#you will find heaps of information to help you. If you know of a executive visa service provider that you would like to engage

[rankertopanwar]

migration agent Brisbane

Mbmigration.com.au

While it is not a legal requirement in Australia to engage a registered visa service provider, it is advised that you do. Isn't it always better to engage someone who is qualified and really knows what they are doing, because your visa application can be a complex process - right?

There are many steps involved in obtaining a visa and you wouldn't want to make any careless errors. These could cost you dearly as your visa application may not be the best it can be; something you didn't mean to do, but did inadvertently anyway.

In Australia we normally refer to a Visa service provider as a Migration Agent. These are experts that help people to obtain a visa to enter Australia. Most Migration Agents will be qualified and should be registered with the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority.

What is the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority?

Australia has had some form of regulation in this industry for a long time now. The official body is known as the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority. The focus of the latest changes to the rules and regulations has been to remove the total self-regulation of the industry. This self regulation has caused distress to the representation of the industry, so many people haven't had put as much of their trust in these professionals as the Government would have liked.

Deciding to migrate overseas is a life-changing decision. It involves significant financial and emotional investments and it is vital they have confidence in the professionalism and integrity of their Migration Agent.

If you visit the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority website, you will find heaps of information to help you. If you know of a executive visa service provider that you would like to engage, you can do a search on the website and you will be able to find out if that person is registered or not.

for more information:- https://www.mbmigration.com.au/

[linkemon]

Soulmate AU headcanons 1

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Tomo (Kazuha's friend)

✧ You never thought you'd find your soulmate in the saddest way you know. Seeing the writing on your hand, you always assumed that was the first sentence you would hear from them.

✧ It had to be. Those were the last words you heard from Tomo. Immediately after that, he went to fight Inazuma's archon. You couldn't even stop him. The execution took place in the blink of an eye. You ran away with Kazuha. Only later did you realize what had happened. The person destined for you was already dead.

✧ The truth was that you never considered a friend as your significant other. You considered him your friend. It wasn't until Kazuha told you that Tomo had always seen something more in you. However, he never made a move to let you know because he was afraid of your reaction. He didn't want to ruin your friendship. Especially since you travelled together. Rejection would mean big changes.

✧ For a long time you couldn't get over his death. You covered the tattoo with bandages, unable to look at it. You didn't want to be reminded of the loss. Even Beidou said you were drinking too much with her pirates and she discreetly hid rum from you.

✧ You opposed Kazuha's attempts to bring Tomo's vision to life. You thought he should be left alone. Then your paths parted. You didn't meet again until after the opening of Inazuma. Together you honored a deceased friend.

Eula

✧ You've felt terribly cold for several years. Heaps of blankets, hot meals, and thermos bottles didn't help. The cold came and went unexpectedly. You enjoyed your fiery power. Otherwise you could really freeze to death. Even the well-known doctor in Liyue, Baizhu, didn't know what was wrong with you.

✧ You discovered the truth during one of your trips to Mondstadt. You were hoping to learn something in the library there. Lisa Minci greeted you with interest. After you explained what the matter was, she said she might have a clue for you. You had to wait a week for the person you were waiting for to show up. She was busy on a mission.

✧ Eula didn't really feel like talking to you. And she didn't even want to help you. It wasn't until you explained what it was that she understood. She also had similar symptoms as you. She had hot flashes. Your conversation was abruptly interrupted by an attack by several Abyss mages. You dealt with them with your skills. The girl was surprised how well you fight. It wasn't until later that you realized that you were connected to each other. You even did some tests to make sure.

✧ The beginnings of your relationship were not easy. Eula, despite finding a soulmate, refused to trust you. You had to work hard to gain her trust, not to mention going on a date.

Lumine

✧ Your strange counter on a foot stayed with a funny stamp for a long time. Distance: ∞. Family and friends tried to find out what it was all about. You all agreed that it was probably supposed to show the distance from your soulmate. Infinity, on the other hand, was quite a puzzle.

✧ Every night before going to bed you checked your leg. Imagine your surprise when one day it started showing numbers. Without wasting time, you took care of the most important matters and set off on your journey. Over time, the distance narrowed. You had a suspicion that your significant other is in Mondstadt. After some time, however, it began to increase again. When you got to Liyue, you missed each other again. You managed to see a ship disappearing over the horizon, heading towards Inazuma. In despair, you started looking for information about who was on it. That's how you found out about an interesting traveler who was probably the one you were looking for.

✧ When Inazuma's borders are finally opened, you set out on the first ship. You waited impatiently for the moment when your foot showed zero. As you turned your gaze on Lumine in the crowd of people, you knew immediately it was her. You asked her to listen to you over a bowl of ramen, which she agreed to. For now, she's looking for a brother and she's not sure if she'll be able to give her heart to you. However, she admitted that she was touched when you followed her across half of Teyvat. Just like her to her twin. She let you travel with her, so you don't lose hope.

[pcmiral]

Nodejs print

#Nodejs print how to

#Nodejs print update

#Nodejs print code

A global console instance configured to write to process.stdout and process.stderr. Many cases this will be in Postscript format. A Console class with methods such as console.log(), console.error(), and console.warn() that can be used to write to any Node.js stream. rverĪ job is a readable stream containing the document to be printed. printer.jobsĪn array of all jobs handled by the printer. groups - An array of IPP attribute groupsĮxplanation of the different operation types.operationId - The id of the IPP operation.reverse is an array method: it takes an array and reverses its content.Var fs = require ( 'fs' ) var Printer = require ( 'ipp-printer' ) var printer = new Printer ( 'My Printer' ) printer. In our first example we will see how much memory is used by a very basic method: reverse(). Could some one please suggest: a) How I could obtain country value from the res. I have looked at the questions on this topic, but none could help.

#Nodejs print code

Testing reverse() memory usage for a small array In the below code (running on Node JS) I am trying to print an object obtained from an external API using JSON.stringify which results in an error: TypeError: Converting circular structure to JSON. stdout is a writable stream to print log or info output. external is, according to the documentation, the memory used by "C++ objects bound to JavaScript objects managed by V8"Īrmed with the knowledge we are ready to see some examples. Creates a new Console with one or two writable stream instances. Notes: duplex is case sensitive, so be careful to write correctly.'paperSize' refers to size of sheet to print on if you want to print on a paper with custom dimensions, pass 'Custom.WidthxHeight' where Width and Height are integer dimensions in hundredths of inch.

heapUsed is the actual memory used during the execution of our process List of supported extensions can be found here.

There are 28 other projects in the npm registry using printer. Start using printer in your project by running npm i printer.

heapTotal is the total size of the allocated heap Latest version: 0.4.0, last published: 3 years ago.

rss stands for Resident Set Size, it is the total memory allocated for the process execution.

MemoryUsage returns an object with various information: rss, heapTotal, heapUsed, external: Process is a global Node.js object which contains information about the current Node.js process, and it provides exactly what we were searching for: the memoryUsage() method.

#Nodejs print update

Get the java versions using this command from cmd:- java -version Or Update java to the latest versions. Download Node.js for macOS by clicking the 'Macintosh Installer' option.

#Nodejs print how to

We know what the Resident Set is and we also know that the Heap is what we're looking for: now we need to find out how much heap is used by a given Node.js process. Backend Web Server apace/tomacat/Node etc. If you dont have Node.js installed, you’ll see something like the following: The following steps will show you how to install Node.js: Go to the Node.js Downloads page. Sounds complicated? We need to focus only on the heap for now, so don't worry if you can't grasp all the terminology right now! Querying the Node.js heap Hopefully the following illustration will clarify the concept: The Resident Set contains also the actual Javascript code (inside the Code segment) and the Stack, where all the variables live. You can think of it as of a big box which contains some more boxes. The heap is part of something bigger though: a running Node.js process store all its memory inside a Resident Set. node js printing how to code print in javascript on print complete function javascript print en javascript how to print in javsacript how to print using node printer using nodejs print dom node nw.js print how do you print in javascript nodejs printing string in js no of ways to print in javascript window print method javascript can you print. A Node.js app run in a single process, without creating a new thread for every request. It allows you to run JavaScript on the server. Node.js is an open source server environment. What is Node.js Node.js is a tool for JavaScript framework, it is used for developing server-based applications. The heap is a memory segment used for storing objects, strings and closures. Before starting node.js one should have a basic knowledge of javascript. How does Node.js organizes the memory?Ī blog post won't be enough to explain all the machinery: you should just be concerned about the heap for now so let's start by breaking down the basics. To follow along you need a basic understanding of Javascript and a Node.js installation.

How to get information about the memory of a Node.js process.

[aideaustralasia]

Why Choose a Qualified Migration Agent?

How to Choose a Good Visa Service Provider?

While it is not a legal requirement in Australia to engage a registered visa service provider, it is advised that you do. Isn't it always better to engage someone who is qualified and really knows what they are doing, because your visa application can be a complex process - right?

There are many steps involved in obtaining a visa and you wouldn't want to make any careless errors. These could cost you dearly as your visa application may not be the best it can be; something you didn't mean to do, but did inadvertently anyway. education consultant australia

In Australia we normally refer to a Visa service provider as a Migration Agent. These are experts that help people to obtain a visa to enter Australia. Most Migration Agents will be qualified and should be registered with the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority.

What is the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority?

Australia has had some form of regulation in this industry for a long time now. The official body is known as the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority. The focus of the latest changes to the rules and regulations has been to remove the total self-regulation of the industry. This self regulation has caused distress to the representation of the industry, so many people haven't had put as much of their trust in these professionals as the Government would have liked.

Deciding to migrate overseas is a life-changing decision. It involves significant financial and emotional investments and it is vital they have confidence in the professionalism and integrity of their Migration Agent.

If you visit the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority website, you will find heaps of information to help you. If you know of a executive visa service provider that you would like to engage, you can do a search on the website and you will be able to find out if that person is registered or not.

As with most professions, there is a Code of Conduct that was established and monitored by the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority. top educational agent melbourne

What is the Code of Conduct that ALL Visa Service Providers MUST abide by?

If a visa service provider does not comply with the Code of Conduct (and it is found out) then the Migration Agent may be deregistered.

There are some interesting things in the Code of Conduct that you should know. For example, Agents are required to have a high knowledge of the australian skilled migration Act and relevant Regulations. Any changes to Policies can have a massive effect on visa applications, so ensure that your Agent is up-to-date with all Policy amendments. Visa service providers are often in a position where they could easily take advantage of people who do not know all the relevant laws.

A registered agent is not permitted to act for someone if they have a conflict of interest and that includes anyone they might intend to go into business with. While there is no set fee that a australian skilled migration Agent will charge you, it is discretionary. This does not mean that they can charge whatever they like! Under the Code of Conduct they are required to charge what is reasonable in the circumstances. You should ring around and get a few quotes to ensure that you are not getting ripped off!

Skilled Migrant Work Visa.

If you are looking to apply for a skilled migration work visa, you may find the process much easier with the help of a professional Migration Agent. If you are going to use a visa service provider who is not registered, be precautious and ask them about their qualifications and experience. Also, it might pay off to ask them why they are not registered. It does seem to give the public a measure of confidence if visa service providers are registered with the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority. migration services australia

Remember, if you are seeking a skilled migrant work visa, then you should engage a visa service provider, because the application can be a very complex process. If you are applying for an Australian student visa, you may be able to apply for this on-line and may not require a visa service provider.

[lobselvith8]

Why does the "Good Faction" of Fallout 76 involve aligning with villains?

Something that I found rather peculiar about the "good faction" in Wastelanders is that aligning with them involves working with one person who engaged in some vicious anti-worker practices (in the name of profit) and a group of people that the original Fallout explicitly informs the player had engaged in some horrific actions in the name of American imperialism.

(ง'̀-'́)ง SPOILERS (ง'̀-'́)ง

With the expansion of Wastelanders, Fallout 76 presents two main factions - the Diehard Raiders of The Crater, and the settlers of Foundation. During the course of helping Foundation, you encounter Penelope (Penny) Hornwright, who was a senior executive at her father's company, Hornwright Industrial. You can find out (before meeting her) that she hired strikebreakers to deal with protesting miners, mandated 24 hour shifts for Hornwright employees, and modified the air purifiers for the Clear Skies Alliance that lead to them becoming ash forges, polluting a significant portion of Appalachia (we have the region known as the Ash Heap now thanks to her actions). Can you speak with her or confront her about any of these horrific actions? No.

Then there are the remnants of the U.S. military, and let's keep in mind that one of the first scenes in the original Fallout involved the military murdering civilians before live television and then waving to the camera. The remnants of the United States Army, led by Captain Oliver Fields, seems intent on the restoration of the Old World that lead to the apocalypse. If you try to explain to him that "America's over" his response is: "Don't you know a lick of history from before the war? We've always been forged in fire. Maybe we got a bit burnt this time, but I can't believe it's the end."

Jen is good. Comparatively she lacks the moral issues that come with Penny, one of the wealthy elite who committed a lot of horrific actions in the name of profit, or with Captain Fields and his remnants of a military who may likely be culpable of war crimes given what America was doing before the Great War.

I'd say the biggest issue is simply one of missed opportunities given that she could have been a window into another perspective that we, unfortunately, don't get to explore much, as both a Chinese-American born in the wasteland of a country that targeted and persecuted Asian-Americans, and as the daughter of parents who were from China.

Conversely, the villainous faction of the Diehards at The Crater, led by Meg Groberg (voiced by Mara Junot, who also voiced the fantastic Nyoka, legally Nyoka Ramnarim-Wentworth III, of The Outer Worlds), is fairly different in terms of the people who we interact and work with for the main mission.

Working with the raiders involves working with a mute raider, Weasel, who uses a modified collar to communicate (which is limited in the capacity with which she can express herself, which at times frustrates her due to the limitations).

A suicidal ghoul, Lou (who is worried he might hurt people if he goes feral because being a ghoul is still new territory for the denizens of the wasteland). You can even help him deal with his feelings about being a ghoul once the heist is over.

A child raider, Ra-Ra, who has no idea what America even is.

And Ra-Ra's surrogate parent, the Super Mutant named Gail.

After you align with Meg and the Diehards instead of Foundation, you're tasked with wiping out a group of raiders who defected from Meg's leadership because they are bigots.

In short, the "evil" main faction involves wiping out a group of bigots before pulling off the heist.

Meg makes it abundantly clear that intolerance towards people who are different isn't acceptable.

Then Steel Dawn adds a group known as the War Party among the Diehards of The Crater, and one of the raiders among their number, Burke, is nonbinary.

The contrast between the two main factions does make me question some things (particularly the morality of working with arguably evil people in the name of the Greater Good) since the people you recruit for the settlers of Foundation feel like working alongside the Fallout equivalent of Reed Tobson and Spacer's Choice while the Diehards of The Crater you work with during the narrative feel much more interesting in comparison.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: Nirvana in Fire, Episode 02

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 54 Episodes!

A Cunning Plan

Let's start by checking in with the in-progress schemes. Nirvana in Fire features many, many overlapping schemes that stretch across multiple episodes.

Princess Nihuang's Marriage: Princess Nihuang is betrothed to a dead guy, and that's fine with her. If she needs tender emotional care she's got Xia Dong. Xia Dong is married to a dead guy so this works well for both of them.  

