any way-- rather, confronting the lie that he was somehow “born evil” and exists as a slave to Decay’s destructive impulse feels like the next hurdle Tomura needs to overcome before he can truly reclaim his agency. 

[midnightcrusader]

tangerine sunset (7)

dazai osamu x oc

SERIES MASTERLIST

chapter seven: burgundy

↳ word count: 6,1k

↳ spoiler warning: FULL ON DEAD APPLE

↳ other warnings: super super dark, wound descriptions, fighting descriptions, ANGST, manipulation

↳ a/n: Aira’s having an existential crisis but hey! so am I! also, writing Fyodor brings me so much joy, I-

Aira blinked two times as she watched her blue replica smile at her. She stood in front of the creature, her hands gripping tighter the pistol.

What was going on?

The mass suicides turned out to be, indeed, serial killings with the victims being murdered by their own abilities. Aira had been trying to came up with the conclusion earlier that evening, yet only now it had struck her — someone, a man by the name of Shibusawa, to be exact, had caused the gifts to act up. That affect them attack their owners, making the death of theirs a truly terrifying experience.

Aira's knees weakened. If the abilities had taken a human-like form, did that mean that...

"Shit!" she shouted loudly, realizing that her deduction from before was right.

She had just tried to use the Time-master only to see if she could turn back time. As predicted — she couldn't. That meant she didn't have control over her own gift and in conclusion...

...the only way of bringing it back was probably to kill the blue hologram standing in front of her.

Without a second of hesitation, she pulled out her gun out once again, firing three shots at the being. Yet, instead of dropping dead, her doppelgänger simply shook its head and started walking towards her.

"Of course it wouldn't be that easy," Aira mumbled, reloading her gun.

She hoped the others would be alright. Her ability was more of a tactical one; when it came to combat, it was usually up to her to choose how she would use it. Turning back time was something that helped her buying time, causing no particular harm with the girt itself. The only damage that she could do was to use her knives and guns. When it came to Atsushi, Kyouka or Kunikida on the other hand, their gifts were certainly made for fighting. That meant, they were going to be affected physically more than her.

As the blue figure came closer, Aira rolled to the side, pulling the trigger as she shoot it into its jaw. She knew it wouldn't kill it, yet she hoped to buy some time in order to attack it once again. Grabbing her knife, she intended on stabbing her clone into its chest, however, it was faster than she thought. Moreover, it had the advantage of using the Time-master. With a blink of an eye, the clone turned back the time by four seconds, finding itself right behind Aira, ready to attack her with the knife. Before she managed to escape, the blue hologram smirked, reaching its hand to touch Aira's forehead.

"Wh—?!" she didn't managed to finish as her vision got blurry.

Trying to bring herself back, she blinked rapidly. But instead of returning back to reality she became nauseous; her body felt completely paralyzed, unable to move.

And then came something she wasn't expecting.

It was just as she shifted back to the living room of her parents house; the destroyed furniture, bullet holes in the walls, blood splattered everywhere — it was their murder scene.

But...

...the bodies weren't there.

Aira pulled out her gun with her trembling hands.

"What the hell is going on," she cried, her vision improving.

"Come to us, Aira."

Her breathing became uneven at the sound of the familiar voice.

Her mother was standing in the middle of the room, her corpse decaying. She reached out her hand, all covered in crimson liquid.

The scream coming from Aira's lungs was what brought her back to the reality. Her clone was standing over her collapsed body, knife ready to stab her right into her chest. Kicking its legs, Aira managed to escape, shooting five bullets without even realizing what she was doing.

What was this ability? Why was in her parents living room a moment before?

She had no time to think due to another series of attacks coming from her clone. Trying to defend herself, Aira run towards one of the buildings.

She needed a moment to come up with a plan. Moreover, she needed a moment to fully realize what was happening.

Yet, the hologram certainly had different plans. With a blink of an eye, Aira was being pulled down the stairs by her own coat. Grabbing her by her throat and touching her forehead with the other hand, the doppelgänger thrown her over the railing, causing her to fall down.

"Have you coped with your past, my love?" Dazai's voice rang in Aira's head.

It was when she realized she was standing in the middle of the pathway leading to the cemetery, they had visited this morning.

"You son of a..!" Aira yelled, snapping right back to the reality.

Her clone was running down the stairs, preparing for another attack.

Yet Aira couldn't help but think about what had just happened. Twice. Every time the hologram had touched her forehead, she was being forced to relive to her memories and the most petrifying fears. And each moment she shouted something, she was being brought back right away.

Was it another ability she wasn't aware of? Like the exact one she discovered during her first meeting with Chuuya?

It seemed exactly like it.

But then another question came — Dazai's one. He didn't ask her that just because they were visiting his friend's grave. He did it because he knew something about her gift she had no idea of.

But how?

Aira clenched her jaw, remembering what Ango had told her; Dazai was responsible for bringing Shibusawa to Yokohama. It was because of him all of this was happening.

And she knew she was going to find him. Not only that, but she also was going to defeat her clone, arrive to the Skull Fortress and search for the answers.

"Come here, you little shit!" she yelled towards the hologram, who smiled at her.

Within a split second, it had appeared right beside her. It used her ability. Now she had exactly one minute before another time shift.

"You're not touching my forehead this time, you bitch!" Aira screamed, stabbing the clone into its stomach.

As the hologram took a step back, the crystal on its head glowed red and its wound regenerated.

"Forehead," Aira repeated quietly with a grin on her face.

The crystal was the source of its energy. Ripping it out would equal completely killing the doppelgänger.

Without further do, Aira launched at her copy, trying to shoot it straight into the middle of its head. Yet, unsuccessfully. The being speeded toward her, plunging one of its knives right into Aira's shoulder. With a loud growl, the woman pulled out the weapon, throwing it behind her.

As it was going to use the other knife, Aira kicked the hologram's chest, making it fall on its back.

"Your parents hated you! And Dazai's been manipulating you all this time!" she shouted cockily, grimacing at the burning sensation of her arm being wounded.

She knew the hologram wouldn't answer. Yet, what a satisfaction it was to yell those things out loud.

The being got up, completely unharmed. One minute had passed since it had used the ability, which meant that it was ready to strike again.

It was like a lighting had struck Aira as she realized what she needed to do in order to defeat it. Plucking up all of her courage, she grabbed onto her knife, making a run towards the clone. Just as expected, it turned back time, finding itself right behind Aira once again. Feeling its finger on her forehead, Razuki exhaled one last time before closing her eyes.

This time she was in front of the Medical School, holding the negative exam results.

"Oh, that’s so boring!" she yelled, snapping back into the reality but...

...only for a brief moment.

Next thing she knew was she was back in her parents house, but this time it was seven Port Mafia members. It was just before she massacred them all that night.

As she was about to scream, one of the agents laughed at her, taking out his gun.

"But if the memories come back, remember to just brush them away. They can't hurt you, they're just memories," Dazai's voice rang in her head.

She was back at the cemetery, her fists clenched.

"You could've told me your plan, you know?" she spitted with disgust in her tone, finding her way back to one of the Yokohama's roads.

Her clone was still standing behind her, holding a knife to her throat.

That was when she knew she had to risk it all in order to win.

"You know what, Aira?" she murmured, smiling to herself. "You think you're strong, but we’re both equally stupid," she added, feeling the knife slashing her throat wide open.

Beginning to choke as she bled, she felt the grip of the hologram loosen.

Four seconds.

It was the time.

With a swift, fast move of her wrist, she stabbed the being straight into its forehead, ripping the crimson crystal out.

Two seconds.

Unable to breath, Aira watched the body of the copy vanish away in the depths of the night. Placing her hand over her bleeding throat, she collapsed, almost feeling her soul leaving the body.

One second.

The hologram was gone. The crystal had been destroyed. The only thing that was left to do was for Aira to stop her from bleeding out.

And so she did.

Using the Time-master to turn her body back to the state it was four seconds ago, Aira exhaled unsteadily.

And just like nothing had happened a moment ago — she was back. The skin on her throat almost fully restored. The things that remained was the shallow cut of her neck and the wound going deep in her shoulder. They weren't lethal, however. Aira could've easily go on with them.

No.

She had to. She had no other choice than to go to the Skull Fortress and stop the mass murder that was about to happen.

Wasting no time, she picked herself up from the road. She needed some time to bring back her strength, but it was only the matter of time before she did so.

Opening the door of one of the abandoned cars, she smiled to herself, noticing the keys being still in place. She had to get to that building. Starting the engine, Aira began to drive towards the direction of her destination.

It was when she noticed how badly she was feeling mentally; she had no time to think about Dazai's betrayal before, but just now she realized how much anger and frustration she was holding within herself.

It was like someone had stabbed her right in the heart.

The only worse thing being the fact that Dazai had given her clues she didn't pick up on before. Starting from him not wanting to go to work, telling her how should she forget about her past and brush away her memories. It was all coming together just then. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. The ongoing lies, subtle hints, secrets. It made her wanting to hate him but...

...she couldn't.

She couldn't possibly hate the man, who brought a serial murderer to their town. She couldn't possibly hate the man, who lied to her at numerous occasions, despite her telling him not to hide anything from her.

He had to had a reason. A plan. A simple something that would explain his actions. Hence Dazai wasn't stupid... and Aira didn't believe he was evil as well.

Or maybe she simply didn't want to believe it.

"I'm going to beat the absolute shit out of him," she murmured, feeling the anger overwhelming her once again.

But then the road in front of her disappeared. And it most definitely wasn't because of the fog.

A ginormous red dragon had appeared in front of the Skull Fortress, wrapping its tail around the building. Although its head was far above in the sky, Aira could've sworn it had just made eye contact with her.

Not a moment after, she felt the car she was in being lifted in the air. Saying she wasn't terrified would be a straight up lie. If she was to hit the ground now, her bones would be completely crushed... but after all she could've used her ability to restore the condition of her body. Right?

That was why she impulsively grabbed the door handle, jumping off of the car. It was just like the time had stopped when she was falling down; feeling no ground under her feet, Aira saw nothing but blue-ish fog surrounding the whole area. She had no sense of gravity, all she was able to feel was the wind caused by her body speeding through the air. Just a moment before she landed, Aira caught a glimpse of a plane with a familiar man jumping out of it. She smirked to herself, noticing the red aura surrounding him. If Chuuya was going to fight the dragon, her comfort had certainly been increased. Now she was able to maintain the task she was given by Ango.

A few seconds before she was about to crash with the concrete roof of the Fortress, she had closed her eyes, retrieving her body and getting rid off every single trace of broken bones that was caused by the fall.

"Shit, that hurt like hell," she cursed out to herself, getting up from the cold ground.

Without thinking, she managed to find a window, she decided to break to get inside. Her blood was boiling at the thought of seeing Dazai. And yet, she didn't feel hatred. Just overwhelming frustration and disappointment towards him.

It didn't matter what was reasoning for all of this mess was, she couldn't possibly ignore the notion of her coworkers being exposed to something similar she went through. All of that because a certain man decided to improve his suicide technique.

But then the building shaken. Aira's senses were aware enough to see a huge piece of the ceiling ripping of and coming directly at her. She only realized she was in danger after it fell down, trapping her already wounded arm. First thing she wanted to do was to turn back time and prevent herself from getting hurt.

But then she thought about Chuuya, who had probably caused this; he was in the middle of the fight and with her using her ability, she would have made him repeat his attack once again.

Growling, she managed to get her arm free, however, turning back the state of the body didn't work — four seconds already had passed and she couldn't prevent her bones from their injury.

But the worst part was only about to come.

Not later after the ceiling incident, the whole Skull Fortress was being torn apart; pieces of the walls being destroyed, the floor having huge holes in it, making it impossible to walk through. It looked like the end of the world.

Breathing unsteadily, Aira realized how bad was the state of her body — her arm was broken and had been previously wounded by the knife. Her neck had a shallow yet visible scar, and she was bleeding from her side. On top of that, Aira could've sworn the bruises from her falling firstly — down the stairs, secondly — from the mid-air had just started to form.

Entirely exhausted, she didn't look where she was going. That was what caused her to fall through the hole in the ground, landing directly on one of her legs.

There was no way she was going to find Dazai both in the condition of herself and the building. There was no way she could help the others now.

Aira Razuki didn't cry often.

It was rare of her to show emotions different than anger. But during this time, she bursted our in tears, maniacally trying to stiffen her broken arm and manage her hurt leg.

She felt hopeless.

But she couldn't possibly give up. She needed to hear Dazai's explanations. She needed to find out why all of this was even going on.

Stumbling on her feet she slowly walked forward, her vision blurring. Yet, resting wasn't an option. She was determined to keep on going. After all, she had to.

It was Chuuya, who had made her hopes come back. Seeing where he had just landed, Aira speeded up, ignoring the physical pain she was experiencing.

Her whole body became paralyzed as soon as she saw two male figures on the horizon. She knew that the confrontation was about to come.

And it was what she feared the most. Discovering the truth she wasn't sure she could handle.

Taking out her pistol, she approached the silhouettes. Her left hand swayed by her bleeding side, entirely limp. One of her legs made it impossible for her to walk straight. Her face was covered in bruises, blood at the most recent tears that were starting to mix with the dirt that had covered her whole body.

But despite all of that, she managed to smile. Smile with all of the disgust and frustration she was holding within herself through all of that night. The forced grin widened even more when she saw Dazai, dressed in all white. He was sitting with his back facing her, completely unaware of her presence.

"Do you know why I always wear a burgundy coat?" she asked as soon as she was close enough.

"Aria?" he gasped, rapidly turning his face towards her.

He sounded completely shocked.

"Do you know?" she repeated, taking the safety off of her gun.

"You weren't supposed to be here. That's not what I predicted," he mumbled, his eyes wide open as he sat and held unconscious Chuuya in his lap.

"I wear it because the blood is the exact same color. You can't see me bleeding because of it," she continued, completely ignoring his terrified tone.

With her forced expression, she walked up to him, noticing the horror painted all over his face.

"And that makes me appear stronger to my opponent," she added, pointing a gun at him. "So? You were saying it was not what you've predicted, right?" Aira clenched her jaw, her finger traveling towards the trigger of her pistol.

"I thought you were going to help them," he whispered, glancing at the main part of the Fortress.

"You poor thing," she spitted out. "If it wasn't according to your plan, why the hell didn't you tell me about this?" she asked with anger, her hand resting steady on her gun.

Dazai didn't say anything. Instead, he lowered his gaze, looking completely discombobulated.

"Oh, you're not going to answer, are you?" Her voice was entirely venomous.

"It was to stop them, Aira," he replied quietly, and only now she noticed it was the first time she saw him so vulnerable.

"That doesn't explain a single fucking thing!" she yelled, feeling anger coming over her completely. "You've lied! Again! No more lies my ass! You're a goddamn liar, Dazai!" she ranted, watching him slowly get up.

"I couldn't tell you," he whispered, taking a few steps forward. "I couldn't risk getting you tangled up in all of this."

"Bullshit," Aira mumbled furiously, still pointing her gun at him. "I trusted you. I trusted you because I-I," she stopped herself, realizing she was about to fully confess her feelings towards him.

And it was the least appropriate thing in this moment.

"I'm... sorry," Dazai whispered, placing his hand over the front part of her pistol.

And yet, instead of lowering it, Aira gripped his palm with the fingers of her broken arm, hissing from the pain.

"What happened?" he asked, looking at her wounds.

"Don't act like you care just now," she replied, letting out a shaking breath. "You didn't predict Ango was going to call me and tell me about your involvement. You didn't predict that I was going to do everything to find you. Everything," she added, her eyes tearing up.

But she wasn't going to cry. Not when he was here.

"Why?"

Aira blinked rapidly.

"Why? Why?!" she repeated, shaking her head. "Because I love you, for god's sake!" she yelled, without ever thinking twice about her answer.

And, oh, how she regretted it at the moment.

"Why?" Dazai furrowed his brow, his confusion only deepening.

Aira's expression faded, leaving nothing but pure shock.

Why? Nothing more. Just a single word.

"Be-because," she stumbled on her own answer with her mouth open agape. "I-I'll be taking some time off of work," she changed the subject with her voice weak.

"Okay," he answered simply, watching her finally lower her gun.

"Okay," she repeated, not feeling her legs.

Hiding her gun behind her belt, she began walking back from where she came, hoping Dazai would stop her.

But he didn't. He didn't say anything. He didn't even move for a moment. Instead, he just stand there, watching her leave.

Finally being able to let her tears stream down her cheeks, Aira found a staircase on which she sat and covered her face with hands. Her sobs weren't loud. It was the complete opposite — quietly crying in the destroyed building, Aira let out all of her emotions. All of the sorrow, disappointment and the sound of the heart, entirely broken in pieces.

"My, my. It was like a finale of a soap opera." The male voice caused Aira to immediately look up.

After taking a glance at the person, the first thing she noticed was his clothes, similar to what Dazai was wearing that day. His dark hair were hidden under a fuzzy hat, completely not suitable for Yokohama's weather conditions.

And then she remembered Dazai saying them. He was going to stop them. It wasn't just him and Shibusawa. That meant the man standing in front of her was actually the other participant in the anticipated mass murder.

