#WE KNOW IT'S MUMBO. SAY HIS NAME. SAY HE. there is no need to identify him by his physical attributes!!!

[sleepless-in-southlands]

there is nothing to forgive

Ao3

Chapter twelve of This Predacious Song, my multidimensional big bang fic! It’s a Mumbo-centric Hermitcraft/Last Life fic heavily featuring violence, blood, trauma, and horror-like themes. It is hurt/comfort with a happy ending. Please follow the embedded title link or the ao3 link for a complete summary and list of warnings for the story as a whole

Chapter twelve’s title from Jane Hirshfield’s “It Was Like This: You Were Happy”

~

    Mumbo wasn’t sure how long it took for his sense of time to return, for obvious reasons. Too long, he knew that, but that wasn’t much to work off of. Where he was, too, was something he couldn’t answer. He knew where he should be, but Mumbo had the sneaking suspicion that he was no longer there.

    The last thing Mumbo could remember before he lost track of everything was fighting, which didn’t narrow anything down. Killed by a trident through the chest? Not as common as a sword, or an arrow, but not unheard of in the slightest.

    No, the death was average. The pain that followed…

    Well. It didn’t last forever. Mumbo would take the silver lining.

    The first few flashes of consciousness he got were unhelpful in figuring anything out. A bed underneath him, voices that sounded familiar conversing nearby, something soft being wrapped around his limbs. The indescribable pain of his earlier death was completely gone, and even his ever-present aches seemed dulled.

    It was during his third or fourth half-awake moment that Mumbo realized he was back in Hermitcraft, still unable to understand the words being spoken over his head but able to identify them as belonging to various hermits. The chances of him having somehow ended up back in Hermitcraft without any of them realizing what he had been up to in recent months were slim, but as Mumbo fell back asleep, he hoped they weren’t impossible.

    In his next stint of awareness, he was just able to make out two hermits- Impulse and Tango?- discussing something that had to do with ‘death games’ and ‘how many months’.

    Mumbo forced his eyes open, only managing to get them to slits. He had meant to see where Impulse and Tango were in relation to him, to see if watching them talk might help him understand them better. But neither of them were anywhere to be seen, the space between Mumbo hearing them and opening his eyes longer than he had thought.

    Instead, there was Grian and Scar, only a few blocks away from Mumbo. While Grian leaned against the wall closest to him, Scar was seated in his wheelchair. They were in the middle of a quiet conversation, voices low enough Mumbo had to strain before he could make out what they were saying.     “-eeding, Grian, and I was just standing there, making stupid deals-”

    “Your deals aren’t stupid.”

    “That’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

    “You didn’t know, Scar. No one did. No matter how much we wish we had.”

    “Mumbo didn’t know anything either, when we came back! No one knew anything after Third Life! But he was still actually there for us! And then he needs us, he needs us and we- we just-”

    Scar doubled over, pressing a hand to his face, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop Mumbo from glimpsing the way the light caught on something moving rapidly from his eyes to the ground. Tears.

    Mumbo barely had a chance to consider what he saw before Grian was lowering himself to be roughly on Scar’s level. With the change in angle, it was easier for Mumbo to see the expression on his face, see the guilt etched into every line and the wet trails gracing his own cheeks.

    “You and I both know Mumbo Jumbo is a force to be reckoned with.” Grian said, Mumbo’s full player name sounding weird coming from him with no hint of joke or amusement. “Once he puts his mind to something, for better or for worse, there’s no stopping him.”

    “We could have tried.”

    “We did try, just… not hard enough.” Grian said the words slowly, as if they pained him to speak out loud, closing his eyes before he continued, “And that’s our fault. That’s all of Hermitcraft’s fault. But we have a second chance now. And we’re going to get it right this time.”

    “We will.” Scar agreed, even though neither of them looked satisfied with that.

    The phrase ‘too little, too late’ popped up in Mumbo’s mind unbidden, and he quickly chased it out. If anything, his servermates had been ‘too much, too soon’. They hadn’t done anything wrong. If it weren’t for the fact that Mumbo was only barely holding his eyes open, he would have told them so right then.

    “What do you think he thought? When he first realized he was still bleeding outside of the LL server?”

    The amount of time it took for Grian to answer Scar’s question stretched out long enough Mumbo nearly thought he had fallen back asleep and completely missed the response. And though he hadn’t, he was still fading, strength running out with nothing to distract him.

    “He thought he was a monster.” Grian finally replied, sounding as certain as if he was telling Scar that redstone was red; sounding as certain as if he had personal experience.

    He began to say more, but Mumbo couldn’t hear any of it, eyes slipping back shut with those specific six words swirling through his head.

    Coming to awareness for the who-knows-how-many-th time, Mumbo found himself once again catching the second half of some players’ talking.

    “-and then, me and Martyn, we kinda just started avoiding our servers.” It was Ren speaking, not sounding nearly as upbeat as he naturally did. “It was nice for it to be just the two of us, at first. We could talk about things or we could distract ourselves or whatever else we wanted. It really helped us, and I thought… I thought it might be helping you too.”

    Mumbo didn’t need to exert quite as much effort opening his eyes this time, trying to find the person Ren was speaking to. But there was no one else in the room, as far as he could tilt his head; just Ren, sitting right next to Mumbo’s bed, looking down as though he were speaking to a spot on the floor.

    “Everyone had their own ideas on where you were going when you started leaving the server so often. Mine was that you were meeting up with non-hermit lifers, or someone else you thought could help you more than us. It made perfect sense to me at the time. I had done it, hadn’t I? But now, looking back… I should’ve known there was nothing good about what was happening with you.

    “So I want to say I’m sorry, Mumbo, for letting things get this bad. I don’t think anyone could have stopped you, but I could have noticed sooner. And I didn’t.”

    Ren… was talking to Mumbo. Ren was apologizing to Mumbo. For- what? Not noticing what Mumbo went to such lengths to hide? Not realizing what sort of person his servermate was sooner?

    As if that was his fault. As if he needed to apologize to Mumbo for it.

    Again, Mumbo went to put his thoughts into words and, again, was stopped. This time due to the fact that, caught up in what Ren had said, he hadn’t realized Ren had turned his head to look at Mumbo. He did notice, for the brief second he had, that Ren had taken his sunglasses off, the look in his eyes before surprise took over distant and heavy.

    And then his shades were back on, his expression still giving away his shock despite them. “Mumbo? You’re awake?”

    “Er, yes, I suppose I am.” Mumbo fumbled through as a response, coughing as his voice seemed to catch on every other word. Speaking had helpfully reminded his body he hadn’t used his throat for anything more strenuous than breathing for Nether knew how long, leaving it scratchy and dry.

    Ren quickly retrieved a bottle of water from his inventory and passed it to Mumbo, pressing it directly into his hand. He hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you need help drinking that?”

    Mumbo shook his head. How much effort could it take to prop himself up a bit and raise his hand to his mouth?

    …A lot, apparently, if the way shifting onto one arm alone nearly had Mumbo passing out was anything to go by. Not that he was going to ask for help now. Not from Ren, who was looking at Mumbo in a way he couldn’t put a name too without seeing his eyes but had a feeling he didn’t like. Not from any of the hermits, who shouldn’t be offering him any help at all.

    The numb pains across his body that Mumbo was more than familiar with by then flared as he pushed himself up enough he wouldn’t choke on the water, the ones stretching across his arms and hidden by the light sleeping-wear shirt someone had changed him into protesting the loudest. Despite the strain, they still didn’t hurt as much as Mumbo knew they normally did. Was he too tired to fully process the pain?

    Mumbo only managed a few sips of the water before he had to drop back to the bed, unable to keep his body up. He let Ren take the water bottle back from him, placing it on the floor next to the bed. Over-exerted after a half minute’s worth of slight movement… Mumbo was fairly certain that wasn’t right.

    “What happened?” Mumbo asked Ren, both happy to find he could say the words without immediately breaking into coughs and greatly disappointed to find his voice was quieter, weaker.

    “What do you remember?”

    Something seeping into his lungs, choking him, slinking through his veins and tearing through his flesh as it went, sticking torches against the walls of his brain and leaving end crystals digging dangerous points into his heart- one beat too loud and it would be all over, one beat too many and there would be no coming back, one beat, one beat, every half second passing Schrödinger’s cat, one alive, one dead, one more beat and it would all be-

    “Dying.” Mumbo said the word stiffly.

    Ren’s sunglasses couldn’t hide the way he looked at Mumbo. “You had a respawn error, in a- a different server. Xisuma brought you back and fixed the problem, but that was a few days ago. He said it might take a while for you to fully recover.”

    Mumbo nodded. Respawn error explained why being dead had felt so wrong, why it had lasted longer than he knew it should even without having a way to track the time. It also explained how he had ended up back on Hermitcraft.

    And how the hermits had figured out what he had been up to.

    But not where his heartbeat had gone, Mumbo realizing in the recall of his painful limbo that he could no longer hear it. He tried pressing a hand to his chest, but he couldn’t feel his heart either, nor could he find the gaping hole that it surely would have left behind if it had been removed.

    Mumbo let the hand fall back to his side. Surely there was an explanation. He did his best to ignore his rising panic at the increasingly obvious silence from something that had always been so consistently loud.

    “He also realized you… had a lot of glitch injuries.” Ren said after a long moment, no longer looking at Mumbo’s face. “He wants you to be back at full strength before he fixes them too, so for now we’ve just, uh, wrapped them up a bit.”

    Mumbo jumped on the chance for distraction, rolling one of his sleeves down to see what Ren was talking about. Soft white cloth had been pulled around his wrist, covering a small cut that had nearly taken his hand off when he first got it. The wrap job was neat, done attentively, and the material had yet to become stained red. How recently had they changed the wraps that they were still clean? How many hermits had seen, first hand, the ugly truth of his blood?

    As if reading his mind, Ren added, in a quieter tone, “Xisuma found the Last Life blood and pain mod pack too. It was… it was stuck to your code. Another error.”

    Mumbo froze, fingers that had been idly running over his wrist bandage stopping as suddenly as if they had turned to stone. “He… he found a mod pack?”

    “Yeah. It must’ve carried over with you from the LL server- Mumbo, I’m so- Mumbo?”

    Mumbo didn’t hear a sound past Ren’s second confirmation, too busy ripping off the bandage he had just been admiring, barely registering as his hand slipped and tore into his skin instead of the cloth for a second. Compared to what he had grown so used to dealing with- compared to the pain mod’s limits- the Hermitcraft scratch was nothing.

    Ren, seeing what he was doing, moved to grab Mumbo’s wrists and hold them away from each other. By the time he did, however, it didn’t matter. The bandage was off, and Mumbo was able to see for himself.

    Although the glitch injury was still there, edges still blocky and colourful, not so much as a drop of blood graced the wound. Not in the cut, not dripping away from it, not anywhere.

    The blood was gone. The pain was nowhere close to the bearable agony it had been since Mumbo had started collecting cuts that nothing could heal. His flesh heart, no longer necessary, had fallen silent.

    Had it all truly just been a mod? Had everything- everything he felt, everything he thought, everything he did- had it all been the remnants of the Last life server and nothing more?

    “Mumbo?”

    Ren was still holding his wrists. Ren was still holding his wrists because Mumbo… had hurt himself. Without meaning to. Without trying. The lack of blood to mark the spot didn’t make it less real. The lack of red on his hands didn’t make him any less guilty.

    Nothing had changed.

    “I think… I’m going to go back to sleep.”

    Ren’s hands released Mumbo’s as he let himself drop back onto the pillow, eyes falling shut as he waited for darkness to overcome him. He didn’t have to wait long (really, he didn’t have to wait at all).

    The next time Mumbo woke up, Ren was gone, and Pearl and Gem were arguing.

    “You can go on, I’ll just wait for Grian to arrive.”

    “No way. You’ve been here plenty long enough already.”

    “It’s fine, Gem. Just a bit more.”

    Mumbo listened as someone walked towards his bed. Gem, if he had to guess. He hadn’t opened his eyes, not wanting either of them to realize he was awake.

    “Pearl,” Gem started, voice softer even though it was closer, “I know you’re worried, and I know you want to help. We all do. But if you try to take on all that help by yourself, you’re going to wear yourself out.”

    “I- I know, but I can’t- I’m just-” Pearl cut herself off, and Mumbo could hear the deep breath she took. “I’m trying to make it up to him.”

    “I think we’re all trying to do that, a bit.”

    “He’s Boatem. We should’ve never let it get this bad.”

    “He’s a hermit. We all should’ve been there for him sooner.” A slight shift of air next to Mumbo indicated that Pearl had stood up, two sets of footsteps leading away from his bed confirming it. “Now come on, let’s get you something yummy.”

    Mumbo waited until their voices completely faded out of his hearing range to open his eyes. The room around him was empty, Grian not yet arrived. Perfect.

    Sitting up took more effort than Mumbo expected, but he managed it, pausing for a few seconds to collect himself before attempting to stand. He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan was, but Mumbo figured standing up would be a step in the right direction, whatever that direction might be. 

    That particular step, unfortunately, took several tries to accomplish. Each time Mumbo fell back on his bed, he glanced towards the door of what he had some time ago realized was Grian’s starter base. It had yet to open since Gem and Pearl’s departure, but he knew his time was running out.

    Steeling himself, Mumbo tried again. He wobbled as soon as he was on his feet, fighting for his balance for a few beats before he stabilized. He waited a few more seconds before trying to walk, not wanting to go too fast and end up on the floor.

    Finally on his feet, Mumbo considered his options. Instinctively, he reached for his communicator, various servers he could jump to popping into his mind as he did so. Mumbo wasn’t sure if he was still allowed in Hermitcraft because the hermits were too kind to kick him out when he was still recovering, or if it was because they hadn’t yet connected all the dots, but he didn’t need to stay around and find out. It would be kinder to them if he left on his own terms. Better.

    But his communicator wasn’t where he usually kept it, his fingers closing around empty air. It hadn’t been moved elsewhere in his pockets either, Mumbo attempting the pat-down method and still finding nothing.

    “Mumbo?”

    Grian was standing at his starter base’s doors, slightly frowning. He looked tired, with messy hair and a slump in his posture, and if Mumbo thought he could have done so without falling over he would have tugged him into the bed he himself had only barely gotten out of.

    “You look awful, Grian.”

    For a moment, Grian’s frown was replaced with a smile as he snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

    Mumbo’s only response was to shrug, not sure what else to say. Already standing, the small motion caused him to grimace, Grian’s smile falling when he saw Mumbo’s own frown.

    “Really, Mumbo, you’re paler than usual. And that’s saying something.” Grian stepped away from the door, reaching out as though he wanted to help support Mumbo. Mumbo pulled away before he could. “Mumbo?”

    “Where’s my communicator?”

    Grian’s frown deepened. He didn’t lower his arms. “Xisuma was worried you would roll over on top of it and break it. We put it away.”

    “Where?”

    “In… in the chest. Over there.” Grian gestured at a chest against one of the nearer walls to Mumbo’s bed after a pause too long to be explained by not remembering the spot. “Do you need it for something?”

    Mumbo doubted there was any answer he could offer Grian, real or fake, that he would accept or believe. He also doubted he could make it to the chest before Grian either stopped him or demanded an answer, but he decided that effort was easier to attempt than a bluff.

    In the time it took him to take two steps, Grian had entirely rounded him, coming to stand between Mumbo and the chest. “Mumbo. Why do you want your communicator?”

    Mumbo tried to sidestep Grian, avoiding both him and the conversation. Grian, with unfair ease, matched him.

    “Please, Mumbo. Answer me.”

    Stalling wasn’t working, and Mumbo didn’t think he could keep himself standing for much longer. It didn’t help that, up this close, he could better see the weariness in Grian’s stance, his face, his eyes. That was his fault, wasn’t it?

    “I think you know why, Grian.” Mumbo finally said. He tried to dodge Grian’s eyes as he spoke, tried to keep them fixed on the chest, but Grian wouldn’t let him.

    “I really don’t.” Why did he have to keep pushing? Grian was smart, and a Boatem member, and a former Southlander. He had to know why Mumbo needed to leave. He had named the reason himself.

    “I can’t stay. I know I-”

    “Can’t stay? Mumbo, you can barely stand!” Grian interrupted, voice rising even though Mumbo couldn’t seem to find any anger in his tone. “You need to sit down, and rest, and let us help you!”

    That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? The hermits were too kind. Even to Mumbo. Even knowing what he was.