The Emperor wants to marry Nihuang off, because she's got a loyal heap of troops at the southern border, and he's a paranoid old fuck, who doesn't like anyone to have the power to overthrow him. Marrying her will sort of force her to hand her troops off to her impulsive younger brother, or something.

The Emperor has a soft spot for Nihuang, however, so he's allowed her to set a bunch of impossible conditions on the marriage, including a martial arts contest. NIF is a hybrid palace drama and Wuxia drama, so there are courtesans and backstabbing and sneaky maids and sneaky eunuchs but also, people can fly.

The two main power seekers, Prince Yu and the Crown Prince, have flunkies that they want Nihuang to marry, but their flunkies suck at martial arts, so if they want her to marry one of their dudes, there will have to be cheating.

Note that Nihuang's good friends Jingrui and Yujin are taking part in the contest to marry her, which might be weird, except they both know she can beat their asses so they seem to just be joining in for fun & prestige. 

The fact that she doesn't want to marry either of these loveable cuties means that she's pretty serious about staying betrothed to her first love, despite his apparent deadness.

(more after the cut!)

Recruiting Mei Changsu / Killing Mei Changsu: Team Prince Yu wants to recruit Mei Changsu. Team Crown Prince wants to recruit him or kill him, if recruiting him doesn't work. 

Mei Changsu acts like this is so tedious; all he wants to do is rest. But they only want to recruit him because he and his pal Lin Chen made them believe he is the answer to their problems.  Whenever Mei Changsu acts annoyed at something, it's probably something he actually orchestrated. "Pork chops again?" (secretly buys more pork chops).

The Duke Qing/ Landgrab Case: In Episode 1, the Jiangzuo Alliance protected some witnesses against Duke Qing in an enslavement/land grabbing case. It's difficult for me to find anything about historical land grabbing in China because Google is full of 21st century land grabbing information. Anyway Duke Qing works for Prince Yu, so the witnesses are (whether they mean to be or not) on The Crown Prince's side. The Emperor has an interest in this case, because land grabbing is bad, apparently, even by corrupt-emperor standards. Xia Dong is in charge of investigating.

The Chiyan Army Case: This is the big conspiracy that the entire show is about. 11 years ago, the Emperor received evidence that Prince Qi, Lin Xie (Mei Changsu's father), and the entire Chiyan army were going to rebel. This was supposedly reported by Xia Dong's husband, Nie Feng, before Lin Xie supposedly killed him. The emperor ordered executions for everybody.

Prince Jing thought this was a bunch of bullshit and didn't hesitate to say so, which got him sent off to distant regions to do army things for years at a time, and landed him a place high up on the emperor’s shit list.

The Hazelnut Pastry Scheme: This is a small scale, benevolent scheme, in which Concubine Jing will eventually stop making cookies with hazelnuts in them, because Mei Changsu is allergic to them. 

Ok, that’s the scheme roundup for this episode. On with the show!

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

After a quick expository chat between the Emperor and Gong Gao, laying out the reasons for the Nihuang Marriage Scheme, we go to Prince Yu’s place to watch superhot Meng Zhi, commander of the emperor's guards, whip some ass. Not, alas, literally.  Despite his leather shoulder thingies and his handsome beard, and his commanding ways on a battlefield, when it comes to interpersonal relations he is pretty much a labrador retriever puppy in human form.

Meng Zhi is kicking the asses of Prince Yu’s fighters to determine if they're qualified to compete in the Marriage contest. They are not. He points out to the Prince that they can't put such terrible wimps into the competition because it will make the country’s defenses look weak.  

This beatdown is observed by Prince Yu and by Xie Yu, who Prince Yu thinks is on his side. Xie is 100% on the Crown Prince's side, but is carefully hiding that fact; he has his son working for Prince Yu as part of his cover.

In determining how severe an ass kicking is, everyone talks about how many moves it takes to defeat someone, like it's chess. Meng Zhi can beat literally anyone else in the show. He's number two on the Langya List of fighters & we never meet #1.

Fe Liu Was Fast as Lightning

Mei Changsu is hanging out in the garden at Xie manor while Fe Liu jumps around. Fe Liu wants Mei Changsu to play Roblox with him, and pouts when MCS opts for staying in the garden and reading a book.

Fe Liu is utterly devoted to Mei Changsu; I really love their relationship. Fe Liu’s backstory isn't fully explained in the show, but apparently he was raised from an early age to focus on being extremely lethal, and didn't spend much time learning to talk or other skills, making him the epitome of the asynchronous/ gifted teen. Mei Changsu isn’t who raised him to be like this; MCS and Lin Chen rescued him, which is why he is now Mei Changsu’s personal murder pet.

Fe Liu is both a complete fantasy character and also a really believable teen, beautifully acted by Leo Wu, who DMBJ fans know from Tomb of the Sea, and who Xiao Zhan fans know from Battle Through the Heavens.

Fe Lui promptly gets into a fight with Meng Zhi, who's visiting Xie manor. All Fe Liu was doing was leaping about the rooftops like an assassin, but since Xie Yu is the sort of guy that a lot of people would like to kill, Meng Zhi doesn't think this is so good. They have a hilarious, entertaining fight with many, many wire-assisted moves.

They're pretty evenly matched, and Xie Yu watches them with extreme interest until Mei Changsu shows up and tells Fe Liu to stop. Xie Yu is watching because he needs to know how many dudes he should send to assassinate Mei Changsu. Answer: more. Always more.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately since it’s probably all part of MCS’s plan) Fe Liu's extreme skilz make it obvious that his boss is someone important. Mei Changsu discusses this with Jingrui and Yujin in an open-air setting where Jingrui's brother Xie Bi can totally hear them.  In no time flat, father and son have reported his identity to their respective princes.

Over at Prince Yu's place, Qin Banruo and her awesome eye makeup join the party. She's Prince Yu’s advisor/manipulator, working for the (fallen) Hua kingdom, led by the (deceased) Princess Xuanji . She has a network of spies who work for her, that she deploys for Prince Yu's schemes. Her ultimate goal is not to help him, however, but just to fuck up the Da Liang Empire, which conquered the Hua.

(Nearly) Everybody Hates Jingyan

Xia Dong heads out on her assignment in the Land Grab Case, and Nihuang goes to see her off. They talk about gender expectations and how annoying it is to have to marry a dude, and briefly hang out being WLW goals with their mutual devotion, excellent fashion sense and deadly fighting abilities. Nihuang, in particular, wears the prettiest things and also stands at attention like she's commanding an army; I adore her.

They're interrupted by the arrival of Prince Jing, who is greeted cheerfully by Nihuang and eye-rollingly by Xia Dong.  

He's wearing an awesome brass-and-blue armor that we never see again after this episode. It's too bad - it's a good color for him and it has a cool vampire cloak with a high collar.

Prince Jing takes the opportunity to snark at Xia Dong about her investigation and the Xuanjing Bureau’s penchant for inventing finding conspiracies, and then rides off before she can reply.

This leads Nihuang and Xia Dong to get into their chronic argument about the Chiyan Conspiracy and the Lin family, and then Xia Dong hits the road.

Prince Jing and his subordinates stand around outside the palace waiting to report to the emperor while the emperor ignores him. They get sweatier and sweatier while they wait. which makes me like the Emperor a little bit more.

Prince Yu and CP Xian are busy sucking up to the emperor as they look at a manuscript. They are a bunch of assholes and you can see that Gao Zhan isn't a fan of this bullshit.

Eventually Gao Zhan reminds/persuades the emperor to summon Prince Jing, whose brothers snark at him like a couple of 12 year old girls while he radiates manly vigor and handsomeness.  

Consort Jin is bummed that she can't see Prince Jing for another 5 days, and her maid sidekick says random comforting things. This maid, Xiao Xin, is actually a little snake, who works for Qin Banruo's network. We don't learn that until sometime later.

All of the maids have this same hairstyle. If you are a westerner and you think this hairstyle is crazy, have a look at some Roman and Byzantine historic hairstyles. I'm not saying this hairstyle is NOT crazy, mind you; just that crazy hair was a feature of many, many historical empires.  

Consort Jing has someone deliver her hazelnut cookies to Prince Jing; she doesn’t know about Mei Changsu yet so hazelnut is still on the menu. Nicest mom. Also smartest, helpful-est mom, as the story develops.

Suck-Up Contest

At Xie manor, Xie Bi tries to get Mei Changsu to go meet the Empress, who has stopped by with Nihuang specifically to meet him, as part of the Recruit Mei Changsu scheme. Jingrui says nope, fuck that, he's not going to be a pawn in your political games, fuck off. We get to see Jingrui being steely and righteous, which is both cool and hot. Nihuang should totally marry him.

The Empress is annoyed that Mei Changsu doesn't show up, and Nihuang is like, it's ok, I don’t actually give a fuck about meeting new men. But I did want to meet his murder puppy Fe Liu.

Grand Princess Liyang says they don’t need to bother meeting pugilists, despite her son being one and her supposed best friends/co-parents also being pugilists.

Grand Princess Liyang will probably be glad Mei Changsu didn’t come to her little party, once she realizes what tends to happen when Mei Changsu comes to a party.

Then we go to the suitor tournament, in which everyone more or less sucks.

The princes really want to go over to Mei Changsu’s balcony to meet him, and they have a hilarious silent interaction where they both try not to be the first one to move. They finally cave, and go together.  

Then they compete to see who can be the most cringe and blow the most smoke up Mei Changsu's ass.

They ply him with gifts and flattery, which he mostly manages to resist.

Cookie Time with Granny

Then they get summoned to go meet the grand empress, who is (I think) the mother of the previous emperor, the grandmother of the current emperor, and the great grandmother of basically every highborn character of the current generation, including Nihuang and Yujin, although it’s not clear where they sit in the family tree. Historically, cousin marriage - particularly of maternal cousins - was no big whoop in China, so it's not surprising that a lot of nobles would share a great-grandmother.

The Grand Empress is a sweet lady with dementia. She can’t figure out who the hell anyone is. First-time viewers feel the same way.  

Her dementia is pretty well depicted, unlike a lot of TV dementia, or at least it matches up to my experiences with my own elders. She remembers the distant past more vividly than recent times; when she understands who’s in front of her she connects with them emotionally, but she falls off track easily. And she projects the identities of people she misses onto people who are around her.

Like many other grannies, no matter who is visiting, she wants them to 1. get married 2. produce offspring 3. eat something, you’re so skinny

When Mei Changsu meets Granny she immediately calls him Lin Shu, either because she recognizes him or because she really misses Lin Shu, or both. She calls Nihuang over and joins their hands, and Mei Changsu grabs onto Nihuang's hand and holds it for a while.

Everyone thinks it's adorable that Granny has dementia and is confused about that guy who was horribly killed, except Nihuang, who was already checking Mei Changsu out and is somewhat verklempt. She might have to revise her anti-man feelings a little bit.

Everyone leaves, and Nihuang hits up Mei Changsu to take a walk with her, casually mentioning that she could have his hand cut off for touching her, but since she's not in the mood, he's ok.

She prods a bit to find out what he's doing in town and what he's up to. “Do you have a girlfriend? Like a serious girlfriend or just a stalker who works for you?” She asks him which of the two princes he's going to support, but they’re interrupted by a eunuch beating a slave child. That’s the price you pay for trying to have a date in the palace, I guess.

[rankertopanwar]

migration visa in Australia

Mbmigration.com.au

While it is not a legal requirement in Australia to engage a registered visa service provider, it is advised that you do. Isn't it always better to engage someone who is qualified and really knows what they are doing, because your visa application can be a complex process - right?

There are many steps involved in obtaining a visa and you wouldn't want to make any careless errors. These could cost you dearly as your visa application may not be the best it can be; something you didn't mean to do, but did inadvertently anyway.

In Australia we normally refer to a Visa service provider as a Migration Agent. These are experts that help people to obtain a visa to enter Australia. Most Migration Agents will be qualified and should be registered with the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority.

What is the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority?

Australia has had some form of regulation in this industry for a long time now. The official body is known as the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority. The focus of the latest changes to the rules and regulations has been to remove the total self-regulation of the industry. This self regulation has caused distress to the representation of the industry, so many people haven't had put as much of their trust in these professionals as the Government would have liked.

Deciding to migrate overseas is a life-changing decision. It involves significant financial and emotional investments and it is vital they have confidence in the professionalism and integrity of their Migration Agent.

If you visit the Migration Agents Regulatory Authority website, you will find heaps of information to help you. If you know of a executive visa service provider that you would like to engage, you can do a search on the website and you will be able to find out if that person is registered or not.

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[whentheynameyoujoy]

So the ATLA Movie Is... Good, Actually?

Just kidding, of course it’s not, it’s so bad it sucked the paint off my walls. But after ten years of people pointing out its glaring flaws, why would anyone bother talking about this garbage heap if not to go the other direction? So here’s a very brief and very superficial list of things the movie does get kinda... not atrociously wrong.

And they won’t be fake hipster pokes, like “It’s fun to laugh at”, “The Rifftrax for this is OK”, or “Kudos to the actress for managing to say we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in theirs with a straight face”.

(though now that I mentioned it, it is fun to laugh at, the Rifftrax for this is OK, and massive props indeed.)

Rasta Iroh

Yes, I know it’s not exactly the aesthetic of the real Iroh or that it makes no cultural sense for him to sport this do when no one else in the racebended Indian “OMFG what were you thinking Shyamalan” Nation does but goddamn, long-haired dudes are my one mortal weakness and I will ogle the hell out of him.

Jesus is that a man bun I see that’s it mum I’ve been deaded

Yue’s hair

No.

Now we’re talking. Yue’s hair turned white when the Moon spirit gave her life, so it makes sense for it to go black again when she sacrifices herself to revive the koi fish. It’s a neat detail I find myself expecting whenever I rewatch the scene in the show. Yes, I realize it’d be a pointless hassle to animate since she, unlike in the movie, immediately goes on to become the Moon herself but still. I like.

The Blue Spirit’s mop

Zuko, hun, what’s with the dance-off?

First of all, I want to imagine that Zuko the Theatre Nerd was about to leave his ship with just the mask like in the show but then stuck his head into the cleaning cupboard and went, “Yeah, more coverage might be good, even though it do seem mighty fried to shit”.

Which makes me giggle. I like to giggle.

And secondly, the hair’s movement is what makes the static mess of the Blue Spirit’s solo fight scene appear at least bit more dynamic because God knows the cinematography isn’t doing it.

Any particular reason why it’s at the edge of the action, shot all boring-like?

Now, I get why circular shots would be reserved for Aang while he’s in the practice area and then used once the two join forces. What I don’t get is why Aang’s part of the action scene has a defined visual style while Zuko’s delegated to a few stationary wide shots from afar as though he’s a tertiary goon, meaning that when the time comes to combine the respective pieces of cinema language and visually convey collaboration, there’s not really much to combine.

But as long as Zuko is stuck in this static mess, it’s that awesome disaster on his head flopping about that draws the eye, helping me understand that something even is going on over there.

It also prevents me from paying much attention to how the extras are mostly just staying put and a lot of the hits don’t land, so that’s good.

The music slaps

James Newton Howard is too good for this.