Without another thought, Aira stood up, taking out her pistol as she pointed it directly at the man.

"Oh, you really think that will help you?" the man lowered his tone, slowly approaching her.

The next thing she saw was only darkness.

~.~

White. The white ceiling above her was making her eyes burn.

Aira was laying on a bed under warm sheets. The pain form her injuries was almost completely gone, the only thing reminding her about it being the bandages wrapped around her arm, leg, head, and waist.

Inhaling loudly, Aira sat up, her expression fully petrified. She started reminding herself of the events leading up to the moment she met the man in white. A man that had walked up to her and hit her directly in the head.

Getting up from the unfamiliar bed, she found her coat on the hanger. She was still wearing her usual clothes, but her weapons weren't on their usual place. Taking a look at the room, she began searching for her pistols and knives in one of the dressers, knowing she wouldn't be able to defend herself without them.

What was going on? Why was she here? Was she kidnapped?

All of what Aira could've focused on was her missing things. The adrenaline kicked in, causing her survival instinct to room over her.

"If you're looking for your weapons, they're in the beside table's drawer," the male voice spoke, causing Aira to jump.

"What the hell am I doing here?" she rapidly asked, taking a few steps back.

"Oh, you wanted me to leave you unconscious in that fortress? What kind of a person would I have been to let a lady be alone in a place like that?" he answered, smiling as she hit the wall with her back.

She had nowhere to run to.

"First of all, it was you, who knocked me unconscious," she answered, completely changing her tone.

"Yeah, my bad. I might've hit you a bit too hard. Just thought you'd be useful," he smirked, placing his hands behind his back.

"Useful?" she repeated, shaking her head. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"Too much questions. I don't know which one to answer first," he replied, smiling mischievously.

Aira scoffed, slowly approaching the bedside table to get her weapons. The man didn't oppose, leading her to think he wasn't going to let her go easily. That's why she needed to come up with a plan sooner rather than later.

"Do you like cello?" he asked nonchalantly, sitting on the side of the bed.

She snorted, hiding her guns behind her belt.

"Villains are so predictable," she smirked, crossing her arms. "Zero answers and questions that make you feel off," she clarified, playing with her knife.

She was far pass the point of being terrified. Working at the Agency, she was used to people acting in the exact same way. And moreover, showing no fear made her appear confident. A thing men like her kidnapped hated the most.

"Now I'm sad Dazai didn't say I love you back," he chuckled, smiling even wider that before. "You're a peculiar woman, Miss Razuki."

"Oh, so that's what's going on," Aira let out a single giggle, furrowing her brow. "Manipulating me to help you with hurting him. Predictable," she whispered, watching him smirk.

"Not precisely," the man answered, standing up. "You didn't answer my previous question," he added, opening the door for her.

"I don't mind cello," Aira responded, walking out of the room. "So? How long was I unconscious?" she asked, putting on her coat.

"Three days," he answered nonchalantly, leading her towards another room with nothing but two chairs in it.

"Not so bad," she shrugged, sitting down to face him. "By the way, thanks for the hospitality," she added, pointing at the bandages he must have put on her.

"No problem," he smiled, placing a cello in front of him.

"And because of that I expect you to want something from me," Aira continued, lowering her head and placing it on her hand. "But don't tell me just now. I'm a detective, I want to deduce it myself," she added, watching him chuckle.

"I see why he likes you," the man stated as he started playing his instrument.

"But it's not only about him, is it?" Aira asked, crossing her arms. "Let's establish what we know. You're aware of my relationship with Dazai, you know I'm working in the Agency. And now, you'll probably kill me if I don't agree on your terms. Quite boring," Aira mumbled, biting her lip.

"It's far from boring," he answered, not stopping playing music.

"Inside information," she ignored him, smiling to herself. "You want to destroy the Agency, don't you?" she added.

"Not only the Agency," he replied in the same manner. "But you'll partially right. I will kill you if you don't help me," he chuckled.

"Care to elaborate?" Aira furrowed her brow, watching him play the cello.

"I need the information about the gifted," he explained briefly.

"Not happening," Aira murmured, watching him raising up one of his eyebrows. "What? Getting murdered is better than being a traitor," she added, getting up from her chair.

"That's naive of you to think that," he stated, glancing at her as she paced through the room.

"Maybe. But I don't even know your name and we're having a conversation about me betraying my coworkers. It's not reasonable as well," she replied, noticing him rolling his eyes.

"Fyodor Dostoevsky," he finally introduced himself, giving her no space to prove her point further.

"That explains that hat," she noted, pointing at the fuzzy white headpiece he was wearing.

"You sure are talkative for someone, who had just been kidnapped," Fyodor noticed, suddenly stopping playing.

"Maybe that proves you're just a shitty kidnapped," Aira shrugged, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat.

Her palms started sweating. She couldn't risk him notice that she was already completely petrified.

~.~

Aira took another sip of her whiskey. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying that evening. After another two days of being held captive, she was finally being let free, hence the first thing she did was to get drunk as quickly as she could.

Fyodor told her part about his plan of starting a war between the Agency and the mafia. Infecting the two leaders with the virus that would made them utterly aggressive, he intended on destroying both of the organizations by letting them the choice of killing one of the leaders in order to save the other.

A sick game she was made to participate in.

Constantly consumed by fear, Aira kept her coolness, acting like nothing serious was happening. She agreed on Fyodor's conditions after she made him promise he wouldn't kill any of her coworkers himself. He gave her the choice of helping them after her part was completed. With him not being entirely involved, Aira still got the chance to protect the ones she cared about.

And yet still, the regret of giving Fyodor the information he wanted was killing her inside. She meant what she said the first time they talked — being a traitor was worse than any other punishment.

With her trembling hands she picked up the glass filled with the alcohol, emptying it on one breath. She couldn't help the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. Acting like everything was in the best order made her emotionally drained, and now she was simply letting her sorrows come out.

Fyodor's plan was about to start in one week. Considering his conditions, she couldn't return to the Agency's dorm, nor talk with anyone from her work. Being socially isolated from them was something what caused her to drink that night. On the other hand, a week was long enough to come up with a perfect schema of helping the best she could.

And yet, she wasn't used to this lifestyle. Not telling anyone about the dark secrets, not talking to anyone. She wondered if that's how Dazai felt most of the time. Finding herself in the situation similar to his made her more aware what he was going through all of this time.

How she wanted to hold him now. His warm embrace was the only thing that could've saved her from the depths of despair she was currently drowning in.

Exiting the kitchen to get another drink, she stopped in front of the police tape still located in the entrance of the living room.

For the past couple of days she was hiding in a place she didn't wish to return ever in her life. The place that brought back the memories of the unfortunate night.

Yet, it had surprised her how she didn't feel sorrow nor anger any longer. It was just pure tranquility that had filled her the moment she stepped her foot on the property she once called home.

With a sad smile, Aira realized she used to referred to the place as her parents' house, not hers. And still in the end, she used to live here, too. Describing the house that way was simply to separate herself from the massacre she took a part in.

But there was no escape now. The place that changed her completely was now her hideout. And she needed to come to terms with her own past, not only trying to forget about it.

"Cheers, Fyodor," she chuckled to herself, raising a glass of whiskey.

~.~

A week that was spent completely alone changed Aira more than she thought it possibly could. Having the time and place to reconsider her choices, regrets and failures was something she needed for a very long time.

But now, she was going to fulfill the last part of her contract with Fyodor Dostoevsky. Both the President and the leader of the Port Mafia were already infected with the virus, causing both of the organizations to investigate the causes of their sickness.

Now, the final day of Aira's betrayal was coming to its end. During which Fyodor ordered her to join him in one of the alleys, not explaining a single thing about his intention. He claimed that the situation was going to be self-explanatory to her, and with that her trial as being a spy would be completed.

Dressed as usual, Aira hid herself to be completely unnoticed by Fyodor's acquaintance, which she suspected to be Dazai. Why else would he want her to come with him? Dostoyevsky enjoyed sick games and manipulation. On top of that, Aira claimed the situation was going to be nothing but an experiment for him.

Just as expected — it was Dazai, who appeared in the other side of an alley. Wearing Fyodor's hat, he began the conversation. Aira noticed how her heart skipped a beat; it was the first time in almost two weeks that she saw him. And, oh, how she wanted to hear his voice.

But the conversation took a darker turn that she anticipated — Fyodor and Osamu started talking about the book the Russian was searching for. They discussed about him destroying the Agency and the Port Mafia as Dazai claimed he would probably do the same as him.

But then...

...a sniper shoot Dazai right above his stomach.

Aira covered her mouth with her hand to prevent herself from screaming. Of course Fyodor would've broken his promise. That was to be excepted. But Dazai had to know that the sniper was going to be there. He had to know Fyodor wasn't going to kill him just then.

And that's what when it struck her.

He brought her here to watch Dazai getting shot. Not to reveal his plan to her but to simply manipulate her enough to crush her psyche.

"Yes. I'll be using this book to create a world without sin... without gifted," Fyodor answered Osamu with a small smile on his face.

"You've promised not to hurt him," Aira spoke slowly, exiting her hiding. Her appearance was met with Dazai rapidly turning her head towards her. He tried to mask his fear, yet his eyes betrayed him.

"And you've agreed on not interfering. I guess we're even now," Fyodor chuckled, watching the expression of both Dazai and Razuki.

"Why is she here?" Osamu asked, covering his wound with the palm of his hand.

"Oh," Aira gasped, finally realizing what was going on.

"Average people are so fun to watch," he added, noticing her sudden change of face mimic. "You finally know why I needed you, right?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Shock value," Aira whispered, pointing slowly at Dazai.

Fyodor didn't need her to tell him about the others' abilities. He didn't her to be a spy.

He needed her to mentally destroy Dazai.

"He's going to survive. I'll still be needing him," Fyodor started as Aira noticed where this was going. "You, on the other hand."

Without thinking, Aira tried to grab her gun, yet Fyodor was quick to take it from her, pulling the trigger within a split second.

She didn't fully comprehend what was going on when Fyodor disappeared from the alley and she fell down on her back with a gunshot wound in her chest.

She watched Dazai kneeling down next to her, trying to stop her bleeding as he was saying something. Yet, the only thing she could hear was the notorious sound of her gun being fired over and over again in her head.

"...Aira, you're going to be alright," Osamu breathed heavily, his expression entirely terrified.

He didn't believe what he was saying.

"You... wanna know why I wear... my burgundy coat?" Aira managed to ask with the rest of her strength.

"Shh," he murmured panicked, placing her head on his knees.

Was it going to be just like with Oda?

"Because... the blood..," Aira tried to finish her sentence, yet she felt her eyes subconsciously closing.

"I know, I know. Just save your strength," he mumbled, one of his hands placed over her wound, the other stroking her head.

"I'm sorry," she responded, her head feeling heavy.

"Aira, don't close your eyes," she could hear him saying. "Aira!"

"Double... suicide, huh?" she tried to chuckle, yet instead of a giggle only blood had escaped her mouth.

As she saw nothing but darkness for the second time during the past couple of weeks, she smiled weakly.

If she was going to die, at least it was Dazai, who was there with her.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 285: You Looked Like You Needed Saving

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “hey guys I’m just gonna fight Tomura one on one and risk my own life rather than risk letting him do the whole Destroying Everything bit again.” Kacchan was all “WAIT NO ARE YOU SERIOUS THAT’S THE EXACT THING I HATE THE MOST” and indignantly launched into his “P.S. I CARE ABOUT DEKU” flashback, which was a revelation in that it proved exactly what Bakugou fans have been saying this whole time, AND YET OUR MINDS WERE STILL BLOWN ANYWAY, BECAUSE HOLY SHIT, HE REALLY WENT AND SAID IT OUT LOUD THOUGH. Anyway, so Deku’s strategy for defeating Tomura is to, you guessed it, break his fucking arms again; and meanwhile a frantic Katsuki is gearing up on the sidelines to do something really awesome and incredibly stupid, probably; and all in all it’s a pretty terrible situation our boys have found themselves in. Terrible for them, but GREAT for me, and I’ve never been so hyped in my life omg.

Today on BnHA: Deku breaks both of his arms like a dozen times over. Like, just pages and pages of arm breaking. Just like in the good old days! Meanwhile Kacchan is all “jesus christ, okay you know what would be a better idea, JUST SETTING HIM ON FIRE AGAIN”, and so he grabs Shouto and Endeavor, and they do a whole Prominence Burn combo thing. The AFO-inside-of-Tomura is all “‘sup it’s me again, but seriously now would be a REALLY good time to let me take over your body”, and so Tomura TOTALLY DOES LET HIM TAKE OVER, WHOOP, and so AFO is all “HELLS YEAH.” And then he STRAIGHT UP STABS MY SON, WHOSE BODY WAS SIMPLY MOVING ON ITS OWN, YOU KNOW, JUST HERO THINGS. Anyway so now Kacchan is fucking dead*, and so if I were AFO I would start putting as much distance as possible between myself and Deku right the fuck now, because boy, IF YOU THOUGHT HE WAS MAD BEFORE? Holy shit. We’re about to see a whole new level aren’t we.

LOL WE’RE OFF TO A GRAND OLD START

Deku’s arms should sue for legal emancipation. I think most of us can agree that they’re probably better off without him. sure they’ll have to buy their own food and stuff, but I think the trade-off is more than fair

oh wow that 100% shit really is something though

too bad it did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!! spoiler alert. I don’t even have to scroll to the next page, Deku. we already know

OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS

did Deku really pull off some “three hits in one” bullshit, or is this a mistranslation referring to the fact that Deku’s already hit him twice with his left arm, and so this is now the third 100% hit. kinda hoping for the latter, ngl. either way though, I’m really getting a “Deku’s arms are legitimately done for” vibe from this

ESPECIALLY SINCE:

DEKU YOU SHRUB!!! WAS IT WORTH IT YOU EGG FDKF KKDJ YOU DON’T GET BONUS POINTS FOR BREAKING THEM TWICE

goddammit I’m pretty sure he just Detroit Smashed the last remaining hero brain cell. now they have diddly squat to work with, oh this is bad

...

do you guys remember a few weeks back when I was joking about him breaking the rest of his bones and using Blackwhip to move his shattered body around like a grotesque marionette. do you specifically remember the part where that was a joke

holy shit Deku. it’s like we’re all the way back to square one with you. wasn’t that like the first thing Aizawa taught you, not to break your whole body apart? how are you supposed to fight Tomura if you can’t move?? why didn’t you wait for one of your pals who could hit him with an attack from long range WITHOUT BREAKING EVERY SINGLE BONE IN THEIR BODIES. WHERE DID YOUR BIG HERO BRAIN GO

boy you better pray one of those remaining quirks is a healing factor, or else you’re gonna be on IR for a LONG time. anyway. idk why I’m getting so worked up when I already knew this was going to happen lol. it’s just like Katsuki said; he takes himself out of the equation. it’s worth sacrificing his own body if it means he can take out AFO and prevent Tomura from hurting anyone else again. it’s just that... well. you know that saying about taking calculated risks when you are bad at math?

GUH I REALLY HATE THAT TOMURA IS STILL COMPLETELY FINE KSKWOILWKKJ AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE A LITTLE HURT, WOULD YOU

please ignore all of those worried-sounding thoughts; I think we all know that’s a bunch of bullshit. completely and utterly fine. the only person Deku’s attacks hurt was himself. hip hip hooray

anyway. so now, this!

pretty sure he can’t use Decay or AFO without at least touching SOMETHING, so I’m guessing this is another one of his new quirks. dammit Tomura why are you so fucking invincible

HAHAHA MEANWHILE

if I were you, Deku’s Arms, I would simply detach from his body altogether at this point. cut my losses. mmm

OOF HE HIT HIM WITH THE WHOLE OF TEXAS

spoiler alert: again, it did nothing. SORRY TO KEEP RUINING THE SUSPENSE FOR YOU GUYS. is there a single human being reading this who thought for even for the milliest of seconds that this stood a chance of working though

OH MY GOD

DEKU GET IT TOGETHER YOU’RE STARTING TO LOOK LIKE THE ENIGMA OF AMIGARA FAULT AND I CAN’T STAND THIS ACTUALLY

so Tomura is all “there must be something I can do to stop this fucking kid” and shuffling through his quirk pokedex while he’s tossed around bleeding in the air

hey Tomura I’ll tell you right now that you don’t actually need to do a damn thing except not die for roughly the next thirty seconds or so, and then you’ve got this. the quirk that can stop this kid is called “One for All”, and it just so happens he’s already got you covered bruh

and Katsuki’s realized the same thing, apparently!

SHOUTO YOU’RE NOT EVEN LOOKING?? wow that is some trust right there. focused on cauterizing Gran and Aizawa’s wounds, I guess

MEANWHILE KATSUKI IS PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS. HE FOUND A NEW BRAIN CELL! A WHOLE DAMN CACHE OF FRESH NEW BRAIN CELLS, LOOK AT THIS

THANKS FOR THAT, PROFESSOR

OH SHIT SON ARE WE MOUNTING A COUNTERATTACK?