    “You don’t have to help me. I’ll- I’ll be alright. I don’t want to-”

    “Is this what you call alright?!” Grian waved a hand at Mumbo, incredulous even in the motion. “You nearly permadied! After months of secrecy and blood and injury and- and death games! You would’ve been gone, forever, without us- without us knowing anything, and-”

    Grian’s hand suddenly came back to press against his face, the base of his palm rubbing against the bottom of an eye, and suddenly Mumbo was the one reaching out, unable to hold himself back as Grian started to cry.

    “When Xisuma brought you back… when he showed up in Boatem, carrying you like some lifeless doll… you were bleeding. In Hermitcraft.” Grian was wise enough to not try and lean on Mumbo for support, but he did press slightly into his touch, layering his hand over Mumbo’s. “Even Xisuma didn’t know if you’d make it. What if next time you don’t? I can’t- I won’t let you go running right back to get yourself killed. I won’t.”

    “Grian, I-” What could Mumbo say to that? Offer an apology he knew Grian wouldn’t accept? Offer comfort for the problems he had created? He could try to keep leaving, to walk away, but that wouldn’t help Grian now. No, to help Grian now, Mumbo had to stay, even knowing that he shouldn’t.

    Mumbo was ‘saved’ from having to make a choice when his body made it for him, no longer willing nor able to keep him standing. He crumpled, semi-crashing into Grian, who did his best to catch Mumbo’s sudden dead weight. Inexplicably, Grian let out a small chuckle.

    “Forget letting you run off, I’d like to see you try to.” He half-joked, shifting Mumbo’s weight so he could more easily walk him back to the bed. Mumbo went along willingly, both due to his complete lack of energy and to let Grian have the moment.

    As soon as he was once more seated on his bed, Mumbo sunk into the mattress, nearly giving in to the urge to completely fall back on it and go back to sleep. He resisted, however. He still had something he needed to say to Grian.

    “I’m sorry.”

    “You’re… what?”

    “I’m sorry.” Mumbo repeated, not letting his gaze waver from Grian’s this time. “For scaring you. And lying. I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to hurt you. The complete opposite, in fact, but I, er, clearly missed the mark on that. So I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”

    The effect Mumbo had wanted his apology to have was a positive one. What type of positive, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but the point of it was to try and make Grian feel better, along with genuinely attempting to address what he had done. All he had wanted to do was help Hermitcraft, keep it safe from him. Yet, despite his attempts, they had still ended up hurt.

    (Not that he should be surprised by such an outcome. Had he truly expected anything good to come from him? He had been fooling himself.)

    And his apology had quickly become another failed act of niceness, if Grian’s expression was anything to go by. He didn’t look soothed, or comforted, or positive in any way. He just looked upset. Hurt.

    “Oh, Mumbo.” The way Grian said his name didn’t fit right in his mouth at all. There was no disdain in his words, merely the opposite. “You have nothing to apologize for. The Life games mess with everyone’s heads. We should have tried to help you earlier. I should have tried to help you earlier. That’s not your fault.”

    “It’s hardly yours either.” Mumbo argued. “You, Boatem, all of Hermitcraft- you all tried to help me, all the time. It’s not your fault it couldn’t be helped. You couldn’t have known.”

    “We could have, if we had just asked you where you were going off server all the time, instead of accepting the answers even you didn’t seem confident in-”

    “No, no, I don’t mean about the death games. I mean about… me.”

    Something flashed through Grian’s eyes. It looked like fear. “About you? What… what couldn’t we have known? About you?”

    Mumbo laughed, the reactionary noise hollow sounding. He knew it wasn’t a joke, but it felt a bit like the mimicry of one to him. “You said it yourself, Grian.

    “I’m a monster.”

#hermitcraft #last life #mdbb fic #m.y funky words #mfw: this predacious song #chap12: all of hermitcraft is guilt ridden. including mumbo!! solidarity

[redwinterroses]

All I'm saying is, if a fic refers to characters by their physical attributes instead of their names or pronouns ("he smiled at the older" "the blonde laughed") when we know who the character is, and ESPECIALLY if the descriptions include "ravenette" or "cyanette" or other ridiculous words--

I'm clicking out of that fic so fast my AO3 history won't even register I've been there.

#read. real. books. learn from them. #this is not how you write good lol #i opened up a very promising looking fic and in the first paragraph it called mumbo 'the ravenette' #WE KNOW IT'S MUMBO. SAY HIS NAME. SAY HE. there is no need to identify him by his physical attributes!!! #gah. I'll put up with a lot of beginner-type mistakes in fic #but this one just absolutely grinds my gears because it's not a beginner thing #otherwise-well-written fics pull this stunt all the time #it's a weird fic-specific bit of nonsense #for the love of good writing please read some books and notice what they do to make them good #redwintertalks #sorry for the morning rant. I'm very cranky.

[wedreamedlove]

The Importance of Vision [Xu Mo Character Study]

Reddit archived.

This is also pretty much the last of the posts I'll be bringing over. I have plans to update my Speech Quirks post and then maybe write something about Li Zeyan being in love.

So, back in my translation for Xu Mo's Archery Date I noted that Xu Mo had a lot of eye symbolism, especially with eyes being covered. At the time, I made a mental mark whenever I caught it but I didn't have any conclusive thoughts. However, I'm back now with said thoughts!!

Everyone ready for another deep dive with me?

Spoilers go up to Chapter 16 of the main story, and some dates unreleased yet in English.

THE IMPORTANCE OF VISION

First, and this will sound silly, I want to set the atmosphere for this post by pointing out that vision is an extremely important sense for animals, humans included. It helps us navigate the world.

Xu Mo brings up danger signals in [Firefly Date] and [Rainfall Date], explicitly the ones that you can see with your eyes. Here, he's giving us an example about how vision can be used to identify and avoid danger (if you so choose).

Meanwhile, like a broken record, I want to bring up again how colors (related intimately to vision) is THE romance symbol for Xu Mo and MC.

[Drowning Love SSR] and its two calls [Artist and Butterfly] and [The Only Color] imply an obsession and importance towards the one and only person who brings color to Xu Mo's life.

[Afternoon Date] has Xu Mo admitting that MC is full of colors in his eyes.

In addition to colors though, the two of them have scenes where they reflect only each other in each other's eyes. Their vision is wholly focused, consumed, and reflective of the other person in [Main Story 13-8] and [True Love Date].

So, in this case, vision is being used to give weight and importance to the bond between Xu Mo and MC. Not only can vision warn us about dangers and let us avoid them, but it can also identify important things to us (whatever that may be).

ACTUALLY, ABOUT THAT VISION...

However, in [Afternoon Date], Xu Mo actually gives an interesting lecture about Theodor Erismann and Iva Kohler's experiment on inverted vision. Interesting that Elex chose to drop their names, because the Chinese version included it...

TL;DR Kohler, when he wore the goggles that inverted his vision (up became down, and vice versa), he had a hard time doing things but his brain ended up adjusting and, by the end, he could go about their daily lives with these goggles on. Other people could even drive with them on!

Xu Mo goes on to say an intriguing line which Elex decided they wanted no part in LOL. So, in English, he goes "That's how malleable our brain is. The world you see may not be real. Perspectives can easily be changed".

In Chinese, he goes "这就是大脑的可塑性带来的效果、你看到的世界也许不是这个样子、去无存清、用进废退" which basically translates to "This is the result of our brain's plasticity. The world you see may not be as it seems. The brain eliminates anything other than what is essential and that is the law of use and disuse."

I took liberties here to get my translation to make sense, because 4 character phrases are always a headache to translate. I'm sick and tired of Elex dropping lines though!!

Anyway, the reason I bring up Xu Mo's lecture here is because it's being said that vision actually isn't so important. Like he pointed out, what we see may not even be the "real" world and it's just our interpretation of it through our senses. I'm going to stop here before we end up going to Wittgenstein's theory of experiential epistemology.

But the fact that our brain can adjust to messed up vision and still lets us go about our daily life shows how adjustable we are to our senses being deprived. Not to mention, there's lots of disabled people getting by just fine in our world too, blind people included.

VISION ISN'T ALL THAT IMPORTANT

In [Main Story 1-9] Xu Mo delivers his infamous line about how, when MC runs into danger, she is to trust in her instincts.

In [Main Story 9-22] Xu Mo talks about dreams, lucid dreams, and how there is no such thing as absolute reality, only reality begetting reality. Honestly, this is some mumbo jumbo and I'm sure there's different interpretations for what he meant here... but how I'm understanding it is that, again, he is pointing out that reality is what we experience and believe to be reality.

This is important and leads into my next example because, if reality is what you make of it then, again, vision isn't all that important and you can't rely on it.

In [Main Story 13-15] Xu Mo and MC go to the abandoned lab and see the [1 Corinthians 13:12] line on the wall "For now we see through a glass, darkly...". The meaning of this line is that we have an obscure or imperfect vision of reality.

Over and over again in Xu Mo's chapters we get these lines about how reality (and the truth) isn't something we can literally see. In my various character studies, I've tied this back to him gentling his eventual reveal as Ares to the MC, but here I'm using it to point out that it lessens the importance of vision because it's clearly a useless sense in this context.

Now, after all this emphasis on the lack of importance of vision, there's these scenes:

[Main Story 9-22] Xu Mo covers MC's eyes when they're both sharing the dream about the car accident in his past.

[Main Story 16-22] Xu Mo covers MC's eyes before he removes her from the dream world.

[Blossom Date] Xu Mo covers MC's eyes to demonstrate how her other senses heighten and lets her listen to the sounds of nature around her. This also lets MC hear all the suppressed emotions in his voice.

Again, in [Blossom Date] MC covers Xu Mo's eyes this time. His monologue shows that he's amused because he doesn't need his senses heightened, he has always heard his heart beat for her.

[CN Archery Date] MC covers his eyes to get him to sleep in the car.

In [Main Story 5-14] Xu Mo tells MC that it's not what you see that's important, but who you see it with. He's really diminishing the importance of vision and putting more weight into the experiences and feelings you get elsewhere.

MC clearly takes his words to heart because in [Hot Spring Date] she closes her eyes to avoid seeing the snow, since she wants to see the first snowfall WITH him (at the time, they were in a hot spring separated by a wooden divider).

Lastly, I mentioned this in my massive character study for Xu Mo that I actually think his actions, up to now, have disproved his obsession over the one and only color in his life (aka. importance of vision) because he hasn't tried to chain her to his side. He's let her escape, or helped her escape, in his chapters.

Then, in [Memory Palace: The Night Before], we see that Xu Mo can barely remember MC's colors and is prepared to lose it completely when they meet at the news conference. In [Main Story 16-22] MC sees moments of Xu Mo's past but it's already all in black and white.

Remember Erismann and Kohler's experiment with the inverted goggles and how the brain adapts quickly to wonky vision? Haha... Xu Mo has made the choice to abandon the color in his life (for her own good?) and now his brain will just have to adapt to a black and white world.

I say adapt but, well, he's been living in one for 26 years (except for that one time he met the MC?) and so it's more like he's returning to a familiar world. The plasticity of the brain will make it so he'll have no hindrances navigating through the world, but whether he's emotionally satisfied is another question.

THEY KNOW EACH OTHER SOUL-DEEP

BUT!! It's not all doom and gloom! Because here I'm going to say that Xu Mo and MC know each other on a soul-deep level. Not only do they play off of each other well (examples in the character study with poems and quoting each other), but there's also:

[Autumn Whisper SSR Call: Breakfast Time] MC delivers breakfast to Xu Mo's office and hides it behind a stack of books. He guesses it right on the first try and after MC asks if he has x-ray vision he answers "I don't have x-ray vision, but... you certainly don't have any secrets in my eyes, and you can't hide anything. Isn't that right?".

Meanwhile, in [CN Archery Date], MC picks out Xu Mo's bow among all the others in a line up, because she knows his personality, and this surprises him.

In the [Go See Him] sometimes Xu Mo will have a line where he says "Even with my eyes closed, I can tell its you".

[Midnight Date] and [True Love Date] make references to the red string of fate (although in a negative light because it pains Xu Mo) but the CN traditional wedding theme literally shows Xu Mo and MC bound by the red string of fate.

Those connected by the red thread are destined to be together, no matter their appearance, the place, the time, or their circumstances. They're connected to each other on the level of the soul and they'll always recognize and know each other.

CONCLUSION

So, how about it? Is vision important or not important to Xu Mo?

MC being Xu Mo's only color in the world is super important and romantic, but at the same time it's equally important and puts a twist on this romance that, hey, they don't actually need to rely on this color connection between them because they're connected on a deeper (?) level.

MC doesn't need her eyes to see and understand Xu Mo. She just has to trust in her instincts and believe in his character.

Meanwhile, Xu Mo can function without color as long as she's still here in the world although... maybe he is emotionally lacking something still LOL. There's always this hint of awe in his monologues whenever he thinks about MC and the color she brings with her.

Haha, at the time of writing this post, I didn't strongly believe in one or the other side. I just thought it'd be interesting to point this out. However, I read an amazing comment by @Edhie421 on Reddit:

And then the most famous sentence of [The Little Prince], of course, that I read when I was 7 and never forgot "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." (A very good translation from the original French, I might add.) That seems to me to reflect the other point you were making: that Lucien and MC both teach each other to look beyond the surface. While they're both obsessed with surface sight first - he with her colours, she with not wanting to notice the darkness in his behaviour - they slowly learn to see each other's value beyond. In that sense, I believe it's important that MC went through his betrayal, and that he went through being severed from her. He must learn that she means much more to him than the colours she brings, and she is learning to love him for all of the person he really is, the good and bad, and not just the lovely image that he projects at first. In that sense, it's a reflection of transition from passionate love into deep, lasting love: going beyond the surface (the iridescent shimmer) of your expectations and appreciating each other for who you are, stripped down to your bare, sometimes terrifying essence.

#mr love queen's choice #mlqc meta #mlqc lucien #mlqc #love and producer #love and produc(ing) meta #mlqc xu mo

[hermitcraft-dnd]

Chapter 1: Iskall

Iskall didn’t like the way Lord Gerald looked at him. It wasn’t anything malicious, just...weird. Ever since he first walked past Lord Gerald on his rounds, the Lord had looked at him like he was something to be coveted, like he was one of Iskall’s parent’s iskallium swords, like he was a particularly tasty meal. It would almost be flattering if it didn’t make him so uncomfortable. And ever since they first met, Lord Gerald has been keeping Iskall close, even requesting to have him on the guard rotation for the Judges Quarters where the Lord was staying. The other guards teased him about catching the Lord’s eye, but at this point Iskall was just waiting for the Creator's Competition to be over so Lord Gerald would go home.

“Iskall!” The dwarf felt his spine stiffen upon hearing the Lord’s voice.

“Lord Gerald.” He replied politely, turning and giving the man a slight bow. “How can I help you?” 

Lord Gerald placed a friendly hand on Iskall’s shoulder, and Iskall had to hide his discomfort. “I was hoping you’d join me for dinner later. I have a friend visiting that I want you to meet.” This time Iskall couldn’t hide his wince. “My Lord, I’m flattered, but I had other plans--” 

“I’m sure you’re busy with all of the competitors arriving, but I’ll talk to the head of the guard and make sure you have time off.” The Lord interrupted. “My friend really is eager to see you himself! And don’t worry, this isn’t a formal dinner, so you don’t have to worry about appearances. Just three friends spending time together.” 

Iskall really didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. He wasn’t interested in the Lord romantically, or at all really. But it didn’t look like he’d be able to get out of this one, and the Lord should at least have some fancy expensive food. 

“Alright,” he sighed, “I’ll come visit after my shift ends.”

“Excellent!” Lord Gerald beamed, “I’ll see you then!”

With that the Lord swept away, and Iskall relaxed with a heavy sigh. His partner for today’s shift chuckled at him.

“Someone’s got a date with nobility!”

“Oh shut up.” Iskall grumbled at her, continuing on their path. 

“I’m jealous.” She teased, matching his pace. “Fancy food, the night off...” 

“Yeah, except for the part where I’m not interested!” Iskall protested. “I don’t want to lead him on, but if I straight up tell him no and he gets mad it could be bad for me.”

“He’ll only be here for another week and a half, two weeks at most.” His partner consoled, though she was still clearly amused by the whole situation. “Then he’ll be out of your hair and all you’ll have to worry about is the teasing.”