Pls ignore that the word “gods” is used in the ATLA universe

I can’t be the only one who constantly uses this piece to daydream about writing specific fanfic scenes instead of, you know, actually sitting down and writing them. It’s just so good at communicating a sense of sorrow while speaking of rebirth that I find myself getting misty-eyed whenever I listen to it. Unfailingly, the soundtrack as a whole manages to break through the mile-thick crust of horrible acting, confusing writing, and uninspired cinematography and make me feel things. And considering how everything on screen is working against it, that’s no small feat.

Imagine what a powerful experience it would be if the score was used in service of an actual movie.

Dev Patel

No wonder since he’s the only one in the film occupying that crucial intersection between “is a good actor” and “was given something to work with”. It also doesn’t hurt that he breaks with the trend of actors starring in martial arts flicks despite never having done any martial art.

And all EIP-jokes about “stiff and humorless” aside, he’s a pretty decent Zuko considering how abridged this version of the character is. A while ago, I remember hearing a reviewer say that with his comedic chops, Patel should have been cast as Sokka. And on one hand, yes, god, absolutely, I need to see that asap. But on the other? He captures all layers of Book 1!Zuko, the desperate obsession, rage, and self-loathing, and at the same time gives you a peek at the soft momma’s boy dork that’s buried underneath. For Christ sakes, he exudes intensity and ambivalence even when acting against an emotionless hunk of wood that’s giving him nothing in return.

Oh, and I guess there’s a tree in the frame.

Ba dum tss

What can I say, the guy’s good.

Showing vs telling

OK, so this movie is all tell and no show, except for one single moment. And it’s the exact moment where the original goes in the other direction in terms of how information is conveyed.

See, I never liked this. The revelation is preceded by Iroh giving advice to Zuko who scolds him for nagging. Iroh then apologizes, moves in to say the line above, and is interrupted by Zuko who seems rather uncomfortable with Iroh laying his feelings out like this. And once they’re out, Zuko verbally confirms that he knew already and Iroh didn’t need to bother.

All this extraneous information and pussyfooting ends up weakening what should be a profound scene that reveals to us, the viewers, how deep the relationship between these two in fact runs.

Compare to the movie where Dadroh acts like a parent by fussing and worrying, with Sonion needing a single look to tell him and us that he understands what it’s all really about.

It’s genuinely efficient and just good.

No Cataang

Fine, a bit mean-girl bitchy from me since I only start minding the ship in Book 3. And probably unintentional on the part of the creators since there are moments where I think they’re trying to set the romance up? There’s a, well, an attempt to recreate the famous introductory shot of fateful meaningful destiny of meaningness, there’s some slight note of saving each other’s bacon going on, I’m pretty sure they’re the only ones in the film who smile, and oh, right, Katara’s shoved into her post-canon useless role where she doesn’t ever do anything, and is all about Aang right from the get go.

Yes, I will blame the “executive producers” because a) I’m incredibly petty, and b) it’s perfectly in line with their vision of the character so why the hell not.

Hilariously, none of it reads on screen because the actors are just... yeah. These poor kids are struggling so much with delivering their own lines and portraying their own characters they don’t seem to have any strength left to create something between them. To be fair, the bare-bones shot-reverse shot style of their scenes doesn’t exactly lend itself to the idea they occupy the same universe, let alone are friends or each other’s crushes.

And I enjoy this immensely because it allows me to forget the depressing horror show Katara’s life turns into post ATLA.

Yes Zutara

I need to delve into this because it’s fucking hilarious. So in a movie which fails to establish the original’s central romance so spectacularly that if Aang got lost in a crowd I don’t believe Katara would notice, SomEOnE thought it’d be a good idea to add an utterly unnecessary non-canon moment where Zuko for some reason feels the need to pause his character-defining hunt for the Avatar which otherwise has him ignore everything and snap at everyone, and explain his central conflict to an unconscious peasant he doesn’t know, complete with gently pushing the hair from the pretty girl’s the soulmate’s the Water Tribe Ambassador’s the Fire Lady’s the love of his life’s her face away, AFTER his uncle nagged him twice to find a girl and settle down.

I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page and this is what we really saw.

Celibate Avatars

I have no idea why the decision was made, if TPTB thought expecting viewers to understand the story through the lens of Buddhism would be too much, or if the “executive producers” already worked their retconny magic. What I do know, however, is that there’s a big shift in worldbuilding and Aang’s struggle with his role as the Avatar stops being a personal conflict defined by a) his grief for Air Nomads, b) his notion of being robbed of the loved ones in his life, and c) the selfish attachment to Katara he confuses with true love. Instead, what he has a difficulty to accept is apparently a general notion of who Avatars are supposed to be, i.e. a fantasy version of Catholic monks, no family and worldly relations, period.

I guess either someone understood the original’s portrayal of de/attachment as “hermit no freaky”, or thought the audience would so why not go there outright.

Now, do I like this on its own? No, God no, it makes the world infinitely poorer and changes the story from an exploration of ideas which aren’t all that ingrained in the West, to a cliché tropester about a Catholic priest going Protestant so that he could be with a girl.

At least I assume that’s where they were going to take this eventually.

I mean, I think the direction was “look conflicted, this isn’t the final stage of your journey”?

But consider this—the show went there, it built on the concepts of Eastern philosophy and touched upon the ideas of spiritual awakening, only to swerve in the end and strongly imply they’re bullshit and Aang should have never wasted his time with them.

So honestly, I much prefer scanty worldbuilding to an insulting retcon by a damn rock.

Multiracial Air Nomads

Probably the most substantial “no hint of irony” point on this list and a genuinely good addition to the universe’s worldbuilding.

See, the notion of the elemental nations being perfectly separate and never mingling before Sozin has always been sketchy but it’s especially ridiculous in the case of airbenders. It never made sense to me for all airbenders to be Air Nomads and for all Air Nomads to be monks and for all monks to be chilling at the temples all the time to facilitate a quick everyone-dies genocide should an imperialistic warlord ever decide to commit one.

Because committing everyone to a single way of life at a handful of places kinda goes against the central philosophy behind airbending. Like the freedom and nomadism part.

Instead, there should be more variety to the airbending culture, with some staying at the temples as monks, hermits, and teachers while others live as nomads, travelling the world and creating more airbenders, with the resulting children in turn being influenced by the non-airbending cultures they grew up in.

And thus, not only should airbenders not be modeled after a single culture to create a one-size-fits-all lifestyle, but they should have the most diverse and dynamic culture out of the four nations.

And it’d be precisely this diversity which would pave way for an eventual reveal that some of them survived, that their complete extermination is impossible.

Because they’re everywhere.

You know.

Like air.

[purplehairedwonder]

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 13

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 4261 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Robin, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Usopp, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Sengoku, Sengoku’s goat ;) Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law slowly came awake, having slept the dreamless sleep he only ever had after draining himself to the point of unconsciousness. He grimaced before slitting his eyes open; his body ached, his mouth was cottony, and his head throbbed. As the fuzzy world came into focus around him, he realized he was on the couch. He frowned. When had that happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting with Luffy on the floor…

He threw a hand over his face and groaned as he remembered that Luffy was the one who’d found him during his panic attack. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin were the only ones he allowed to see him like that; they’d seen him at his worst when Cora-san’s death was still a gaping wound, and his body was still marred with Amber Lead. They’d been there for the screaming nightmares and suffocating panic attacks. For anyone else to see him that way…

Well, Law hadn’t been able to afford such shows of weakness around the Family.

But Luffy had simply smiled and offered that he had his own demons as well.

Law swallowed, unsure of what to do with that bit of kindness. It settled uncomfortably somewhere behind his breastbone.

Taking a breath, he pushed himself upright and glanced around. Luffy was nowhere to be seen. Vergo’s body was also gone. That meant someone—likely Marines—had come in while Law was sleeping to remove it. The idea of being defenseless while Marines were in the room made his stomach turn. Yet they’d left him alone, undoubtedly on Smoker’s orders.

Shaking his head, Law grabbed Kikoku from where she’d been placed on the table and pocketed his Den Den Mushi. He had no idea what time it was—and there were no windows in this metal monstrosity of a lab to give him any hints—but if the Marines had removed Vergo’s body, there was a good chance the back-up ship had arrived, meaning it was morning.

Rather than aimlessly wander around the lab, Law reached out with his haki to look for the Straw Hats… and was immediately struck by the overwhelming presence of Luffy. After a moment, he was able to discern the chaotic energies of the other Straw Hats as well; they were gathered a few halls over. The Marines, including Smoker and his second, were on the other side of the lab, near the entrance. He could sense more Marines than he thought had been there previously, which seemed to confirm his suspicion.

Law left the control room and followed his haki. The closer he got to the gathered group, the stronger the smell of cooking food became—which made perfect sense when he found the crew in the dining hall.

“Torao, good morning!” Luffy called, waving his hand as though Law wouldn’t be able to pick him out from the small group. They were all seated at one long table that they seemed to have pieced together from several smaller tables.

“Straw Hat-ya,” Law greeted with a sigh, head already aching from the enthusiasm. Whatever time it was, it was too early for this.

“Sanji’s cooking breakfast. I hope there’s lots of meat!” Luffy said, eyes glazing over.

“Of course, you do,” the cat burglar said, rolling her eyes. She then turned and looked Law up and down without any hint of subtlety. “There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she said, lips twitching.

Law considered flipping her off, but coffee sounded amazing, so he simply nodded and headed back to the kitchen, where Black Leg was working. He raised an eyebrow at Law’s presence.

“Coffee?” Law grunted.

Black Leg nodded and broke off from the task he was doing—scrambling eggs, from the looks of it—and poured a cup of coffee.

“Take anything with it?”

Law shook his head, accepting the undoctored mug of precious caffeine.

Black Leg snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

Law shrugged and took a sip. The bitter liquid burned at his scratchy throat, and it was heavenly.

“Any dietary restrictions?” Black Leg asked as he went back to the meal.

“No bread.”

Black Leg hummed. “Gluten allergy or just not a fan?”

“Gluten,” Law acknowledged around sips.

Black Leg nodded. “I can work with that.” He turned to another task but looked over his shoulder at Law. “Tell those idiots it’s almost ready, will you?”

Law took that as being kicked out of the kitchen, so he jerked his head in a nod and grudgingly returned to the rowdy collection of remaining Straw Hats.

“It’s almost ready,” Law relayed as he sat down at the end of the table, as far from Luffy as he could place himself. He could still feel a crawling sensation under his skin as he thought about the night before, and sitting as far away from its source while he worked through his thoughts seemed like his best bet.

“Was there meat?” Luffy asked, mouth practically watering.

“There’s always meat, you shitty piece of rubber,” Black Leg said as he brought several platters of food out from the kitchen.

After dropping off the platters, Black Leg went back to the kitchen several more times and returned with an impressive array of breakfast foods for the crew to share. The remaining Straw Hats, particularly those seated close to Luffy, seemed to have a well-practiced system in place to eat their meals while avoiding Luffy stealing from their plates, including knocking their captain upside the head when he got too close. Luffy merely grinned and laughed before returning to his own heaping plate.

Law managed to grab some eggs and fruit amidst the melee, and, as he ate, he considered how different the dynamic was from his own crew’s. Though, Law supposed with no little regret, he hadn’t eaten with them with any regularity in the last few years. Ever since Shachi’s injury, Law’s guilt had pushed him away from his nakama, and, when he did eat, he usually ended up eating alone or with the Family—Sunday dinners, for instance, were required for every executive who was not away on a mission. Though the Family was hectic in its own way, manners were still expected—and not just because their captain was also a king. Table manners had been preached even when Law had been with the Family at Spider Miles; just because they were pirates did not mean they were savages, Doffy had said, and they were expected to act like it.

That had made a lot more sense when Law had learned that Doffy was a former Celestial Dragon—many of his quirks had come into focus with that information, in fact.

It had also been revealing about Cora-san, though Law hadn’t been entirely ready to open that Pandora’s Box, despite knowing about it for six years.

“How did you sleep last night, Torao-kun?”

Law started, pulled from his thoughts by Nico Robin’s smiling face across the table from him.

“Luffy went looking for you last night after dinner, but then he didn’t come back until this morning,” she elaborated, still smiling.

The expression set Law’s teeth on edge. He narrowed his eyes, certain that she was screwing with him. “Fine,” he said curtly then deliberately took a sip of coffee, hoping to discourage the conversation. Still. Did that mean Luffy had stayed? He was obviously the one who had moved Law to the couch, and that was humiliating enough, but the thought that the other captain had stayed with him…

Law’s eye twitched.

But Nico Robin just kept smiling. “That’s good to hear. After all, we’re heading to Dressrosa today.”

Law put his cup down slowly. “Yes,” he agreed, not sure what she was getting at.

“We’ll need everyone to be at their best to face Doflamingo,” she said, expression never changing. “I’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“Until tomorrow, little bird.”

“He’s worse than any rumor,” Law ground out before pushing himself up and away from the table. He grabbed Kikoku, knuckles going white from his grip. He needed air.

“Torao?” Luffy called after him, but he ignored the other captain, practically fleeing the room.

Recalling the blueprints of the lab, he navigated the hallways to the front entrance and practically exploded out the door, stumbling onto the front stoop as he shoved the door open with more force than needed. He put a hand against the wall and sagged, sucking in lungfuls of icy air, the cold tamping down on the heat that had risen in his face and helping him to collect himself.

After a few more deep breaths, he felt his head clear, and he looked out over the island. He’d been so caught up in his own mind that he hadn’t noticed the Marine vessel being loaded in the port a few hundred yards away. He shook his head; he needed to get his shit together if he was going to deal with Doflamingo today.

Law leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest, watching various Marines scurry about like little insects whose nest had been disturbed while others barked orders.

After a few minutes of Law watching his men, Smoker climbed the steps and took a seat on the top step, leaving distance between himself and Law.

As the two watched in silence, several soldiers marched the chained Caesar and Monet toward the ship. Caesar continued making high-pitched protests—“Do you know who I am?”, “Do you know who you’re messing with?” and the like—while Monet remained silent. As if drawn to Law, she turned and their eyes met briefly, that look of betrayal still in her gaze. Then she was pushed along toward the ship and the connection broke.

Law exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

Once Doflamingo learned of their arrests as well as of Vergo’s death—he had more spies in the Marines than just Vergo, though even Law didn’t know all their identities—he would undoubtedly retrieve his subordinates and Vergo’s body. He would leverage his connections, and even the Fleet Commander couldn’t refuse the Gorosei.

Law could only hope he’d receive that news once Law and his nakama had escaped Dressrosa.

“What will you do now?” Smoker asked as they watched a string of Caesar’s men, buoyed by strange balloon devices, escorted to the ship by another group of soldiers. “Doflamingo will kill you if you return to Dressrosa.”

That… was not actually true; Law might wish he were dead if Doffy got wind of his betrayal before he and his crew could flee, but he would live until he performed the Perennial Youth Operation. Only then would he be allowed to die—for the sake of Doffy’s immortality. No, it would be his nakama (and Luffy’s crew, now that the crazy captain had decided to involve himself in Law’s affairs) who would pay the ultimate price. But Smoker didn’t need to know that.

Law raised an eyebrow at Smoker’s back. “Why do you care, White Chase-ya? I’m just a no-good pirate.”

“Maybe I don’t like being in debt to pirates,” Smoker retorted. “And if you die, I can’t pay it back.”

Law snorted. “Apologies if my impending death is inconvenient for your conscience.”

Smoker grumbled in response.