I like how Endeavor is just SITTING THERE in the background looking all disgruntled. yes, sorry about that sir, this is now Kacchan’s show. he’s in charge now. time for that long-range attack I was complaining about them not doing earlier?? hopefully?? omg

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT’S A BAKUROKI TRIPLE COMBO?!?!

ARE YOU GOING TO YEET THEM A LA GANG ORCA?? ALSO OH MY GOD, HE REALLY IS IN CHARGE. FIRST DEKU TOOK OVER FOR TWO MINUTES UNTIL HE BROKE ALL HIS BONES, AND NOW IT’S KACCHAN’S TIME. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU KIDS

LOL SHOUTO’S GETTING IN ON THIS TOO

THIS JUST IN, THE KIDS HAVE TAKEN OVER THE MANGA, ADULTS OF BNHA IN SHAMBLES

WELL MAYBE NEXT TIME DON’T LET AIZAWA GET SHOT THEN, YOU HAT!!!

WOOP OKAY WE FLYING NOW

Kacchan, tired of sitting back watching Deku invent new ways to die, decides to improvise a few of his own. hmmmmmmm

(ETA: HE LEARNED FROM THE BEST ORZ.)

OKAY WAIT A MINUTE NOW

why does this sound like he’s planning something on his own after the Todorokis have done their part. KACCHAN. EXCUSE ME, KACCHAN

SDLFKJLKJLJ

OKAY HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

IS THIS LEADING WHERE I THINK IT’S LEADING, HOLY --

-- ooOF

I WASN’T FUCKING READY FOR THAT ONE. BAKUBULLYING FROM HIS OWN NOW-REMORSEFUL POV. SHIT. FUCKING FELT THAT. HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE BUILDING UP TO AN “ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL” REVEAL, AND THEN YOU GO AND PULL THAT INSTEAD, WHAT’S GOING ON

-- HOLD UP WE’RE NOT DONE WITH THIS ONE YET MAYBE!!

“ONE FOR ALL IS”??!? KDSLFJAKLSJLKJLKJL AND THEN INTERRUPTING ME WITH THE CUTE BABIES WATCHING THE ALL MIGHT FOOTAGE, OH MY GOD. I’M JUST WILDLY REACTING TO EVERYTHING THAT’S BEING THROWN AT ME RIGHT NOW LMAO I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS LEADING

OOF THE NOTEBOOK

KACCHAN THIS ISN’T EVEN YOUR MEMORY HONEY, GET IT TOGETHER

OH MY GLOB

THIS IS THE MOST NONSENSICAL SEQUENCE OF PANELS RIGHT NOW. I’M SURE THIS IS ALL SHORTLY GOING TO COME TOGETHER IN SOME PROFOUND WAY THAT’S GOING TO KICK MY EMOTIONS SQUARE IN THE BALLS, BUT RIGHT NOW I’M JUST ALL “OOH AHH” LIKE SOME HAPLESS RUBE ALONG FOR THE RIDE. p.s. this chapter still doesn’t have a title!! p.p.s. Horikoshi is a knave

(ETA: HORIKOSHI IS A FUCKING MALFEASANT!!)

I CAN’T TAKE THIS??

PLEASE STOP BUILDING UP TO WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE BUILDING UP TO AND JUST SAY IT ALREADY, I’M DYING OMG

...and we’re cutting back to the action. godfuckingdammit it’s gonna be one of those chapters where the entire thing is just buildup to some huge reveal on the very last page isn’t it

(ETA: [sounds of screaming heard in the distance])

anyway so this next page is just Deku flying in the air, and Tomura flying through the air, and Endeavor+Katsuki+Shouto flying through the air, and everyone’s flying through the air, and we’re all just flying. TALK TO ME MORE ABOUT THE CURSE OF OFA DAMN IT

OOHHHHHH

guess if it was good enough for Hood, it’s probably their best shot huh. better than whatever the fuck Deku was trying to pull at any rate

OOP

gotta admit, if I didn’t already know full well that Tomura could not possibly die here, I’d have been pretty convinced he was dying here lol

DSFKJL ENDEAVOR BUDDY YOU MIGHT HAVE POSSIBLY OVERDONE IT JUST A BIT

wait... is that Blackwhip...?? or???

OH SHIT

WHAT EVEN IS THIS CHAPTER, COME ON

-- FMMMJAKAKJDJL, UM

TIME TO SCROLL BACK UP TO THAT PANEL OF TOMURA BEING MELTED, AND READ WHAT AFO WAS SAYING A LITTLE MORE CAREFULLY LMAOOOO. LOL. WHOOPS. OH NO KATSUKI WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

AHHHHHHHH

WHAT’S WITH THE NARRATION SQUARE ALL OF A SUDDEN AHHHHHH

oh my fresh and citrusy lord. this is it isn’t it. all of my theories converge at once. Tomura being possessed by AFO; OFA is AFO/Deku has AFO; Katsuki does something stupid and loses his quirk. THE PERFECT STORM. THEORY SINGULARITY

oh my lord oh my god oh my lord oh my god honey what are you doing, honey, no

his body’s moving before he can think. WHAT ARE THESE FLASHBACKS OF ALL HIS DEKU RELATED MEMORIES. BULLYING DEKU, BEING SAVED FROM THE SLUDGE MONSTER, RECONCILING WITH HIM AT GROUND BETA, OH MY GOD. I’M NOT READY. [WRAPS MYSELF IN A BLANKET BURRITO AND SLOWLY SCROLLS DOWN FROM THE SAFETY OF MY COCOON]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HORIKOSHI KOUHEI: [LOADS GUN WITH CHAPTER TITLE AND AIMS DIRECTLY FOR MY HEART]

ME: [SWEATING]

HORIKOSHI: [SMILES, REACHES FOR THE TRIGGER... AND THEN SUCKER PUNCHES ME SQUARE IN THE FACE]

excuse me WHAT. PARDON, THE FUCK. WHY ARE THE FIRST FEW LONE PIANO NOTES OF ADELE’S “SKYFALL” PLAYING. WHAT THE FUCK

excuse me, Horikoshi. excuse me, could I just -- could I get. COULD I JUST GET A WORD WITH YOU FOR A MINUTE. SIR

son of a. ...how am I even supposed to wrap this up. just

sob okay. so let’s just. ...

All for One 100% just took Tomura’s body over. like, he was all “Tomura, you’re fucking dying, just give me your body you muppet”, and Tomura couldn’t really argue on account of he really was dying, and so, YOINK. which is the sound that a body makes when it’s being taken over, I think

All for One then activated his forced activation quirk?? which OF FUCKING COURSE he passed on to Tomura as well. so THAT’S JUST GREAT

Kacchan is seriously the fastest character in the series. the reflexes, the sheer speed necessary to intercept that hit? goddamn

every single one of those BakuDeku flashbacks are now wanted by the FBI for first-degree murder of me

this has nothing to do with Kacchan fucking dying and stuff, but is it just me or were there HUGE “Kacchan as Bakugou’s hero name” vibes earlier on in this chapter with the flashbacks to Deku explaining the meaning behind his own name, HMM

and speaking of, this is the first time we’ve gotten Kacchan narrating in the little box panels, unless I’m completely mistaken somehow. Horikoshi really waited almost 300 whole chapters to do that. and it was worth it. holy shit

fun fact, this moment is something that’s been on my wishlist since chapter 12 lol, you can go back and check the recap if you want. back then I called it a long shot. oh how the times have changed

I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M EVEN SO STUNNED ABOUT THIS, GUYS. this is exactly what I predicted at the end of the last chapter. MY CHILD IS DUMB. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT. HE’S THAT EXACT KIND OF SHOUNEN DUMB. WE’VE KNOWN IT ALL ALONG

oh my god. and now Deku’s gonna go ham, arms or no arms. AND BETS ON WHICH NEW QUIRK HE’S ABOUT TO UNLOCK? because the last time someone so much as insulted Kacchan in his presence, he SPONTANEOUSLY GREW SHADOW TENTACLES OUT OF THE BLUE AND ATTEMPTED TO MURDER THE PERSON. so if this kid has got ANYTHING left up his sleeve, I have to imagine that SEEING HIS PRECIOUS CHILDHOOD FRIEND TAKE A DEADLY ATTACK MEANT FOR HIM is gonna leave him feeling SOME KINDA WAY. I literally have no idea what’s going to happen next but I would not count this angry little broccoli out yet. not as long as he’s still conscious

anyway. so I wonder what’s the world record for continuous screaming, and whether or not I could break said record by doing such nonstop from now until a week from now when I finally get to read the next chapter

...lol apparently the record is only 8 mins and 45 seconds so GOOD NEWS GUYS, WITH THE POWER OF THIS NEW CHAPTER, WE ARE GOING TO MAKE HISTORY. DEEP BREATH. -- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[skepticaloccultist]

The Mirror of the Landscape

I thought I would offer this article on landscape magic from the first issue of FOLKWITCH as a public offering this Solstice. May the sun burn bright and the bonfires burn brighter on the hills of your ancestors.

"The Mirror of the Landscape" Eldred Wormwood

The realm of the witch is defined by their interactions with that natural world in which they exist. From the dawn of mankind’s attempts to harness the power of magic we have relied on the subtle web of our interactions with the world “beyond the veil.” That mirror of the landscape in which we read our fortunes and prophecy our circumstance.

Yet little direct attention has been paid to the role that the landscape plays in the practice of witchcraft in the annals of so called occult scholarship. Much has been said about the how of practical magic and ritual, but very rarely do we hear of the why or where.

The landscape, that terrain in which you exist every moment of the day. From the dew covered foggy mountain bottoms to the industrial park urban sprawl the landscape surrounds us. It is the plane of reality in which we live.

You bleed into the ground. Feed the soil with your sweat and tears. Drink from the well that fills from its water table, your body becomes one with the place you inhabit. The landscape and the body are part of the system, the inextricable network of interrelated particles that make up evolving life on earth.

Most humans, mundanes without the perception to see the world for what it is, simply go about the actions of living life in survival mode. Take what they need, give what they must, eat, sleep and eventually die. But the witch sees the world at a resolution differently than most, looks at those shadows that others ignore, sees the light through the trees as more than random, holds on to the language of pattern.

The witch reads the world like a book of secrets, the landscape a story of evolving ideas that we grasp and understand. The clouds like a language, the whisper of the wind through trees, the way that puddles of rain reflect the sky - a signal we come to understand.

Your nose knows the way it seems, a deep sensor of quantum mechanics it feels like a finger into the cloud of potentiality that is the future, guiding you through the fog of possibility until you reach your goal along the path. The nose knows, if only you could speak its subtle language.

Mankind has always existed in the landscape, even in our futile attempts to control it. We are primates, who lived among forests and grass plains so recently that rivers remember when there were no cities. We are part of the natural world, whether we realize it or not. The witch is merely aware of this fact, and that knowledge creates an open state of knowing.

The landscape itself is a sound system, filled with the reverberations of not merely the events that have unfolded in this river of time, but the echos of other rivers descending in a swirling madness of never and always, meting out punishment when needed to teach the seeker a lesson in humility.

The mass of forms on the surface of the earth create chambers that capture the sounds and energies created by living things. These echos are the ancestors, speaking across the illusion of time to teach us the way toward the future. The beat in the echo of space like a drum in a forest, like a stolen P A in a Detroit warehouse.

From the time before written words we had strove to gain a foothold in this primordial state. Abrahamic religions even cite our fall from this world of perception, though go on to ban anyone who would seek it out for themselves.

In the ancient Greek Magical Papyri it is documented our relationship with the spirits who inhabit this physical world around us. While they rarely have corporeal bodies these spirits wield incredible power over the forces of the natural world.

These ‘genius loci’ tend to a static place, inhabiting features in the landscape full of energy. Rivers & streams, mountain valleys, ancient forests, those places where the nexus of being affords them a comfortable habitat.

Yet even in the urban world that we have carved they have evolved to function. Certain forms of building, areas of great human traffic like crossroads, material places we have created for sometimes other reasons that the abode of these spirits have come over time to find ‘genius loci’ of their own. Instead of teeth of thorn and stone they bare teeth of glass and steel.

Not all seekers can walk a path of pure natural landscape. Many are stuck in the sprawl of urban decay, watching ruins of man’s 1970s bad design decisions be polished into glass and steel turds of prefabricated corporate enclaves. Startup incubator hellscapes that shine in the rain like a b set on the Blade Runner story board artwork.

The city is haunted by these corridors of steel, the shades that stalk the streets are those of the dead homeless, of working girls and deranged ex bankers tossed out of their office after breaking down in a fit of anti- capitalist rage and destroying the spreadsheets through which mankind must continually consume.

We work our magic at these crossroads of manmade forms, concrete covered in tar and piss, the smell of car exhaust thick like incense of copal, the steel and glass become an altar at which we sacrifice lives to the deities of consumption and avarice.

In the 1950s a group of modern thinkers created the philosophical genre of psychogeography. The Situationists, primarily under the influence of Guy Debord, outline this critical analysis of the landscape in a series of articles published in the “Internationale Situationniste”.

Debord would publish his seminal work “Theory of the Dérive” originally in Les Lèvres Nues #9 (November 1956). In this short piece he outlines a form of practical divinatory landscape magic (though he does not make reference to magic directly) he dubs “dérive” which translates roughly as “drifting”.

“The ecological analysis of the absolute or relative character of fissures in the urban network, of the role of microclimates, of distinct neighborhoods with no relation to administrative boundaries, and above all of the dominating action of centers of attraction, must be utilized and completed by psychogeographical methods. The objective passional terrain of the dérive must be defined in accordance both with its own logic and with its relations with social morphology.” - Guy Debord, “Theory of the Dérive”

While Debord was primarily preoccupied with the urban environment, these ideas being born out of creative theories of the urban dwelling surrealists and eventually the situationists, they hark back to various forms of wandering and coming to know one’s environment through intimate journey common in rural areas throughout history. The “riding” of Scotland, the “walkabout” of the Australian native tribes, many cultures have a prescribed method of coming to know oneself via the land. Yet rarely do these cultural ideas of landscape exploration delve into the nature of the landscape in any scientific way.

The witch walks as well among the ruins of capitalism as we do the forest floor. We smell the stench of mankind’s death lingering on the horizon, a literal forest fire shouting in hisses and belches “I can’t breathe.” But even the urban witch needs time out away from the designed landscapes of man’s continual betrayal.

Out of the city, into the remaining forests and plains, to the mountains and beaches bereft of human indignities. Here we recharge ourselves, listen at the lectern of that parliament of birds, meditate in that complex drone of bees in a flower covered field. The wind through various trees speaking to us in a tongue we have always known but have no name for, only the sounds that tell us things we have always wondered but were simply afraid to ask.

This is the sabbat, this return to nature. This is the revelry for which we must escape even the most dreary urban existence, this soil from which our blood is fed, these waters to cleanse our spirit in preparation for the journey we must take along the path.

The “land” is itself the surface of the Earth’s crust, an area created by the shifting of the tectonic plates. This thin skin of cooled material harbors and incredibly diverse ecosystem. Yet it is not just above the soil that life lives. Deep into the earth we find an enormous quantity of complex lifeforms existing at depths we have only recently come to understand.

That earth, a particle itself screaming through naked space. A vehicle we inhabit, a space station ringing out dub frequencies into the cosmos. The electromagnetic field of the sun, its orbiting particles/planets shifting over the empty space in the radiant aura of that star at the center of the solar system.

When we look up into space we see nothing more than particles. Screaming suns that ring out just like every atom in your body. Interrelated electromagnetic fields pulsing in waves like haunted sound-systems. Singing that tune your soul needs, urging you on to the sex beat of reproduction. The pounding drums of interstellar rain inhabiting your abode, shining out of your eyes and your mouth like the burning of a salamander born under a blackened sun.

The surface of the earth we inhabit is not merely the geographic variables we perceive, nor is it only the organic film that clings to the upper layers of the outer crust. The earth is inhabited by more beings than can be accounted for with mass and electrons. Beings of light and gravity, magnetism and electricity. They inhabit rivers, mountains, crossroads. They ring out the tune you seek, dance to the beat you need but if only you could see with your ears and hear with your eyes.

Throughout this region there is an electromagnetic field of complex forms, irradiated by material objects (including the earth itself) yet influenced by shifting patterns of energy in space beyond the biosphere. Like a tapestry made of energy this electromagnetic field contains forms of life long known to the witch, yet hardly understood by common society.

These entities exist in ways both dimensionally and frequency shifted from our own plane of existence. While we are able to bridge the gap between our realm and theirs, and these dimensions do share a common fabric, it is only through practice that we can become accustom to their existence.

Spirits; whose names and forms are as varied as the names mankind has given to shades of colour and light. These beings we refer to as ancestor, kith, and elemental are but part of an ecosystem we have little knowledge of, and what rare knowledge we have is occulted.

With various forms of offering, pacts and rituals we have come to learn how to coax them into allegiance. How to work with them and communicate. Though much of our ritual action is not for them, it is to prepare us as practitioners for the mental and emotional toil of interaction with beings whose existence is obscure. This is why our offerings must come from our possessions, must have meaning to us. Our mental desire projected into the value of an object enriches its value in our trade with those who inhabit the landscape.