Iskall groaned, shoving her lightly. “At least I don’t have to dress all fancy. Maybe this friend of his will get that I’m not interested and tell him to back off.”

“Or you could always say you’re already dating someone else.” His partner latched onto his arm and fluttered her eyelashes. “I could make a great fake girlfriend!” Iskall shoved her again, this time holding back a laugh.

“I think I’d rather take my chances with the Lord!” 

Several hours later Iskall was doing just that. He fiddled with the ring on his finger as he stared at the door to the Lord’s rooms. If all else failed he could pretend he was married, maybe mention that he’s going home to someone at the end of the night. Iskall wasn’t sure how the Lord would react to being turned down bluntly, especially if Iskall had to do it in front of Lord Gerald’s friend. 

“...you’re sure you can...we could just take him...just a guard...” The sounds of quiet conversation could be heard from behind the door. It didn’t sound like Lord Gerald, so maybe his friend...? “...as part of my guard. Once he’s in my employ, no one will question his disappearance. We can send him to the Grimdog without alerting the others.” That was Lord Gerald. Were they talking about making Iskall disappear? Who was this Grimdog person? Iskall got as close as he could without actually touching the door.

“But if he rejects the offer it’ll be even more suspicious, especially when--who was it? Grian and Mumbo Jumbo? When those two are taken.” Are those two planning on a kidnapping? Iskall had to tell someone, he’s a guard--

“What if we made it seem like the two competitors took Iskall? Then it wouldn’t appear that we weren’t involved at all. Or we could say that they all killed each other.” Killed? Whoever these two people, Mumbo Jumbo and Grian, were, they were in danger. And so was Iskall. He had to warn them somehow! 

“We could make it seem like an assassination attempt on you. You said you’ve been keeping Iskall close, so he would be in a prime position to defend you from any hypothetical attacks. Grian and Mumbo Jumbo would be framed as the attackers, taken down by Iskall, who died from his wounds.” Lord Gerald’s friend sounded almost excited and Iskall wanted to be sick. Why would someone want to kill him? Why would a Lord of all people want him dead? He couldn’t think of any enemies he’d made, certainly none who would be able to convince a Lord to join in!

“I...Are you sure? I thought my job was just to identify the gods and get them alone. I don’t want to actually see them die!” Some petty part of Iskall was glad that Lord Gerald was sounding sick himself. Serves him right! 

“We need to follow the Grimdog’s commands.” The friend sounded harsh now, commanding, not like he was talking to a Lord at all. Lord Gerald must have noticed as well and shown a reaction, because the friend’s next words were softer, almost comforting. “You just need to help with this one thing. Then you’ll be in the Grimdog’s good graces, and you’ll have his favor in the next life. I can do the killing myself, you don’t even need to be there.” There was silence for the next few moments. Iskall couldn’t decide if he should run now or try to listen in more. If they discovered him listening in now they’d capture him or just kill him outright! 

“I can do it. I...I’ll do as the Grimdog commands. Just try to keep the...the messier parts...away from me.” Lord Gerald’s voice was wavering, but he sounded determined. 

“Good. Now what time did you say Iskall would be here? I don’t want to get the wrong person after all.” Iskall’s eye widened in fear as he heard the friend’s voice approaching the door. He backed up from the door hurriedly, pretending like he wasn’t just listening in. 

The door opened, revealing a half elf with dark hair and sharp eyes. He scanned over Iskall briefly, then smiled charmingly.

“Ah, you must be Iskall! Gerald has told me quite a bit about you.” The half elf offered a hand to Iskall, who only hesitated a moment before shaking it.

“I, uh, hope I live up to the hype?” He offered. His skin crawled at the man’s touch but it didn’t look like the Lord’s “friend” had noticed anything wrong. 

“I’m sure you will.” Iskall’s hand was dropped and he was quickly ushered into the room. Lord Gerald was sitting at a table set for three people. 

Well. This was awkward. 

Lord Gerald didn’t stand up to meet him, instead offering a tight smile and avoiding Iskall’s eye. If he hadn’t just heard that the Lord was conspiring to have him killed, Iskall would’ve assumed it was a crush. Now he wished it was something so simple. 

“This is my...my friend. His name is Andrei. I’ve told him about your work.” The Lord’s words sounded hollow. Iskall just barely noticed Andrei giving the Lord a stern look out of the corner of his eye. The Lord seemed to compose himself for a moment, looking up at Iskall’s face, but it was lost once their eyes met.

“I’ve heard about your skill with the sword!” Andrei added cheerfully, sitting down at his seat and gesturing for Iskall to do the same. “I fancy myself decent with the blade myself.”

“Far more than decent.” Lord Gerald rebuked. “Even I can see that.” Andrei laughed and waved it off.

“I know enough to defend myself, but I’m no master. How long have you been using the sword, Iskall?”

The most disturbing part about dinner with his would-be murderers was how enjoyable it was. Andrei was an excellent conversationalist and soon enough he had both Iskall and Lord Gerald loosening up. Iskall even chanced the food, which was excellent, with the hope that his dwarven constitution would hold off any possible poison. Luckily it seemed that poisoning his food was too obvious for them, for the next morning Iskall woke up without so much as an upset stomach. 

He lay there for a while, completely clueless as to how to deal with the situation. The Captain of the Guard was his first instinct, it’s the Captain’s job to keep peace in the city after all. And Iskall was familiar with her since she was his boss. But planning a murder isn’t a light accusation, and Lord Gerald is a Lord. His word alone wouldn’t be enough to get a Lord in trouble. Iskall needed some sort of proof as well.

But first, Iskall had to make sure the other two targets were safe. He remembered their names, Grian and Mumbo Jumbo, and he knew that they were competitors in the Architech’s Competition. With a bit of asking around it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. The hard part would be making sure that Andrei and Lord Gerald didn’t hear about it. 

Thankfully, Iskall didn’t have to go farther than his fellow guards. One of them had been on gate duty and remembered two men entering together under the two names. He even said that Grian had a distinctive red half cloak and that Mumbo looked wealthy. Iskall kept an eye out on his patrol and eventually spotted a pair that matched the description. He took note of the tavern they were staying at (one of the nicer ones, apparently Mumbo could afford it) before finishing his shift like usual. 

Iskall waited until about dinner time to go see Grian and Mumbo. The rush hid his entrance and he made his way up to the rooms without any fuss. There weren’t too many rooms but Iskall didn’t want to go knocking on random doors and bringing attention to himself. He ended up standing there awkwardly until one of the doors opened, revealing a man in a red shirt who was calling back to someone in the room.

“I’m just going to grab something to eat, I’ll be back in a sec. Want anything?” Iskall didn’t hear the person inside’s reply as he tried to casually walk over to the room. The man in the red shirt turned around, almost bumping into Iskall.

“Oh! Uh, can I help you?” The man seemed confused to see Iskall, and Iskall realized that he hadn’t thought past the finding them part of his plan. 

“I’ve got a message!” Iskall blurted out. “For a Grian and Mumbo Jumbo?”

This seemed to only make the man more confused. “I’m Grian. Mumbo, were you expecting anything?” Iskall could see a man in fancy clothes behind Grian who looked just as confused.

“No. maybe it’s for the competition?” Mumbo asked as he came up behind Grian.

“It’s a private message.” Iskall added. “Can we step into the room for a minute?” Grian gave him a searching look and stepped aside.

“Sure. Who’s the message from?”

Iskall didn’t respond until the door was firmly closed behind him. Once it was the tension drained from his body and he let out a sigh of relief. 

“It’s from me. You’re both in danger. I overheard Lord Gerald planning to kill you.” He revealed dramatically. Grian and Mumbo glanced at each other.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Grian asked. 

“No! It’s true!”

“I’ve met Lord Gerald before and he doesn’t seem very homicidal to me.” Mumbo said doubtfully. 

Iskall ran a hand through his hair, now totally aware of how crazy he looked. “I know how it sounds, but I heard him! He was talking to Andrei and they said they were going to frame you for murdering me, or maybe kidnapping me, or maybe murdering Lord Gerald.” 

“Lord Gerald’s being murdered?” Mumbo seemed to be having trouble keeping up.

“No, we’re being murdered! By Andrei I think. And they mentioned something about a grimdog?” Grian suddenly grinned. 

“Oh, I get it! You’re here about the competition!” Iskall stared at him blankly.

“I am?” “Yeah, you’re trying to scare us off! Make us drop out so someone else can win. Well it’s not going to happen, Mumbo and I are going to win this!” Grian eyed Iskall suspiciously. “You can tell your employer or whoever that they’ll have to try harder than that.” 

Iskall’s heart sunk. “But it’s true! I heard--” “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Mumbo intervened. “But without some sort of proof we’re going to have a hard time believing some random stranger that came into our room talking about assassinations.”

Iskall grabbed onto the only sliver of hope he found in Mumbo’s words. “So you’ll believe me if I have proof?”

“How about this,” Grian jumped in again. “You bring us some proof, some good solid evidence that Lord Whoever--”

“Lord Gerald.” “Yeah, him. Bring us physical proof that he wants us dead and we’ll take you seriously.” Iskall stared at Grian for a moment, then sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again.

“Fine. I’ll bring you some proof. But until then, just-- just watch out for a half-elf with dark hair named Andrei.”

Grian agreed, waving his hand dismissively, and Iskall left, Mumbo shutting the door firmly behind him.

Iskall set out to get some proof the next day. He was once again guarding the Lord’s quarters, and he knew that the Lord was currently out preparing for the competition. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to go look through Lord Gerald’s stuff, but he had to get past his partner first. Lydia was a friend of his, and she’d been teasing him about how fond of him Lord Gerald was, but she was also a good guard. She wouldn’t let Iskall go rummage around in a Lord’s quarters alone without a good excuse.

Iskall just hoped the one he’d thought up would suffice.

“Hey, uh, Lydia?” He started, stopping her as they passed by Lord Gerald’s door. “Do you mind staying here for a bit? I forgot something in the Lord’s rooms.”

Lydia studied him for a moment, a small frown appearing on her face. “I thought you weren’t interested in Lord Gerald? How did you leave something there?” Iskall’s face reddened a bit, which thankfully helped his story.

“I’m not! But when he invited me to dinner last night I brought a ring so I could pretend I had a wife if I had to, like you suggested with the pretending I have a girlfriend thing. But I didn’t put it on right away, because I only wanted to use it as a last resort, and I think it fell out of my pocket.”

“Why don’t you just ask Lord Gerald if he’s seen it?” At least Lydia seemed to be buying his story.

“I don’t want him to think I’m making excuses to see him.” Iskall said sheepishly. “And it would be really awkward to explain why I had a ring on me if I wasn’t wearing it. I’d rather just go in, see if I dropped it on the floor or something, and pretend like this never happened.” At last Lydia seemed convinced. 

“Alright, I’ll wait out here. You can snoop through Lord Gerald’s quarters by yourself. But you owe me one Iskall!” 

“Thank you so much. It won’t take long!” And with that, Iskall entered the Lord’s rooms. The Lord had a small suite consisting of one central room and three smaller attached rooms. The central room is where Lord Gerald hosted the dinner from last night, so Iskall didn’t know what was behind the other three doors. He quickly glanced around the central room, but he didn’t expect to find anything. Why would Lord Gerald keep assassination plans out in the open? And besides nothing had really changed from last night, and he hadn’t seen anything suspicious then. 

With that, Iskall tried the leftmost door. It was unlocked, and once it opened Iskall could see why. This was the Lord’s bathroom, and there was very little in there. Just a sink, a toilet, a bath, and the faint scent of fancy soaps. Feeling weird about snooping around in someone else’s bathroom, Iskall tried the middle door. It was locked, and Iskall could see a keyhole right underneath the handle. 

There were two options. Iskall could either move on and hope there was something useful in the last room, or he could try to break into the locked room. It was a pretty easy choice since Iskall was trained to guard places, not break into them. Last room it was. 

This door wasn’t locked, and opening it revealed the Lord’s bedroom. His first glance revealed a side table, and Iskall made a beeline for it. The side table was beautiful and delicate, just like the rest of the Lord’s items, with a cup of water resting on top. When he opened the drawer all he found was a pair of reading glasses and a writing set. No incriminating letters or bloody daggers or anything! 

Iskall slammed the drawer shut with a groan. He’d found nothing and Lydia was going to get suspicious soon! Maybe he’d missed something in the main room. He left the bedroom, stopping himself from slamming the door in frustration, and looked around again. If he was an evil Lord, where would he hide his evil evidence? The mantle maybe? But there was nothing there except for an ornate mirror. Maybe he could force open the door--

“Iskall, have you found it?” He heard Lydia ask. Iskall glanced around the room desperately and spotted a piece of paper tucked under a book on the table. He shoved it into his pocket just as Lydia opened the door. 

“...Iskall?” Lydia seemed worried, so Iskall gave her a fake smile.

“Yep! It rolled under the table.” He could tell that Lydia wasn’t entirely fooled. She looked worried for him. 

“If something’s wrong you can talk to me, you know that right? If Lord Gerald is really giving you trouble--”

“I’ll be fine.” Iskall said firmly. “Just a little bit longer, right?” Lydia hesitated but nodded. 

“Let’s get back to our rounds.” It wasn’t until later in the evening that Iskall had the chance to actually look at what he had stolen. It was just a short note, no long and detailed plans on how to murder innocent guards, but it was still evidence. It read: 

“Lord Gerald,

I applaud you on finding the Doomed, even if it wasn’t how we expected to find him. The Crimson One and the Technician will be revealed next according to the Grimdog. The Crimson One is short for his species, with golden hair and dark eyes. He will be dressed in red as his name suggests. His name has been revealed as Grian. The Technician will be much taller, with dark hair and eyes and a prominent mustache. He will be wearing formal clothes much like yourself. His name has been revealed as Mumbo Jumbo. Andrei has been sent to help retrieve the three of them. 

The Grimdog has faith in you. You shall be rewarded.

H

That was suspicious. Maybe even suspicious enough to convince Grian and Mumbo. Iskall was going to talk to them in the morning. He spent the first part of the night packing, in case he and Grian and Mumbo had to make a run for it. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but having a contingency plan made him feel a little bit calmer.

It was lucky he did. 

He was changing into his sleepwear when he heard a noise from behind him. He turned to see a knife just barely miss him. He jumped away, turning around fully to see Andrei wearing leather armor and wielding a knife.

Iskall swore and tried to dodge past him to the door where his sword was hanging. Andrei struck again, catching Iskall’s arm as he ran past. Iskall felt the sting of the blade as he reached his sword and tore it off the wall, swinging around to swipe back. He just barely missed, the tip of his sword brushing Andrei’s chest plate as Andrei dodged backwards. 

The bloodlust in Andrei’s grin as he attacked again unnerved Iskall. He dodged, and the knife ended up embedded in his door instead of his chest. While Andrei pulled it out Iskall grabbed wildly for his armor. He was able to shove it into a bag he still had lying around from his rushed packing before Andrei struck again. This time the blade pierced into his shoulder. 

Iskall grit his teeth and swung again. And once again Andrei danced out of the way.

“I would’ve thought a god would be harder to kill.” Andrei sneered at him, missing his next attack. Iskall lunged and Andrei dodged easily, but Iskall was next to the bag he’d packed earlier. 

“Godslayer sounds like a fitting title, doesn’t it? Maybe after I finish off the Architechs the Grimdog will have me hunt the Hound. The Heren Forest isn’t that far from here.” Talking seemed to be distracting Andrei just enough to let Iskall dodge his attacks, but Andrei was still between him and the door. And Iskall still couldn’t land a hit!

“With the Grimdog hunting you you really are Doomed, aren’t you Iskall?” Andrei’s words finally got to Iskall and he managed to land another hit. Iskall was bleeding heavily, his bedclothes giving him no protection. He took a deep breath and powered through the pain to strike Andrei. Iskall hit, landing a bruising blow on Andrei and forcing him to stumble back. Iskall took the chance to rush past him and out the door, getting another stab from Andrei as he did. 

Iskall burst out of his door and out onto the street, yelling for another guard. He didn’t know the man that responded to his yelling, but it didn’t matter. 

“What happened?” The guard asked, looking over his bloody clothes. 

“Attacker...in the house...” Iskall panted. “Tried to get me...as I was going to sleep...”

“Stay here. I’ll investigate.” The guard ordered. Iskall opened his mouth to protest but the guard was already drawing his sword and entering. He must be new, he should’ve waited for backup. Really, what sort of training were guards getting nowadays?  And where was his partner? 