They sat in silence for several more minutes, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Smoker seemed to have come to some kind of conclusion about Law, and Law simply had too much on his mind to bother with antagonizing the vice admiral. And, if Law were being honest with himself, while he hated the Marines on principle for their part in Flevance’s fall, Smoker was one of the few who had ever shown even an inkling of honor; it was a very grudging sense of respect he found budding toward the vice admiral.

They watched the ship’s continued loading until the lab’s door opened once more, and the Straw Hats spilled out onto the stoop. Law noticed two more figures had joined the group: Kin’emon the samurai and a boy dressed in similar garb. A son? They had shied off to the side of the group on the other side of the doorway from Law.

“Oh, there you are, Torao!” Luffy said, spying Law off to the side. “And Smokey!”

“Straw Hat,” Smoker grumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

“Where are the children?” the cat burglar asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Tashigi is with them,” Smoker said.

“Well, we’re not leaving until we see them off,” Chopper added, coming up next to his crewmate at the front of the group, doing his best to sound authoritative.

Smoker lip curled in annoyance, but he was saved from having to reply by the emergence of the captain and the children from a side entrance of the lab. The swordswoman, with a bright voice and wide smile, directed the children toward the ship. The children laughed and jumped around as they boarded the ship.

“Tashigi!” Smoker called.

The swordswoman looked up from her charges and took in the group standing next to the vice admiral. After murmuring something to the remaining children waiting to board, she headed over to the lab steps.

“Smoker-san,” she greeted.

“These idiots won’t leave until they know the children are taken care of. Tell them where we’re taking them.”

Long Nose and the cyborg protested at being called idiots, but the cat burglar and Chopper ignored them. Their eyes were focused on the swordswoman.

“We’re taking them to be treated by Vegapunk himself,” the captain replied, adjusting her glasses. “He’s agreed to look at the long-term effects of the drugs and work on a treatment. Once they’ve received the care they need, we’ll take them all home. We’re also in the process of contacting their families.”

“That’s a relief,” Chopper said, smiling.

The swordswoman looked at the cat burglar. “I meant what I said earlier; I will protect the children with my life!”

The cat burglar nodded, her expression softening. “I know. Thank you.”

The two women shook hands, and the captain glanced at her superior before heading back to the ship. The children were making their way onto the deck of the ship, calling at the Straw Hats with their thanks. Law was startled to hear even a few thanks hollered in his direction. Considering he hadn’t wanted to get caught up with the children in the first place, he didn’t think he deserved any.

Smoker shook his head and glanced back at the gathered group, eyes meeting Law’s one final time, before he headed back to the ship, corralling the remaining soldiers who had yet to board. The Straw Hats waved as the ship eventually pushed off from the dock and set sail.

“All right!” Luffy called out, grabbing the attention of his crew. “Let’s go! On to Dressroba!”

“Dressrosa,” Law grumbled.

“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckled. “Whatever. Let’s go take down that Mingo!”

He headed off in the direction of the Thousand Sunny, and the rest of the group followed—including Kin’emon and the boy, Law noted. He’d have to account for their presence in his plan. Luffy continued chattering on, mostly to Zoro and Long Nose, though he’d turn back every now and then to meet Law’s eye with a grin.

As they walked, the cat burglar came up next to Law. “I can navigate using the maps we found in the lab, but if you have a better way…”

Law reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat and pulled out an Eternal Pose for Dressrosa. It was the same one Doffy had given Law nearly a decade earlier in the North Blue. He carried it on every mission away from the island. For a moment, Law’s grip tightened on the wooden frame as he considered that there was a good chance neither he nor his nakama would ever leave that island again. Swallowing, he forcibly loosened his fingers and offered it to her. Her eyes lit up.

“That will make things easier!” She looked at the pose for a moment then glanced back at Law. “You said it should take half a day?”

“Yes.”

The cat burglar—Nami—peered up at the sky and narrowed her eyes consideringly before shaking her head. “We’ll have to get further away from the conditions on this weird island before I can get a sense of the weather.”

“Dressrosa is a summer island,” Law supplied. “The weather is rarely poor around it.”

Nami hummed thoughtfully. “That’s promising.”

Law hesitated before adding, “Avoid skies with clouds as much as possible.”

“Why?” Black Leg asked from Law’s other side. He took a drag on his cigarette and raised a curious eyebrow.

Law glanced at him before turning back to Nami. “Doflamingo can use his Devil Fruit to travel in the skies. He uses clouds to do it. If he has any suspicion that I’ve betrayed him, he’ll be out looking for me.”

“Will he have any suspicion?” Black Leg asked as Nami’s eyes widened.

“I… don’t know.” Law had played the call over in his mind repeatedly and still did not know if Doffy had been bluffing. Even if he hadn’t been, there was no telling how quickly he’d hear from his Marine spies about what had happened on Punk Hazard. “Best to assume he does.”

Black Leg pursed his lips but didn’t say anything.

Once they boarded the Thousand Sunny, the Straw Hats spread out to complete their respective jobs for setting sail. Law leaned back against the wall and was joined by Kin’emon and the boy as they stayed out their hosts’ way. Law and the samurai eyed one another. Law didn’t know anything about Kin’emon, other than, as a samurai, he was likely from Wano and that Doffy wanted him kept alive. If Kin’emon was from Wano, Law idly wondered if Doffy’s orders about the man came from Kaido but put the thought out of his mind; it didn’t matter to the task at hand.

Once the Thousand Sunny had pulled away from Punk Hazard and started toward Dressrosa, Law’s Eternal Pose pointing the way, the Straw Hats reconvened on the lawn in the center of the ship. They turned to Law.

“Tell us, Torao-kun,” Nico Robin said, speaking for her crew. “What awaits us in Dressrosa?”

Law took a steadying breath and started to speak.

-----

Two Days Later

Smoker found the Inspector General in his favorite spot, a perch overlooking New Marineford, absently sharing snacks with his beloved goat. He hadn’t been entirely surprised to receive a summons from Marine HQ after the prisoners he’d brought in and the damning report he’d filed about another vice admiral, but he thought this might be a bit more personal, considering the source.

“Inspector General,” Smoker greeted as he came to a stop next to the seated man.

“Smoker,” Sengoku replied, nodding at him.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes,” Sengoku said, adjusting his glasses briefly. “I read your report about the events on Punk Hazard.”

Smoker’s original report had been heavily edited so that the official report had, much like the Alabasta report, given him far more credit than he deserved for what had transpired. It also whitewashed some of the uglier truths Smoker had learned about the base commander of G-5 and the experiments being conducted on the island. But Smoker had a feeling Sengoku was referring to the unedited version. Semi-retired or not, a man like Sengoku would have his ways of getting his hands on that document.

“Sir,” Smoker said neutrally.

Sengoku offered his goat a cracker before glancing at Smoker. “You don’t seem pleased at the accolades being thrown your way for uncovering a traitor so high in the ranks.”

Smoker snorted. “If you read my report, you know I didn’t uncover shit. Sir.”

Sengoku nodded, absently scratching behind the goat’s ears. “Corazon revealed Vergo’s true nature.”

So, he had read the unedited version. “Yes.”

“Tell me, Smoker,” Sengoku said, something careful about his tone that Smoker couldn’t quite place. “What were your impressions of Vice Admiral Vergo? Before this? You worked alongside him at G-5.”

“I thought he was a good leader and a good soldier,” Smoker admitted. “I respected him.” He’d had no reason to suspect the man; his reputation was spotless, and the men of G-5 admired him. It grated on him that he hadn’t noticed the rat. Surely there had been something amiss that Smoker had missed…

But, no. Vergo’s act had been flawless.

Sengoku nodded thoughtfully. “And Corazon killed him.”

“Yes.”

“And what did you make of that, Vice Admiral?”

Smoker frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The second in command of the Donquixote Pirates killing a particularly important spy for his own crew among Marine ranks. Surely that was surprising to you.”

Smoker, even in his unedited report, had skirted around what he’d heard about Corazon’s history. He wasn’t sure why he was keeping the man’s secrets other than the debt he owed him, but something hadn’t sat right in his chest when he’d attempted to make note of all he’d heard. He’d learned to trust his instincts over the years, and they’d told him he’d be better served holding onto that information. Even—maybe especially—the Marines were prone to politics, and Smoker knew that information could be leveraged. He found the fact distasteful, but it was true nonetheless.

But those same instincts were also telling him now that Sengoku was the right person to tell, considering his personal connection to the Donquixote Pirates. It was known amongst the longest-serving Marines that Sengoku’s adopted son had been killed by the Donquixote Pirates while on an undercover mission infiltrating them. Smoker had never met Rosinante, but he’d seen the plaque on the wall of fallen soldiers.

“There seemed to be bad blood between them,” Smoker said after coming to his decision. He didn’t have a full sense of what he’d witnessed between the two men, but he knew enough about long-standing grudges to recognize one when he saw it. “Going back a long way.”

Corazon couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties but had held the title of Corazon for half a decade. Only someone who’d been with the Family for a long time could have risen to second in command—Doflamingo only surrounded himself with the best, which was part of what made his crew so dangerous—so for Corazon to have risen so high so at such a young age likely meant he’d been with them as a child. It was common knowledge that the Family recruited children and raised them to be loyal soldiers, so that would not have been surprising.

The slightest twitch in Sengoku’s eyebrow told Smoker that he was on the right track. Considering the timeline, then, there was a good chance Corazon knew Sengoku’s son and might have answers about the circumstances surrounding his death, which had remained under high level security clearance in the years since. Most Marine lifers felt Sengoku had never truly moved past Rosinante’s death (though they’d never say it in the man’s earshot), but now perhaps he could get some answers—especially if Corazon was attempting to leave the Family and had no reason to keep their secrets any longer.

“I see,” Sengoku finally said, offering the goat another cracker. He offered the bag to Smoker wordlessly, but Smoker shook his head.

Smoker hesitated only a moment before adding, “Corazon let something slip during the fight.”

Sengoku simply nodded at him to continue, obviously recognizing Smoker had left whatever it was out of his report.

“I think he’s a survivor of the White City.”

Sengoku paled, though Smoker had a feeling it wasn’t for the reason most did when Flevance was mentioned. He’d been Fleet Admiral when commands had come from above even him to wipe out the country and everyone in it due to the highly contagious Amber Lead Disease that was killing entire generations.

It was genocide and a shame on any Marine with a sense of honor.

“There were no survivors,” Sengoku said finally, voice curiously choked off.

And even if anyone had managed to escape the slaughter, they should have died years earlier due to Amber Lead Disease. But somehow, Corazon hadn’t.

The more he thought about it, the more Smoker had a feeling it had to do with that Devil Fruit of his. The Ope-Ope no Mi was a miracle surgery fruit, after all.

“There seems to be at least one,” Smoker replied, remembering the fury in Corazon’s voice as he’d railed against what had happened to his family and his home, sheer rage taking over the normally composed man. It was clearly a slip he regretted making, considering the way his expression had soured once he’d realized what he’d said. “It sounded like his parents were doctors, but they were killed with everyone else when Flevance fell. Including a sister.”

Sengoku ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking his age. “I see,” he said after a long moment. He turned to Smoker and gave him a wan smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

The dismissal was clear, but Smoker had one more thing to add. “The traitor, Vergo, didn’t call Corazon by his title. He used a name.”

Sengoku raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He didn’t use a surname. But he called Corazon Law.”

“Law,” Sengoku murmured, as though trying out the name.

Smoker left Sengoku with the name on his tongue, wondering what the former Fleet Admiral would do with the information but deciding it was above his paygrade.

Next chapter

[hiddenwiki13]

Fall In Love With HIDDEN WIKI

Reviewing the 1970s, "darknet" was truly not an awful term: it just inferred networks that were detached from the standard of ARPANET for security purposes. Notwithstanding, as ARPANET changed into the web and a brief timeframe later ate up basically the wide extent of various PC networks out there, the word came to perceive areas that were connected with the web yet not really of it, hard to track down on the off chance that you didn't have a guide.

 The alleged weak web, a catch-all verbalization covering the pieces of the web not reported through web crawlers, is the stuff of shocking legend. Notwithstanding, as with most legends, the fact of the matter is a touch more ordinary. This shouldn't deduce that that astonishing stuff isn't accessible on dull sites, in any case, some of them murmured staggering stories you might've heard don't make up a large portion of the exchanges there.

 We watched out for some security experts who offered to offer us somewhat a guided visit through the web's lower zones. Ideally, it will demystify things each.

 New weak locales spring up dependably...

 A 2015 white paper from danger data firm Recorded Future analyzes the linkages between the Web you know and the darknet. The ways regularly start on complaints like Pastebin, from the outset proposed as a direct spot to move long code tests or other substance yet now regularly where partners with the dark Tor network are saved a few days or hours for contributed individuals.

While looking for dull locales isn't only likely as essential as utilizing Google—the reality of the situation is to be truly subtle, considering everything—there are approaches to manage discover what's there. The screen gets under was given by Radware security analyst Daniel Smith, and he says it's the eventual outcome of "altered substance that go out there and find new URLs, new onions, dependably, and from there on show them. It's like Geocities, yet 2018"— an energy that is helped along by pages with names like "My Deepweb Site," which you can see on the screen get.

 ...besides, many are totally authentic

Matt Wilson, the central data security counsel at BTB Security, says that "there is a sensible/weak side to the weak web that would presumably shock an extensive number of people. You can trade some

cooking plans—with video!— send an email, or read a book. Individuals utilize the dull web for these smart things for a plan of reasons: an impression of the area, insight or following of web tendencies, or just to accomplish something in a substitute manner."

 [ Prepare to change into a Certified Information Security Systems Professional with this broad web course from PluralSight. Before long contribute a 10-day free starter! ]

 It legitimizes auditing that what thrives with the darknet is material that has been kept somewhere else on the web. For instance, in 2015, in the wake of the Chinese government stopping any tomfoolery with VPN relationship through the claimed "stunning firewall," Chinese-language conversations ended bouncing up on the darknet — all around flooding with individuals who essentially expected to exchange with one another in agreeableness.

 Radware's Smith brings up that there is an assortment of media sources on the weak web, going from the news website from the hacking group Anonymous to the New York Times, which appeared in the screen get here, all considering individuals in nations that adjust the open web.

 A few spaces are by hi from a certain point of view

 Plainly, not all things are so faultless, or you wouldn't endeavor to look at this article. Considering everything, "you can't simply be starting up your Tor program and mentioning 10,000 Visa records, or passwords to your neighbor's webcam," says Mukul Kumar, CISO and VP of Cyber Practice at Cavirin. "A gigantic piece of the checked 'delicate' information is simply open to those that have been affirmed or welcome to express friendly events."

 How should you get a hello to such dull locales? "They should see history of terrible conduct," says Radware's Smith. "From an overall perspective, it takes after a mafia trust test. They need you to show that you're not a prepared proficient and you're not law execution. In like manner, an enormous heap of those tests will be something that a specialist or law need genuinely can't do."

 There is shocking stuff, and crackdowns mean it's harder to trust

 In reality, as a year earlier, different weak web business networks for drugs and hacking associations included corporate-level client care and client audits, making exploring less staggering yet rather safer for learners. Nonetheless, since law essential has started to stop messing around with such protests, the experience is more stunning and more hazardous.