As old as it is in the realm of practical magic that concept we have been referring to as “landscape magic” is long overdue for a more accurate descriptive terminology. We have relied for centuries on the designations of various religious authorities to give form to our understanding of these beings, even in the days of ancient Greece, where the witch’s perception was shaped by the everyday culture and beliefs of the ancient Greek.

The secularization of witchcraft, particularly in the practices of the folkwitch, leaves us a framework that can adopt to a practitioner’s own religious beliefs, or be parallel to them in the practicalities of magical practice.

Yet the terminology of “landscape magic” is limited through lack of direct dialog between the disparate practitioners. When we turn to those authors whose work have touched on landscape magic beyond the psychogeographers, (historians like George Ewart Evans, folklorists like Katharine Briggs) we see a pattern of understanding in the practice of common folk magic throughout the world of interaction with a class of spirits whose form and function are shaped equally by the physical manifestation of the geographic landscape in which they inhabit, and the socio cultural framework of the practitioner in their understanding of the shape of the universe.

When we have considered the language of magic and its history of cultural appropriation we have tried in many ways to find a terminology that best represents the broader ideas encapsulated in “landscape magic”, in particular relation to the folkwitch.

Jake Stratton Kent, in his landmark text “Geosophia”, outlines the history and origins of grimoiric magic through the concept of Goetia, a body of knowledge whose origins are derived primarily from the ancient Greek Magical Papyri. While he doesn’t dissect the name of his volume the term “geosophia” is a Greek compound derived of “geo” for earth and “sophia” for wisdom.

The relation of goetia, though distinct and historical, to landscape magic is apparent in that many of the concepts related to spirits we as magic practitioners have come to understand find their origins in the goetia.

I have proposed the term “geotia” (geo sha) to give a broader modern terminology to the idea of landscape magic. It takes the reverse of two vowels in goetia and alters its meaning to one more rooted in the land itself and less tied to a specific massive historic body of knowledge.

Geotia is the state of being within the land itself. The total perceptual elimination of the culturally perceived boundaries between oneself/ species and the natural world. The prerequisite state of the practice of folk witchcraft.

Thus the intersection of geotia and witchcraft is a shared understanding of the form that reality takes when stripped bare of our projected ideas of consensual (culturally acceptable) reality. When we embrace the seeking of that state of geotia we begin to see more widely the potential of energy that exists in the world around us. The folkwitch comes to work a specific patch of land, one that is tended to and looked after by the witch.

The landscape that you make your patch is populated by a wildlife beyond physical form. Not just in the echo of your ancestors, but beings who have lived as long as there have been homosapiens, often longer.

You bleed into the ground, it drinks of your essence and it knows you. You feel outward into the landscape. In some places on the earth it is calm, its hills and valleys having long settled with history. But in others it is marred with the darkness of bloodshed, disease and war. Haunted landscapes that linger still because we refuse to let them settle, they instill us with that dread of our species past.

The words of your ancestors echo down the dna line, reverberate in the sound chamber of the landscape. They teach you who you are and who you are meant to be. They guide you on your path, but like a willow-the- wisp there is no catching them, only a journey further and further into the endless forest of self discovery.

The witch is the link between the ostracized humanity of the late 21st century and the natural world. We are the walkers who can hear, perceiving the true structure of the world we inhabit, beyond the illusion society teaches is “real.” We have been to the other side of the hedge, and have ridden the night winds. We fear not death, and often flirt with its sweet caress. The witch is the guardian of the land, but what we guard it from is humanity.

  Bibliography:

Guy Debord. Theory of the Dérive. Les Lèvres Nues #9. 1956.

Jake Stratton-Kent. Geosophia. Scarlet Imprint. 2013.

George Ewart Evans. The Pattern Under the Plow: Aspects of Folk-Life in East Anglia. Faber and Faber. 1966.

Katharine Briggs. Pale Hecate’s Team. Rutledge. 1962.

  +++

This article originally appeared in FOLKWITCH vol 1, 2019.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 60: Adrenaline

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Sixty: Adrenaline

Note: Wow. I never thought I was going to make it to chapter 60 of anything in my entire life. I just... Thanks for sticking around this long. It means a lot. Really. Omg.

(-~-)

An ear-piercing screech could be heard for blocks, more than likely attracting the horrified attention of anyone unfortunate enough to hear it. None of them had to bear witness to the creature that had produced the sound, however, something that they should be very fortunate indeed to have never experienced. For the face looked like an unfortunate combination of a decaying skull and an awful feathered serpent, Scolopendra was far from a sight for sore eyes, and the sound it made was somehow equally bad if not worse in its own unique way.

Scolopendra clambered back to a semi-upright position, mortally wounded, but not quite enough to force it back into its dormant state at its master's side. For a moment, the young summoner wondered if the robes that their opponent wore were simply there to cover the markings that a familiar like this would probably need in order to anchor themselves in this reality. This demon was large. It had to have some, right? After all, he'd never actually seen what laid under them, but he could only assume they were markings similar to that of the ones he himself possessed. Perhaps not the same pattern, but the same premise.

He watched the colossal serpent for a moment, considering his options against a foe that could move so swiftly. It was hard to vocalize what he eventually came up with, but his timing couldn't have been better. A mere moments before he was ready to enact his plan, the demon surged forward, slower this time than previously, but still dangerous. With nowhere to go, V stepped sideways, retaliating in what he assumed to be the best way possible given the circumstances.

Griffon center barrage of lightning down upon the head of their unlucky foe, Shadow following this up with a secondary harpoon attack that V then used to transfer himself to the side of the parking lot, running down it once the serpent's head turned to the spot he had once been in. Seemingly perplexed by his absence, it was taken off guard when Griffin retreated to his side and dived down towards the demon's head, pestering it with the barrage of electric fire wing flaps and his razor-sharp talons.

"Yeah! You don't like that, huh? Well maybe think about it next time before you bother the string bean. You bother him, you get the talons!" Griffon dive bombed towards the serpentine demon's side, dodging what would have otherwise been an attack that would have seen him lodged in the belly of the beast. From what he could tell, it seemed like this demon's primary method of attack was to simply attempt to swallow whatever it was doing battle against. Considering its size, the tactic made sense, but it was no less repulsive or irritating. "I don't know what hole in the underworld you slithered out of, but you're going back there real soon, and this time your gonna stay there!"

Lowering itself to the ground, it peered around the small trees that dotted this section of the parking lot, the wrecked cars and other obstacles obscuring V's presence. It seemed to pay the avian demon no mind as it continued its search. The youngest of Vergil's sons was not unintelligent enough to think that stepping out into the open and fighting an opponent like this head-on was an even remotely good idea, however. Instead, he'd come with a clever plan to be rid of his opponent once and for all. It was possible that he might be the only person there who truly understood how to defeat a demon like this. But first, he needed to weaken it. Perhaps if this technique had worked the first time around, then it would work a second time?

As he quietly considered his options, he peered around the remainder of the car that he had been taking refuge behind, only to see that Scolopendra seemed to still be searching for him. Good. It seems that he had picked a wise hiding spot, then. It had been picked mostly due to the vantage point it provided and the immediate need to hide, but he wasn't going to turn his nose up at a hiding spot that his opponent couldn't easily find. It seemed that size was working against it.

Under his breath, he quietly recalled his feline companion, resting his hand on her back as a show of support. This next part was crucial. He gestured to the back of the demonic serpent's neck, noting that going for such an obvious weak point was risky, and that it would require careful maneuvering if they were to actually take advantage of this opportunity. It would see the attack coming. But that was what he was here for.

"Griffon, now."

Without warning, the serpent was set upon by Griffon, something that seemed to genuinely enrage it. Shadow charged at the demon, running around the front of it and using her spiked attack to tear up the ground as she went, forcing the serpent to move to evade her pursuit. It did so, coiling around a street post and bending it as it moved to Dodge her attack, allowing an opening for the avian demon to swoop back down and go for its eyes. And as soon as he made contact, the panther then leaped forward from behind its opponent and fastened its claws into the demon's back before sinking her fangs into its flesh. They both had an equal hold on it now, and they weren't going anywhere.

Reeling backward in pain, Scolopendra let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl, attempting to coil around itself and locate its target. Now robbed of its eyesight, the demon was much less effective and its attempts to actually do battle against him. And as the familiar shade of purplish-gray that engulfed all of his ready-to-finish targets came about, V took the opportunity to finish off his opponent once and for all.

Using the momentary opening he had been provided, he rushed forward and stabbed his cane into the demon's chest, using his momentum to slide down it and sheer it open from the neck down. The demon let out a gurgling screech before toppling over, exposing exactly what he was hoping it would. A pulsating orb. Although different in appearance from his own familiars’ housing cores, he could tell by looking at it that it served the same function. This was no nightmare demon, but it seemed that the summoning method was somewhat akin to that of his own. And that meant that he knew how to destroy this thing. 

It was now or never.

He concentrated what demonic power he was able to pull from himself into his strike before calling Shadow to his side in order to use her momentum along with his own to strike with more force. Griffon flung him towards the panther who was already in mid-run, allowing additional speed as he landed and slid towards the demon and embedded his cane into its core, shattering it almost instantaneously. 

Propelled by the force of his strike and the shock wave that echoed through the parking lot as the crystal core exploded in a wave of demonic power, V was cartwheeled across several car hoods before crashing through the front windshield of one of the nearby semi-crushed vans, flung by the force of the explosion like a limp toy. Thank goodness for this demonic blood that coursed through his veins.

Landing on his back, he took several moments to register the fact that he was looking at the ceiling of the inside of a vehicle that he'd never been in before. But that mattered very little to him. What did matter was the fact that he could sense that what he had done had been successful. Although he might be sore and covered in glass, he no longer had to worry about doing battle against his opponent’s arguably most powerful familiar. It was now most definitely deceased. The other demon that their attacker possessed might be faster, but now that Scolopendra was out of the picture, he felt they were on much more equal footing.

Now to return to Sirrus before it was too late.

V allowed Griffon to help him sit up when he approached, slowly dragging himself to his feet as he recovered his cane in his balance along with it. He was indeed quite scraped up, but nothing that he wouldn't likely recover from overnight. That wasn't to say that exhaustion wasn't settling in, however. It occurred to him just then that that had been the first demon that he had finished off since his return, and he was strangely drained by that. Perhaps an effect of Belial's influence? Or perhaps the result of having used his power for the first time in a long time to overwhelm a phone? More than likely a mixture of both if he was being honest. Perhaps because it was a summon? After all, this was the first time that he’d actually met another summoner. But regardless, he could focus on that as he made his way back up to the top of the building.

But as he brushed himself off and knotted in thankful response to his two companions, his attention was inevitably drawn to the roof. Something had just shifted in the air around him, and he had no trouble identifying the source. A chill ran down his spine as he felt a strange tingle overtake him. Something was suddenly very wrong, and he wasn't sure how he was so sure of that, but he was. And if the amount of power he felt up there was actually coming from one source, then it was best he returned to Sirrus as quickly as possible. He had to be in terrible danger because the sort of power he felt in that moment was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It wasn't the quantity, it was the sheer otherworldliness of the energy itself. It was physically heavy and suffocating to a degree that he was unfamiliar with, and he couldn't say that it was actually entirely demonic in nature. But one thing was for sure: If Sirrus was up there, then he needed to be, too. He didn't doubt his companion’s ability to hold his own, but he also had no idea what their attacker was truly capable of.

"Can you take me back up there? We need to hurry." V asked Griffon, a defiant calmness evident in his tone and expression. His resolve was absolute and his motivations unflinching. If the two of them worked together here and now they might be able to take down their opponent once and for all, sparing the rest of his family the need to do battle against this particular foe in the future, and allowing them to focus on more important aspects of their greater enemies plan. But that all depended on him managing to make it in time. "I believe we are missing the main event."

Nodding as he glanced over at the roof, the avian demon fluttered up from his place on the roof of the trashed car, a look of confidence in his eyes. "No problem. Let's get up there. Whatever this is isn't right, and I've got to see what's causing it. I could be wrong, but I don't think that's demonic power that we're sensing. Well, it is, but it's all wrong. Like something else is mixed into it or distorting it. I have to see it first for myself."

"All the more reason to make haste, then. No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings." He nodded, hurrying towards the base of the building nearest to the one Sirrus was on. Perhaps if he could make it onto the roof via the fire escape, he could alleviate his companions' need to carry him as far and assure a swifter arrival.

"That's a good thing you've got me, because I don't know if you've got wings of your own. Haven't checked yet. But once this is over with, that might be worth looking into." Griffon said with a cackle as he followed the young summoner towards the building. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really seen V run. It seemed that the urgency of the situation wasn't lost on him in spite of everything that he just experienced. They needed to hurry, and so they would. But his curiosity wasn't such that he would blindly run into such a high concentration of unfamiliar power. While V made his way up the catwalk, he would do some reconnaissance. Above all else, he needed to know that they weren't walking into a trap.

(-~-)

Wave after wave of pulsating energy cascaded off of the red-haired adjudicator as he stepped towards his opponent, their resolve wavering every second that they considered how truly screwed they were. They had heard of what he was, but the conception was that they no longer existed. To be confronted by such ancient power was to be confronted by the realization that you could do nothing in the face of it when it came down to it. There was very little that could be done against the kind of power that Sirrus wielded, the flames that cooked his boy too hot to be put out. He was far from invincible, but they did not possess the necessary skill or knowledge to be able to defeat him.

Backpedaling slightly, they attempted to hold their ground, unsure of what they should do against such an opponent. At the moment, both of their familiars were indisposed. They were decent with their hand-to-hand fighting skills, but nowhere near decent enough to fight someone who could keep up with Hatred. His eyes had trouble with that at times.

No, it was best that they find a way to exit as swiftly and as unharmed as possible. They would need to report back to their leader that this turn of events had taken place. It was a complicating factor, but one that they were certain they could overcome if given the proper time to prepare. The question was if they had that time to spare. The window of time was closing rapidly. They needed to figure out what they were going to do. This put them in a hard spot.

"If this man with the red hair is truly what I believe he is, then this could cause a complication in our plans. But surely my master knows of this particular quirk? There is no way that he could not. I have it in good faith that they have encountered one another previously… "

Focusing heavily on his opponent, the man with the red hair slashed in the direction of the summoner, the blazing hot shockwave cutting a swath through the roof of the building like it was made of wet butter. It was not a deep gash, but it was more than sufficient. The summoner barely managed to dodge this swipe in time. He attempted to call his summon to his side in a bid to escape, but was surprised to find that it did not answer. A sinking feeling crawled up his spine as he realized that he could not sense its existence any longer.

"That cannot be… did he…"

"I care a little for your tawdry sentiments. Those with the basis of wisdom do not bring to battle that which they are unwilling to lose." The power that radiated off of the man and black was palpable, no humor present in his demeanor or tone. "You came here and tried to end our life, and so we have no reason not to end yours."

Adjusting his stance, the adjudicator readied himself for another blow, noting that his opponent seemed to be doing much the same. So it seemed that they would battle against him, then? He couldn't advise that in regards to it being a policy that would lead to a life that had any semblance of longevity, but he wasn't going to attempt to talk his opponent out of it, either. What did he have to gain from attempting to spare his enemy aside from death and V's possible capture? Until this individual was apprehended or destroyed, they would continue to pose a threat. But how best to defeat someone who was in such a precarious spot without leveling the building behind him? It was an unfortunate place that they had chosen to do this in.

"Remove yourself… These are my master's affairs. Not yours, halfbreed." The masked individual seemed to hold their hand up, Sirrus sensed a shift in the power around them, indicating to him that they had probably just applied some sort of ward or spell in a bid at protecting themself. It was a wise move, all things considered, but he wasn't going to abide by their nonsense. Not for even a second longer.

He sent another shockwave of black fire towards them, this time nearly hitting his mark as they jumped to the side, nearly gliding over the edge of the building as they did so. They managed a less than graceful landing, clearly uncomfortable putting weight on the leg they had landed on. He had no knowledge as to why that specific limb seemed to be giving them trouble, but he was not above using it against them. He had been taught to utilize the weaknesses of his enemies against them, and that was precisely what he was going to do here.

"Call me that again. I've never been known to suffer fools." It had not been the first time that he had been referred to in such a manner, and he was fully aware of the fact that it was sure to be far from the last time, but that didn't mean that he was any less displeased. Despite the fact that he did not know this individual and had no reason to respect their opinion of him, there were certain words that were simply hard to ignore, and that specific insult was one of them. "Let us hope for your sake that you have another summon."

The summoner shook their head, holding their hand out as if to halt him. He seemed to be confident in regards to whatever they had planned. He prepared himself, careful not to give away the fact that he suspected something.

"Perhaps something better."

In the blink of an eye, an immense darkness rushed forward from their extended hand, nearly striking him dead In the middle of the chest. Sirrus phased out of the way, sidestepping the attack, and retaliating swiftly. They barely managed to sidestep him as they blocked with their staff, Sirrus's as blade nearly cleaving it in half. For a brief moment, he had felt the cold sting that he had felt when Belial had impaled him back in the imitation grocery store. Heady just invoked his master's signature darkness to use against him? Because if so, this individual was far more advanced in their craft than he could have originally guessed. It was almost a shame to end their life, but they had picked the wrong side.