Well even if that guard was bad, Iskall was going to do his job. He had to get to Grian and Mumbo, had to warn them and keep them safe, even if they wouldn’t believe him. With two bags in one hand, his sword in the other, and wearing nothing but his bedclothes, Iskall ran through the streets of Bludstone to the inn where the two were staying. The barkeep was just closing up for the night. The man tried to protest as Iskall barged into his inn, but Iskall didn’t stay long enough to listen. He raced up the stairs and pounded on the door of Grian and Mumbo’s room. 

The minute between his knocking and Mumbo opening the door felt like an eternity. Iskall was half convinced that Andrei had gone for them first, that the door would open to their bodies lying on the ground.

“What in the world are you pounding at our door in the middle of the night fo--oh my word!” Mumbo greeted him, eyes growing wide as he looked over Iskall’s bloodied clothes. 

“I was attacked.” Iskall got out, peering into the room behind Mumbo.”He’ll be coming for you. You need to pack, you’re not safe.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere! Come in, I should have some supplies...” Mumbo left the door open as he hurried into his room. Iskall followed him in, shutting the door behind him and sliding the deadbolt closed. 

“Ugh, is it that guy again?” Grian grumbled from his bed. He sat up sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re not listening to me, you need to go!” Iskall said again. Grian stared at him in disbelief. 

“Gods, what happened to you? This is a bit far for a competition, don’t you think?” Frustration welled up in Iskall’s chest. 

“This isn’t a joke!” He snapped. “I’m trying to save you lives, but the two of you are fighting me every step of the way! What will it take for you to believe me? A nice note ordering your deaths with Lord Gerald’s seal on it? My dead body? A knife in your chest? I got attacked as I was going to bed! I was exhausted after spending the day to find your proof! Is this not enough for you?” Iskall was breathing heavily, unaware of how crazed he looked. Grian slowly got out of bed, raising his hands like he was calming a cornered animal.

“Hey, there’s no need to get mad. Why don’t you just calm down. We can get something to drink, and then we can call--”

“Grian, I think he’s telling the truth.” Mumbo said quietly, coming up from behind Iskall with a medical kit in his hands.

“Mumbo, you can’t possibly believe--”

“Look at him Grian! Someone did this to him. If someone’s willing to go this far over some stupid competition they’d probably be willing to hurt us too!” Mumbo insisted. “We should leave.” Grian glanced between Mumbo and Iskall helplessly, as if waiting for one of them to tell him that this was all some sort of joke. But when no one did he sighed. 

“Alright. Let’s pack.” He paused and looked at Iskall. “What was your name again?”

“Iskall.” Iskall replied, adrenaline starting to fade. The rush was replaced with relief. They finally believed him.

“Iskall. Will you bleed out in the next few minutes or can you wait until we can get you to a healer?”

“I’ll watch the door.” He said instead of answering. Grian nodded and started moving around the room, collecting his things. Mumbo set the med kit on one of the beds and did the same.

Keeping his eye on the door, Iskall set down his own bags with one hand and started pulling out his armor. It wasn’t ideal, but he could wear the chainmail over his bedclothes for now. He didn’t want to be caught without it again.

It took longer than Iskall would’ve liked for Mumbo and Grian to pack, but soon enough they were ready to leave. Iskall unbolted the door and peeked out at the empty hallway, then beckoned for the others to follow him. He knew the city far better than they did so he stayed in the lead all the way to the city wall. 

“Halt! State your--Iskall?” There was only one guard stationed at the gates at night. Guards usually worked in pairs, so that if something happened one could stay and control the situation and the other could go get help. In the hopes of keeping costs down however, the late night and early morning shifts for gate duty only had one guard. Their job was to alert one of the patrol groups immediately if they noticed something off. It was a position usually given to newbies as a form of hazing, or one used as punishment if you angered the captain. 

The current guard on duty was a human named Allan. He was one of the newer guards, and he had a tendency to accidentally anger the captain, so he was on late night gate duty a lot. Iskall teased him a lot, but it wasn’t malicious. If Allan ever needed help Iskall was there for him.

“Allan. I’m escorting these two out of the city.” Allan looked nervous. He hadn’t heard Iskall use his serious voice in a while. 

“You look pretty roughed up. Did something happen?” He asked. Iskall winced internally. It wasn’t that bad! Everyone was acting like he was dying or something. 

“I’m fine, just scratched up a bit. You’ll hear about it in the morning, for now I just need to get through the gate.” Allan still looked worried, but he nodded and got out his keys. 

“Stay safe Iskall!” He said nervously as the group walked past. Iskall patted him on the shoulder with a sad smile. Iskall would miss the poor guy. 

“You too Allan.” 

Grian waited until they were well away from the wall to talk. “I can’t believe it’s that easy to sneak out of the city!”

Iskall nodded, a frown appearing on his face. “Yeah, I’m sort of disappointed.”

“Convenient though!” Mumbo added. “What now?” 

“I heard Andrei mention something about the Heren Forest. I think there’s another target there.” “There’s more than just us?” Grian looked shocked. “I thought this was about the competition!” 

“No, from what I can tell there’s a group hunting us and some other people. Andrei called me the Doomed, you’re the Crimson One, and Mumbo’s the Technician.” Iskall explained. “And the Hound was mentioned with the Heren Forest.”  “So they’re getting someone to represent each of the gods?” Mumbo guessed. “That sounds like a ritual of some sort.”

“Well whatever it is I want no part of it!” Grian declared. “Or I would, but I think that ruining whatever plans they have would be a good way to get back at them for ruining the Architech’s Competition for me.”

“So the Heren forest it is.” Mumbo decided. “We’ll need to follow this road for a while, and at the first chance we go north.”

The trio continued following the road, debating the motives of their hunters, completely unaware of the man following behind them.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #iskall85 #mumbo jumbo #grian #Dungeons Dragons and Demise #this took forever to write #and iskall kept on rolling really badly #so badly it was messing with the plot #half of this chapter had to be improvised because Iskall failed his rolls #if he didn't have second wind he would've died

[the-real-xmonster]

Combo and Sequence

Thanks to a certain dude named Yuzuru Hanyu who recently performed a quad toe loop - triple Axel thing in his free skate, my inbox / private messages are full of people who are baffled by jump combinations and jump sequences (thanks, Yuzu, for complicating our lives, what would we ever do without you). I don’t blame you guys, because the IJS’s take on this topic, as it goes in the technical handbook, is, at best, confusing, and at worst, total mumbo-jumbo to anyone who isn’t fluent in ISU-speak (it’s an esoteric cousin who only vaguely resembles English).

So, below, you will find my attempt at translating ISU-speak into everyday English, regarding combos and sequences, what their definitions are, what rules apply to them, and how they are scored.

The Definition

Now, in the common figure skating nomenclature, a jump combination and a jump sequence both refer to a group of two or more jumps performed in succession. The difference between a combination and a sequence is whether or not there is a change of edge between the landing of the first jump and the takeoff of the second jump, and between the second and third jump, so on. If there is no change of edge, it’s a combination, if there is at least one change of edge, it’s a sequence.

I’ve talked about the most common jump combinations in this post so feel free to go through it if you need to refresh your knowledge. 

As for jump sequences, up until last season, the ISU used to accept just about everything, as long as (1) the jumps are connected by only a hop or an unlisted jump, (2) the rhythm is maintained, and (3) there is no obvious turn/step/skating movement in between. So this one, for example, would have qualified as a sequence:

That’s a 4T+1Lo+4T Yuzu attempted for fun (yeah, right) back in the Worlds 2017 gala finale. A question might pop up here about why I do not call it a jump combination even though it looked like one. The answer is: because the half-loop was landed on the left back inside edge, and Yuzu’s second quad toe was taken off from the right back outside edge, so there was a change of edge involved in that cluster. If he had followed it up with a quad Salchow then that would have been a combo.

From the 2018-2019 season, however, the ISU has narrowed down their definition of jump sequences to include only clusters which contain one listed jump, followed by one step, followed by an Axel. That step in between must be a direct move from the landing curve of the first jump (right back outside) to the takeoff curve of the Axel (left forward outside). The final product is something that looks like this:

Quad toe, landed on right back outside >> one direct step to left forward outside >> triple Axel takeoff. 

The key things to keep in mind about this new requirement are (1) a sequence cannot contain more than 2 jumps, (2) the second jump, obviously, has to be an Axel, and (3) crucially, only a direct step is allowed between the jumps.

No.3 is crucial because under that rule, a sequence like this

, performed with a small hop in between the first jump and the Axel, is no longer valid as a jump sequence. So in that 4T+3A sequence Yuzu did in Origin, the 3A is actually one level more difficult than the ones he used to do previously in ice shows, since he had to take off for it a lot faster, with no breathing room to steady himself in between.

Scoring Principle

The base value of a jump combination is the sum total of base value of all jumps in the combination. The scale of value used to convert its raw GOE into final GOE is the SOV of the jump with the highest BV in the combination, after edge calls and under-rotations calls (if any) have been taken into account. Pretty straightforward, right? The BV of a 3F+3T combo is (5.30 for the 3F + 4.20 for the 3T) = 9.60 points. The SOV applied on that combo is the SOV of a 3F, from -2.65 minimum to +2.65 maximum. If, however, the 3F is called as either under-rotated or wrong edge, its BV would be reduced to 3.98, which is lower than the value of a fully rotated 3T, so the GOE for a 3Fe+3T combo would be converted to final score using the SOV of a 3T, ranging from -2.10 to +2.10.

The base value of a jump sequence is the sum total of the jumps’ BV multiplied by 80%, presumably because sequences are on the whole easier than combinations, or at least that’s what the ISU believes. Same principle on SOV applies.

The Requirement / Limitation

Short Program

At the senior level, a short program must include a combination of 

For the men: 4-3, 4-2, 3-3, 3-2

For the ladies: 3-3 or 3-2

These choices are all reversible, because under the IJS, the order of the jumps in a combo doesn’t matter, i.e., a 2T+4T is basically regarded as the same as a 4T+2T (yeah I know, it’s not the most logical thing in the world to assume but here we are) so a 2-3 combo, for example, is also a legal jumping pass.  

Any jump outside of these options is considered invalid. Invalid jumps get marked with an asterisk (*) in the protocol and receive no credit. A few common scoring cases where you can see the impact of this rule: 

Case 1: A lady performs a quad-triple in her SP. She’d get zero BV for the quad.

Case 2: A skater performs a three-jump combination in their SP, say, 3-3-3. The extra jump would receive zero BV.

Case 3: A skater attempts a triple-triple in their SP, but pops the second triple into a single (like what Alina did the other day in her SP at GP Helsinki). The single jump is invalidated and receives zero BV.

Case 4: A skater performs a 2-2 in their SP. The double jump with the lower BV, after consideration of edge and under-rotation calls, will be invalidated. 

Case 5: A skater fails to put any of their non-Axel jumps into a combination (like what happened to Zhenya at Skate Canada). During the performance, the technical panel would mark the second solo jump as receiving zero BV (which is what you’d see in the TES tracker in the TV broadcast). After the performance, the technical panel would identify which of the two solo jumps was intended as a combo, and if there is no way to tell which, they’d pick the latter jump. That jump would be marked with a +COMBO note on the protocol

Case 6: A skater lands their first jump, does an invalid movement in between, (e.g., stumbling, touching down with the hands/knees - anything that involves a “weight transfer”, per ISU terminology, off the landing foot) then takes off for their second jump (like Yuzuru did in his SP at Worlds 2017). That cluster is marked as first jump+COMBO+second jump, and the jump performed after the invalid movement receives no credit.

Note that two three-turns in between the jumps actually count as an acceptable movement and keep the cluster within the definition of a combo. See Shoma’s 3S+2T in his Worlds 2018 SP for example: that was still counted as a combo, so no +COMBO mark on his protocol, though he did receive negative GOE for the error.

In conjunction with the Zayak rule, there are a couple more implications:

If any jump in the combo has been performed earlier as a solo jump, it’s invalidated. For example if a guy pops his planned quad toe in to a triple, and then performs a quad Sal-triple toe for his combo, the triple toe is invalidated. 

As a sole exception to the Zayak rule, it is considered a legal move if a skater repeats jump within a combo. So 3T+3T and 3Lo+3Lo are accepted as valid combos in a SP.

One important thing to note is that, since the SP rules have very specific requirement for combos, any combo not meeting the requirement is automatically given a -5 in final GOE, regardless of how well the element by itself was performed. So the combos in cases 3, 4, 5, 6 above would all get the maximum GOE reduction. I’ve never seen case 1 and 2 in a real competition so I can’t say with 100% certainty, but my guess is if they happen, they’d also warrant a default -5 in GOE.

On another note, a frequently asked question I receive on this topic is: are skaters allowed to perform an Axel combination in a SP. The answer is: yes, provided that the Axel in combination is different from the Axel performed as the Axel-type jump. A lady, if she wants to, can perform a SP with a 3A, a 2A+3T, plus one non-Axel triple. A guy (regardless of whether or not his name starts with a Y and ends with a U) is allowed to do a SP layout of 3A, 2A+3T (or 2A solo, 3A+3T), plus, in the extreme case, a 4A as his solo jump - totally legal.

Free Skate

The free skate is, well, obviously, freer when it comes to combo/sequence regulations. A skater can have up to 3 combos and/or sequences in their FS. Do note that it is “up to 3”, meaning that it is not a strict requirement. A FS with no combination is completely legal.

Combos in the FS can include any jumps of any number of revolutions, so a 4-1 performed in a FS will be given the full combined BV of the quad and the single.

Out of the 3 combos/sequences, only 1 is allowed to contain 3 jumps. And, as per the new ISU definition of jump sequences, a 3-jump cluster has got to be a combo in order to be valid.

There is no rule against the repetition of jump combo, as long as such repetition does not violate the Zayak rule, so you’d see a few ladies performing two 3Lz+3T combos in one FS (Wakaba for example). 

Still, there are a few circumstances when a skater can get their combo jumps invalidated in a FS:

Case 1: The skater performs two 3-jump combos. The last jump in the latter combo is invalidated. 

Case 2: The skater repeats a quad or a triple jump without being able to put it in combination. This case actually falls more under the Zayak rule, but anyway, the treatment is that extra solo jump will be marked with a +REP, and receives only 70% of its BV. 

Case 3: The skater performs more than 3 combos/sequences. The extra combo/sequence will be marked with a +REP. Only the first jump in this combo/sequence will be given credit and all the subsequent jumps are invalidated. Moreover, since there is a +REP sign, the credit given is only 70% of the first jump’s BV. So, if Yuzu goes batshit crazy one day and performs, say, the Seimei v1.0 layout, but with a 3Lz+2T to end his program instead of the solo 3Lz, that combo would be marked down as 3Lz+2T*+REP and would earn him only 70% of the value of a 3Lz.

Case 4: The skater performs an invalid movement (the definition for these is the same as in the SP, discussed above) in between the jumps in the combo/sequence. The combo is marked as first jump+SEQ+second jump, and the jump performed after the invalid movement receives zero BV. For example, see this combo by Alexei Bychenko in his FS at Worlds 2018. 

You do want to remember this peculiar marking, because in a protocol, the placement of that +SEQ matters. A combo like Alexei did is marked as 3A+SEQ+2T*, which means that (1) he got no credit for the 2T and (2) his cluster was counted as a sequence, as a result of which he only received 80% of the 3A’s BV. 

A valid sequence, on the other hand, will have the +SEQ note at the end, so in Yuzu’s FS protocol from GP Helsinki, you’d see a 4T+3A+SEQ, which means it was a legal move, no part of the cluster was invalidated, and he got the full BV of a sequence for it, which was (9.50 for the 4T + 8.00 for the 3A) x 80% (sequence discount) x 1.1 (highlight distribution bonus) = 15.40 points.

One final thing to note (yes, FINAL, finally) is that, since combos in a FS are optional, unlike the +COMBO sign in the SP, both the +REP and the +SEQ+ signs in the FS do not mandate the maximum negative GOE. Those jumps/combos will be evaluated according to the standard GOE guidelines, with consideration for both positive and negative features.

And that was all I could think of for now. Re-reading it, I realized it was maybe probably very likely too much information but I’m unfortunately too lazy to trim it down. Hope this at least helps a little bit, if not, I apologize for yet another wall of text. Here’s a pwetty Yuzu combo to mentally compensate you:

#figure skating #tech talk #yuzuru hanyu #wall of text #insert more apology for wall of text

[amnesiacgrian]

Chapter 2 - Abyss

Part 1

I hardly slept that night, for obvious reasons. The only thing running through my head was the note I had found. Trust no one… what an ominous message. I wonder who would’ve left that with me.