 "The entire considered this darknet business center, where you have a partner outline, where individuals can survey calms that they're purchasing from transporters and get up on a get-together and say, 'in all actuality, this is real' or 'No, this genuinely harmed me'— that has been diminished since faint business living spaces have been taken withdrawn," says Radware's Smith. "You're seeing unapproachable vendors open up their own shops, which are all things considered, hard to vet yourself truly. There won't be any audits, there's not a lot of escrow associations. Also, in this way, by these takedowns, they've really fired up a business opportunity for extra misleads to hop up."

 Surveys can not be right, things sold under contortions—and a ton is on the line

There are still protests where medications are evaluated, says Radware's Smith, regardless, review that they ought to be taken with a gigantic grain of salt. A specialist may get a high from something they purchased on the web, at any rate not like what the medication was that given it.

  One explanation such errors are made? Different weak web drug makers will in addition buy pill presses and tones, which retail two or three hundred dollars and can make risky clone drugs. "One of the later alerts that I could imply would be Red Devil Xanax," he said. "These were sold as some super Xanax bars when truly, they were simply horrible medications expected to hurt you." Everything You Wanted to Know About hidden wiki and Were Too Embarrassed to Ask

 The weak web gives discount things to striking nearby retailers...

 Smith says that some standard remedy cartels utilize the dull web networks for dissipating—"it disposes of the subject matter expert and awards the cartels to send from their own stockrooms and spread it on the off chance that they need to"— yet inconspicuous administrators can also give the individual touch at the neighborhood level following to purchasing drug produced combinations discount from China or somewhere else from areas like the one in the screen get here. "You know how there are loads of neighborhood IPA microbreweries?" he says. "We in addition have a ton of nearby little investigation workplaces. Around there, there's obviously, notwithstanding, one child that is gotten canny and recognizes how to arrange drugs on the darknet, and make very few solutions to offer to his neighborhood affiliation."

 ...who utilize the gig economy

 Smith depicts how the darknet meets with the unregulated and passed on the universe of the gig economy to help reasonable hold. "What about we expect I need to have something bought from the darknet transported off me," he says. "I'm not going reveal my authentic territory, isn't that so? I would have something like that passed on to an AirBnB—a territory that can be discarded, a burner. The case appears to be the day they lease it, by then they put the thing in a Uber and send it to another space. It winds up being astoundingly hard for law need to follow, particularly in the occasion that you're going across different domains."

Not all things are open to being purchased on the dull web

 We've contributed an enormous heap of energy looking at drugs here purposefully. Smith calls narcotics "the genuine foundation" of the weak web; "cybercrime—selling attempts and inadequacies, web application assaults—that is the electronic foundation. Basically, I'd say a ton of the darknet is in reality medications and children analyzing little encroachment on get-togethers."

 A piece of the truly terrifying sounding stuff you get some answers concerning being open to being purchased as frequently as potential breezes up being by and large gossipy treats. Take weapons, for example: as Smith puts it, "it would be less hard for a criminal to buy a firearm, truly, versus the web. Going to the darknet is adding an additional development that isn't huge for the association. Precisely when you're administering confirmed hoodlums, they will recognize somebody that is selling a weapon."

 Unequivocal specialties are in

 Notwithstanding, there are some sure darknet specialty includes out there, regardless of whether they don't have the very impression that tranquilizers do. One that Smith made me notice was the universe of skimmers, gadgets that fit into the openings of genuine credit and ATM card perusers and get your money-related harmony information.

 In addition, giving another outline of how the darknet weds certified articles open to be purchased with information available to be purchased, similar complaints likewise give information manual sheets to different standard ATM models. Among the jewels accessible in these sheets are the default passwords for a couple, praised web-related models; we will not give everything away here, in any case for a couple, it's a similar digit emphasized on different events.

Visit Our Website: https://hidden.wiki

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[songofsoma]

Her Pale Knight

Hi so I read a scene of dark Nate on @seraphinitegames​‘s patreon and I wanted to do my own version but with Ava because you know...I’m gay.

This scene contains dark themes so just a forewarning <3

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: ava du mortain / detective cecilia beck w|w, femme, trauma

There was an eerie silence that settled over the warehouse that evening. Cecilia couldn’t help but find it a bit unnerving. Usually, when she was visiting the Agency, a member from Unit Bravo or her mother would always be by her side to enjoy a rare few moments to visit with one another—but there was hardly anyone roaming the halls. She had become accustomed to all sorts of supernaturals flitting around the corridors, never failing to give her a kind smile as they passed—one she was delighted to return. She suspected why there was a clear absence of life. The blood bags were to be distributed that afternoon. The subject of feeding seemed to be a touchy topic to Unit Bravo. None of them were comfortable with talking about it, so she left it alone as much as she could. In fact, when Ava told her that they would be given their blood bags, she looked ashamed, unable to meet her gaze. Cecilia had tried to lighten her mood by cracking a joke. “So…do you say compliments to the chef afterward? Or is that considered unethical?” Ava didn’t even crack a smile. It had the opposite effect as she flinched at the word “unethical.” A shame because Farah would’ve loved that one. The vampire had turned to leave without another word until Cecilia caught her hand at the last second. “You know this doesn’t change the way I think of you, right?” She had asked her in a warm tone. “It should.” Ava looked away, gently tugging her hand from Cecilia’s turning to leave the room. This time, Cecilia let her go. It had been hours since that encounter, but her head was still swimming in a sea of Ava. One would think being alive for almost a millennium, she wouldn’t be so ashamed of the core of her very nature. Or perhaps, that was the reason why she felt so. There was still so much Cecilia didn’t know about her life. The most she had been told was from the mirror at the carnival. Ava’s hair was long then, her pale braid stained with blood as was her armor. Even in the midst of battle, she was beautiful, but that cold-hearted smile sent chills down her spine as she killed those who got in her way. All of that information was given unwillingly, she wasn’t even sure if Ava knew that she had gotten a glimpse into her bloody past. She was sure she could sit and listen to Ava talk for hours, but she knew that was only a situation that would play out in her daydreams—in between the stolen kisses and declarations of love that also plagued her thoughts, of course. Cecilia dropped her head into her hands with a groan. Why had she fallen in love with such a stubborn woman? If only Ava would just let her peek over the walls she had built around her feelings, Cecilia knew she could make her happy. And there was nothing more she wanted then to see her happy. In the distance, she heard the strike of bells as another hour rolled around. She had debated on going home, but a selfish piece of her wanted to stay in hopes of seeing her pale knight once more. “Cecilia,” her name purred from Ava’s lips, causing Cecilia to practically jump out of her skin. When had Ava gotten here? It was as if she materialized from her thoughts. Cecilia stood from the couch she was sitting on in the living area. “Ava, I didn’t hear you come in.” She cringed at the tone of her own voice. Something about her wasn’t right. There was a look in her eyes that made her stomach churn with uneasiness which was odd since Ava was who she found herself to feel safest with. Carefully, she began to round the sofa to stand in front of the vampire, even though every inch of her body was screaming at her to run the other direction. Ava smiled and it made her blood turned to ice. It was that same grin from the mirror—right before she executed her victim. “Are you okay?” Cecilia asked, hesitantly placing a hand on her forearm. The skin was unusually warm, a direct contradiction to her typical coolness. “Are you sick?” Ava captured her thin wrist in the prison of her grip, squeezing hard enough to draw a yelp of pain from Cecilia’s lips. “Ava, please—” she cried out, desperately trying to pull away. Amused, Ava let go of her, watching as Cecilia began to scramble backward. “Isn’t this what you want?” Her voice was low and dangerous, poison dripping from every syllable which drooled on to the floor in hopes she might slip into the trap. She began to grow closer. “Isn’t this what you dream of?” She pushed her against the wall forcefully, the back of Cecilia’s head smacking against the concrete brick. Her world spun as she tried to regain focus. But Ava’s body was pressed up against her own now, pinning her in place. “I know you think about me and the things I could do to you.” Ava’s slender finger trailed down Cecilia’s cheek, her fingernail scratching the skin towards the end. “I feel the way your pulse quickens, how you’re breathing changes, the heat of your body.” Her face was directly in front of Cecilia’s now, the light glinting off of her sharp canines as her lips twisted into an imposter of a smile. Cecilia, blinking rapidly, trying to get her world to stay steady blindly pushed at Ava, trying to get her away. This only seemed to entertain her more as both Cecilia’s wrists became prisoners pressed against the wall. “Humans are always so silly,” she chuckled. “Always thinking they can run.” Her nostrils flared as she spoke. “But you can’t. You are too weak. Poor helpless, little human.” Tears surfaced as painful memories of Murphy flooded her mind. The way she was restrained, the helpless feeling, the primal fear running through her veins. But in that situation, Ava had come and saved her. Now, Ava was the one she was fighting against. “Ava, please stop,” Cecilia whimpered. She only laughed and leaned forward, licking the tears from her cheeks mockingly. “Poor little detective thought you were so tough going against big bad Murphy. You haven’t seen real power, Detective.” Her face moved away from hers to move down to the bare skin of her neck. Cecilia didn’t fight back anymore. She was too tired. This was certainly not the way she imagined Ava’s mouth to taste her skin for the first time. She shouldn’t have waited. She should’ve gone home. “You really have no idea what kind of power lays just beneath your skin.” Ava ran her teeth over her throat, pausing over where Murphy had torn her skin open all those months ago. “Do you know how hard it is to be around you? To know the sweet scent of power but not be allowed to touch it. Though I must admit, the forbidden nature of it will make it sweeter than one could ever imagine.” “This isn’t you!” Cecilia sobbed. But it was cut short when Ava’s hand moved to close around her throat instead, beginning to squeeze. “Oh, on the contrary,” she sneered. The edges of Cecilia’s vision were beginning to blacken from lack of air. “This is the monster I really am!” She barred her fangs, ready to go for the kill until the doors busted open with such force, she was sure they were off the hinges. Ava’s hand was torn away from her throat. Cecilia’s knees buckled as she collapsed into a heap on the floor. What was happening? All she could hear was Ava’s angry roars that drowned out a second and third voice. “Cecilia, get up!” Morgan. The girl’s arms enveloped protectively as Cecilia came to. Over Morgan’s black-clad shoulder, she could see that Ava had been pinned down with by both Nat and Farah. She couldn’t recall a time where Nat had looked angrier, even Farah looked ready to tear Ava’s head off. “We can’t hold her for much longer!” Nat yelled, struggling to hold Ava’s burly figure down. “Get her to Agent Beck!” Without a second thought, Morgan scooped Cecilia up tore from the room. “What happened?” Cecilia managed to mumble, her eyelids feeling heavy. Morgan didn’t answer for a brief second. “Poisoned blood.” She said, barely caught by Cecilia as she lost consciousness.

***

The moment Ava’s eyes snapped open she knew something was horribly wrong. Her head pounded as she made the poor attempt to sit up but was groaned when she realized she was unable to. Her wrists and ankles had been restrained. Furrowing her brows, she tried to take in her surroundings, calculating the clues to tell her where she was. Four familiar grey walls, simple wood furniture, a basket of laundry that had yet to be folded. The only thing that was out of place was the fact that she wasn’t alone and the ties binding her to her bed. She was in her room. Surrounded by her friends wearing masks of different emotions. What had happened? Nat stood the closest to the bed. She looked worse for wear with tired eyes and disheveled clothing. Farah mimicked her appearance, both looked stricken with worry. Morgan hovered at the foot of the bed, her face matching that of Agent Becks—anger. Her head was spinning trying to recall what had happened. She remembered being provided the blood bag, but the events after were hazy as if she was trying to recall a dream that had already begun to slip from her memory. “Ava?” Nat called out quietly, taking another step towards the bed. “Why am I tied down?” Her voice was hoarse. How long had she been like this? Nat and Morgan began to free her, following a silent command. As she pushed herself up finally, her head spun. Rebecca stepped into her line of vision. Her eyes were rimmed with red like she had been crying. There were only a few things that Ava could think of that would draw such a reaction—Cecilia. It happened all at once. The memories slammed against her skull making her cringe. It had been like she wasn’t in control of herself like she had been watching on a screen. Her voice taunting Cecilia. Her hand wrapped around Cecilia’s throat. Her grin as she watched as the light was running from Cecilia’s eyes. Oh, those eyes. Her doe-eyed gaze that usually looked upon Ava with warm affection had turned to terror as she begged her to stop. Ava was frozen as she remembered, guilt and anger taking over every inch of her body. “Cecilia?” Ava managed to gasp, Gentle hands rested on her shoulder as Nat tried to comfort her. “She’s okay, she’s being tended to.” “Some of the blood bags given to the Agency were poisoned,” Agent Beck interrupted, pulling Ava’s attention towards her. “We only realized after you were gone.” She was struggling to keep her tone even. Farah leaned back on her heels, trying to smooth down her crumpled shirt. “It took both Nat and me to hold you down. Let’s not do that again,” she tried to lighten the mood but was met with a fierce glare from both Rebecca and Morgan. “Farah, Morgan, will you please go check on Cecilia?” Nat intervened, squeezing Ava’s shoulder. “Let us know if she’s awake, please.” Had she been alone all this time? Just as they were leaving, someone popped their head in, gesturing for Rebecca. With a heavy sigh, she nodded. “We will talk later, Ava.” She said as she began to leave. But she paused before exiting the room. “I know I shouldn’t blame you, but I find it hard not to.” And then it was just her and Nat. It was like Ava had been slapped across the face. She couldn’t blame her. Cecilia was her only child and Ava had put her life at risk by her own hand. Out of all the centuries, she had walked the Earth, she had never hated herself more than now. How could she have hurt someone so kind? Someone who she loved cared for. Someone Ava had sworn to protect. How many times would she fail Cecilia? One time, she was going to be too late to save her. Ava sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. “Don’t lie to me, how bad was it?” Her words were muffled. The bed dipped beside her large form as Nat sat next to her. “When we finally figured out where you were, we came in and she was pinned against the wall, your hand around her throat.” Nat blew out a long breath. Ava shuddered as the scene appeared at the forefront of her mind once more. “It wasn’t your fault, Ava,” Nat murmured, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders to try and comfort her. “Tell that to Cecilia,” she snapped venomously, shaking off her friend by getting to her feet shakily. “Do you know she’s still traumatized from the incident with Murphy? She tries to hide it, but I can see it in her eyes.” Nat listened quietly, not knowing what to say. “She’s told me about it before because she trusted me. She was afraid of being weak, afraid of not deserving her place here,” Ava choked up as she continued. “I’ve ruined it, Natalie.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks as a heavy feeling settled in her chest. Her heart was broken—she had taken Cecilia’s affection for granted. Now, it was ruined because of her own weakness. Ava dropped to her knees, ignoring the splintering pain as they hit the hard floor. Her hands were flush against the wood as she knelt on all fours, unable to hold herself up. And she cried. Deep, heavy sobs erupted from her chest that shook her entire body. Nat knelt beside her, knowing it was best not to say anything, but to just let her know she was there. “It wasn’t you, Ava,” she finally whispered, tucking a loose hair behind Ava’s ear. Ava ripped herself away from Nat, struggling to her feet. She paced the length of the room, not bothering to wipe away her tears. “You don’t know that, Natalie,” she yelled, pausing to stare at where Nat still sat. “Cecilia was the only thing in all these years that made begin to think that I wasn’t truly a monster and look what happened!” The fury had been building and now needed to find an outlet. Turning, Ava’s fist slammed into the side of her dresser causing it to splinter beneath the force. She needed to get out of this room, she needed to breathe. Without another word, Ava threw open the door hard enough to rip it off its hinges as she stormed out of the room, refusing to look back as she left.