But as he stepped towards his opponent to attempt to land a more decisive blow, he was struck by a sudden pang of agony in the spot where he had just been stabbed, the realization that the adrenaline that had kept the pain at bay was probably wearing thin. It spread throughout his entire being, hauling him in place as his body tried its best to fight back and only barely succeeded, something that he got the feeling wasn't meant to be strictly possible. And all the while there was one consideration in his mind. It could only be one thing?

Poison.

A paralyzing agent that had probably been meant for V. It seemed that he had genuinely planned to take him tonight. At the very least, he hoped that this fight had delayed that possibility. He had to get him home before this scumbag managed to get a hold of him. He didn't know if he had more of that poison, but the fact that he didn't mind applying it via knife said everything that it needed to.

He began to breathe slightly heavy, taking a moment to breathe before attempting to finish off his opponent. He coughed for a moment, feeling a tightness in his chest before slumping over, slightly dizzy. It then occurred to him how long he'd been using his power, and he became silently alarmed by it, painfully aware of the fact that he immediately needed to stop despite the circumstance. This fight wasn't worth that heavy of a cost.

Seizing the opportunity, the summoner quite literally bowed out, running and jumping off the edge of the building and out of his line of sight. Paralyzed by his own inability to easily wrangle his powers back under his control, Sirrus remain slumped over on his knees on the pavement that covered the roof, equal parts angry and disappointed in himself for not being able to contenue, and silently vowing to himself that he would take the opportunity if given to him again to in his opponent once and for all. If not for his current injuries, he may have very well succeeded in that endeavor. But at least he had managed to frighten him into realizing that he was not a force to be toyed with, and that it was going to be a bit harder than heat originally considered it to be to accomplish his goal.

Just before everything started to go dark, he swore he caught the glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He hoped empathetically that he wouldn't be out for long. He needed to go and see to it that V had made it off the roof safely. He simply had to know.

"I'll be there soon... Please be okay." Dispute his foggy state of mind, that particular thought was crystal clear in his mind. As soon as he could will his body to move from this spot, he would do that.

And then he drifted off.

(-~-)

Hey! Heads up! If the chapters seem wonky, or you noticed that any of your comments are gone, let me know! I readjusted the chapters so that they would be with the correct corresponding numbers by taking my notes out that I had written during the times I took breaks(after taking pictures because your comments were so kind and really did help me during a difficult time) so if something is wonky, let me know! Let me know what you thought of this chapter! See you on Friday! And sorry for any mistakes! I went over this several times, so if there is anything super obvious that my half-sleep brain missed, let me know!

[marsbutterfly]

A Message From Beyond

Summary: In which Hanji sacrificed herself to save you, instead of Moblit sacrificing himself for her.

Notes: This is the second time I've written AND edited a fanfic all by myself, so please bear with me :)

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

It's been weeks, but the empty space where she used to sleep hurts more with each passing day. While your side was perfectly organized, you don't dare touch Hanji's part of the room. You cling onto one of her shirts, trying to feel her once again. 

As you glance at the bedside table, you see a couple of random books and her spare glasses. The sight brings a smirk to your face, "of course you would leave a mess behind" you think to yourself but at the same time, it makes your heart ache.

You can't smell her perfume in the air anymore, and the warmth of her body is gone. The words "I'm all alone" have been hammering in your head since you had come back. A sob escapes your body, no matter how strongly you try to hold it in.

The tears that run down your face bring your body into a state of exhaustion, forcing you to close your eyes and rest. Lately, that has been the only way for you to get some sleep.

.

You open your eyes to find yourself underneath a tree, the sun peeking from behind the leaves keeps your body warm. You rub your eyes as you sit up, trying to recognize your surroundings but with no luck. You can hear a voice in the distance calling your name, the person's face is too far away for you to be able to tell who it is.

As their image becomes more clear, you can finally identify who's calling you and the sight brings tears to your eyes.

"Hey Y/N! I've been looking all over for you... are you all right? Why are you crying?" The figure that once stood in front of you now sits by your side, analyzing your features while concern fills her eyes.

You immediately cross your arms around her neck, not saying a word. You hold onto her cloak allowing the tears you've been so familiar with to come out all at once. You feel her hands gently touching your body, the softness of her fingers against your skin is all you've been thinking about ever since you watched her disappear.

"Hanji..." is all you manage to say while the hiccups and sobs escape your throat.

She doesn't say anything, she closes her eyes and allows herself to feel you in her arms. Her hands go through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. The chilly breeze hits your face while you take a deep breath, a sense of calm in your stomach as you can once again smell her skin.

"I miss you" you whisper in her ear, your face moving down until you reach her lips, not giving Hanji enough time to say it back. As you kiss her, she shifts allowing her back to rest against the tree while you gently sit on her lap. Your hands travel through her neck all the way to her cheeks. You peck her lips gently before separating your faces.

"Why did you have to leave me, Hanji?" the noticeable pain in your voice forces her to look down. She takes a few seconds before answering and, as she does, you run your fingers through your face, drying the tears that form in your eyes. Once she's ready, she flashes you a sad but gentle smile while tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

"I had to protect you."

Your face contorts into a frown, your bottom lip shaking lightly. "I didn't need to be protected, I can take care of myself."

She lets out a sigh closely followed by a giggle, "at that moment you couldn't."

You rest your head on her chest as she plays with your hair. The memories of that fateful day come rushing through your mind.

-

You can still hear the terrified screams of your comrades as you watch Bertholdt's silhouette rise in the sky as he's about to transform. Yours and Hanji's squad are too close to him. Panic rushing through your veins as you look at your girlfriend.

"Y/N!" You can barely hear her, the buildings around you being destroyed by the explosion and the fire is spreading quickly, there is no way you can survive it. That is until Hanji pushes your body into a decaying old well.

As you are falling, you closely watch as her body is incinerated. In a second, she is gone. The wind that helps your body go down the old well betrays you for a moment when a rock hits your left eye. Once your body collides with the floor, you pass out.

After 20 minutes, you open your eye to find yourself still holding onto the thunder spears. Realization not fully hitting you yet, you make your way up to see the damage. Air barely manages to enter your lungs as you watch the results of the Colossal Titan's transformation. The buildings being thrown around as if they weigh nothing startle you. You take 5 minutes to look around, but with all the fire and dust, you can't find anyone, you quickly realize it wasn't possible for any bodies to be left intact, they were all incinerated.

Before tears have time to form in your eyes, you decide to go looking for the group of teenagers surrounding Eren. You can't remember much after that.

-

You shake your head, trying to push away the painful memories, your hands slightly punching the grass by your side. You once again lay on her chest, allowing her to caress you in the manner you miss so much. It takes you a few minutes to notice you can hear her heart beating. As you sit up a gasp escapes your lips.

"I wish this was real." You look deep into her brown eyes, begging whatever God out there you could make this moment true. Begging for her to come back. Your name falls from her lips as she takes on a serious expression, a strange feeling settling in the pit of your stomach as you stare at her.

"The real fight has yet to begin." She doesn't take her eyes off of you. The uneasiness you are feeling only grows bigger every second that passes and every hair in your body now stands up. "Once you cross the ocean, you'll find out who the real enemy is."

Somehow the air feels thicker and it gets harder to breathe. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, a confused expression settling on your face.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you much more than this, but Y/N, you shouldn't trust Eren." she pauses for a few seconds, trying to figure out just how much she can tell you. Taking a quick breath, she continues, "Watch out for your friends, especially Mikasa and Armin, they will need you the most."

You start to feel her body fading through your fingertips, her image once again disappearing right before your eyes. Despair is the only feeling you have left.

"I'll always be right here with you, you are never alone." she continues as she places one final kiss on your lips, it's so gentle and quick you can barely feel it.

"Be careful, all right?" is the last thing she says before her body disappears completely from underneath you. You fall on your back, the grass rubs against your skin and it leaves a gentle shade of red to it.

"Hanji.." you whisper while covering your mouth with the back of your hands, whimpers coming out of your body like never before.

Your eyelids are now as heavy as rocks and you can't keep yourself awake. As you drift back to sleep, the darkness around you becomes rather comforting and before you're pulled back to the real world once again, you hear it as clear as the day you met her,

"Y/N, I love you."

.

You open your eyes slowly, trying to shift around on the empty bed in a way so the bright sunshine won't touch you. The empty space by your side feels a little less painful today.

You decide to head to the bathroom to take a cold shower and prepare for the day but Hanji's words not leaving your mind for a second. Don't trust Eren, but why not? Who will we have to face to finally have our freedom?

The warm water against your skin relaxes your shoulders, the steam hiding the scars left by the Colossal Titan's brutal attack. As the soap bar slides through your body, you think about the feeling of your girlfriend's soft hands against your limbs and how she always took care of your injuries. Carefully, you wash your face, slowly feeling the spot where your left eye used to be.

You turn the water off and walk towards your room. The chilly breeze against your skin after such a hot shower brings a gentle smile to your face.

Once you have your clothes on, you make sure to carefully bandage your left eye before grabbing the black eye-patch that rests by the door. As you walk past Hanji's old office, you can almost see her running around with a small sample from a titan in one hand while she looks for a pen, Moblit following her not far behind trying to make sure she's ok. You smile at the now empty room before starting to walk once again.

"Good morning Commander!" You turn around to face the short, blonde-haired boy. You could tell by the look on his face he was exhausted after training, but his smile looking as bright as always.

"Good morning, Armin." you say before flashing him a compassionate smile.

"Will you be joining us for breakfast today?" he asks softly, not wanting his worry towards you to be visible through his voice.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. Mikasa and Eren seem to be waiting for you."

He looks to his left to find his friends waiving at him, so he simply nods at you before sprinting towards them.

You look out the window towards the sky, maybe you're right Hanji, I'm not alone. You continue your path towards the dining room before stopping one last time in front of the massive doors, you can almost feel Hanji's hand on yours as you open them. For the first time since you became the commander, you finally feel like you are ready to be the leader the Survey Corps needs and as a promise to yourself and Hanji, you will not let them down.

[just-a-random-cipher]

!Theories about Gravity Falls!

Enjoy Reading:)👁

I recently came to the understanding that some people in the Gravity Falls fandom are slightly confused as to what little the fandom knows about Bill Cipher’s past. Everyone who watches the show knows he comes from another dimension known as the Nightmare Realm, which is decaying and fated to be destroyed by its very own mechanisms. However, given the release of Journal 3 by Alex Hirsch and Disney, and a rather interesting and hidden page on the Disney XD site (found here), Bill’s background is obviously not as simple as him being a megalomaniacal, dimension hopping villain.

Let’s start with the Axolotl.

Most people know this amphibious being from the last few seconds Bill is alive. He says something close to, “Axolotl, my time has come to burn. I invoke the ancient power that I may return.” If you want to hear it yourself, check out any of the YouTube videos on the subject. However, this seems to point out that Bill knows of, or somehow personally knows, the Axolotl. This is where the hidden link comes into play. Below is a picture of where the link leads to.

Take note of the first highlighted section. Dipper is asking what the Axolotl knows about Bill Cipher. Now, seeing as the Axolotl resides in the “time and space between time and space,” it could have the ability to see and know all of what happens in other places of time and space. This would give the Axolotl a distanced, somewhat unbiased view of what happened in Bill’s original dimension.

The riddle that is boxed gives some insight into Bill’s past from what the Axolotl knows. The first two lines refer to Bill - proof of him being an equilateral triangle due to the three sixty degree angles the Axolotl describes.

The third and fourth lines explain what happened to Bill’s dimension. The dimension burned, and he misses it. The “can’t return” at the end of the fourth line seems to hint that he is trying to get back to his dimension, or is trying to undo its destruction. Also note that Bill watched his dimension burn, meaning he was likely already outside of his dimension. Say this was his first time dimension hopping, and his first time leaving his dimension had some kind of effect like Weirdmageddon did on Earth - only, instead of there being weirdness waves that changed the environment, it was something much worse which basically rendered the entire dimension uninhabitable or entirely wiped it from existence.

Moving on, the Axolotl implies that Bill is lying to himself about being happy, and possibly other things. “Blame the arson for the fire”  could have several meanings at this point. Was there someone else who actually destroyed Bill’s universe? Should we be blaming Bill because he is the arson? Does Bill blame someone else who is the true arson? Seeing as the word “Blame” is a mere imperative verb that is ordering a person or thing to do something, and there is no other person or personal pronouns given in the sentence, it is hard to say who the Axolotl is ordering. If it was “blames,” then it could be derived that it means “Bill blames” since “You blames,” referring to Dipper and likely the only other person the Axolotl could be thinking of in this context, doesn’t make grammatical sense.

The seventh line seems fairly obvious, and the only questions left are: who is Bill shirking the blame to, and what blame precisely? He has supposedly committed hundreds of atrocities and probably broken all the laws in every universe just to say he did, so is he putting the blame for all of his actions on someone else, or just a singular time where he was to blame?

The eighth line likely connects to Bill’s last moments in Stan’s mind. As stated before, Bill says “Axolotl, my time has come to burn. I invoke the ancient power that I may return.” Notice how Bill uses Axolotl’s name, and later says invoke. Kinda obvious connection there. But also note how Bill says “my time has come to burn.” Now, we do see literal fire taking over Stan’s mind, but we never see him actually burn. Of course, this could also point toward a more metaphorical description or that he just needed to rhyme, just as the Axolotl did in answering Dipper’s question, in order to truly invoke the Axolotl.He could also be referencing that he is dying, and that he probably should have died ages ago with the rest of his dimension which burned, but hey. I look for double meanings everywhere. Especially with Bill Cipher.

As for the last two lines… The fandom can only speculate on it. Bill can only liberate himself by doing one singular thing. And apparently a different form and different time are involved. That could have many different meanings. “Different form” could be physically or mentally - Bill could be a different shape, could be reborn as another species somehow, could reaffirm himself and admit the truth, or he could simply get some kind of interdimensional cold and be “out of shape.” The other half seems pretty obvious: “a different time.” It could be the future, the past, the present, the in between times, or even the second or third or hundredth time he tries to make amends.

A different form and time could also refer to a different universe, which holds a different form and different times, or himself entering Gravity Falls’ dimension and gaining a physical body (new form) and trying to start a new reign in another dimension that (this time) won’t just collapse someday without warning.

Basically, the Axolotl states that (in my own opinion) Bill possibly had a hand in the destruction of his home dimension, but likely tried to stop said destruction and failed. He misses his home and can’t return, but is still trying to find a way back to it. He’s lying to himself and someone is definitely to be blamed for the destruction of his universe, but he won’t admit to it. Bill needs the Axolotl in order to put the blame on someone else, and there is only one way, in another time and another form, that he can free himself from the blame.

Alright. Onto The Oracle. Finally.

In the Third Journal, Ford explains what exactly what happened for those 30 years he was missing. After getting attacked in a 2-D Dimension, he met The Oracle in Dimension 52. She knew all about him and his “mission” to defeat Bill. She was the one who helped Ford get a metal plate in his head. She also was the one who told Ford about Bill’s past.

The first few things I want to go over is the page in which Ford depicts The Oracle. She stands, staring with crossed arms partially obscuring an amulet, in front of what seem to be tapestries of the Axolotl. Bubbles and/or orbs seem to be hanging from the ceiling and rising from the floor in front of the tapestries.

The Third Journal does show that some people in the multiverse know of the Axolotl and the Oracle seems to have some kind of psychic power, evidence when she knew Stanford’s name, his purpose, and what he was destined to do. So perhaps that isn’t as interesting as it first appears. The amulet is also rather intriguing… Could it be in the shape of an eye?

But what about the bubbles and orbs?

I kinda feel like I’m looking too deeply into this, but the only other time when bubbles seem to be important is during Weirdmageddon when Bill uses a bubble to trap Mabel and unleashes weirdness bubbles on the town. It seems somewhat weird that the person who gives Ford all the answers seems to have some kind of connection to Bill - albeit a stretched connection with just these pieces of information in hand. It just seems too much like he’s being used again, which I’ll get into later.

Ford, on some level, seems to notice the connection between the Oracle and Bill. The symbols underlined above the circled Axolotl can be decrypted to read, “The opposite of Bill.” This seems to make sense with what little we know of her. She seems to know all, but never tells Ford that she is indeed psychic or omniscient - notice how Ford states, “Whether she was psychic or had just read my wanted poster is hard to say,” implying that he doesn’t know how she knew about him. She is also noted to be “calm” when talking about her desire to end Bill’s reign. However, Bill seems to believe himself to be omniscient due to his ability to peer into all realms from his Nightmare Realm. But he constantly doesn’t foresee issues - Mabel knocking the safe’s code out of his hands in Dreamscaperers and outsmarting him in Sock Opera, the Weirdness Containment Bubble around Gravity Falls, the dino-arm pulling his eye out, the Stans swapping clothes. He also is known to be rather hotheaded and, as many people in the fandom point out, likely to be insane.

Now, you might be wondering where all this comes into play, right? Well, if you look at the second page, where Ford details their encounter a bit more, he says that the Oracle told him that Bill was power hungry, which caused him to burn his dimension and everything and everyone in it.

That doesn’t sound like what the Axolotl said, right? Which is why people are conflicted on what, or rather who, to believe.