With the rising sun came Mumbo’s awakening, slowly but surely. I pretended I had been sleeping as well, slowly forcing myself to stand from my cramped position and stretch. The note crumpled in my hand, reminding me to store it away. Keep suspicions away for now.

But why was that note so… terrifying? It was words on paper, basically nothing, yet somehow it felt so much more sinister than just that. I dunno, I guess it bothered me. It felt like it should be a secret, something closely guarded.

I could feel Mumbo’s eyes on me, watching my thought process go down quickly, so in response I blinked up at him tiredly. “Hello Mumbo. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged, not speaking right now. He looked about half-awake as he wandered to a chest, pulling out some eggs and pork. Those went into a furnace, laid overtop coals and left to cook up.

I glanced out the window at the sun rising over this small island, reflecting off the vast ocean right outside. It was blinding, the waves reflecting crystals of light into my eyes. I could see a boat in the distance, half-built and partially shrouded by early morning mist.

“Here,” Mumbo held out some of the eggs in my direction, a small smile on his face. “Breakfast.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back, taking the tray and devouring the food. I was much more hungry than first imagined… but then again, I can’t remember the last time I actually ate anything. Like, I could remember eating food obviously, but no actual meals.

As the last bites were taken care of, a small knock came from the floor entrance of the treehouse. Mumbo popped open the trapdoor with a foot, his plate still in his hands, and in came a new person.

She was honestly adorable. Dark brown hair with pure white ends, bright eyes the same shade as the oak bark to my left. Her pink and white cardigan went well with her white blouse and blue skirt, and her smile made me blush.

“Oh, hello!” She saw me, grinning. “Glad Iskall warned me you were awake. I’m StressMonster, but call me Stress.”

“Oh, uh… I’m Grian.” I waved a small bit, trying not to fumble too much. I turned down to the floor, kicking at it a small bit.

“And I’m chopped liver,” Mumbo helped Stress up the ladder and into the treehouse. Her wings were pure white, larger than you’d expect for a person her size, folded tightly to her back. She giggled, running a hand through her hair mindlessly.

“So it’s obvious that the few hours I took to actually sleep were when everything exciting happened. Glad to be of use.” I enjoyed her thick accent, the teasing lilt making us all smile.

“Stress-” Mumbo sighed, shaking his head. Stress giggled, winking his direction. “Whatever, is there any progress?”

“Sadly no. No exit Portals can be opened.” Stress shifted from left to right, seeming unable to stay still. Her smile became a little more forced, voice turning serious. “I have a daughter that I need to go see, I need to get out of here-”

“We know, Stress. Everyone has family out of Hermitcraft.” Mumbo pulled her into a hug, making me feel suddenly like I was… intruding, on a situation I knew nothing about. “I’m sure we’ll get out of here soon.”

“So from what I’m understanding,” I butted into the conversation, “The only way out of this place is blocked, and… no one can fix this?”

Stress and Mumbo shared a look, knowing something I didn’t. I pretended not to notice right away, letting Stress say something.

“For now, it’s… better that we let the Admins suss this one out. Speaking of which, X asked me to bring Grian over to his base for an Admin Scan.”

The slight brow crease of worry in Mumbo’s brow making me wonder what an Admin Scan exactly meant. “I thought X was going to come here and do that.”

“He was. Initially.” Stress shrugged a bit. “But now he’s needing Grian to be in his base to actually do the Scan. Something about closer to the Data Center?”

“Where is he holed up these days?”

“Some farms near the coast. He showed me around before I came here.”

Mumbo huffed, turning to dig in a chest. “I’ll take you there then. If something happens to Grian on the way there it’s on my head.”

“I’m right here,” I quietly protested, slightly cross at the way these two talked like I wasn’t here. Stress giggled, flashing me a grin.

“We know,” She opened the trapdoor to the ground, “That’s the problem.”

Before I could ask anything else, she had dropped. She launched into the air, wings spreading around herself gracefully. I watched in awe, before getting a nudge from behind me.

Mumbo was there, holding two pairs of wings. “Everyone gets an elytra this season. You wanted to fly?”

~~

Flying was so much easier than I could ever imagine.

We had started out at the very top of Mumbo’s treehouse, where I learned how to strap the wings to my body. As I connected the final strap, the wings morphed into a dark brown, reddish streaks at the very tips giving the impression of feathers.

Mumbo’s wings were black, specked with white like flecks of paint. They were long and wide, while mine were short and angled.

“Ready?” He smiled, holding a rocket in his hand. I glanced to the sky where Stress was lazily doing loops, blending in with the clouds in the infinite blue.

“Yeah. Just… jump and light, right?” I held the rocket in my hand as well, the pull-tab ready for release.

“Right,” Mumbo looked forward, determined, “One… two… three!”

We leapt off the tree at the same time, fumbling in nearly the same manner to unfold the wings. I pulled on the tab a bit before Mumbo, letting the rocket shoot me up into the sky.

Like it was natural, I pressed a button near my chest, and the elytra expanded behind me. I felt my ascent slow, angling forward into a glide easily. The breeze blowing on my face, the way the land below was so far yet steadily rising up… this all felt so…

Familiar.

I was laughing, doing loops carelessly. The air felt fresh, untouched, unchanged. I glanced down, gliding upside down, to see ^V^80 shaking 4!$ head at my antics.

“Grian!”

I gasped, realizing my fall had picked up, I was heading down headfirst to the ground. I fumbled for another rocket, but it was too late. I crashed into the ground hard, dust flying around -

- And I shot up in the middle of some small island. I sat in the middle of a beach, warm sand below my legs. The elytra that had been pinned to my back was gone, along with the note that had been in my pocket.

I panicked, checking everywhere on me for the note. Nothing. The note was gone, gone, gone-

“I knew you didn’t sleep last night!”

I jumped a solid meter in the air, turning rapidly to see the moustached man named Mumbo coming in for a landing. In one hand was the rocket he was using to fly, the other holding the back-to-grey elytra I had worn a moment ago.

“Uh… wh-what do you mean?” I grinned sheepishly, walking towards where he touched down in the sand. The elytra was thrust in my arms, and I was quick to strap it back on.

“You would have respawned in the treehouse if you had slept last night. It’s just how this works. Instead you popped up here.”

I shrugged, finishing attaching the elytra. “So what if I didn’t sleep? Does it matter?”

“Not currently, but give it a few nights.”

“What does that-” Before I could finish my question he had taken off, leaving me to fumble with another rocket and launch into the air.

I followed Mumbo’s lead back to his base, where Stress was pacing on top of the tree anxiously. Her eyes locked onto us as we came in for a landing, a relieved smile taking over her face when I stumbled forward.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Stress walked forward, fussing with my sweater. “One moment you were fine - better than any newbie has the right to be - the next you’re falling to the ground headfirst!”

“I…” I shrugged, pulling back from Stress quickly. “I don’t know. It was weird, I saw…”

What exactly did I see? It was like I was looking down at someone, but they weren’t there. Not really, at least.

“It was like… someone was there, but not.” I looked back up at the duo before me. “The ground was different, and I wasn’t flying down. I… I dunno.”

“Weird,” Mumbo glanced to the sky, where the sun was rising higher and higher. “I would love to chat more about that, but we should get to Xisuma’s base before he has a cow.”

“Right.” Stress flexed her wings, looking to the sky as well. “Follow me.”

~

...Xisuma’s ‘base’ was a bunch of farms with a mineshaft heading downwards. Xisuma himself was interesting. His bright green armor, clashing with a grey and purple helmet gave off the aura of mystery.

“It’s not much, just to get me started,” The man in question smiled sheepishly, leading us to a makeshift dirt-hut with a bed, “But it’s something.”

“I like it,” Stress grinned, “Quite quaint.”

“Thank you Stress for pretending.” He ruffled her hair as she puffed her cheeks out in a pout. I smiled as well, adoring their interaction. Mumbo had taken up a spot sitting nearby on a pile of logs, tinkering with some redstone to keep himself busy.

“Anyways, we should start now.” X gestured to his bed in the hut. “Lie down there before I black you out on your feet.”

Well that didn’t sound bad at all.

“How… exactly does this work?” I questioned, settling onto the bed. I stayed sitting up in the bed as he pulled a holographic panel out of nowhere.

X glanced at me curiously. “Well… everyone has Data. You know what Data is, right?”

“Mate, I know jack about jack.” The snap had me a bit surprised, worried that Xisuma was gonna take it as an insult, but he just laughed a bit.

“Right. Mumbo warned me about the memory stuff…” He sighed. “Well essentially everyone is made of their own Data, which Servers use to identify each person. It’s kind of complicated, but really important to our very existence.”

I nodded a bit. “So… how does that fit into the Scanny-thingy?”

“Well when I perform an Admin Scan, I can have access to your Data. Your Data contains everything about you. Memories, most importantly. By seeing your memories, I’ll maybe be able to figure out how you got here. So lie down, and we can get started.”

With a sigh, I flopped back onto the comfortable sheets. I couldn’t see what X was doing over me, but Stress squeezed my hand from nearby.

“I hope it all works out. I have some base stuff to get back to, but give me a ring if you need me.” She pulled her hand away, before leaving the small hut. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving X and myself alone in the darkness. I knew Mumbo was just outside, but that wasn’t quite as reassuring as I had hoped it would be.

His tablet thingy glowed a faint blue as he paced the small area. “Alright, we’re about ready to go. Close your eyes, and try not to resist this.”

“Resist?” I closed my eyes as requested. “What do you mean, resist?”

He didn’t answer. Well, he might have, if I didn’t suddenly fall through the ground. My eyes shot up as I fell, arms and legs flailing for any kind of purchase. I tried to spread my elytra, but found it missing, along with anything else I had been carrying on my person.

“Try not to resist this.”

Oh. He probably meant this. I took a shaky breath, doing my best to still my body. I was still falling, but I knew I wouldn’t crash. I took another deep breath.

Images appeared around me. I had my eyes closed, and within the blackness I could see movement, color coming to life. Somehow I knew this was all me, or parts of me.

Yet every time I tried to focus on one of the scenes floating around my body, it vanished. It was like grasping at straws, coming up with nothing.

A dull pain came from my back. It was like something was shifting, pushing, breaking free of my skin from underneath. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream as the pain grew more and more.

The moment the pain grew too much, I jerked forward and out of the bed. My eyes were open, and breathing was still an issue through the pain. The stabbing, slicing ache slowly faded into nothing as I became more aware of the fact that I was awake.

“Grian.” X had been kneeling in front of me, hadn’t he? “What happened?”

“Back,” I managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain making me jerk, “Hurts.”

“Can I see?” Such a gentleman, asking for my consent amidst the agony. I could only nod a bit, wincing as his cool hands slid the back of my sweater up.

Or, tried to.

Something was trapped there, yanking on my back. I cried out, jerking away from X’s hands.

“Grian, I need to be able to see your back. I need to make sure it’s not a glitch or… something worse.”

A glitch? I had no idea what that meant, but if X was mentioning it it was probably bad. He slowly slid my sweater off, making sure it didn’t get caught on my back again.

Whatever had been there before was gone. Supposedly, I had faint scars right next to each of my shoulder blades, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest pain other than the phantom memories I had.

“And the Scan? Complete failure. I couldn’t glean anything from your Data before you started screaming… and I’d rather not hurt you again.”

“So… there’s no other way for you to figure out who I am, or why I’m here?” I could hear the disappointment in my voice, and I hated it.

“Sadly no. I wish I could do more.” He seemed frustrated, but also… somewhat excited. “I’ll figure it out soon enough, but for now I should get you back to Mumbo’s.”

I nodded, standing and following him out of the dirt hut. The pain was but a faint echo in my mind now, but it felt like foreshadowing. Something big was going on here… and I had no idea who was responsible.

#bound to darkness au #parks writing #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #grian #mumbo #stress #xisuma #cross posted to wattpad

[laufire]

ENDGAME

Okay. I definitely won’t be able to sleep today, so I might as well pour out all my Endgame feelings right now.

First thing first, I was probably in the WORST POSSIBLE HEADSPACE to watch this film; national elections where fascists could take over Congress (spoiler alert, they didn’t. I literally just cried with relief for over ten minutes) AND being extremely concerned about characters you over-identify with on the same day, all after the worst year of your life, apparently don’t mix well. Who would have thunk.

(btw, I was spoiled as I was voting about That Very Big Thing; everyone who follows me probably can guess what I’m talking about. I almost threw hands tbh. Then almost cried over a dozen times on the way to the theatre because the stress of the day was killing me ugh).

All this to say, my head is a mess right now, I don’t even know if this post is going to make any sense, and I will probably take time to process certain things and have a definite opinion on them LOL. But well, here is now.

And err. Warning for a brief mention of suicide ideation?

(crossposted to dreamwidth, livejournal, and pillowfort)

TONY (& CO)

– In case it wasn’t obvious, the thing I was spoiled about? Yeah, it was Tony’s death. FML. I mean, even if I wasn’t spoiled, I would’ve seen it coming as soon as we saw him after the five years jump, lbr (happily off-screen married to Pepper? With an adorable daughter? Pepper resigned to the possibility of losing him instead of begging him to stay like in IW? And then the movie kept hammering it home LMAO; that and a lot of things for the mains that I kind of saw coming from less than a third into the movie, which IDK if it’s because I was particularly intuitive, or the foreshadowing was that heavy handed xD).

Obviously, I’m not rocking your world if I tell you I’m extremely heartbroken, I guess. Especially because, as I said, my emotions were already all over the place. And seeing a character I adore, and in who I project a lot of my issues on –including, yes, suicidal issues–, sacrifice their lives (no matter how poignant, and moving, and well-written it might be) was incredibly hard for me. So, yeah. I’m going to have to deal with that for a while I guess. Which I plan to do by writing a bunch of Fix-It and Not Actually Fix-It fics ASAP.

But. I mean, out of all the endings Tony could have, this was always my second choice for him. And he was grandiose in this film. He figured out time travel. He created a gauntlet capable of holding the Infinity stones. Beings far more powerful than him were trying to carry that gauntlet to the van and none of them thought to use it, but he did. He was completely vindicated. He is the Saviour of the Universe.

And he looked gorgeous the entire time, which is truly important for me.

– In all seriousness, the thing I take to heart the most is that

his legacy remains intact

, and it’s inspiring, and heroic, and poetic, and prosperous. Clearly, without him, my enthusiasm for the universe will never be the same, but one thing that worried me is that I wouldn’t want anything to do with Marvel for a while after this film, and that’s not how I’m feeling; I’m very much looking forward to further parallels and homages to him in my ever-growing list :P

Tho, honestly, I’m kind of side-eyeing myself for the fact that, the one time!!! I go and fall in love with a male lead character, he happens to be genuinely heroic and self-sacrificing, instead of just using those concepts as lip-service and getting to have his cake and eat it too LMAO. I mean, sure, given my reactions to those characters, the AeJons Snowrgaryens of the world, I wouldn’t have liked him so much if it was the case, but dammit. It’d be nice to experience that high sometime xD

– The Iron Fam is the best part of this movie for me. Tony’s relationship with Morgan was way too adorable to handle it; Pepper was enormous and so poised (and the scene where they circle around each other in their armors… poetic cinema); I didn’t get enough Iron Husbands to satiate me (Rhodey’s caress should have been skin to skin!), but I loved what we got; Happy is an assholes who made me cry ABOUT CHEESEBURGERS.

And let’s not talk about Peter, OMG. My heart. And Harley appeared to Tony’s funeral! Though, honestly, the person I missed the most there was Christine Everhart, who should have been there just on the basis that I like her (plus, ya know, IMO she was important to Tony’s origin dammit).

I’m going to consider Nebula an honorary member, tbh. Her scenes with Tony in space cut me deep; and she and Rhodey are buddies!

Natasha and Fury (I loved his appearance *sniffs*) are honorary members too, because fuck it. They both appeared first vis a vis Tony on his movies, and have two of my favourite relationships with him, and I say so.

– Related to that, one Failure™ of this movie, is not providing a Nat & Tony one-on-one scene. Seriously, I can’t believe they didn’t realize how necessary that was. But I ADORED the scene where they and Bruce are lying down bouncing ideas about the stones (it made me softly whisper “ot3” LOL); it was possibly the only “Avengers” moment that worked for me –other than Clintasha, but that’s on a different league tbh.