***

Between the steady, irritating beep of the machine monitoring her vitals and the horrible dreamed plaguing her mind, Cecilia was ripped from sleep. Her head was cloudy from whatever medicine they must have dosed her with, but she could still vividly remember the face in her nightmares. Usually Murphy haunted her subconscious. The knowledge that he was still at large taunted her, not to mention the events that took place the last time they came face to face. It had traumatized her. Now a new face had haunted her dreams, one that had been so sweet and welcomed before. Pale green eyes, colder than ice, and words that pierced her ears. “Isn’t this what you want?” Immediately, Cecilia desperately searched for the bedpan resting on the floor before violently retching the contents of her stomach. She still hung halfway off the bed as the door to the room opened, tears tickling her skin once more. Cecilia hardly heard them enter. All she could think about was Ava’s tongue on her cheeks, making her sob harder as she lapped at her pain like a starved dog. "Oh, Cece.” Nat choked out, immediately flocking to the side of the bed. She had snatched a towel on her way over to gently wipe off Cecilia’s mouth before helping her back up. Everything hurt. Her neck where Ava had choked her. Her head from being slammed against the wall. But the worst pain was from her heart that had been broken in more ways than one. Cecilia didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to after taking one look at Nat’s face. Instead, Nat pulled her into a hug, letting Cecilia sob into her chest as she ran her fingers through her knotted, dark hair. “I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner,” Nat sounded as if she was in tears as well. “We thought at first she was having a bad reaction and was going to rest, not whatever that was.” Cecilia hugged her friend tighter, beginning to recall what Morgan had told her. “The blood bags were poisoned?” She asked as she pulled away just enough to see her face. She had been correct that Nat had been crying as well, a look of regret in her eyes. She nodded. “We realized that too late. Cecilia, I am so sorry.” “How is Ava?” Cecilia asked after a long moment to let the information begin to sink in. “She’s back to normal now, but—,” Nat cut herself off. “But, what?” With a heavy sigh, Nat leaned back, wiping away her stray tears. “Of all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen that woman cry until now.” Cecilia looked away, not able to think about it, her heart was already broken enough. “Can I please go home?” She whispered. Nat looked at her in understanding. “I’ll go get Elidor.” “Will you please get my mom?” Her voice cracked and she feared she might cry again. “Of course, Cecilia. Can I get you anything at all?” She shook her head, just wanting the maternal comfort of her mother’s hug. “Thank you, Nat.” In return, she was given a tight smile as Nat held back more tears. She sniffed, looking at her feet. “If you need anything at all, please call me. I will brave modern technology for you.” That managed to make her smile slightly. “Thanks, Nat.”

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 1: Mistaken Identity

summary After being escorted out of her cell by the Imperial Prison guards, Ribyna resigns herself to her fate. But she soon finds that her expected execution doesn't pan out quite the way she had been anticipating.

content warnings none explicit for this chapter. mentions/references to death and murder

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

posting this now as its already getting a bit lengthy and i still have a bit to go dfgdfgfd

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

   —————————————————————————————

Despite the circumstances, Ribyna was almost thankful to be out of prison at last. Of course, she was heading towards her death, but to be out and experiencing the new morning was exhilarating after years and years stuck in a dark, damp, dingy prison cell. To see the sunlight, trickling down through the dusky purple clouds and illuminating everything it touched with a vibrant peach glow, was magnificent. Judging by the sunrise it was likely to be a warm, sunny day; it was a shame that Ribyna was going to miss it. She took a deep breath, relieved to be breathing fresh air once more as the brisk morning chill flooded her senses. 

The guards didn’t allow her any time to relish it, though. With her shoulders in an iron grip, they steered her away from the Imperial Prison, along the flagstone path towards the city. Ribyna had just enough time to admire the White-Gold Tower, a shining beacon in the light of dawn, and watch as the dew-laden grass and gentle ripples of Lake Rumare sparkled as she walked by. It was strange, she reflected, how much you appreciated things when you knew you weren’t going to see them again. 

Ribyna wasn’t sure where her final destination would be, but something began to seem odd. A thought occurred to her, popping up in the back of her mind. 

If she was going to be executed, just how far were they taking her to do it? 

They passed through the city, Ribyna’s hands still bound tight in iron manacles and grubby, ragged clothes hanging from her frame. A few of the early-rising citizens stared as she was walked by, but Ribyna couldn’t care less. She couldn’t see anyone she knew, in any case. 

And then they were out of the city, as the guards escorted her down the hill and onto the bridge, where — to Ribyna’s surprise and confusion — a carriage sat, empty and expectant. 

“There. Get in,” one of the guards ordered, giving Ribyna a shove between the shoulder blades, taking her by surprise and causing her to stumble forward. But she stopped, looking back at the guards with a bemused and petulant frown. 

“What’s happening?”

“Don’t ask questions. Just get in,” grumbled the guard, jerking his head irritably towards the carriage. If she was being taken to be executed, it was certainly somewhere far away... 

“I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s happening.” 

“You hardly have a say in the matter, prisoner.” 

Quite suddenly, Ribyna found herself at the sharp end of the guard’s sword. He held it up towards her face, close enough that Ribyna almost went cross-eyed in her attempt to focus on the tip, and once more nodded stiffly at the carriage. His hand was steady, but the expression on his face was one of utmost boredom. 

“I won’t tell you again. Get in. Emperor’s orders.”

Ribyna scowled. Loath as she was to obey orders without question, it was looking unlikely that she had any other choice. With stubborn vitriol she spat at the guard’s feet and faced the carriage, clambering up with clumsy steps, and perched herself on one of the grimy wooden benches. To Ribyna’s surprise, one of the guards joined her, though he said nothing and invited no conversation. Seconds later, the carriage jerked into motion as the driver spurred the horse on and Ribyna, with her wrists still bound, almost toppled over from the sudden forward momentum. 

Once she regained her balance, Ribyna sat back and watched the hills and forestry of the Heartlands go rolling by as the carriage trundled along the road, and though she wasn’t familiar with much of Cyrodiil beyond the Imperial City, they seemed to be heading east. 

What was east of the Imperial City? Cheydinhal? Were they going to Cheydinhal for her execution?

Ribyna was baffled. Still, at least she was able to see more of the province she had come to call home before she was to die. She cast a glance at the guard accompanying her, but it was clear to see from his face alone that she would be getting no information out of him anytime soon. It was far too early to get her hopes up, but Ribyna began to wonder, and it was with an inexplicably calm state of mind that she watched the Imperial City shrink and fade away into the golden morning mist. 

                               ———————————————

If the circumstances leading up to her boarding the carriage had been strange, the destination was even stranger. 

Ribyna fell asleep several times during the carriage ride, which seemed to drag on for hours if not an entire day. The rude awakening she received as she was manhandled off the carriage by the guard paled in comparison to being unceremoniously thrown below the decks of an aged boat, which rocked gently on the water’s surface as Ribyna tumbled down the steps and landed with a hard thud onto a thin heap of straw. She soon came to learn that yelling and demanding answers was getting her nowhere, but that didn’t stop her from trying until her voice was hoarse. 

Just what in Oblivion was going on?! 

Aside from the mice, which scuttled to and fro in the darkness, Ribyna was certain that she was alone. She couldn’t decide whether that made things better or worse. 

With no windows or portholes to peer out of, Ribyna had no way of gauging where they were going. All she could do was rest and wait, perhaps try to get some sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat but disturbed by the occasional grating creak of the woodwork. She spared a thought for Fahjoth, undoubtedly still confined to his cell back in the Imperial City, before the fatigue overwhelmed her and she finally drifted into an uneasy slumber. 

                              ———————————————

“Up you get, prisoner. We’re here.” 

Ribyna jolted upright as the hatch overhead was flung open, barely awake and disorientated as she blinked in the shaft of brilliant light that suddenly fell through and hit her square in the face. Throwing up a hand to shield her eyes, she stumbled tentatively over to the ladder and hauled herself up above deck, pausing for a moment to take in her surroundings. 

The boat was docked on the water’s edge at a small town, which was somehow entirely unremarkable and completely alien at the same time. The architecture of the buildings was unlike that which was seen in the Imperial City, and gigantic trees with drapes of hanging moss and vines towered over every roof, casting dappled green lights wherever their shadows fell. Surrounding the town were jagged, rocky hills, making it impossible to see too far in any given direction; aside from openness of the vast stretch of water that the boat bobbed upon, which, from Ribyna’s perspective, seemed to be the open ocean. The air certainly carried a somewhat salty tang, though there was also the curious aroma of burning ash on the wind. The chatter of sleepy town life reached her ears, along with the gentle rushing of the waves rolling against the shore below her. 

Yet despite everything this land seemed familiar somehow, though Ribyna couldn’t fathom why. 

She was roused from her musings by the feeling of someone touching her wrists, and moments later, the heaviness of the manacles was finally lifted. 

“Alright, prisoner. Present yourself to the Census and Excise Office and give them your information.”

The what? Ribyna could barely begin to process the information she was being given, but she was already being nudged along by the guard standing behind her. He seemed to be wearing an Imperial style uniform, which did nothing to help Ribyna figure out where she was. On shaking legs she stumbled down the boardwalk, to where another guard was waiting to direct her along to a large building that sat a few yards away. Yet another guard opened the door for her, and Ribyna hurried on through, feeling more and more wildly confused as the seconds ticked by. She flinched as an unsettling, mournful howl suddenly tore through the air from somewhere nearby, and hastened to get over the threshold of the office. 

The door closed behind her and the office was plunged into near silence, all outside noises muffled by the walls and lack of windows. It was rather stuffy in here, but in a way, it was homely. Tapestries hung from the walls and books were neatly lined upon a collection of shelves and cupboards. The office was illuminated by the soft orange glow of several candles, and tables stood bearing papers, quills and crockery. Ribyna heard more than felt her stomach rumble as her gaze fixed upon a plate laden with thick rolls of bread, and for the first time in many hours, she realised how hungry she really was. 

Her attention was caught by someone clearing their throat, and she looked up to see an older man, dressed in neat beige robes and sporting fluffy white hair and beard, watching her from his seat across the room. 

“Ah, we’ve been expecting you. You’ll have to be recorded before you’re officially released. Please,” he bade, beckoning her over with a few wags of his finger. Ribyna obliged, more bemused than hesitant, and took a step closer. Her eyes fell back down to the table where a scroll of parchment had been laid out, accompanied by a quill sitting patiently in an inkwell. Oh no, were they expecting her to write something?

“Alright, let’s start by confirming your details. You’re from the Imperial City, correct?” the old man inquired, reaching for his own quill as he flicked open a book on the table in front of him. 

“Yeah.”

“And you’re Vetharys?”

“Yeah?”

“Fahjoth Vetharys?”

What? She almost answered without thinking, before his question finally registered in her brain and she abruptly changed track. “Ye— no.”

The man paused mid-scribble. He looked up, peering at her in silence for a few seconds. His eyes darted back down to the book, then once more settled on Ribyna with an unreadable expression. “Let’s try this again,” he said, speaking very slowly and clearly, as if to a particularly dense toddler. “You came to us from the Imperial City’s prison, by order of the Emperor.”

“I think so.”

“Right. And your name is Vetharys?”

“Yeah.”

“Fahjoth Vetharys?”

“No.”

The man tutted, putting his quill back into its inkwell as he surveyed Ribyna with a mild frown. “There’s no use lying to us now. You aren’t in any trouble, I assure you.”

“I’m not lying,” Ribyna protested. “I’m not Fahjoth. That’s my brother, he was in the cell next to mine.”

For a few seconds, the man was silent. Then he let out a groan, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his temples with exasperation. “By the divines, they’ve sent us the wrong damn prisoner...”

Immediately, Ribyna felt very awkward. As the old man started relaying orders to the nearby guard, instructing him to send a messenger back to the Imperial City and explain the situation, she also began to feel somewhat apprehensive. If she wasn’t supposed to be there, then what were they going to do with her?

“Oi,” she spoke up in a hasty bid to find answers. As he looked up, the old man raised a brow at her distinct lack of manners, but nodded to signal that he was listening, so Ribyna continued. “If I’m the wrong prisoner, then what happens to me now?”

“Hm?” He briefly consulted his notes. “Well here, you’re outside of Cyrodiilic jurisdiction. But what was your crime, again?”

“Uh…” Ribyna grimaced, hesitating before giving her answer. “Murder...? Technically—”

“Oh, I expect the prison will be wanting you back, then.” His focus fell back down on the book as he resumed his writing, though with a sweeping hand gesture he drew Ribyna’s attention over to a nearby chair. “Take a seat, we’ll have transport arranged for you in a moment.”

Ribyna’s stomach lurched at the news and she began to think fast. “Okay.” With a nod of her head she decided to simply agree, meandering over to the designated chair and lowering herself onto it. It was there that she sat and waited in silence, watching the occasional guard or worker going about their duties around the office. She was sitting very close to the plate of bread, along with what looked to be a small coin purse.

She let her hand slowly wander along the table, inching closer and closer to the supplies that sat there, taunting her. When she was confident that nobody was looking she snatched them, shoving the purse in her pocket and stuffing the bread roll up her shirt for later, hunching over to conceal the suspicious lump. Every little helped, and she was certainly going to need a lot of that for what she had in mind. 

And then she waited.

The minutes slipped by with nothing eventful happening, but still, Ribyna was ready. The tension in her leg muscles was beginning to ache, but soon, it paid off. Her pulse quickened as she heard the front door creak, a guard pushing it open with his shoulder as his hands were occupied by a large stack of papers. It was then that Ribyna took her chance. 

She leapt out of her seat, clutching the bread roll tightly in her hand — and grabbing another one for good measure — and threw herself at the guard. Quite unprepared for a lanky Dunmer to suddenly come barging into him, he tumbled back with a yell of surprise, his neat stack of papers flying everywhere and filling the air around them with fluttering leaves of parchment. As she went rolling over the guard and landed with a dull thump onto the dusty path, Ribyna didn’t linger; she scrambled to her feet and glanced back and forth for a means by which to escape. The other guards were alerted by now, and came rushing towards her with sword and shields primed, but with no other alternative, Ribyna had already started running. Fuelled by adrenalin she broke into a hard sprint, charging along the path away from the town and fleeing in a random direction. A signpost whizzed past, but she didn’t stop to try to read it; she didn’t care where she ended up, as long as she was well out of reach of Imperial guards. 

It seemed that, by some happy accident, she had been given a second chance. And though she still hadn’t the faintest idea of where she actually was, Ribyna had no intention of wasting it.

[caltropspress]

FEEDBACK LOOP #6: Cargo Cults’ “Rammellzee”

Since these symbols and all symbols are drawn, infinity’s separation from all symbols must be shown through drawing. The only proof of such a separation of the infinity would be the understanding by the majority of the planetary peers. There is no other way.

—from IONIC TREATISE GOTHIC FUTURISM ASSASSIN KNOWLEDGES OF THE REMANIPULATED SQUARE POINT’S ONE TO 720° TO 1440° THE RAMM-ΣLL-ZΣΣ (1979, 2003)

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

—from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland

Riding among an exhausted busful of Negroes going on to graveyard shifts all over the city, she saw scratched on the back of a seat, shining for her in the brilliant smoky interior, the post horn with the legend DEATH. But unlike WASTE, somebody had troubled to write in, in pencil: DON’T EVER ANTAGONIZE THE HORN.