But why would she shape her words into something that Ford could easily misinterpret? Well, first things first: she’s an oracle and prophecies can be easily misinterpreted. But that seemed to fit a bit too easily, so I looked a little harder at the wording of the document and came to one conclusion:

She wants Bill dead and out of the picture.

My reasoning? 1) Look at the line “She spoke of him without anger, but with a calm, steely, clinical resolve to see his reign end.” Pretty straight forward. Ford can tell that she doesn’t like Bill’s reign and will not stop until he is stopped. 2) “She… said I had the face of the man who was destined to destroy Bill.” She said destroy Bill, not Ford’s constant “defeat” that he mentions throughout the series. Destroy means to utterly annihilate, reduce to nothing, ruin emotionally and spiritually, to kill. If this is what she said to him, then she obviously wasn’t just messing around. 3) Ford and her spent the entire night partying after she revealed this. They were partying about someone’s death. Kinda harsh

There is one other point that really hammers it into me that the Oracle was manipulating her own words: her own name. The first paragraph reveals her name to be Jheselbraum the Unswerving. The Unswerving. Which means that once she’s dedicated to something - like destroying a dimension hopping demon by the name of Bill - she will not stop until she succeeds.

Seeing as Ford mysteriously found himself in another dimension after he and the Oracle partied together, it’s pretty obvious that she didn’t tell Ford about him being destined to defeat Bill until that last day. You’d expect someone whom could pull someone out of another dimension into their own, whom knew who Ford was way before they met, whom already had a difficult surgery in mind to aid Ford, and whom was obviously invested in taking Bill down to simply tell Ford that he was the multiverse’s savior, right?

She instead kept it all a secret until the last day, at which point Ford was even more resolute to kill Bill instead of just defeating him and keeping him out of his dimension. 

So who do you trust more? Or do you trust no one? On one hand you have a mysterious being that answered Dipper’s question with a riddle instead of a straight answer, and said riddle could be seen in a variety of lights. On the other, you have an equally mysterious Oracle who might have manipulated her words to ensure Ford’s resolve against Bill.

It's just my opinion! So you don't have to say anything about it! :)))

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 155: Zora’s Domain

 Before we could head out Dantz needed some help. Sidon was preoccupied with admiring the sheep so I didn’t think we were going to leave soon anyway. I want Sidon to enjoy himself while he get’s to be here. Dantz needed some deer to be hunted. They started overpopulating and were now destroying the forest. Normally the wolves would keep them under control but bokoblins and the like had been on a rampage, killing them lately.

With so many deer there was a lot of meat for the village. The leather smith offered to quickly make some winter gear for us. He doesn’t know how to make ones that can withstand extreme cold on mountain top, but it should still help.

Tokk, Uma, and Ralera taught me so many recipes to use the deer meat for. Sidon struggles quite a bit, being too big for the kitchen. He profusely apologized every time he knocked over something. Hateno does have some open-air kitchens but Sidon was still too tall for those. I made a fire for him to cook with and used a bunch of stones for a makeshift oven.

Ralera used to live in Lurelin Village, the village by the ocean. She taught me some recipes from there, and the alternatives for ingredients that she uses from around here. Sidon was absolutely fascinated by this. I can certainly see why, it’s harmony between two different cultures, something he so desires for his own people and others. I think he was also excited to see a Hylian’s take on sea food. We were able to recreate the original recipes by going to the beach by Hateno to collect crabs and get fish, though they certainly aren’t as plentiful here as they are in Lurelin.

When we got there Bossa Nova kept bucking me. I think he was trying to say ‘I told you so’ in a way. He kept trying to drag me to the village and I was too afraid to even look in it’s direction when we passed through here last.

Sidon adores the ocean, it’s like another world to him. Unlike the rivers and lakes on the mainland it’s just so open, there are different kinds of plants, fish, and other creatures. Even how the water moves is different, not to mention there being so much salt in it.

… not only is the ocean salty it also stings my eyes. It’s also still very blurry like land water.

Sidon wondered if I could have something like glasses for under the water so I could see in it, instead of having to look from above.

Sidon also wonders if there are other zoras out there, in the ocean. He wondered how different their culture could be like the differences between Lurelin and Hateno. Though we’re the same species we live very different lives simply because of where we live and what we do or do not have access to.

One difference I can enjoy is how warm it is! Maybe it’s just because I’ve been in the cool Domain for so long, but I love the warmth here!

Sidon is so elegant and graceful in the water, and so incredibly fast too! He was able to catch so many fish easily. He also like my complimenting his abilities so much.

Aster, Azu, and Sefaro ended up joining us for the meal. Good thing too since Sidon caught a little too much, though I could have finished them I think. I love all the different tastes there are. From place to place food is just so different and exciting! I think I’m looking forward to seeing how the Rito cook. Maybe I’ll ask Kass if he could teach me one next time we meet.

When the Leather smith finished our clothes we set out. We had to sneak away so the zora guards wouldn’t notice.

There’s this forest next to the lab where we started, it’s right by this shallow area of Madorna Mountain, it connects to Lanayru Range. Unfortunately it was starting to get dark due to many clouds over head, they practically blanketed the sky. We spotted some glowing stones on the range.

This really tested Sidon’s climbing skills, especially when the wind picked up and it began snowing. We also had to use the pully system on the steeper areas to carry Bossa Nova up.

There were many monsters about Lizalfos, Chuchus, keese, wolves and more. Thankfully with Sidon none of it was any trouble at all.

There are these strange ice things that just shoot up. There are also ruins, old stone staircases and pillars.

The higher we climbed the better look we got at the strange pulsing glows that just rested at the top.

At the peak, collapsed and haggard, was Naydra. It’s like Farosh, but instead of a being of lightning, it’s of ice. That black oozing stuff I find in the Divine Beasts just covered it. Black smoke poured from it’s mouth, I was half expecting one of those nightmares to form from the stuff. From the goop glowing black and orange eyes peered out. It looked like the stuff was burning and eating away Naydra, even drops that fell off it instantly decayed the goddesses statue that sat at the end of the stairs.

I’ve fought the eyes before, its best to just pop them with an arrow and not touch the stuff, but When I destroyed one, silently Naydra just flew away. Surely the stuff had taken control and was trying to survive. The wind picked up, almost tossing us into the air. Just almost. Sidon threw me high into the air, and I used my paraglider so the wind could carry me the rest of the way up. It just kept going higher and higher into the sky, I needed to finish this quickly. More of that smoke poured out of Naydra from every place I removed the black gunk.

Then when I got in that last shot, Naydra was consumed in a pale, teal light, and with a mighty roar, all the poison was gone. It’s black and purple fur and scales turned white and teal.

Unfortunately, in the chaos of trying to shoot, being blinded by the light and wind and snow I lost my paraglider. Thankfully Sidon caught me. Naydra even landed again, and placed my paraglider before me. The water surrounding the goddesses statue began to glow, like when I placed Farosh’s scale in the water surrounding the other statue back in the Faron region. Naydra just sat there and stared at us.

I don’t know why, but seeing it just broke my heart. It conveyed so much with its eyes. Even with the malice gone, it was still trapped in a way. I talked to it. I don’t remember my exact words except for the first part. I first said to it, “You’ve suffered a terrible fate, haven’t you?” Something stirred in my memories. I had been here before. I know I have. All of this is just for me. Naydra is trapped here, for me. Trapped here as just another test for a shrine. Naydra just sat there, waiting for me to take on of its scales so I could open the shrine and it finally being freed. That’s why Naydra and Farosh have appeared now. Farosh had legends, even seemingly a society dedicated to it but then disappeared for who knows how long, only to return now, just for me. And now because Naydra was stuck here, Naydra had to suffer under that poison, just because I didn’t get here soon enough so it could leave. All these shrines and tests and whatever are all just for me. But why? Why am I of all people so special. What did I even do to deserve any of this? Because I once held the Master Sword? Because whoever wields the Master Sword is the goddesses chosen hero? So the Goddesses just liked me, and I get all this?

No, not me. The Leather smith was right when he said I think selfishly.

It’s for the hero of Legend.

Being shackled into a role you never asked for… yet you still want to fulfill it, even when it feels you just fail and make everything worse for it, like not trying may be better for everyone. At times it feels that what you do is disingenuous because you have to even though you wanted too. It get’s you to doubt yourself and your motivations to do anything. It really is a terrible fate. Isn’t it?

I’m sorry princess Zelda.

I’m so sorry.

People say I’m a hero and you a reincarnation of the goddess, but we’re both just trying our best, others may see me as a hero, but I don’t see myself as such. I just know people need help, and I want to provide it. Just like you, when training so hard to unlock your powers. But you’re no princess or savior, you’re just a person who got unlucky and are trying their best within the box you were shoved into at birth.

At the very least I could free Farosh and Naydra from their roles.

Kass said he saw a fire one by Rito Village once. I think I found the spring it’s scale goes already, so I just need to get to the village and wait for them, then it’ll be free like Naydra and Farosh.

Though once you’re free what will you do after? I know I’ve been thinking of it lately, but… it doesn’t feel real. After all, being in this role, whether I like it or not, is all I know.

Sometimes it feels like I’m just in a loop when it comes to my thoughts.

Why can’t I just be over this already?

Yet, I almost feel better this time around, and not as hurt.

First Page , Previous Page , Next Page 

[emo-and-confused]

only when they turned around, no one was there. no one to share their pain. that was okay for they expected it. the sounds that were never truly there had followed them everywhere. they heard them but no one else seemed to. not their voices, not their friends. but that was okay. the ground held the scent of petrichor, a once welcome smell they loved oh so dearly. the rain battered down on them and the red poppy somehow standing strong against the force of the rain against it. (“yes, my love, i confess to you, i am only here to break your heart in two.”)

but once more did the voice speak up claiming to be able to teach them-- him-- about his curse and his blessing. teach him to control this… pain brought upon him so many years ago. the reason he couldn’t-- didn’t leave exile. because the voices agreed with each insult and encouraged his… reckless behavior. because the voices revered war. they cherished destruction. his destruction. his decay. (“the very flower you chose that day, it’s only task was to decay, you see?”)

a voice of comfort. a voice of reasoning. a voice of brotherhood and of family. a hand caressing his face and a thumb rubbing his cheek. a voice of a dead brother, a martyr of time, barely there. the rain pelted down between them. he knew what the scapegoat-- what his brother-- was trying to say. they needn’t share many words. but to face the man that so quickly tore down his home twice now would be terrifying. more so than the loss of control he experienced just hours prior. (“when i watched your first bathing, i only warned you with a lowered voice. “be wary of my river’s undertow. it flows with water from the coldest source.” did you hear?”)

the sun was gone and so was the figment of his brother. the sun was hidden by the gray skies and the pelting rain and the rumble of thunder with the crackle of lightning. the sun was gone and so was his brother forevermore. but yet there was still another brother-figure. and someone who could have been his father. they were still there and alive. one life or three lives, they were still there, much unlike the figment that stood in front of him moments ago. the rain running down his face-- was it rain? or was it his tears?-- hid and obscured any coherent voices from coming out. obscured any dangerous and reckless thoughts. the sun would be back by dawn, right? (“and then i made sure you would always return. you still know of dawn, but you always return.”)

the swing creaked behind him as he stood up. creaked just like the old rocking chair in some far away home he couldn’t quite remember. creaked just like his bones after a long and tedious battle and war. just like… just like the chests in that rickety old ravine he was forced to stay in. the one filled with buttons from top to bottom. buttons he could no longer look at without seeing the man he called brother being stabbed through the heart by the one that could have been his father. buttons he could no longer look at without the voices screaming and crying and clawing for war. for death and destruction. for him to call himself Death once more and lose all control. but all he wanted was warmth. warmth unlike the fire his curse brought him. warmth unlike the fire of war or the explosions that caused too many deaths. warmth unlike an arrow through the face in an act of reckless abandon for a nation he couldn’t truly bring himself to care about. warmth only his family could bring despite the pain they also brought. (“when you hid under my black wings, they couldn’t have protected you from anything. once in flight, they would have let go. you would have once again wound up below, only broken.”)

so soon after they destroyed his home. his world, his constant, he went crawling back to them. crawling back to them asking for comfort he knew he could not receive. knew he would not receive. for who would care for a boy that called himself Death only hours before? who could care for a boy that brought nothing but pain and destruction wherever he went? who would willingly care for and comfort the boy that did nothing but hurt people close to him by betraying them or dragging them into war? the cursed boy. who could ever care for the cursed boy? he was simply a poppy, heavy and breaking down with the rain and wind. so fragile and so desperate for something to keep him grounded. more grounded than the crater in the earth ever could have before. (“indeed, it’s wrong to keep you near me. one could call me cruel and deceiving.”)

rain turned to sleet and sleet turned to snow. snow brought chills to his bones that he was quite unprepared for. chills that he should have been prepared for. chills just like the ones the voices brought when the withers were summoned. chills just like the ones the explosion of his home brought. chills just like the loss of his control brought. chills soon turned to nothing more than a heep of flesh and bones and cloth. chills soon unable to guide him to the house of the fallen hero. the fallen hero. who thought a cursed boy could ever be a hero? much less a hero able to save them all? the warmth of the word.. hero.. it was no more. instead replaced by a burning fuel to follow the light shining so brightly in the distance. the light of a house. the light of a home. the light of a home with a family that he hid oh so much from. (“but in your sacred air i am full of light. your loving arms are the true delight to which i’m lost.”)

the warmth enveloped him like a greenhouse would a poppy. he was the poppy. he was the poppy and the fire in the house was the greenhouse. he had no true clue as to why they let him in. all things considered after they blew up his home, he had no true clue as to why he came in the first place. possibilities were everywhere and he had every chance to reconcile. to tell them he had not meant to betray them. he had not meant to cause them that much pain and suffering. but each time he tried to speak, a sound not quite human came out. a sound he didn’t like. a sound that reminded him of Death. a sound of his curse and of his blessing. a sound his brother knew all too well. a sound that, in the end, kept him alive. (“and you’ve noticed it. there is something here you’ve come to love, yes, you’ve come to love what you will always fear.”)

the poppy stood strong against the rain and wind. oh, how he wished he could be the poppy. the poppy free yet strong. the poppy not willing to cause death and destruction and pain and suffering. the poppy without every little thing trying to kill it. the poppy… oh, how he wished he could be the poppy. but yet, here he stood. a hand on his head and a wing guiding him closer to the fire. the fire so warm and comforting. the fire much unlike the fire of Death’s. the poppy would come back no matter what happened to it. but he would not. not unless he could control the voices. even better would be to get rid of them but that was simply asking for far too much. the voices that revered war and cherished destruction. his destruction… his decay.. that’s what they wished for. that’s what they would never get. (“yes, my love, i confess to you. i’ve nothing but the means to break your heart in two. my part in yours may seem important now, but with every spring it will seem so small. just for now, i will be your fall. i will be your fall. i will be your fall.”)

“Help me, please.”

— Sleepy Anon =)

SHITTT, BITCH, GODDAMN, HOLY- /lh

THAT SO AMAZING??

bro i was so captivated in reading it, your writing style is hella amazing

i love that?? the way you talked about wilbur and phil, tha adjectives and the “the one who could have been his father” and the way you mentioned techno and i’m-

i’m so- that’s so- it’s so amazing??!!

sleepy anon, you’ve outdone yourself

the whole thing with the poppy just,,, brought it all together,,,

[the-original-b]

Burned by Olympian Fire: the Horrifying True Story of the Demon Core

In 1942, a collection of the world’s greatest minds pooled their intelligence and creativity to bring the world into a new era. They called this undertaking the Manhattan Project. The end result: three spheres of metal small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, light enough to carry, and disturbingly warm to the touch.

These scientists stole the secret of fire from the gods, and looked to use it as a weapon with which to smite their foes. But they didn’t truly understand what it was they were doing—they merely knew how it worked and what it did.

This is the true story of two scientists, human error, and a fourteen pound ball of weapons-grade Plutonium.

The First Sphere—made of Uranium and fitted into the device code named Little Boy—claimed the lives of 20,000 soldiers and over three-to-six times as many civilians when it detonated above the city of Hiroshima on the morning of August 6th, 1945.

The Second Sphere—made of Plutonium and rigged to a device they called Fat Man—took the lives of 75,000 people when it detonated over Nagasaki just after noon on August 9th that same year.

The Third and final Core—the one this story is about—was supposed to enter a third device meant to be intended for another Japanese city but never did since Emperor Hirohito announced his surrender on August 15th. The core remained at the then-secret Los Alamos Laboratory where, unlike its siblings, it would educate rather than destroy.

But like its siblings, the Third Core would claim the lives of innocents.

Allow me to backtrack a little to shed some light on how these nuclear devices worked:

The massive explosions for which Fat Man and Little Boy are infamous only occur when a nuclear core goes critical. This was achieved in these devices by using explosives to compress the core into a smaller volume and artificially simulate critical mass. This allows the fission reaction responsible for the release of vast sums of atomic energy to sustain itself and compound, ultimately resulting in archetypal mushroom cloud explosion for which the devices are known.