I wanted more Nebula & Tony scenes too; I would’ve loved to see Tony interact with Past!Nebula. Yes, realistically, he would probably had made her LOL, but. I needed it. it’s definitely on my to-write-list :P

– I wanted just some positive interaction between Carol & Tony to counteract Current Comics Bullshit and I got Carol rescuing him, smiling beatifically at him, and Tony basically saying she was Da Bomb and the Avengers should follow her lead instead of keep sucking xDD So that was nice.

– I loved the scene at the beginning where he fucking SNAPS, and goes for Steve’s throat. It was probably my favourite scene. It’s resolution with everyone’s reactions and after the flashforward kind of… totally sucked, but whatever. Still amazing.

– The only part of his storyline that I HATED, and I mean absolutely loathed, was his scene with Howard. Jesus Fucking Christ. They went with the most simplistic take they could have, didn’t they. I haven’t felt more insulted in the theatre in my entire life, and my family made me watch both Ocho apellidos movies with them, so Marvel? That’s a feat. The moment where he says his father hit him with a belt so we (Tony included) are supposed to think, well, at least Howard wasn’t physically violent with his son, hooray?

And I think we’re supposed to take his “wouldn’t want my son to turn like me” as motivation for Tony’s actions and like… newsflash, but Tony has “put the worlds’ needs over his own gain” since Iron Man. Fucking. One. It’s literally what he does in this film, because we’re shown that, despite having achieved his happy ending, he was still trying to figure out time travel even if it meant risking his future.

Seriously, if they wanted me to be moved, they should’ve used Maria. Or hell, Edwin Jarvis was right there. And if whitewashing of Howard’s abuse becomes one of those MCU things that ends up bleeding into the comics, I’m gonna riot. Ugh.

BTW, just thought about this. Has anyone confirmed what the H. of Morgan’s second name stands for? Because my immediate idea was that it was for Happy, but now the fear that it might relate to Howard has entered my brain and I need someone to drive it out.

OTHER FAVES :P

– I am a lot more heartbroken over Natasha’s death than I expected to be. I like her character on paper a lot, but sometimes the writing or the acting don’t agree with me; neither was the case in this movie. I thought she was incredible. I loved the scene where she’s leading the post-dusting council. So losing her in this movie, of all movies, really hurts. And I understand why people who love her would be unhappy, and even furious –to some extent, so am I, tbh; specially because I don’t think she was properly honoured by the other characters after the fact–, but I do think it was extremely fitting for her arc.

– I loved Nebula’s storyline; how she was able to form new relationships, and what I know will be enduring friendships. Her interactions with her younger self were fascinating too; I loved that she perfectly followed the time-travel mumbo-jumbo. And she was so adorable at the beginning. Her bond with Tony didn’t have as much screen time as I wish it had, but the rest of the movie really shows how much his kindness touched her, and I love it. I’m a bit sad she didn’t get to kill any Thanos, tho.

– Okay, putting him in the “faves” section doesn’t exactly feel right, but whatever: I maintain that Thanos is a great villain. I don’t know what people that say otherwise are thinking. He’s the perfect foil for so many characters, and he is genuinely villainous; he is so delusional and self-righteous (seriously, his “solution” for the Snap 2.0 was… o.0) his plans feel sincerely menacing. He perfectly spells out his own doom; narratively speaking? He’s a joy of a villain to me. And I loved how he reacted to the information about the future; specifically, that upon learning about Nebula’s “betrayal”, his tactic was SOFTENING towards past!Nebula to make her even more eager to please him.

– Carol didn’t have much screen time, but I liked what she got (like, nothing too deep, but I didn’t expect much). I liked the Carol/Rhodey nod, even if I’m not sure how I feel about the ship in this incarnation. I wanted to hear something about Maria, but welp.

And on a shallow note, I kind of love that fandom absolutely freaked out about her wearing lipstick on a scene (while praising the “~natural no-make-up make up, effortlessly feminine without looking like you’re actually trying” look that she sported on CM, and disregarding that while yes, it was a troubling look that fitted a pattern across movies, A4 was made first so it was hardly a “betrayal” of the semi-grunge style), for the movie to go and give her the butchest look she’s ever gonna get on film lmao (and I will be pleasantly surprised if they’d keep a look like this for a movie where she’s the lead and not a supporting character, tbh).

– Sam and Bucky were So Soft™ with each other OMG. If their show doesn’t have at least ONE episode centred on them going undercover as a married couple, I’ll write it myself, because they are perfect for it (especially if you add some of the early banter/antagonism).

Btw, Sam getting the shield? The only good part of that mess at the end LMAO.

– I have mixed feelings for the Alt!Gamora development. I just… really loved the GOTG-IW versions of her character and her ship, and she’s gone and just… :( And that type of pseudo-amnesia/relationship do-over thing can be so badly written sometimes… But she’s back, and if done right, the role-reversal between her and Nebula could be gr10 for GOTG 3. We’ll see.

THE BAD™

– I know if I walked up right now to the Russos, and asked them why they hate Thor so much, they wouldn’t even understand the question. They would say, but we love Thor?? He’s such a fun character?? Or some version of the sort. They can fool themselves, but not me. You don’t do this to a character for whom you feel a modicum of respect, IMO.

Like, the fat-phobic jokes? The way they dealt with his substance abuse? How his arc about stepping up and assuming responsibilities ended by… him throwing away his responsibilities. Losing his hammer was a turning point for him to relearn the lessons about value and worthiness and power he’d been taught, and then… this movie. I couldn’t even fully enjoy his scenes with Frigga because I was so appalled by it all.

His only great scene, IMO, was how horrified and out of it he sounded after killing Thanos. I really felt that.

I didn’t even enjoy that he passed his power to Valkyrie because… unlike with Sam, that basically came out of nowhere. If they at least had given them ONE more scene at the beginning; seriously, it writes itself: just put her in the room when Bruce and Rocket are trying to convince him to go with them, and have her being the one that does it. Make her help him the way HE helped HER in Ragnarok; show her trying to help him and getting angry and frustrated. IDK, something.

And I know I’m probably alone in this because everyone around me practically creamed their pants when it happened but… having Steve control Mjolnir felt like adding insult to injury. Not just lifting it (which I would’ve been annoyed by too, given that they rewrote the new Asgardian mythology just to have this scene lol), but commanding it as only Thor did. Just. How much more are you going to take from Thor, people.

I want to make it clear that my problem is with the execution, not with Thor going through this; that, written differently, with more care, I could have loved.

– I’ve always been conflicted with MCU Steve. I loved the Captain America old comics I read as a child, and 616 Steve was A Hero. So I wanted to love MCU Steve just as much but… it often felt that he just didn’t measure up.

Well, conflict over. I don’t like the guy. Reading Man Out of Time just a few months ago probably isn’t helping (and yeah, that’s not a fair comparison, but it illustrates why I look at 616 Steve, and I adore him, and then I turn to MCU Steve and just… this guy is not worth my time).

I couldn’t even enjoy the ship, because my feelings for it come solely from my love for Peggy, and she didn’t even get to say a word? Add to that the fact that an endless loop of “OMG HE MADE OUT WITH YOUR NIECE. NOW HIS NIECE. RUN” was going through my head the entire time (the fact that Sharon was absent from the funeral when EVC acted in half of the MCU Russos films is hilarious in light of this xDD).

 MISC

– I really enjoyed some of the heist shenanigans. Especially Tony’s plan for a distraction being GIVING HIS PAST SELF A HEART ATTACK. How extra and edgy can my man be xD Tony and Scott are A Duo.

– I was thinking that Alt!Loki might make an appearance in GOTG3 if Thor is really a part of it, and how that might mix, but then a friend reminded me about his show, so I guess that’s where they’re going? IDK, The Avengers’ Loki is probably the one I liked the least out of all his appearances, so unless I hear something really good about it, I’m not picking it up.

– IDK if it’s because I was desensitized, but the white suits and Clint’s hairdo didn’t look as ugly on the final product?

– So THAT was the gay character Feige went on about. I knew he was going to be an unnamed nobody with less than five lines LMAO. Stop being cowards and give us Danbeau and WinterFalcon.

– I was very touched about Ned and Peter’s hug (MY BBYS), but isn’t Ned supposed to be five years older? AKA out of high school? I mean, he looked like he had missed Peter, not like he had disappeared with him too? And the entire class is going on a trip in FFH? Is it because of nostalgia/a friends thing? Were all of them dusted? Because poor teacher then xDD

– I think a lot of emotional threads were unceremoniously dropped, but other than the ones I’ve mentioned, I’m more indifferent towards their recipients so… eh. A great example is the fact that Bruce’s conflicting journey with Hulk was solved off-screen LMAO. Some of the humour felt extra-cringy too tbh.

– I have Tony-related fanart as my lock screen, my computer background, and my phone background. I get teary eyed with just looking at them. I should think of changing them, but I wont xD

– I know I’m forgetting things but whatevs, I can talk about them later.

#tony stark #mcu #marvel #iron family #thor odinson #nebula #natasha romanoff #thanos #winterfalcon #and other stuff but i'd be here all day #marvel (movies) #gamora #avengers (movies) #avengers: endgame #endgame spoilers #my thoughts #talking to the void #marvel thoughts

[spectral-musette]

Force Ghost Whisperers

(Post-RotJ) After the Rebel Alliance liberates Stygeon Prime and evacuates the Imperial prisoners from The Spire, the Skywalker twins make an eerie discovery.

(~1200 words)

           “I think it’ll serve very well as an officers’ prison. The facilities are fairly modern.”

           “I’m sorry Chewie, I know it makes you nervous. We’ll get back to the Falcon as soon as we can.”

           Luke felt a prickle on the back of his neck, and paused for a moment to let his friends continue down the corridor. He turned, just in time to see movement out the corner of his eye.

           “Leia!” he called, his hand on his lightsaber.

           “What is it?” she asked, falling back to join him, resting one small, gentle hand on his shoulder.

           “You’re sure there aren’t any prisoners left here?”

           “Positive,” she replied confidently. “Every level was scanned for life signs after the evacuation. There’s no one here now but our people.”

           “I thought I saw… felt…”

           “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Han commented helpfully.

           I do that sometimes, Luke almost replied.

           “There can’t have been anyone.” Leia reasoned.

           “I sensed something.”

           “Oh boy,” Han sighed.

           “Go on back to the Falcon. I just want to take a minute to…”

           “Go do your mumbo jumbo. We won’t leave without you,” Han promised, linking his arm with Leia’s.

           She glanced back at Luke, her dark eyes concerned.

           “Come with me?” he offered.

           She nodded, lips pressed together thoughtfully.

           “Maybe we should come too,” Han offered, ignoring Chewie’s complaint.

           “No,” Leia replied quickly. “We won’t be long.”

           “Probably,” Luke agreed.

           “Well, you… call me. If you need me.”

           “Yeah, yeah.” Leia gave him a dismissive wave down the corridor towards where they’d docked the Falcon.

           Chewie rumbled in plaintive relief. Luke didn’t suppose that he’d like prisons very much if he’d been a slave either.

           Leia’s little hand fitted into his comfortably as they walked down the corridor together.

           “Do you think it’s a Force apparition,” she asked in a hushed tone, “like Obi-Wan?”

           The reverence that always seeped into Leia’s tone whenever she mentioned Obi-Wan was at such odds with the comfortable warmth and affection Luke had for Ben that it always made him smile a little. Leia had, after all, grown up on Bail Organa’s stories of General Kenobi, the dashing, handsome hero of the Clone Wars. Sometimes it was hard to reconcile the two as the same man.

           “It didn’t quite feel like that,” Luke replied. “It felt…. darker. Maybe like the cave on Dagobah, but not as powerful.”

           “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” Leia told him.

           “Of course you are. You’re strong.” He squeezed her hand warmly. “Besides, we’re ready for anything together, right?”

           “Right,” she replied, sounding rather unconvinced.

           If anything, Leia’s particular gifts might be even better suited to this than his were. She’d struggled so far with telekinesis (not that he hadn’t), but their telepathic link was strong. Too strong, sometimes. They were still working on shielding.

           She stopped suddenly, her hand tightening in his.

           “You’re right,” she said. “She’s here.”

           “She?” Luke asked.

           Leia shrugged expressively. “She’s…. muffled somehow. Not clear and bright like you are. Not even how other people are. But she’s here. How is that possible?”

           “The Force is mysterious,” Luke murmured.

           “In other words, you have no idea.”

           He flashed her a smile, which she returned.

           She led him through the corridors, taking the turns confidently, and he felt the strange, muted darkness growing stronger.

           Leia came to a halt in front of an unremarkable cell, her eyes distant.

           “In here.”

           Luke touched the door controls.

           Inside the cell, a slender woman sat crosslegged on the floor in a pose of meditation. Her features were soft and attractive – a wide rounded nose, full dark lips, and a stubborn chin tattooed with a pattern of black diamonds – but she looked sad and careworn. Her green skin looked unhealthily pale and sallow; when she opened her eyes, they were brilliant, beautiful royal blue and seemed to hold unspeakable pain. She stood, slowly, and backed against the wall.

           And then she was gone.

           “Oh.” Leia said, stepping close to the sarcophagus set into the wall.

           The mummified corpse of the woman was visible through the viewing pane, mostly identifiable by the tattoo on the desiccated skin of her face.

           “Is that… normal?” Leia asked, her voice low.

           “No,” Luke replied. “There’s some kind of… trap. Some darkness holding a part of her here.”

           “She was a Jedi,” Leia told him, fingertips brushing the pane of transparisteel. “And she died in terrible pain.”

           Luke reached out with the Force to share what his twin was feeling, but it was like eavesdropping on whispers.

           “Torture and…sadness,” Leia said, bending forward, her palm flat on the sarcophagus.

           And perhaps that was why… The echo of the imprisoned Jedi sensed that Leia also knew how it felt to languish in a cell without hope when everyone she knew and loved was dead.

           “Vader,” Leia spat.

           And Luke wasn’t sure if she was accusing him of this old torture or blaming him for her own pain.

           It might’ve been the former, at that. The dark web entwined with the Jedi’s spirit perhaps didn’t have quite the same… shade, the same particular stink of the powerful dark thing that Anakin Skywalker had become, but Luke wouldn’t have put credits on it either way.

           “We have to help her.”

           “The question is how.”

           “At least let’s get her out of here.” Leia stepped back to the doorway, pulling out her commlink.

           Luke examined the sarcophagus. It was set into the wall, maybe bolted in. He’d be able to cut it free with his saber without any problem, but he didn’t want the sarcophagus falling forward. It was too big to comfortably drag…

           “I told Han to bring a repulsor cart,” Leia said softly, anticipating. “I just want to get her out of these walls.”

* * * * * *

             “Chewie says her name was Luminara Unduli.”

           “Really!” Luke exclaimed as he put down an armful of branches on the beach next to the sarcophagus.

           “He recognizes the tattoos. There weren’t many Mirialans in the Jedi Order. I guess she was all over the Holonet during the war, one of the good-looking favorites of Republic army propaganda. And she was on Kashyyyk at the end of the war. He thought she died there.”

           “Luminara Unduli,” Leia repeated.

           Luke broke up the dry drift wood, carefully settling it in the sarcophagus beside the bones of Master Luminara. Chewie added a few more pieces too, keening softly.

           “Do we say something?” Leia asked. Han stood beside her, uncharacteristically subdued, an arm draped protectively over her shoulders.

           Luke took a deep breath, unclipping his saber from his belt.

           “Luminara Unduli, Jedi Knight. Be one with Force,” he intoned solemnly.

           It felt insufficient, like children playing funeral. He ignited the saber, holding it over the sarcophagus and pressing a splinter of wood against the blade. Bright embers fell down into the dry grass nestled carefully around her, and Leia gasped softly.

           “What’s wrong?” Han asked, tugging her close.

           She shook her head. “Nothing. I just… I think her saber was green too.” She looked up at Luke, dark eyes wet.

           The stain of darkness that seemed to entangle Master Luminara’s very bones fell away as they turned to ash, shadows slithering off into the surrounding night like snakes.

           Luke kept his saber on, like a little boy warding off nightmares with the light.