—from Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49

1.  I walk down the street and people look at me and say, “Who the hell are you?”

Cargo Cults (Alaska and Zilla Rocca) begin their track “Rammellzee” with the voice of the some-16 billion-years-old being himself. The song is an ode, an invocation. The organ sample provides a bizarre ride: a carousel of colors. We immediately plummet—into a well, a subway tunnel, a cosmos of linguistics. Not a nonchalant That’s deep, but a depth of knowledge where “cipher” means code, means Supreme Mathematics, means gathering with your rapfolk outside the Nuyorican Poets Cafe or in Washington Square Park: a deep connection. Mimicking Rammellzee, Alaska presents the listener with “swirling pages / forming mazes of [his] formulations” and subsequently “break[s] them down into a form that’s shapeless.”

2.  Hip-hop is ageist….In blues, you ain’t official until you fifty. (Ka, Red Bull Music Academy interview with Jeff Mao, 2016)

The phrase …of a certain age has, historically, been used euphemistically to describe someone (typically a woman) who has existed for a “shameful” tally of years. Society is still undoing the stigma, but rappers have made strides.

In Adult Rappers, a 2015 documentary directed by Paul Iannacchino (Hangar 18’s DJ paWL), Alaska is [accidentally?] presented twice in the closing credits—like a double, a separate persona—which calls to mind the multiple personalities of Rammellzee: Crux the Monk, Chaser the Eraser, Gash/Olear, et cetera. Age allows for maturation, for building, for bettering. In Rammellzee’s case—and I’d argue Alaska’s—it allows for complexity to emerge organically through wisdom. It allows for reinvention, for many versions of one’s self. Age and development is how an aerosol can with a fat cap can graduate to customized deodorant roll-ons and shoe polish canisters.

It begins with jerry-rigging a nozzle and ends in diagramming a “harpoonic whip launcher/pulsating extendor” to illustrate the deconstruction of letter-formations in the English alphabet. The spirit of experience pervades the Nihilist Millennial album. As anyone who has ever sat on the couch knows, communication can also improve with age.

3.

Artists and rappers like Rammellzee and Alaska rely on wild-styles, a self-made world that warps quantum physics and disregards notions of dimensionality. It’s dream-vision. It’s liberation. It simultaneously celebrates and critiques communication: like the image of a muted horn.

“Communication is the key,” cried Nefastis. “The Demon passes his data on to the sensitive, and the sensitive must reply in kind. There are untold billions of molecules in that box. The Demon collects data on each and every one. At some deep psychic level he must get through…”

“Help,” said Oedipa, “you’re not reaching me.”

“Entropy is a figure of speech, then,” sighed Nefastis, “a metaphor. It connects the world of thermodynamics to the world of information flow. The Machine uses both. The Demon makes the metaphor not only verbally graceful, but also objectively true.”

[…]

Nefastis smiled; impenetrable, calm, a believer.

The wordplay seems just that: play—that is, until you find the thread. Alaska cobbles together words like rubbish, W.A.S.T.E. Words appear daisy-chained together—flowery, ornate, and strung together by their stems: “fatalism, Fela Kuti, razor thin” / “smash the superstitions with acid tabs and some Sufi visions” / “deep dive Sonny Liston” / “Walt Whitman.”

The track reads like a codex. Something crafted in a scriptorium. His words are warfare—double-tracked/double-barreled—and he slips into braggadocio to prove it. It’s an authoritative posture of experience. Having started atomically small—from Breaking Atoms bedroom listening, to Atoms Family—Alaska’s flow presents nuclear now: maximum damage.

There’s a refinement to what this duo is doing: “Me and Zilla well-established with a lavish vision. / Both hands crusty with Ikonklastic Panzerism.” The boasts rely on royal diction: Camelot, palace doors, Prince Paul. Each man a king, a God, and each one should teach one. Mentor texts for the masses.

4.  

Rammellzee is an equation, And simply stated it’s the way of life I’m chasing. That’s why I praise the future-Gothic future-prophet. Gotta rock it, don’t stop it, Gotta rock it, don’t stop.

You find diversions on the song, exits into familiar chambers. GZA quotations (“I was the thrilla in the Ali-Frazier Manila”) and allusions to Main Source. Large Professor rapped “Dead is my antonym,” and if that’s to be proven true, money needs to be removed from the equation. The refrain of “Gotta rock it” not only calls to mind “Beat Bop,” Herbie Hancock, and Grand Mixer DS.T (or his later incarnation, DXT), but rockets—Afrofuturist angles, future shocks (Bill Laswell [Material], friend to Rammellzee, had a hand in all this). It’s not so much a “future-prophet” as a “future profit.” “Freedom in the process” means creativity without expectation, without the constraints of market value.

Alaska gives it to us straight: “I don’t care if you don’t like it, and I don’t care if you don’t buy it / ’Cause I find freedom in the process.” Despite becoming increasingly complex in his visual approach—like a heap of garbage that loses the definition of its component parts over the ages—Rammellzee understood time equals clarity of vision. A wasted world becomes a meaningful one. Of course, we got to pay rent, so money connects, but ownership of one’s art is about empowerment. “Selling out” is the opposite—an evisceration of one’s self and spirit. “We lost control from the second we sold the art,” Alaska raps. “We sold our future….We should be seeking enlightenment.”

The moment arrives, epiphanically: “I find freedom in the process so I’m grateful, / And that’s my main source: it’s my friendly game of baseball.” For Alaska and Zilla Rocca, it’s not a job—it’s a passion, a pastime.

5.  Nascent imagination deep inside a battle station.

Post-9/11 meant luxury apartments displaced Rammellzee’s Battle Station loft, his living museum. But the art has been excavated and exists posthumously. His Gothic Futurism and Ikonoklast Panzerism seem at home archived on the internet—a network that appears more like a chaos cloud. Rammellzee deconstructed and transcended language—junk monk scripts and calligraphic cut-ups of consumerism. His art is the empowerment a recycling arrow-triangle could only hope to be. Recycle is also rebirth. Rammellzee’s career path is circuitous, deep-tunneled (subway-esque), eternal.

Similarly, Alaska’s multisyllabic patterns are an endless barrage, like weaponized letters tilted sideways, like bottle rockets angled into a bottle’s neck: “Armament / Now my names are built like a BattleBot / Locked inside an ad hoc Camelot, I rather not / Tangle with a rabid lot, hop inside a rabbit hole.”

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice “without pictures or conversations?”

Boredom can make trouble, but boredom can also breed creativity. Alaska rather not spar with trolls under ISP bridges—though he’s equipped to. Instead, he channels his energies into material.

6.  Our culture is done. We lived it.

Near the end, Alaska paraphrases Rammellzee: “I’m not the first or the last to don the mask. / I see it as a title, I’m monastic with these raps.”

Living a life of art—making it regardless of accolade or monetary payment—is the highest form of creativity. Live the art and die by it, like Stan Brakhage, poisoning himself at a slow pace as he applied toxic dyes to celluloid film. Like Rammellzee executing graffiti pieces maskless, huffing the carcinogenic fumes.

MF DOOM (née Zev Love X)—a Rammellzee descendant—taught us how to revel in anonymity, the importance of not spotlighting yourself, but instead seeking out the shade, secret passageways, and the trapdoor in the stage floor. Not all of us heed the advice, but some do, and they feel the throb of real success, not the sort that shows up in bank statements and 401(k) plans.

Images:

“Beat Bop” test pressing, Rammellzee and K-Rob, art by Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1983 (detail) | Rammellzee black-and-white portrait photograph (unknown) | Ikonoklast Panzerism diagram from IONIC TREATISE GOTHIC FUTURISM ASSASSIN KNOWLEDGES OF THE REMANIPULATED SQUARE POINT’S ONE TO 720° TO 1440° THE RAMM-ΣLL-ZΣΣ (1979, 2003) | Page 34 (muted post horn) in Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, Bantam Books edition (1966) | “A scribe at work,” from an illuminated manuscript from the Estoire del Saint Graal, France (Royal MS 14 E III c. 1315-1325 AD) | Herbie Hancock, Future Shock cassette cover (1983) | Grand Mixer D.ST comic book image (unknown) | Stan Brahage at chalkboard (unknown) | Stan Brakhage, Mothlight celluloid (1963) | “Beat Bop” test pressing, Rammellzee and K-Rob, art by Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1983 (detail)

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (26)

@spickerzocker​ said:

hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!

Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:

I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping. 

As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me. 

During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.

I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked. 

The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself. 

None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough. 

I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.

That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)

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Anonymous said:

U suck

Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her. 

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Anonymous said:

I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag

Excellent

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@wingedskyes said:

Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆

I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page

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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:

To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.

I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day

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Anonymous said:

"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"

Hold on I have to google some things

Yeah this is funny

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Anonymous said:

I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it

Awww anon I’m so pleased :)

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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:

Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!

Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit

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@njtheboywonder​ said:

I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.

Oh that warms my heart <3

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@bruciewayneisbatman​ said:

Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.

Had to google that one, but I guess so huh

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Anonymous said:

(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept

We’re all here dying..... together...

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Anonymous said:

Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊

&

Anonymous said:

To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊

Message for you anon

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Anonymous said:

Your writing gives off good vibes

Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know

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Anonymous said:

finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.

Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here

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Anonymous said:

Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”

&

@noisypaintersong​ said:

For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL

& 

@kirakats​ submitted:

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Anonymous said:

“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.

Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now. 

@kurawastaken​ submitted:

So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.

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Anonymous said:

I love your blog!!!

And I love you 

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Anonymous said:

quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)

This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth

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@angel-gidget​ said:

*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!

Oh thank you for the hug <3

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Anonymous said:

I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!

!!!

I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth 

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@damianwaynerocks​ said:

hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?

Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard

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Anonymous said:

hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.

Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere

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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches​ said:

Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.

FUCK

[toshinori--oda]

I took Utsumi’s test and received interesting results.

Type: The Logistician (ISTJ-A)

Introverted - 99%

Observant - 72%

Thinking - 90%

Judging - 92%

Assertive - 68%

Introduction

My observation is that whenever one person is found adequate to the discharge of a duty... it is worse executed by two persons, and scarcely done at all if three or more are employed therein.

The Logistician personality type is thought to be the most abundant, making up around 13% of the population. Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.

Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer.

Associate With Those of Good Quality if You Esteem Your Reputation...

When Logisticians say they are going to get something done, they do it, meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost, and they are baffled by people who don’t hold their own word in the same respect. Combining laziness and dishonesty is the quickest way to get on Logisticians’ bad side. Consequently, people with the Logistician personality type often prefer to work alone, or at least have their authority clearly established by hierarchy, where they can set and achieve their goals without debate or worry over other’s reliability.

Logisticians have sharp, fact-based minds, and prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something. Dependency on others is often seen by Logisticians as a weakness, and their passion for duty, dependability and impeccable personal integrity forbid falling into such a trap.

This sense of personal integrity is core to Logisticians, and goes beyond their own minds – Logistician personalities adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting their own mistakes and telling the truth even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. To Logisticians, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, and their blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that Logisticians are cold, or even robotic. People with this type may struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly, but the suggestion that they don’t feel, or worse have no personality at all, is deeply hurtful.

...For It Is Better to Be Alone Than in Bad Company

Logisticians’ dedication is an excellent quality, allowing them to accomplish much, but it is also a core weakness that less scrupulous individuals take advantage of. Logisticians seek stability and security, considering it their duty to maintain a smooth operation, and they may find that their coworkers and significant others shift their responsibilities onto them, knowing that they will always take up the slack. Logisticians tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking, but it can be a long time before observable evidence tells the whole story.

Logisticians need to remember to take care of themselves – their stubborn dedication to stability and efficiency can compromise those goals in the long term as others lean ever-harder on them, creating an emotional strain that can go unexpressed for years, only finally coming out after it’s too late to fix. If they can find coworkers and spouses who genuinely appreciate and complement their qualities, who enjoy the brightness, clarity and dependability that they offer, Logisticians will find that their stabilizing role is a tremendously satisfying one, knowing that they are part of a system that works.

Logistician Strengths

Honest and Direct – Integrity is the heart of the Logistician personality type. Emotional manipulation, mind games and reassuring lies all run counter to Logisticians’ preference for managing the reality of the situations they encounter with plain and simple honesty.

Strong-willed and Dutiful – Logisticians embody that integrity in their actions too, working hard and staying focused on their goals. Patient and determined, people with the Logistician personality type meet their obligations, period.

Very Responsible – Logisticians’ word is a promise, and a promise means everything. Logisticians would rather run themselves into the ground with extra days and lost sleep than fail to deliver the results they said they would. Loyalty is a strong sentiment for Logistician personalities, and they fulfill their duties to the people and organizations they’ve committed themselves to.

Calm and Practical – None of their promises would mean much if Logisticians lost their tempers and broke down at every sign of hardship – they keep their feet on the ground and make clear, rational decisions. Peoples’ preferences are a factor to consider in this process, and Logisticians work to make the best use of individual qualities, but these decisions are made with effectiveness in mind more so than empathy. The same applies to criticisms, for others and themselves.

Create and Enforce Order – The primary goal of any Logistician is to be effective in what they’ve chosen to do, and they believe that this is accomplished best when everyone involved knows exactly what is going on and why. Unclear guidelines and people who break established rules undermine this effort, and are rarely tolerated by Logisticians. Structure and rules foster dependability; chaos creates unforeseen setbacks and missed deadlines.

Jacks-of-all-trades – Much like Analyst personality types, Logisticians are proud repositories of knowledge, though the emphasis is more on facts and statistics than concepts and underlying principles. This allows Logisticians to apply themselves to a variety of situations, picking up and applying new data and grasping the details of challenging situations as a matter of course.

Logistician Weaknesses

Stubborn – The facts are the facts, and Logisticians tend to resist any new idea that isn’t supported by them. This factual decision-making process also makes it difficult for people with the Logistician personality type to accept that they were wrong about something – but anyone can miss a detail, even them.

Insensitive – While not intentionally harsh, Logisticians often hurt more sensitive types’ feelings by the simple mantra that honesty is the best policy. Logistician personalities may take emotions into consideration, but really only so far as to determine the most effective way to say what needs to be said.

Always by the Book – Logisticians believe that things work best with clearly defined rules, but this makes them reluctant to bend those rules or try new things, even when the downside is minimal. Truly unstructured environments leave Logisticians all but paralyzed.

Judgmental – Opinions are opinions and facts are facts, and Logisticians are unlikely to respect people who disagree with those facts, or especially those who remain willfully ignorant of them.

Often Unreasonably Blame Themselves – All this can combine to make Logisticians believe they are the only ones who can see projects through reliably. As they load themselves with extra work and responsibilities, turning away good intentions and helpful ideas, Logisticians sooner or later hit a tipping point where they simply can’t deliver. Since they’ve heaped the responsibility on themselves, Logisticians then believe the responsibility for failure is theirs alone to bear.

More information can be found here.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

On buoyant feet  {2}

Description; Thor struggles to learn how to dance, but with some help from Nat he figures it and when the day comes he joins you.