Since the Third Core was never installed in a nuclear device and detonated over Japan, physicists working at Los Alamos decided to see just what it took for such a device to go critical. They deduced that a sufficiently dense reflector can be positioned in such a way that the neutrons flung off by radioactive materials during natural nuclear decay would be sent back into the material to careen into more of the atoms and split them, sharply reducing the amount of fissionable material required to achieve a critical state and foregoing the need for explosives.

Even though detonation of the radioactive material itself might not occur in all cases, a radiation pulse probably would (which we can all agree isn’t great).

Physicists at Los Alamos engaged in a series of near-criticality experiments that used neutron-reflective materials placed around the weapons-grade ball of Plutonium left over from the Manhattan Project to see just how close they could get it to critical without killing themselves or everyone in the building. Again, I’m confident in saying that probably isn’t the best thing to do, and I’m not alone in saying so. It’s been reported that Physicist Richard Feynman compared the experiments to “tickling the tail of a sleeping dragon.” But the experiments continued despite the very real danger of being cooked alive by a blast of Godzilla breath.

And that’s exactly what happened to scientists Harry Daghlian Jr. and Louis Slotin.

Daghlian’s Dance with the Demon

On August 21st 1945, Haroutune “Harry” Krikor Daghlian Jr. was running a criticality experiment with the Third Core. He was placing Tungsten Carbide bricks around the Core to see how many of them and in what orientation it would take to reflect enough neutrons back into the Core to achieve criticality. With the help of a device similar to a Geiger counter, he got close enough to criticality with his stack of bricks that he decided to stop his experiments.

This should have been the end of it. He probably should have left it well enough alone and had a beer with his homies after a hard day of flirting with nuclear disaster. But Daghlian was curious.

And we all know what curiosity does to cats.

He returned to his assembly alone that night for another test. Just as before he arranged his bricks in such a way that his device told him brought the Third Core to near-criticality. As he was placing one last brick in his assembly, his device told him the Core would go critical if he continued. He listened to his device, and cautiously began removing the final brick.

But then he dropped it.

The Demon Core woke the instant the brick hit the assembly. It went super-critical and flooded the room with blue light and a wave of heat. Daghlian reacted quickly, knocking the brick to the floor with his free hand. But the damage was already done. You’re probably one google image search away from scarring your retinas with what that hand looked like, but I’ll advise against that.

Imagine wrapping your hand in a fresh cast, then placing a chunk of raw hamburger in your palm. That was his right hand.

Daghlian had absorbed—in that split second—a fatal dose of radiation. Twenty-five days after the incident, Harry Daghlian fell into a coma and died at the age of twenty-four, resulting from severe radiation poisoning. But Daghlian wasn’t the only one in the building that night. A security guard, Private Robert J. Hemmerly, was seated at his desk reading the newspaper. He died 33 years later of what was determined to be radiation-induced leukemia. At the time of exposure, Hemmerly was 29 and the father of two.

Why radiation poisoning is the most f#@ked up way to die

Ionizing radiation like that emitted from the Demon Core that day destroys cellular structures. At extreme levels: bone marrow dies, the immune system fails, organs and soft tissue begin to decompose. And then the subject dies in a matter of days to weeks.

At more moderate levels, the cellular damage might not make itself known for years or even decades, but may show itself in the form of cancers or other maladies.

Either way, it’s safe to say it’s not a good time.

During the 25 days following Daghlian’s costly mistake, his colleague Louis Slotin reportedly spent several hours a day at his bedside, comforting Daghlian as acute radiation poisoning slowly and painfully killed him. If only he knew he would be there not even a year later, in the exact same hospital, suffering the exact same fate.

Slotin’s Screwdriver Slipup

By 1946, Physicist Louis Slottin had taken over the criticality experiment group. Although the experiment was moved to another site, the nature and danger of the experiments remained unchanged. Despite the still-present threat of being microwaved by a ball of radioactive metal, and warnings from more seasoned colleagues, Slotin continued along Daghlian’s path.

On May 24th that year, Slotin was conducting another near-criticality experiment with the now-infamous Demon Core, replacing the tungsten carbide bricks with a pair of beryllium hemispheres and lowering those halves until there was only a sliver of space separating them. If the hemispheres connected, the neutron reflection would be total, and a self-sustaining reaction would rouse the Demon again.

Slotin was reportedly brash in his experimentation, performing this experiment without any fail-safes designed to prevent the beryllium hemispheres from connecting. Instead, the local expert-among-experts would simply hold onto the top hemisphere bare-handed and lower it onto the core with the blade of a flathead screwdriver to get that much closer to criticality. Slotin had reportedly done it this way dozens of times before without incident.

On the afternoon of the accident (spoiler alert), Slotin was running the Screwdriver experiment just as he had so many times before as seven other colleagues observed.

The screwdriver slipped.

The instant the hemispheres connected the Demon Core went super-critical, flooding the room with its deathly blue glow and other-worldly wave of heat before Slotin could remove the top hemisphere from the assembly and silence the Core again.

According to physicist Raemer Edgar Schreiber who was in the room that afternoon, Slotin’s first words after the incident were, quote:

“Well…

that does it.”  

Louis Slotin reportedly absorbed an absolute lethal dose of ionizing radiation. He died nine days later of acute radiation syndrome at the age of 35, at the same hospital as Harry Daghlian, of the same cause, from the same Plutonium ball.

The demonstration that killed Slotin was supposed to be the Demon Core’s last, and it was. Instead of being destroyed in a test detonation over Bikini Atoll as originally intended, the Demon Core was melted down and redistributed among the rest of the United States nuclear stockpile, where its ultimate fate likely involves one of two outcomes:

It may be safely decommissioned in accordance with such initiatives as the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaties (START I and START II), or

It may be loosed on some other unsuspecting city and, like its siblings in 1945, carve its mark into history forever.

Further reading:

Youtube The Demon Core The Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombing Levels of Radiation

[algrolo]

The Shattered Crown

[Word Count: 1456]

When the kingdom burned, so did most written knowledge of the late queen and her crown, leaving the contents of this report based on the committees own research and eye-witness reports. While the masses may refer to her as “The Mad Witch” or “The Shattered Regent” this report shall refer to her simply as ‘queen’ or ‘the queen’ and will attempt to reconstruct the knowledge surrounding her crown and its magic. While her name may have power even after death, no one alive knows the name of her crown and weapon, and as such, this report will refer to it as “The Shattered Crown”

The Shattered Crown was the queen’s personal crown and weapon. Hailing from the northern barrens and the ice fields, the queen utilized her wild magic to slaughter her enemies, bringing the cold winds of the north south with her conquest. However, spring eventually arrived, and not even the queen could stop the elemental forces of the seasons. Hoping to reconstruct a crown of similar beauty and presence, she tasked her council to provide her a solution. It was not long before the conquered blacksmith’s work was presented before her. The actual count was never confirmed, but from our best estimates based on eye-witness statements, we believe there were roughly 30 shards. When the orders went out, the council tasked the blacksmiths of the city to make a single shard each, out of a specific metal, but did not specify the size. As such, the shards ranged from 10cm long to 25cm long. The day that the chosen shards were brought before the queen is considered the first official day of her rule.

When the shards were brought before her, she threw aside her pilfered crown and outstretched a single hand at the shards. Many of the old kingdom were present for the coronation, and watched aghast as the shards seemingly rose up in the air by themselves and moved into place around the queen’s head. Her new crown never actually touched her, yet as she stood up, so too did the crown. The metal shards glinted in the light, bearing resemblance to the cracked ice halls from which she hailed form. She may have been in the south where the snow could no longer reach, but it would not stop her from commanding its presence. They would not forget where she came from.

Those that did ever test the queen were cut down by the same crown. In the same way that the crown followed her seamlessly, the queen preformed her own executions while showing no effort. The guilty could beg for their life, and if found guilty, would suddenly find their throat slashed without another word. Not only did the shards act as a crown but they were also a weapon, one the queen could utilize seemingly with just a thought. A crown of knives, incredibly agile, incredibly sharp, and incredible deadly, seemingly only controlled by her thoughts.

When the first rebellion came, she took to the front line herself as a show of her power. Cutting down the guilty was child’s play compared to her slaughter on the battlefields. Wherever she walked, men dropped, unable to stop her knives. One eyewitness recalls watching some shards group up suddenly only to block an arrow heading for the queen. Another report catalogs the same, except instead of an arrow, it was the blade of another fighter, seemingly perfectly countered, unable to get close. With these reports, we propose the idea that the shards must have had their own will. The queen could not have had the knowledge of exactly where an arrow was to hit her, could she? How to perfectly block a blade repeatedly, as if she was already inside the head of her enemies? Could the shards have acted on their own will, to some extent, to protect their master?

The first rebellion was swiftly defeated, and the second fell after just one battle. The queen’s power was recognized and feared throughout the land. Ruthless. Dominating. And unable to be understood always due to her deep-rooted magic. 

Maybe it was some sort of sickness from being away from her northern cold. Maybe it was the stagnancy of her new kingdom, which failed to prosper. Maybe it was the many attempts on her life by assassins and witches which finally wore her down. But nearly 4 years after her original coronation did the first signs of her mental decay show. Her viciousness became more ruthlessness. Once where she sat with dignity and poise began to shift towards impatience and irate. Her crown, which once sat as composed as she was, seemed to shift and occasionally twitch in response to her own changing moods. When she cut down the guilty, no longer were they clean, swift cuts, but deep, punctured wounds, as if she was relishing the kill. They would return to her her head stained red with victims bloods.

An account from one of the friends of the queen’s consorts brings us insight into what role the crown took in the queen’s chambers. Originally, she would command the crown into an ornate box on her nightstand, laying the shards side by side in neat perfection. But as her paranoia bloomed, so the connection she shard with her crown cursed her. The queen awoke one night from a nightmare only to find the young girl that had been lying next to her had been killed, sliced apart in the queen’s self-defense. The bed was equally as destroyed, the bedding thoroughly sliced and the wood bearing deep gashes. One unfortunate member of her council suggested that she lock the box so as to prevent any unfortunate accidents. The queen took this as an act of treason, believing he was trying to cripple her to allow an assassin to easily kill her in her sleep. 

As her mind further strayed, so too did the reports increase. Many guards report hearing screams from her room in the middle of the night, yet all knew trying to assist her anguished screams would result in their death. Chambermaid were constantly bringing new frames and new linens to the room, as seemingly each other night, the current ones would be ripped to shreds. No longer did she sit on her throne with dignity but instead was disheveled, paranoid, and angry. She no longer was willing to make public appearances. Her crown at this point no longer stayed in one place and took to slowly revolving around her head as the shards oscillated, flipping and twisting themselves as they constantly tried to rearrange. A single remark from anyone could leave them dead in an instant, as her icy glare pierced them just before her shards did.

When the usurper finally approached her on her throne, they saw the broken, mad queen before them. Maybe that only further justified their righteousness believing that cutting down this foreign invader would heal the land; it is not this report’s place to make decisions on the political affairs of the land. When the usurper ignited their blade and challenged her, the queen rose. Her facial expressions changed from annoyance to confusion then to anger. When she rose her hand and pointed directly at the usurper, nothing happened at first. Like a burst damn, suddenly the shards fell from her head, clinking to the floor. They had refused her command and now they had betrayed her, their magic seemingly gone. The queen began to howl out only to be cutdown and set ablaze by the usurper in an instant. 

Fearing the northern magic that had fallen the kingdom, the usurper’s forces decided to set the entire city ablaze, in the hopes that fire could purify the icy grip. No reports exist of the shards being collected, nor of them being destroyed. Again, we bring forth the notion that while they were inherently magic, did the shards have their own will? Could they sense their master’s decaying mind and chose at the moment she needed them the most to betray her? Or was it purely coincidence that at this point the queen’s mind was so badly tainted that it could no longer hold control over them?

Our knowledge of northern magic is limited, further prevented through the burning of the queen’s kingdom and records. But our research and summation of eye witness accounts helps us begin to piece together the magic that once held The Shattered Crown together. Does northern magic bear some sort of unique identity, some personality? Could this be why the queen’s own crown chose to defect? Or was it their magic itself that poisoned the queen’s mind? 

And most importantly, if recovered, could the crown be made anew?

[END OF REPORT]

[darkpoisonouslove]

“The Battle for Magix” Thoughts

I am pretty hyped about this because of how good the previous special was and because the events it is supposed to cover are my favorite part of season 1 of Winx Club. This should be intense due to the nature of the events it will have to depict so I am anxious to see how they’ve done. Fingers crossed that this will deliver!

- I am actually pretty glad we didn’t see that conversation between Winx about going to get Bloom because it was annoying to me (and it wouldn’t make sense considering they never got punished for the Day of the Royals). Besides, this works well even without it since Bloom didn’t tell Winx she was leaving so it was only natural for Stella to go look for her.

- I like the lack of dialogue as they enter Alfea. Appropriate with the heaviness of the situation and also removed that line of Stella’s about “this could be the end of the world”. Considering what we’ve seen from the Trix already, I think the threat that they are is coming through even without being spelled out for the audience.

- Well, the conversation with Faragonda was trimmed significantly but I actually don’t mind. It got the important bits in and I think the way Faragonda’s reasoning from keeping this from Bloom was worded a bit better here than in the original. Plus, they already thought of contacting Griffin which nobody thought of in the original. Not that they’ll have the time to do it but still.

- There were some weird pauses in the scene with the Trix fighting Griffin and almost all the dialogue was completely abolished for some reason. Also, I was going to screech at Griffin’s initial reaction to seeing them because they aren’t supposed to be expelled in this but from her words, I guess she was just outraged that they’d been nowhere to be found the last... At least two days? I suppose that could work but the other witches’ reactions didn’t make much sense. I like the way Icy’s ice encased Griffin in this one, though. It looks much more solid than it did in the original. Also, the fact that Icy totally steps on the ice in her heels that almost says “Yeah, she can walk on ice in stilettos and still be regal as fuck.” XD

- “I am not a fairy. I’m not anything anymore.” Aw, baby no! What have these specials done to me? I actually feel pretty bad for Bloom?! Now there’s a surprise. I guess I just feel that the way her guilt is portrayed is realistic to me and I also wish that she wouldn’t dismiss herself like that. She was something before she discovered she has powers so this is not true. But please, tell me they won’t be going to Domino!

- Why did Riven have to go to Cloud Tower if he and Darcy can communicate from afar? But besides that, I LOVE what they have done to this scene! I love how Riven had no idea why they were in Griffin’s office and the way he instantly was like “Well, I’m fucked. Everything is wrong.” This is so much better than the original! And the confrontation was intense even if it was a bit shorter than it was originally.

- Eh, I hope they’re gonna say something more about the Army of Darkness/Decay. They aren’t even calling it that and I will be disappointed if they don’t say it is made up of everything that has rotted in the past 1000 years because that was one of the best ideas I have ever seen.

- Why were the creatures attacking Knut? Or was it that he was simply in the way? I like that Saladin wasn’t that suspicious of him in this one but they really sped through this scene. There was hardly any room to breathe and the tension could’ve used a few more moments to build. Also, Knut’s sudden change of heart was indeed very sudden since we never saw him past the first special. In s1 there was a bit of a gradual change in him before he decided to leave the Trix. Oh, and the mention of his mother that he wanted to protect wasn’t in this which was sad because it gave him character, some kind of miniature backstory and motivation.

- Oh, they actually kinda prepared for the battle? And Saladin gave a motivational speech that resonated with the Specialists? Instead of, you know, “whoever survives passes the semester”? I am on board with that. But damn, I guess there is no barricading yourself when the things just appear from the ground. Also, I am living for this guy:

- Ah, I see mini Ogron is also here:

- Knut’s save was cool but there is no end to the creatures. I also liked Saladin using his magic but Red Fountain still fell. However, I feel like that will prompt Bloom to go to Cloud Tower to look for her powers so no Domino. Yay!

- *screams* The scene where Diaspro comes to take Sky from Red Fountain was missing! I sure hope that means that she was the one to dump his sorry ass! You go, girl! You deserve better! (I just hope they won’t say something else later on. Leave me in my land of make-believe, will you?)

- Why does everyone have flames in their eyes? I get it that the Trix have the Dragon Fire now but what’s your excuse about Faragonda? I know the situation is dire and they are all “aflame” with both worry and determination but chill with the “Eyes on Fire”.

- “Hey, kiddo”? XDDD I’m dying. I never thought I would hear Griffin say that. I like this scene, though. I like that there was some student-teacher interaction, especially since Riven isn’t Griffin’s student. And him wanting to help her both with getting out and blaming herself was just adorable. They have trimmed this one a bit from its original, too, but I get why that is necessary. And they removed that detail about Griffin using magic to help Riven pick the lock which has always annoyed me so much. Are you seriously telling me that Riven can’t pick a lock on his own?!?!?! Really?

- Well, I’m glad they removed the “Riven is the living Red Fountain manual” part. And they showed him falling from the window? Nice! But omg!!!!!!!!! Are you seriously telling me Sky just sensed that Riven was in trouble?!?!?!?! That is, like, only the basis of the true love/soulmates connection. I said what I said. Or rather the writers said what they said.