#Luke Skywalker #Leia Organa #Star Wars Fic #I wrote a thing #long post #Luminara Unduli #(sort of) #happy Halloween have a spooky story #(or a sad story really) #that I wrote a long time ago and never posted

[kcwcommentary]

VLD1x03 – “Defenders of the Universe”

1x03 – “Defenders of the Universe”

Sendak threatens, and the first thing anyone says is Shiro saying, “Let’s not panic.” What was that about the Black Paladin being someone with significant self-control?

Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith argue back and forth until Shiro tells them to stop. He then, understanding what everyone has to contribute and calling upon it as needed, asks Allura, “These are your Lions, you’ve dealt with the Galra Empire before, you know what we’re facing better than any of us. What do you think is the best course of action?” That is leadership.

Allura is immediately unsure of what to say or do, and Coran suggests she turn to her father (or a computer-maintained copy of his mind) for help. (Needing her father to tell her what to do, nothing patriarchal about that, right?) The computer-copy of Alfor’s mind tells her that she urged him to fight but he instead thought it was better to hide the Lions, which she thinks is him saying to do the same thing as before. He responds that he thinks he took the wrong course of action 10,000 years ago. This would suggest that the show is narratively hinting at Allura’s capacity for greater wisdom, judgement, and leadership than that of her father. “You must be willing to sacrifice everything,” he tells her; I wonder if they really were planning on killing Allura at the end of the show this far in advance.

Visually, I’ve never understood Allura’s hair when she has it tied up; the crescents that hang off the side upfront often look like they’re not connected to her in anyway. As a character design decision, it’s a look that has always bugged me.

The Paladins get their suits, and the show can’t help but to make a fat joke at Hunk’s expense. They also get their bayards, and we’re told they take a distinct shape for each Paladin. I don’t think we ever get an explanation as to why; there probably never really was one. Lance’s turning into a laser rifle makes sense if he’s the best at marksmanship, though. Shiro doesn’t get a bayard here. Ever the professional, he replies, “I guess I’ll just have to make do.” (Shiro, you deserve so many nice things!)

“How are we going to know where the Red Lion is?” Keith asks. “It’s not a matter of we, it’s a matter of you,” Pidge responds. Hunk concurs, “Pidge is right. Once we get you in, you’ll be able to feel its presence and like track it down.” Lance continues, “Yeah, you know how you felt that crazy energy while we were in the desert […] turns out it’s exactly like that mumbo-jumbo.” I kind of like how there’s this sort of moment of doubt for Keith right here, and everyone (even if Lance does pause to taunt and insult Keith in the process) does support Keith in this moment.

Shiro activates his leadership and plans some tactics: Relying on the Galra knowing they have Blue and Yellow but not Green, Lance and Hunk will distract while Green sneaks the rest of them onto the Galra ship. I think tactical writing like that can be challenging, so I applaud the show for doing so well in this episode. Lance, who I think has demonstrated some notable skill in leadership himself in these first three episodes, divides the work: Hunk takes on the large cannon while Lance takes on the fighter craft.

On board the Galra ship, Shiro has a PTSD flashback. He remembers being brought on board this ship (though I imagine most Galra ships have the same floorplans since they externally look the same throughout the series, so how he can be sure it was this exact ship, I don’t know) when captured on Kerberos. Pidge reacts in her sharp, abrasive way to say she wants to get her brother and father back. With the revelation that the Holts are Pidge’s family, Shiro immediately wants to help. (It’s almost as if with some people, good people, all you need to do is tell them what’s truly going on for you and they’ll understand and be willing to help. Oh, the value of personal connections and being willing to open up and be honest. Psychologically, it can be so, so hard to do though.) Shiro encourages Keith to continue and find Red. “Patience yields focus.” (Catchphrase.)

Who designed/built this Castle Ship!? Oh yeah, Coran’s dad. Who builds a system like that of the particle barrier such that the crystals needed for its functioning can’t be easily accessed? Coran says, “we’re both too big” to reach inside the hole to the crystals. How would they otherwise be accessed for maintenance!? Surely, a set of telepathic mice aren’t a standard part of a Castle Ship’s engineering crew, right? This scene needs some revision.

Keith’s frustration trying to find Red is a nice scene though. He does slow himself down, having a moment of mastery over self, and senses where Red is. It is kind of an emergency situation though, Red, are you sure that right now is a time to test your new pilot?

Shiro and Pidge continue on and run into a Galra drone. Pidge is apparently so good at technology that she can reprogram the drone without having ever worked with Galra computers and programming before (yet she was unsure how Allura’s computer interface in the previous episode worked). It’s a minor moment of unrealism, but it does gain us a new puppy named Rover. They then find where some prisoners are being kept, and those prisoners recognize Shiro and identify him as “the Champion.”

“It’s me, Keith. Your buddy. It’s me! Keith! Your— I am your Paladin! I’m bonding with you! Come on, we’re connected!” Keith screams at Red. I love that moment so much; the voice acting makes me laugh. Keith quickly gets possessive, declaring the Galra are not going to get this Lion, and he goes melee. They fight, he blows them out into space before being blown out himself. Red is satisfied, Keith’s a scrappy sort, much like Red. Human-Ancient Spaceship bonding achieved. I like the animation of the reflection of Red in Keith’s helmet; it produces the overwhelming sensation that would come with being swallowed by a giant mechanical lion.

Shiro and Pidge and the prisoners get pinned down by Galra sentries, Shiro’s hand activates, and he takes the Galra out with some unexpected, fierce fighting skills. It saddens me watching this, knowing what he went through in the process of gaining those fighting skills. Hunk seriously smashes up the large Galra cannon, but it gets replaced/repaired unrealistically quickly a few minutes later.

The four Lions combine influence to gain them access to the Black Lion. That’s your Lion right there Shiro! Roar!

Everyone gets in their Lions and they take off to fight Sendak, whose ship is now in the atmosphere. While being attacked Pidge says, “Can’t they just cease fire for one minute so we can figure this out? Is that too much to ask?” Is it too much to ask for better written dialog than that line you just had Pidge? Hunk has Yellow slam into Red while yelling, “Combine!” It’s a silly moment, but it did make me laugh.

They get caught in a tractor beam. “It’s been an honor flying with you boys,” Keith says when they think they’re caught and finished. I don’t know why, but that line really gets me emotional. The delivery of the voice acting does it for me, I think. There was an actual sadness in Keith’s voice.

Shiro goes into generic speech mode, and Team Voltron is all yeah!teamwork, and we get the animation sequence of the Lions combining into Voltron. This is our first time seeing this animation. It’s cool/fun now, but man! does it get tiresome the more the show runs this same footage. I understand why a cartoon back in the 80s would have a sequence like this, a piece of animation that could be added to most/all episodes. With a series that would run five days a week for a 65-episode season, it would help manage the cost of animation and pad runtime. But VLD is a 13-episode per season show; the repeated animation padding episodes’ runtime is unacceptable.

“I’m a leg!” Hunk, you said the perfect thing for your character to say in that moment!

Voltron destroys most of Sendak’s ship.

Regarding Sendak’s visual design: I really do not like his arm. It’s clunky, inelegant, and his spherical shoulder looks like a bad action figure design.

Everyone’s celebrating, but Pidge has a look of concern on her face. Shiro sees it and instantly moves to lend support, telling her they’re going to find her brother and father and that he thinks they’d be really proud of her.

“‘Defenders of the Universe’ huh? That’s got a nice ring to it,” Shiro says, thus concluding the three-parter that starts the show. Shiro getting the last word in the episode… it’s almost like he’s the main character or something.

This show had a really nice beginning that made me eager for more.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron criticism #vld criticism #voltron critical #vld critical #vld season 1 #vld 1x03 #commentary

[codylabs]

Chapter 27: Farewell Savage Fate

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (you don’t really need to pay attention to the times, they’re there for MY benefit.)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (control room)

-Warning: Intruders have begun Reactor 5 startup. Power output: 5% and rising. Coolant levels sufficient.

-Warning: Intruders have access to all remaining ship systems and engines.

-Input: Assign bioforms 3 and 4 a threat level of 20. Combat preference: Immediate lethal force. You are clear to engage. Take no survivors.

-Threat reassessed. Antimatter pellets loaded and launchers charged. Drones 155, 157, 158, 163, 164, 174, 175 and 179 engaging.

The 8 drones did exactly as they had been instructed, without a briefest moment’s hesitation. They hovered quietly out of the darkness, their eyes fixed on the entrance to the control room, their weapons hot, their minds already visualizing the battle.

Intruder 3, whom friendly faces knew as McGucket, was still busy at the computer, and would not be able to react in time. A single antimatter round could penetrate his torso and explode, killing him instantly. Stan, identified as intruder 4, remained catatonic in the chair; even if he were to wake up now, he would not be able to offer much resistance. Another antimatter round would terminate him.

Two shots. That’s all that was needed. Each drone loaded four for good measure.

But then something happened.

A brilliant flash of blue light lit up the control room. McGucket jumped backwards from the controls, startled and frightened. Did I just do that? This alien tech must be touchier than it looks… But then when he looked hard at the readouts, nothing seemed to have changed… All the settings and feedback were just where he’d left them… But then he noticed something really quite odd: The plasma beam weapon that had been leaned beside him was no longer there. He glanced around. Stan didn’t have it. Where did it go? What happened? It was right he—

The sound of eight simultaneous explosions echoed through the room. He heard debris rattling against the walls from outside, saw a scrap of burned wreckage bounce in past the doors, and shards of plating and chunks of robotic innards clattering to the ground outside.

Stanley was awake in an instant. “HI HEY NO PLEASE SUSAN I COULDN’T…! *Snrf* …Heeeey, can’t a fella get any sleep around here?”

“I dunno whatappened!” McGucket cried, rushing toward the door with Stan on his heels. “Whasappenin’ whatwassat noise whosthere whereintarnashin my death ray run off to?”

They looked out. Stan didn’t remember it being quite so warm and smoky. McGucket didn’t remember there being quite so many burned, smashed piles of robotic wreckage.

He also didn’t remember leaving his death ray out here. Yet there it was, sitting on the floor at his feet, that very same tool he’d misplaced seconds ago.

McGucket picked it up and found that it was lighter; its fuel tanks were nearly empty. And a quick check of the electrical charge revealed that the batteries were almost wasted as well.

The ignition chamber was still warm.

“Well I’ll be a pork-bellied feather-hearted dingleberry… What in the name of me Pappie’s gibberflunked bramblesnippin’ Mississippi combine just happened?”

“You need to keep better track of that thing.” Stan told him.

“Did you just do that just now?” McGucket asked.

“Did who do huh? Did something happen?”

“Wha--? But… The thing…? Oh my, lookit these poor robits…”

Stan made a long string of confused grunkley noises. “Welp, I’m in over my head. You got a brother I could call? I mean… A phone I could brother? I mean… Agh, can’t talk today. Hey waitaminute, where are the kids?”

“Yeh can’t get service down here…” McGucket reminded him. “Oh yeah, and them two teenagins said they’s was curious ‘bout somethin’, and ran off that-a-way.” He pointed off into the darkness.

“…Aaaagh. Dumb kids. Don’t they know there’s killer robots down here? …Okay; so you’re sure something blew all these things up?”

“Well yeah, an’ I think it may’ve used my plasma beam ta do it!” McGucket objected. “But I can’t rightly figger how they got it right out from under my nose, or ‘ow they did it so fast. Y’know this thing needs a moment to prime, a little bit ta charge, and even longer ta cool down, so it woulda taken a while ta do all this, but I believe I heard the events occur simultaneously, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, listen, pal I’ve been living in a cramped ship’s cabin with my nerdy brother for the better part of a year now, and I have developed an extremely short fuse for technical mumbo-jumbo. So here’s how it is: if somethin’s weird, you say ‘somethin’s weird’ and stop there. Savvy?”

“Err… Sorry… Somethin’s weird.” McGucket said.

“Great. Weird. We know weird. We can handle weird. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with weird.” Stan pulled the doors closed behind them as they stepped into the control room. “Now. In case some maaaaagical death-ray-stealing mischief fairies wanna pay us another visit, I’ll leave it open a crack so we can hear ‘em coming.”

“Sounds good…” McGucket wrung his hands together as he stepped back up to the console. “Well… Actually, I think I got the programmin’ all finished. The reactor should be workin’ again. The gravitational nacelle has been calibrated to focus on the Forest of Daggers, and-”

“So what yer SAYIN’ is…” Stanley crossed his arms. “This whole joint’s gonna get weird once ya push that big red button.”

“…Yeah.”

“Better wait ‘till the kids are back then.”

“…I could run it through a test sequence…” McGucket scratched his chin. “Bring the core up to 50% output ta test for malfunctulations and stir up some noise; get ‘em back here faster.”

“Yeah. Great. Do that.”

McGucket hit the big red button.

It started quiet and built in intensity; an enormous, rumbling sort of hum, which thundered through the frame of the ship, shaking the walls, steadily overcoming all lesser noise.

McGucket turned it off again after a minute.

Stan adjusted his hearing aid. “That was a little loud.” He understated.

“Yeah, well, I reckon the coolant compressors had some corrosion, and the hydraulics were nearly rusted shut, so that’s my guess as to why…”

“Geez, you just take any little thing as an excuse to start in on it, don’t ya?” Stan grunted.

“Sorry.”

A noise from beyond the door interrupted them. It sounded like gunfire. From a raygun. Raygunfire.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stanley picked up a weapon, and marched for the door. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

But when he levered the hatch open, he froze in surprise.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:30pm (it doesn’t really matter when this was, but plotwise it happened before.)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack (time and place where Sam happened to locate Ford)

Mabel stared up at the shapeshifter for a minute. Then she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Yeeeah, that’s him alright.

She didn’t know why he was here, who let him out of the bunker, or what he was doing here. To be honest, she hadn’t even a faint inkling of what the heck happened at all while she was asleep. Gee whiz, spend one afternoon in a coma, and now the single nastiest and scariest monster I’ve ever met is right in here in the Shack… She had quite a lot of questions, but Great Uncle Ford or anybody was nowhere around to answer them. There was only this creature, this hideous, frightening… Thing.

Oh well.

She may as well just ask.

“Hi guy!” She smiled, forcing a smile onto her face. Be Mabel. She thought. Just like Dipper told you. Be Mabel. Think good thoughts… This IS gonna end up okay. One way or another. “How’s it going?” She asked, as her cheery words forced past her fear. “When did you get here?”

Sam hadn’t been expecting a question like that. In fact, he hadn’t expected even a hint of this cheery disposition. Unsure of how to react, he found himself answering candidly. “Twenty minutes ago…”

“Okay! Uh…!” She hopped down from her chair and stretched her sore neck as she glanced around the room. “Have you seen my Great Uncle? He was just here I think.”

“…He’s gone.”

She blinked. “Well yeah, I can see that; did you see where he went?”

“I think I kindnapped him.” He heard himself answer truthfully again.

“Whaaaat…?” Mabel frowned up at him skeptically. “How in pig’s name are you not sure if you kidnapped somebody?”

“Well, I…” Sam blinked down at the little girl. “…He disappeared. I’m sure it was me who did it, or who will do it. And… I… Uh.” He looked down at the yellow time machine in his hands, and felt himself descending ever deeper into confusion.

Mabel followed his eyes. Her jaw dropped and she gasped loudly. “What…! You! Wha! That’s no tape measure! THAT’S A TIME MACHINE! You have a time machine! You really have one! For real! Where’d you get it?”

“Y-yes. I… My mother gave it to me, I—”

“You have a mother?!? What’s she like?!?”

“I-wha-hey!” He finally found his focus again, reminded himself that he was in charge, and drug the conversation back on-topic. “YES. I have a time machine.” He repeated, clicking his teeth. “And I’ve been using it to remake my life as I will… I took Ford, I outsmarted all of you, and now, I have everything I want…”

Before she had time to feel intimidated, Mabel started talking again. “This is so awesome…!” She smiled, as her brain but together a plan. “Yes… YES! With a time machine, we can save him! It’s perfect! This fixes everything! We have a TIME MACHINE! Man, your mom must be AWESOME! Is it your birthday? Or is it Christmas? Do aliens have Christmas in June? Summermas? Where did she buy it?”

“…Calm down.” Sam frowned at her.

“Saaaay new friend, could I actually borrow that thing for a minute?” Mabel pleaded. “It’s really really reallyreallyreallysuperduper important.”

“Calm down.” He repeated.

“I’ll give it right back and everything!” She promised as she reached for it. “But my brother kind of died a couple days ago so I really need to save him. It’s really kind of urgent so would that be alright? You could come too if you want!”