Pairing: Thor x reader

Rating: Teen/Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 2/2

Word count; 3.507

Warnings; Thor learning ballet, fluff, cuteness overload, feelings

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: EEIHHH, god I love the idea of Thor dancing ballet, but I tell you guys I had as hard of a time knowing how to write this chapter as Thor had learning ballet.

Chapter 1

He knew ballet was hard, but he hadn't anticipated it to be this hard.

He'd gotten the video from Tony an hour or so after they parted ways, which was four days ago.

Since then, he'd proceeded to work with the idea he was so eager about in the beginning. Now, however, the smile which spread when he originally watched your dancing was more strained and instead of bowing up, his lips more times than not formed a straight line. The enjoyable tune playing in the video had become despising enough for him to want to throw his phone into the closest wall every time he listened to it. Mostly because its mockery kept reminding him of how painfully aware of his stature he'd become.

"I've trained since I was a kid". The answer to one of his first questions had been a persistent thought lowering his spirit while he unsuccessfully trained every spare hour he had. "A session usually last a couple of hours" He didn't want anyone to see his failed attempts, primarily after the first time he tried doing a spin in the gym and lost his footing. He remembers clearly how he by instinct had flailed after the closest thing to keep himself up-straight and when nothing was within reach he'd crashed to the floor, a second or so later Steve had walked in with a confused look. After that incident, he always trained in his room, devoting many hours trying to succeed, but it always amended the same. He slumped against the end of his bed, head leaning backwards to be supported by the mattress.

He didn't know what he did wrong, re-watching the video many times didn't help him figure out how to achieve the graceful way you walked over the floor, neither the way your arms cut the air with an undulant edge. He simply felt like a fool when even tough trying to move as gently as possible made it looked mechanical. The continues failure started to sour his mood, something his teammates noticed as he nowadays only greeted them with a nod.

"What is it with you?" He had been occupied with his own thoughts, not noticing the meeting room had been emptied, aside from Nat who sat opposite him.

"Nothing", he shook his head, both punctuating his answer and clear his nagging thoughts.

"You've been a rarer sight then Bruce the past days and with the meeting counted, I should inform you he has only abandoned the lab three four times", she huffed while crossing her arms. Staring at him, she continued. "So speak up".

"I can admit something is on my mind", he sighed.

"That much I've figured out", she mumbled as she now leaned on the table. "What is it?" Thor clenched his jaw, lowering his eyes to his hands which was clasped together.

"It is something with Y/N".

"Don't say you ended it with her, I like her", he chuckled at the redhead's response, Nat had indeed always liked you since he introduced you to everyone. But even though he foresaw her thought, it surprised him she spoke it out loud.

"No, I have not. So no need to worry Lady Natasha", he smiled when she contentedly nodded her head.

"So what's the problem with our dear Y/N?"

"It is not about her", he said slowly, waiting to continue. He didn't know how he should word it, mainly because he didn't want anyone threatening to tell you. Feeling the heavy eyes of Nat on him, he decided, that even though the two of you were close friends, she wouldn't say anything.

"It is so that I want to learn something, for her", he explained.

"Which is?"

"Dancing", instead of only her eyebrow raising, which was her usual gesture of surprised, her mouth dropped open as well.

"Dancing", she said to herself while nodding. "And I guess it isn't just any dance?" Thor responded with a simple shake of his head, a silence following his action. However, even though Nat looked away, with eyebrows nit tightly together, he continued watching her. He respected that she hadn't laughed when he told her, something he believed the others wouldn't have kept themselves from doing. Her eyes moved, as if scanning trough something he couldn't see and as soon they stopped, she looked up at him again.

"How is it going?" She questioned, to which he shrugged while answering.

"I will say it is the reason for my foul behaviour".

"Not so god then", she stated more to herself than him. "What are you learning from?" Thor unclasped his hands and reached for the phone in his back pocket, quickly opening it and clicking in on the video. He handed it to Nat, who didn’t need to watch more then a few seconds until noticing it was the same routine you’d showed her.

"Well, I understand why it goes bad for you. You can't follow this", she said in an amused tone and Thor reached forward to snatch his phone back, but she pulled it out of his reach. "Let me explain why", she continued with a scolding tone, making him sit back, although now with crossed arms.

"Go on then".

"You can't learn the basics from this video because her dancing is too advanced", she pointed out while standing up and rounding the table to come to his side. "A good start is to search for the basics stances and moves of ballet, without those you can't go anywhere, especially if you want to dance with her", his eyes widen in surprise.

"How did you...?"

"If you specifically got the video of this routine, one which isn't going to be used in a show, I just assumed", she shrugged, handing back the phone.

"Thank you".

"Don't mention it, but remember to keep it simple, you don't have years to learn".

"How can I repay you?" He asked while standing up, although the redhead only shook her head.

"It's enough knowing she'll get one of her wishes fulfilled", she smirked and bid him goodbye and good luck before exiting the conference room. Looking down on the phone, he felt how he started smiling from the new hope he gotten.

In first position, hands in front of the body. In second position, hands are out to the sides. But in third position, one hand is outstretched, the other is in front of the body. In fourth position, one hand above the head the other in front of the body. In fifth position, both hand's are above the head. "That’s Port de Bras", Thor repeated in a low mumble, recalling the first positions he learned. "Plié, bend your knees. Chassé, a small moving jump. Tendus, extend one foot across the floor", he continued going over the more recent moves.

"Good", he looked up from the bench he sat on, watching the redheaded who's smile praised him more than her words. "Now we just need to see if you're able to do them properly", standing up he walked to stand in the open space before Nat.

"And begin with the first", he moved his body to mimic the position he remembered as well had practised to do. "To the second".

It began about a month ago, after he had sought her out again. Thor had knocked on Nat's door, quickly explaining the situation for her when she got surprised, less so than before, by his visit and the topic he wanted to speak about.  

He'd followed her advice and searched for the basic movements, now mastering them to a degree which was an improvement compared to earlier, but in comparison to he tutorial he followed, far from being executed correctly. What he came to ask, almost as bashfully as you'd done when you wanted her opinion on your routine, was if she could teach him or at least point out what he could do better. Nat had been surprised at how seriously the god was about this and perhaps it was the soft spot for you which made here open the door wider, a sign for him to enter.

They discussed what he'd done and what he wanted to learn, in the end agreeing that Nat would tutor him once a week. For the days in between, he would get tasked to learn new things. Nat also stated that it would be more beneficial to actually practise in the gym, however she let Thor choose when so no one could disturb them, mostly for his comfort.

Now though, when Nat watched the god perform the stances she called out, she felt like he didn't need to be fearful of someone walking in. He was far from being one of the best, but he was good for someone who had trained for less than two months. She knew he'd worked hard, something she could see noticed by his flexibility, but also that the soreness after these sessions wasn't as bad as in the beginning.

"Remember to turn out form the hip", she called out and immediately she saw how he corrected himself. "End with a simple plié", he bent his knees slightly, however as Nat was in such close range to him, she took the few steps forward and with her toe, she poked his heel while saying "heels should stay firmly planted on the ground". Again he adjusted himself, before ending the movement and standing straight.

"You're getting good, I almost don't need to correct things anymore", Nat started when he turned around. "You sure you don't want to try out jumps?"

"You said it yourself, I should keep it simple", he huffed out in laugh, imagining the horror he if tried jumps like you did, most likely would he end up in a heap on the floor.

"I know, it's just interesting to see this", she motioned to him, both chuckling at the inclination.

"I can imagine", Thor said. On one of the first lessons he'd gotten it quite simply explained that he didn't fit the general mould of male dancers.

"Have you found anything to the Pas de Deux?" He nodded his head and retrieved his phone. Even though he still wasn't comfortable with the terminology, he'd understood what she meant.

"Since we started I have searched for inspiration, finding some", he intended on ending the sentence there, but since he’d gotten to know that a pair in a ballet duet mainly perform the same movements, he voiced his worries. "But do you believe she will be able to follow?"

"Unknowingly she made it easy to change her routine to a grand pas de deux, something which is in your favour", she began and Thor felt his uncertainty disappear, even more so when the redhead continued. "If you create a choreography after her routine, I'm sure she'll be able to adapt her parts to fit with yours, she's the professional after all".

"I am aware", Thor answered amusedly, a heavy weight lifting off his chest.

"So what's your idea?" During the following minutes, he showed the pictures and videos he'd saved as inspiration, explaining how he thought they could fit your routine. Once he was done, Nat gave him some pointers of what he should think about. The last one being don’t stress and just enjoy it.

When the day came, it felt like he forgot everything Nat had told him. He was stressed and thought about everything that could go wrong.

"What's making you so tense?" Your voice surprised him, so he looked down at you walking beside him. The two of you had decided to walk to the studio you trained at, mostly because it wasn't far away from the tower.

"Nothing you need to worry about, my love", he smiled, but he saw your lips purse.

"Thor, you know what I've said", he knew, that if something bothered him, he should say it. You'd established that early, knowing you were together with a man whose work was near impossible to understand if he didn't tell you.

"We had a meeting before I came down, unfortunately confidential", he told a white lie, but you didn't seem to notice it as an understanding look decorate your features.

"I'm always here if it suddenly becomes un-confidential", you said and went up on your toe in the following step to kiss his cheek. A warmth bloomed in his stomach at the display and he pulled you close. You walked like that the rest of the way, until started climbing the stairs to head up to the studio.

He'd been here before, so while you changed, he sat down on his usual spot in the floor, back leaning against the wall behind him. He looked around the big space, thankful that like always it was empty when he came along, something he only guessed you played a part in.

"I'm only going to warm up a bit before I start", you entered the room and he noticed you'd tied your hair back so it wouldn't irritate you.

"Can I perhaps join you?" It wasn't odd for him to ask, thus your reaction.

"Want to show your masculinity again?" You mused with a smile, although he only shook his head at the memory. In the beginning, he always had said your warmups didn't look hard, but after trying, he took back what he'd said. Although now when he knew he would have an easier time, since he hadn't gone with you since starting his training, he was careful of how much he showed you while following your lead for the next forty minutes.

"You've earned some of your manliness back now", you praised when done with the warmup, impressed that he this time could keep up with you fairly well.

"Thank you, my lady", he grinned, knowing that you distasted the phrase he, in your case compared to others, used teasingly. The slap on his abdomen didn't come as a surprise, but he heard that his arms pulling you against him did by the squeak that left you.

"Well this lady needs to start training, so...", you tried shooing him away within the small space he gave you to move in, but he only tightened his grip while a chuckle left him.

"As she should", he leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. You relished the warmth of his lips and the way his beard tickled your face before he pulled away. Having a hard time releasing his gaze, you needed to turn around when starting the music on your phone to not run after him.

While Thor watched you ready yourself, he thought through the choreography one last time. He felt his heartbeat speed up, so he tried taking deep breaths to stable it and when the song began, it helped him to do so. Observing you as you began moving, he waited until you slowly made a pirouette before taking a last deep breath. Enjoy it.

If you could’ve sen yourself like Thor did when you stopped your pirouette, you would've noticed how your eyes were on fire and smile kissed the threshold of liberty. Instead you only noticed blue eyes looking back at you. He threw you off for a second, but knowing you would need to restart if you didn’t continue, you didn’t think to much why Thor suddenly had come so close.

Papa, are you near me?

Your moved your foot backwards, letting it slide across the floor. But then he did something surprising, he chased your retreating foot in a smooth motion.

Papa, can you hear me?

You turned your back to him, closing your eyes as you stretched out one arm. Immediately you felt the lightest of touches travel down your exposed skin, but once reaching your fingers, it fell under your arm and supported it.

Papa, can you help me not be frightened?

An arm encircled your waist, hands splayed over the opposite side of which it reaches and lifted you up. You curved your leg to hook behind his hip, only instinc making you do so before feeling the sensation of spinning. You momentarily tipped your head backwards, something which only lasted for a couple of seconds before you raised it once more when he let you down. It was a simple move, but the confusion of how he managed to do it almost made you forget to continue.

You elbows gracefully tore through the air, in perfect rhyme with your feet, which traced a curve that no menace ever could outdo. When you leapted of ground, a surprise awaited you when you landed. On a knee with the other leg outstretched, holding one arm behind his back and the other towards you, Thor was. A smile started spreading when you saw the seriousness on his face, because it was then you understood what he did. He was going to dance with you.

Dipping forward lightly touching his hand made him grasped yours as he stood up, releasing it when standing. You continued on your own, arching your back, one arm stretching out as the other followed the opposite way. Then you felt his touch again. Taking a step back you rotated a full circle and he managed to manoeuvre so his hand always held yours. When you stopped, leg bent backwards and up, it was by leaning on his shoulder and his hand helping you that made it possible to hold the position.

Hearing the music reaching its crescendo, you let go and took a step back to pick up speed before you spun. You concentrated on standing on your toes when his hands came to support you, making it possible for you to continue longer then on your own.  

It wasn't from the spin, but rather the music slowing down, your eyes locking with his heated gaze and his lips threatened to brush yours as you stopped, toe to toe, that made you lose yourself in the moment.

Your feet explored the room in a familiar pattern and he followed you with poise. You'd never seen him move like this, which such an un-brutal grace that it looked like he almost flew without his hammer. It was a new side to him. Strong, graceful and controlled. Everything which usually had a rough edge had been smoothed over. You didn't know for how long the two of you twirled around, but you noticed how the dance became slower and slower.

He was before you on his knees, had just held your waist while supporting you doing a pointe, but now his strong hands slowly lowered you towards him. Bringing your hands down you let them lightly cradle his face, the scruff of his beard being the only roughness in the moment as his breaths, short and trembling, brushed your face like a sigh into a silk pillow. While you only saw the shimmer on his forehead and his crystal eyes enhanced by his rosy cheeks when observing him, he saw the euphoria glitter in your eyes.

"I love you", you mumbled against his lips before kissing him. It felt fevered, but the movements were slow and were uninterrupted before he pulled away. He lowered you to stand on your knees, similar to him, before his hand came up to your face.

"Do not cry my love", he said softly, while his thumb brushed away one of the tears you don’t even knew you shed. While letting out a small laugh, your arms automatically fell from his neck to cover his hands with your own.

"How can I not?" You smiled up at him, leaning into his touch as he stroked your cheek. "When did you learn this?"

"Past two months".

"My god", you gasped, eyes widening when you heard for how long he trained.

"Yes I am yours", he snickered at his joke, kissing your forehead, while you afterwards shook your head with a small smile. However, he continued more seriously. "But it was worth it".

"Why?" You couldn’t understand why he spent so much time, becaus he couldn’t have done anything else, to become this good.

"I have always admired you. At first it was your dancing, but after we spoke for the first time, it was you. Every time we met after that I felt a happiness I did not recognise and when you agreed on courting me I thought, as you midguardiens say, my heart would explode", halting he watched you bow your head trying to silence a laugh. But he made you raise it, seeing the wrinkles in the corner of your eyes when it hadn't died down just yet. "It was the following months, when I saw how strong of a fighter you were, that I only could describe my feelings for you in one way, love", you smiled up at him, feeling the tears threatening to fall again.

"What can I say?"

"Do not say anything, my love. You are always there for me, showing and telling me how much you love me, this is my time", he leaned down and kissed your nose. "I love you, Y/N", you smiled up at him, your god of thunder, perhaps even your very own danseur.

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