- Sky just called Bloom a lunatic. Great! I am a bit sulky about the fact that the tunnels between the schools were only mentioned now (since they cut all the times they were used before). It would have made this smoother and not seeming like it just popped out of nowhere. But awwww! at Stella being so ready to go with Bloom. I just don’t like that we still haven’t seen the rest of Winx this episode.

- I kinda agree with Stella on Knut getting his shit together. 14 near death experiences in 30 minutes is A LOT.

- Bloom’s Earth powers are coming in again! It is said that we won’t have them dubbed as such here (since I think that happened while they were on Domino in s1).

- Okay, but the fact that they skipped the trip to Domino does one big disservice to all this and that is that Bloom and Sky originally reconciled on the way back from Domino and here that never happened.

- Ugh, again with the “we’ve been friends with this person for years but we can’t recognize their voice for some fucking reason”. I hate it when they do that in movies/shows. Unless you have a cognitive condition, you should be able to recognize people’s voices.

- I can’t decide which is dumber - the original s1 “my cape is aerodynamic so I survived the fall’ or this one’s “it was just luck that he didn’t break anything”.

- Prince “I’m glad to have you back” Sky aka Riven’s boyfriend. I don’t make the rules here.

- Didn’t Bloom say that the Trix wouldn’t expect them? Because they sure look like they expected them.

- Riven deliberately went looking for Griffin? I like that change! And it actually makes sense.

- Well, he found her. Three seconds later. This right here doesn’t make sense because she would’ve had to have been very close in order to arrive to the room so soon after Bloom and the rest did. Not to mention that there was none of the dialogue here. They really butchered that scene. And removed some of the next ones. Though, I guess they weren’t that crucial.

- At least they removed the “enter the portal in alphabetical order” part that was just stupid. But I still don’t like the fact that Bloom decided to stay with Sky (it is kinda out of place since they haven’t resolved their relationship drama here but they act like they have and I know that is not the most important thing right now but still) and both Griffin and Stella allowed it. This is stupid from a tactical point of view. If Bloom gets caught, they won’t have a chance to stop the Army of Decay without her to get her powers back. And Stella just left her behind? Yeah, right.

- Where were these magical blasts coming from? The Trix were still back in Cloud Tower but that magic appeared to come from the front. That was kinda nonsensical. But damn, what a crash.

- Wasn’t it dark when the witches entered the portal? Why are they only arriving now? The idea of a portal is to transport you instantly, you know? Bloom and Stella got from Alfea to CT faster on foot.

- Sky even sounds like an asshole. Like, the tone of his voice is asshole-ish. And he called Bloom crazy again. I cannot stand him.

- Why didn’t they bring Mirta to Faragonda or Griselda? I am sure that they could have reversed the spell Icy put on her. She didn’t even have Dragon Fire back then. That spell can’t be so strong.

- “They’re ganging up on us”? You destroyed Red Fountain and took over Cloud Tower. It was only logical that they would all gather at Alfea. What else were they supposed to do?

- At least they got rid of “the Invisible Road” that made no sense at all.

- Am I supposed to root for Sky and even be impressed by him? Yeah, I don’t think so.

- They also removed the first wave of attack against Alfea. I know they don’t have much time but that’s kinda disappointing. Well, nothing to do about it.

- Well, the crown of Domino is not Bloom’s birthright. It is Daphne’s. But now that she’s more or less dead, Bloom is the only living heir of Domino that is left. There is a difference, though.

- I wish Bloom would have left Sky to deal with it on his own. And yes, I know he couldn’t have.

- Darcy and Stormy never gave Icy their Dragon Fire in this one, though. So they should have been able to break out of Griffin and Faragonda’s prison since they still had the most powerful magic in the universe. Come on, people! And Darcy waited until that tornado was right in front of her to start running instead of getting out of its way the moment she saw it was out of control and heading in her direction.

- Oh, damn! There’s some real fury in the battle between Icy and Bloom. From both sides. But it’s obvious that ice can’t defeat fire. As long as Bloom has her flames, Icy can’t defeat her.

- Okay, this was actually more intense than the original. And it was the wave of Dragon Fire energy coming off of Bloom that destroyed the monsters instead of them just disappearing once the Trix were defeated? That was a solid change.

- What are those shackles that Darcy and Stormy are wearing? Those look kinda... painful.

- “Here you go, Miss Faragonda”? Did Bloom just give Icy to Faragonda like “now you can handle this from here”? Omg, what a power move!

- That sentencing them to Lightrock scene was kinda... meh. I mean, I think I prefer the original. This just had a weird feeling to it. Also, why is Icy’s makeup running? Did Bloom’s flames make it melt off or what?

- Bloom and Sky are kissing? Why? They never resolved the Diaspro drama. I hate this part.

- They dropped the part where Bloom was looking for her origins. She still has no idea what happened to her parents and she didn’t even think about it. I get how that went to the background once the Dragon Fire was stolen from her but they should have brought it up in that last part when she was telling Sky that she was thinking about everything. She sure wasn’t thinking about her parents. And it should have occurred to her after meeting with Daphne.

Well, idk if it is the fact that some of the battle scenes were missing or that they really cut down on some of the others, but I didn’t really feel it in this episode. And Musa, Flora and Tecna were barely in it (but they still wasted time on the ugly transformation sequences). Objectively speaking, this had almost all the elements necessary for the plot to come to a logical ending. There were two or three huge things that were left out that really make some of this nonsensical but, overall, I guess it was okay. I didn’t really like it as much as the previous one and I can’t even say why. Some of the original feel of tension was lost to me, I suppose. Let’s see what the last special will deliver.

[pogaytosalad]

Heres a wip of a sequel.

Dmviolence, by jade

Hello, if youre hearing this, it probably means im dead. Either that, or im alive and just got tired of keeping this hidden. You might remember my voice from a previous recording about a takeover in sector ⬽:➻, in which id helped prevent total annihilation of the sector. At the time i was unnamed, however now you may call me Kalton. After the takeover i resigned and moved to a job at a dmv. This planet was, for some reason, in one of the most tactically advantageous locations in the galaxy. And for some reason the higher ups dedicated the whole damn planet to dmvs. Dont ask why. Now, onto the story.

I woke up, and i put on my emerald green contact lenses. Just like any other day. I put on a basic white t-shirt and a leather bomber jacket along with a pair of jean shorts. If you cant tell by now, im gay.

I live in a small apartment. By small apartment i mean a bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen all crammed into 2 rooms. I hopped out the bedroom window onto my motorcycle. It was a diamond white motorcycle with deep red stripes along the sides and the handlebars. My pride and joy. I put on my jet black helmet and took off towards my job at the, you guessed it, dmv.

Chapter 2

I pulled up in the parking lot and took off my helmet, my blue hair a total rats nest. The doors were push doors, yet i somehow ALWAYS pulled first. I entered the dmv and went to my station. A few hours passed by and no one had come in yet, which was unusual. So naturally i decided to sit down on the floor, put in my earbuds, and enjoyed some heavy metal. A few more hours passed by, and usually by now i wouldve been yelled at by my boss. This struck me as odd so i stood up. I really wish i hadnt stood up. The place had been completely destroyed. There were drop pods crashed in through the roof and they all had the ERGON logo on them. Ergon was a multi trillion dollar pencil manufacturing company with its own military. They had previously tried to take over sector ⬽:➻ when i had been working there. I was not looking forwards to what was about to happen.

Quickly, i ducked back onto the floor before anyone saw me. There were 4 riot soldiers holding this building. This was gonna be fun. The riot soldiers are your stereotypical riot gear and police baton soldiers. But these guys had laser batons and the riot gear gave them heightened strength and speed. They also had some, dare I say, shitty energy pistols. I crawled over to one of the soldiers who wasnt being watched and broke their neck. Carefully I took the baton and the pistol. Slowly crawled my way back to my station and checked the shot count in the pistol. I had 6 shots, just enough to take care of the remaining three soldiers. I stood up quickly and shot each soldier twice in the head. First shot to open the riot helmet, second shot to kill. I vaulted over the counter and grabbed the three pistols. These things were so stupid. You couldnt even remove the clips. Once you ran out of shots, the pistol was useless. Nonetheless, i didnt have any choice. I had a laser baton and 18 total shots in 3 pistols.

Upon leaving the building, my motorcycle was one of the few things to survive. It had alot of scratches and damage, but it still worked. The helmet was shattered however. I mounted the motorcycle and took off towards the next closest dmv. Maybe id find some better gear there.

Chapter 3

Pulling up next to the second dmv i immediately noticed 3 things. 1: there was blood everywhere. 2: there were 25 soldiers here. And 3: they all had energy weapons. The reason these things are relevant is because energy weapons dont cause bloodshed. This was the result of something else. Something new i hadnt dealt with yet.

I drove up and ran over 5 of the soldiers. This was probably an incredibly bad idea, seeing as i had 18 shots, enough for 9 kills, and there were 20 soldiers left. Every single soldier turned to me and i, being the absolute genius that i am, welded the front of one of the pistols shut with the laser baton, shot it off, and threw it into thei crowd of soldiers. It exploded, releasing a shockwave of energy and disabling the soldiers. I then used the baton to cut through the riot gear and kill the soldiers. I felt like a badass. That is until a mechanical looking wolf jumped at me and started trying to rip my face off.

The wolf was a frostwolf, except it had been placed into a mechanical frame and its teeth and claws had been replaced with lasers. I tried to bash it off of me with the baton but it just bit it in two. This gave me just enough time to grab an energy pistol and shoot the wolf. It kept trying to kill me amd i wasted a whole clip on it until suddenly, the dog started to levitate in the air and got thrown aside into a wall. I got up and was instantly frozen in place. Thats when.. she walked up.

Chapter 4

The she i am reffering to is ebony. A goth/punk wannabe with light blue tear shaped eyes and black hair with purple streaks. Shes a bitch whos mind got too powerful and now she can move things without touching them. Shes been chasing me for months. Not in a murderous way. Shes just obsessed with me. Ive tried to tell her im gay but she wont listen. And now im at her mercy.

She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I hated it. She looked as if she was contemplating whether or not to free me when a pod came down from the sky and crushed her. Thank god. But i honestly wouldve rathered suffered at her hand than deal with what i had to deal with next...

Out of the pod came the warden. The goddamn warden from sector ⬽:➻. Last id seen him hed been in the same situation as ebony. Crushed to death under a pod. But this time, instead of being on my side, he was here to kill me. He was huge. Like seriously huge. He was at least 8 feet tall and shaped like gaston. Whos gaston? Nobody knows these days. But its basically a way to say "extremely buff and wide". Back to the story. The warden wasnt looking very good, considering the rotten skin, obviously quickly patched together face, and muscles hanging loose out of his skin. His rotting ruined body was held together by an exoskeleton of chromium-tungsten alloy. Nothing i had was gonna cut through that. I was gonna have to get creative here..

The warden had 2 weapons, both of them were his fists. Huge gauntlets that were each about the size of a cow. Definitely bigger than his previous set. They were a golden green metal i couldnt identify. But i didnt want to get hit with one to try and find out. I ran. I ran as fast i could run into the dmv and hid. I could hear the wardens footsteps. It was as if a small earthquake happened each time he took a step.

I peeked over the desk i was hiding behind and saw him punch through the 2 desks opposite to me. It took no effort and i couldve sworn i saw him smile. Obviously i didnt. Cause he didnt have a mouth anymore. But if he did, he definitely wouldve smiled. I took a shot to get his attention and ran off towards the wall. The warden was definitely faster than i expected.

Luckily i managed to dodge the blow by a centimeter. The metal smelled of decaying flesh and popcorn. The wardens blow punched a huge hole in the wall. I hope you see where im going with this.

I ran off to another wall and we repeated this same process a number of times until the building was barely still up. I ran out the doors and threw the baton at the last of the supports, cutting through it and causing the building to collapse in on the warden. He wasnt getting out of that. I decided to search the rubble to see if i could find anything worth taking. I found a new baton, a flame rifle and a few more energy pistols.

The flame rifle was a very interesting design. The sides were painted jet black with flame decals scattered about. You could feel the heat on the inside and it made the gun warm to the touch. Comfortable to hold. Other than that though, it looked like an old fashioned 8.59mm sniper rifle. It had 4 shots remaining, so id have to use it sparingly.

I grabbed some scrap materials out of the rubble to make a holster for it and put it on my back.

The energy pistols just dangled from a keychain. The baton was simply turned off and placed through a hole in the back pockets of my shorts. I ran to my motorcycle and drove off, i needed to find out more. I had questions, and i had a sneaking suspicion that i knew where to find the answers.

I drove off again, i was dirty and there was blood on me and my bike. I probably looked like a serial killer. But i knew that if anyone was still alive, itd be jayden. They were.. well. They were a vampire. They lived in a swampland area and wore sparkly rainbow shirts and a huge sunhat. The sunhat allowed them to go outside in the sun, and they only drank coconut water. They also had a crazy amount of weaponry and used to work at ergon, before being fired for stealing weaponry. By the way, if you havent noticed by now, im using they/them to refer to jayden. Jayden doesnt have a gender. Jayden.. is kind of my crush. It probably has something to do with the fact that theyre the only person on this planet who talks to me. Other than ebony.. but ebony is... not my type i guess. Anyways, back to jayden. Jayden was on the roof of their swamp shack drinking coconut water out of a wine glass. I yelled up at them and they fell off the roof onto my back. I guess i cushioned their fall. Jayden immediately said "What do you need dear" without waiting for me to stand up, and shattered the wine glass. I informed them of the situation and asked the questions i had. Things like "what are the ergon soldiers defences like on their ships" and "how did they reanimate the warden" they had answers.

Jayden told me about the new security measures that had been put in place since id last been on an ergon ship. There was now a code for each teleportation pod and the gaurds had doubled. As for the warden, it turns out jayden was actually the first test run in reanimation sciences, and couldnt answer me because they had been unconcious in a lab when the warden was reanimated. That explained the vampire undead thing. Jayden invited me into the shack where they pulled a nail out of the floorboards and it turned into a ramp to the basement. Down in the basement? Thats where jayden kept their weapons they stole. And boy oh boy were there some interesting ones.

One that immediately caught my attention was the big rocket launcher. It had 3 barrels and each was a different colour, indicating a different effect. One was red, one was yellow, and one was green. The red barrel fired a normal explosive rocket, the yellow barrel fired an electromagnetic pulse rocket, and the green barrel fired an acidic explosive. And the launcher shrunk down to the size of an energy pistol when a button was pressed. It gathered up dirt and dust and garbage around it from the back to quickly convert into ammo but the only downside is that it would be difficult to use more than once in an area.

Jayden picked out an old shotgun. At first i didnt understand why, but then they loaded the clip. The clip was a huge drum that loaded in the bottom of the barrel. The drum was see through and inside you could see sawblades lined up side by side. When they pumped the shotgun a blade got lifted into a slot between the 2 shotgun barrels and started glowing red. When the trigger was pulled, the blade spun at high speeds and fired out of the slot, spinning along the ground like a wheel. It could cut through anything a baton could cut through and seemed to almost follow its target. The gun itself looked like an DP-12, except behind the pump, a large clear drum full of sawblades was in place. The blade sat between the barrels in place of the iron sights and got heated up by an electrical circut.

I also took a laser sword instead of my baton, it was just like the one that [3825968] had, except this one was about an inch longer. The final weapon i took was an acid thrower. It was basically just a watergun with acid in it. Ive always been partial to acidic weapons. If youve heard my other story, youd know why..

Jayden also took a submachine gun that fired freezing rounds. The rounds were essentially glorified waterballoons with liquid nitrogen in them. Though the rounds were bullet sized, enough shots from it would certainly freeze you in place. The freeze gun was about the size of the average human head, and was painted navy blue with blue saphire stripes placed along it. We both left the shack, me with my sword and jayden with a wine glass. We were ready to kick ass and put a stop to this.

We left and immediately both got flung into some trees. Guess who it was. It was ebony. Her body had been found and reanimated. I was starting to see a pattern. And now we had to fight the telekinetic who could kill us with a wave of her hand.

She was levitating. Her eyes were glowing red and her hair was floating in the air. She had a smile of someone about to rip your arms off and beat you with them. I tried to take a shot at her but my hand got knocked aside by an invisible force. So i tried the next best thing. Seduction. Fake seduction. Hopefully the whole dying and coming back from the dead thing didnt make her stop being weirdly obsessed with me.

While i faked surrender and complimented ebony and attempted to seduce her, jayden took aim of their ice gun and shot a burst at ebonys right arm. The arm froze in place and shattered. Hopefully that would lower the strength of her telekinetic abilities. It did. But only by about half. Which meant jayden got thrown into the air as i tried to discreetly unholster my acid gun. It wasnt discreet enough and the gun was knocked from my hand.

The gun flew forwards and the impact of hitting the ground set it off for a second, just enough to spray an acidic burn through her arm. Incapacitating her. Jayden ended up sneaking up behind her and impaling her through the skull with the shattered end of their wine glass. Finally ebony was dead for good.

The acid gun was busted, so we had to leave it behind. We got onto my motorcycle and took off towards my apartment building. We would need food if we were going to be traveling. An apartment complex would probably be full of foods, and alot of dead people who wouldnt care if we took some stuff.