“QUIET!” He reached out a hand and pushed her away. She stumbled right over on the floor, and almost hit her head on the corner of a table as she went over. Sam blinked, surprised. Oops. She’s weaker than I thought. I almost hurt her; I didn’t mean to hurt her… Wait, why DIDN’T I mean to hurt her? Of course you mean to hurt her! You’re HERE to hurt her…!

“You’re a fool.” He growled out loud. “You’re asking me to loan you this? To save your brother?…” I’m here to hurt her. “Don’t you know who I am and what I’ve done?”

She stared at him blankly. “Well… Yeah, you’re the shapeshifter guy…? You kinda--”

“My name is Sam, and I’m your enemy.” He explained. “And as for what I’ve done, did you know your brother’s death was no accident?” He held up the machine. “I just used this to kill him, stupid. He’s dead because of ME. And I’m proud of it. Because I hated him.”

Mabel eased slowly up to a sitting position in one corner of the room, and then even slower to her feet. “Oh…” Her voice became small and flat, as she considered this latest revelation for a minute. “Oh.” She finally repeated.

He nodded. “Now what do you think of that?”

“Well… Uh…” Mabel’s shoulders shuddered briefly. “That’s… Kind of… Mean.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard that right. “Mean.”

“Yeah, pretty mean…” Mabel informed him. “Like… Pretty selfish too… Most people would be… Nicer than that.”

The two little orifices on the top of his head emitted a snort. Mabel supposed that they must be his nostrils. “Are you… Brain dead?” He asked, as his fangs clicked in amusement. “You do realize what I’m saying, don’t you? That I killed your brother in cold blood? That I’m going to kill your uncle? That your own fate is subject to my whim…? You do understand… Don’t you?”

Mabel wrung her hands inside her sweater sleeves. “…Yeah.” She said. “I get it.”

“…Then why aren’t you thinking dark thoughts?”

Dark thoughts…

Mabel recognized those words. Robbie once said those words. The day that Dipper died, Robbie had stolen her joy with those words. The day she’d brought Robbie along on her happy little adventure, and sent him down into the bunker, he’d come back with those words… Mabel finally put it all together.

“Oh…” She said. “That wasn’t Robbie, that was you… That was when you got out…” Her voice got small. “I let you out.”

“Give the young lady a prize.”

“Uh… Oh… I’m really sorry… I mean! Uh, no, not sorry, I mean good for you! Hi! Welcome to the surface world! Uh… Ooh. Gee. Awkward…”

There was silence for a moment in the room, as the girl and the monster looked at each other, neither one precisely sure what next to do or say. Finally Mabel spoke up again.

“So… Uh… Besides for killing people, what are you doing?” The girl asked. “Like… I’m still kind of confused, and time travel is really complicated so… What’s going on?”

Sam looked at her.

“Well…” He started. “I was just taking care of some business. Making sure that things happened the way they were supposed to. Making sure I got to where I am today. Controlling your very lives.”

“…You can’t control my life.” Mabel frowned.

“Oh, but I can. In fact, I already have… Do you remember this?” He produced a small metal box, popped it open, and removed the robot kitten, of all things.

“Oh… Uh… Hi Juan!” Mabel waved at the little metal creature.

Sam stuffed it unceremoniously back in the box. “You loved it so much that I can use it to manipulate you. I saved it when your family tried to kill it… And now… Oh, I have a wonderful idea! What if I were to give it back to you the next night, with a note attached to it that said you needed to take action? What if that was the spark that lit the fire inside you? What if that were the reason you first launched on your hairbrained quest and accidentally freed me? What if…”

Sam walked over to one of the computers in Ford’s study, and booted it up. When a data entry program appeared, he began to type. “How about it? Am I talking nonsense, or truly writing history here?” He finished typing, and hit another button.

A nearby old-timey printer began to chatter, and it noisily emitted a single small piece of paper. “There!” Sam held up the note and shoved it in Mabel’s face. “Is that the note? Does that sound like something nice enough to get you to do something stupid?”

Mabel read it.

Enjoy the time you have with him.

Because it’s not right for him to stay here long.

Find a good place for him, Mabel. We believe in you.

Be wise and loving. Be his hero. Save his life.

Mabel read it a second time.

“Uh…” She mumbled. “Yeah… That’s the note… Hmm. Oh.”

“Well then.” Sam pulled out the time machine, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Mabel blinked and stared at the place where he’d been standing.

She took a step back, and found herself all the way in the corner of the room.

I always just thought it was an honest, well-meaning invisible wizard who did that. She pounded her forehead with her fists. I just thought ‘hey, there must actually be some decent, happy people somewhere in the world’… But it was all a lie. Everything I did, it was just a random, convoluted, pointless wild goose chase that accomplished nothing except ruining everything.

But… Wait… If Sam DIDN’T give me that note, then I WOULDN’T have done anything, and I WOULDN’T have freed him and he WOULDN’T have given me that note! …But since he DID give me that note, I DID free him, so he DID give me that note… It’s just a weird random circle that happened for no reason except itself! Dang it time travel! Why you gotta be so complicated?!?

…Well… Actually, this entire thing relies pretty heavily on me being stupid. I was so bent on being kind, so determined to find niceness and happiness where there was none, that I turned my brain off entirely.

So if at any time I’d just decided to use my head, then that would’ve been it. And it wouldn’t have happened.

If the time loop ever DID had a cause, then that cause was me.

…

Dipper, what do I DO?

There was another flash of blue light, and Sam was standing there again.

“And that’s it.” He spread his arms grandly, like a magician would after the completion of a spectacle. “I’ve been hopping around doing whatever I please, killing whoever I please. And that’s why your uncle’s gone too. Soon as I’m through with you, I’ll head back in time, take him away, and do as I will…”

“Yeah…” She whispered. “I see.”

“It all fits.” He told her. “I did it. It’s been a complicated equation, but I’m the answer. I’m the end. And that’s what’s happening.”

Mabel bit her lip and squeezed back tears.

You need to be stronger, Mabel. Dipper’s words whispered in the back of her memory. No matter what happens, to me or anybody else, we need you to be strong. Strong enough to hold together when something hits you. Tough enough to take a thousand hits and never break. Be hopeful. Be loving. Be cheerful, and caring, and good… Be that way forever. With or without me. That’s what we need you to do…

Mabel took a deep breath. In an instant, she knew exactly what she had to do. I have a job. She remembered. Fate has a job for sweet, happy, trusting little Mabel, and I’m the only one that can do it.

Time to do it.

“Hey Sam.” She said.

“What?”

“I’m…” She wiped her eyes and struggled to hold her voice steady. She really was afraid. “Uh… Why you haven’t killed me? …Do you like me?”

“I— What?” He grew a couple inches taller and snarled. “I don’t like you.”

“Eh… Well! I mean!” Mabel stuttered. “I mean you must have hated Dippingsauce a lot to kill him, but with me you’re just standing there, so that means you don’t hate me. I mean you don’t have a reason to hurt me and you don’t really want to. And that’s why you don’t. So yeah, so right, so there.”

There was silence for a minute in the darkened room.

Sam hadn’t thought about it like that before. But now that it came down to it, he realized it was true… He didn’t hate her.

He remembered his mother. How she treated everything like an object, or a tool. In all things she acted shrewd, cruel, pragmatic and level. She hurt and killed anyone that ever crossed her, never hesitated to stoop to the sickest, most murderous depths to gain any advantage. Power was the name of her game, and strength was its only rules. That made sense to Sam. That fit with what he knew and had seen. That was the only way it ought to be.

When he realized that he himself didn’t hate somebody… It felt like weakness. Why don’t I hate her?

Why AM I even talking to her, anyway?

What am I trying to do?

He’d come here for revenge; to destroy even the memory of everyone who’d been responsible for what happened to him: Stanford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Dipper Pines, Wendy Corduroy…

And he’d also wanted to find his people, so that he would no longer be alone. But now that he knew what it meant to be a part of his own family, now I know what his mother expects of an ally, Now… It seemed to him that he hated her as much as he hated the rest of his enemies.

But that was also none of Mabel’s business.

Sam opened his mouth to growl something, but the girl was already talking again. “I dunno about you, but I want a happy ending!” She stated. “And I bet deep down you actually want to help me! Because really everybody wants everything to turn out alright. So do you think there’s any chance you could have a change of heart and start being a good guy instead of a bad guy anytime soon?”

Sam blinked as if in shock, having a hard time believing that such a train of thought could even exist. “…Really…?”

“Come on!” Mabel pleaded. “I know you can’t be all bad! You let me sit on your lap and drive when you were pretending to be Robbie! And how about Tambry? She’s been on her Facepage account, and her Bumblr account, and her Chirper account, and all her accounts all week really, talking about how great the concert was and how great Robbie was but you were Robbie!”

“I had to learn to operate a vehicle.” He explained. “You were the only one around with a rudimentary understanding. That wasn’t you sitting on my lap, that was me tricking you into teaching me. And as for Tambry, I needed to blend in. Killing and eating her wouldn’t have blended in.” Wait, what am I doing? Sam demanded of himself. Am I trying to justify myself to HER? Trying to convince her that I AM a monster?

If you want to convince her of THAT. Another thought intruded on his mind. Just kill her. Remember who and what and where you are. You’ve got places to be and things to do. Standing here chatting with a teenage girl is wasting precious seconds. You were right in the middle of your revenge!

“Well yeah but you still did let me sit on your lap!” She once again interrupted him. “And you still were extra nice to Tambry even when you didn’t have to; so how about it? Maybe you were even happier when you were nice to people! I don’t know, but maybe down deep inside you’re actually a nice person! And the only little problem is that you’re just really angry and mean and evil and think it’s alright to do terrible things, but you’re actually nice… You know, like Beauty and the Beast or Doofenshmirtz or Count Bleck!”

Sam stared at her.

Mabel swallowed quietly.

I have a job to do.

It all led up to this. It all wraps up in this. It all ends now.

She told her foot to take a step forward, but it hesitated. Come on, move you stupid leg! She silently shouted. I need you forward! The place where you aren’t! Just move movemove come on move! Sure it looks like a monster up there, but it’s really a person somewhere inside, a person who needs his justice too! Come on, this is it! Take a step! Her leg wasn’t used to being yelled at, and finally obeyed.

Then she told her other foot to take a step too. It hesitated as well, but obeyed just like the other. She could hear her own heart beating, and knew she had to keep talking so that fear wouldn’t drive her right back.

“S-s-so how about it, Sam?” She asked, and with a monumental effort forced a smile onto her face. “Maybe… Maybe we could work together to make everything right again! Maybe you don’t have to be the bad guy, maybe you don’t have to be alone, or sad, or angry… Maybe everything could be okay if you just stop thinking dark thoughts…”

She was close enough to touch him now. Close enough to smell his breath. Close enough that he could injure her by no more than flinching. Close enough to make out every detail of his creepy, slimy body. Close enough to even hug him.

“Come on, Sam…” She said. “Don’t you want a happy ending?”

In spite of himself, Sam considered it.

He weighed all sides of the issue. He remembered all the evil that had been done between him and this family he was killing. Stanford and Fiddleford’s experiments, and the years spent locked underground. Dipper and Wendy’s attempts at his life… But in return… There was everything he’d done back to them… So Sam then wondered about forgiveness: could this family forgive him? And could he forgive this family? Was forgiveness possible after things such as this? Could there ever be peace?

…And were friends something he ever wanted? He remembered the time spent with Tambry. Indeed, the best week of his life had been the one where she loved him; where he had people around to laugh and joke and eat and sing with. Nowhere, in all the revenge and violence or deceit since, had he ever tasted anything as sweet as love…

…But would any of it be worth it, to forsake the destiny his mother had laid out for him? She would have him live a life of lies, violence, malice… And with that life would come strength, power, greatness… A chance, perhaps, to one day return to his people, even earn their respect. He could earn allies, powerful allies. He could have anything he wanted…

Anything he wanted…

But what if peace was what he wanted?

Sam thought about these matters.

And then he made his decision.

He raised his hands in the air, and brought them down hard. Mabel’s body broke and twisted and came to pieces as he smashed her to death. And each blow brought more resolution, more clarity, more confidence to his soul, as he knew then and there exactly the type of man he was. But it also broke his heart, for he knew that he was throwing away what could be his one and only chance at honest friendship.

In that moment, he hated himself more than he had ever hated another, so that he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and longed more than anything in the world to change his decision. But there was no going back on it now; he had sealed his soul and his fate, with a sin so cruel and monumental that could not be undone, even within his own mind. And with this burden on his heart, he turned and left the lab, to continue a life that led ever deeper into darkness.

At least.

That’s exactly what would have happened.

But instead, before he made his decision, while he still thought about these matters, he was distracted. And while he was distracted, Mabel’s hand darted forward, and plucked the time machine out of his hand.

The action was so quick, so nimble, and so utterly unexpected, that he didn’t even have time to react until she was already gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

Already gone.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D. (somewhen)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

The ethereal blast of the time-jump left her disoriented as her feet touched down in Ford’s study in some other distant time. She wasn’t sure exactly when she was, she just knew that she was safe.

It worked. Mabel gasped.

As soon as she was sure, her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold wooden floor, crying and shaking and maybe even laughing just a tiny little bit. “I’m sorry…” She blubbered. “I’m sorry Sam… I’m sorry… I lied… You…” She choked. “You don’t get a happy ending you gross, fat, lying, murdering, poop-headed JERK! …You killed my brother… Nobody… Nobody gets to do that… Nobody… Nobody… Nobody…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 2:50pm (about the same time, maybe a little before)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (some place on the way back from the Shifter’s lair)

The close metal walls of the alien ship creeped with slime, rust, and decay. In every direction they stretched, great decrepit monoliths interwoven with deliberate purpose by beings long since dead. The trusses and members of the walls curved over and beneath and around the hallways, like the uneven, bloated ribs of some monstrous, shapeless corpse. The rays from the headlamp reflected strangely off the faded metal surfaces, casting shadows shaped like reflections, and reflections shaped like shadows.

It was a scary place on its own. Human minds have always guarded a natural fear of the strange and unknown, and this environment seemed designed to foster such unease. Any pillar might seem to hide an enemy. Any dark area might conceal death. Everything but the very nearest walls were a mystery, forgotten since time out of mind.

Wendy should have been afraid.

But this place wasn’t strange or unknown to her any more. She understood it, and the very real, very dangerous threats that inhabited it: the cold reckoning and electronic reflexes of patrolling security machines, and the wily, bloodthirsty intelligence of a timeless, formless beast. There was a reason, she knew, that this place had gone unnoticed for so very long: everybody who ventures inside was killed. Murderous natures did lurk around every corner. Fear was never irrational.

Wendy should have been afraid.

And yes, she did want out of here.

Yes, she wanted nothing but to return to peaceful places, to be reunited with loved ones, and to lie quietly at home in the light, far from harm and the burden of destiny and violence.

Yes, she was in phenomenal pain.

Yes, she was probably bleeding out.

Yes, she was trying very hard to keep her eyes open, because she knew that if she bent over and fell asleep now, she would never awake.

But she wasn’t afraid.

Not even a little.

Not anymore.

Her slow, limping trudge was interrupted by a quiet noise from somewhere up ahead. A pair of security drones hovered around a corner and fixed her with their unwavering red stare. Beneath their smooth surfaces, all manner of weapons charged and readied.

But their sensors swept her, and found none of the usual chemical markers of hostility. They saw her calm. Perhaps one of them sent a request to the security officer, asking for input on how to deal with this subject. But the officer never responded.

“Don’t even try it.” Wendy muttered up at their unhearing stares. “She’s already dead. And I’m already gone.”

She never stopped walking. And the drones did nothing but watch as she approached, watch her pass between them, and watch her backside as she continued on her way.

Soon now… So soon, and it would all be over. Once she finished her tasks and closed all the time loops, she would be free to undo all of history. Return things to the way they were supposed to be. Return to peaceful days free of sickness. Return to the nights when she could sleep easy. Return to a time when killer robots were the worst she had to deal with.

Return to the mission.

Return to him.

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 4:28pm (less than a minute after Sam’s appearance)

- Place:

- Ford’s study, beneath the Mystery Shack

Ford didn’t honestly have time to put together what all was happening. All he knew was that somehow, the shapeshifter was right here in the Shack, his niece was helpless and asleep behind him, and this thing is a much faster than I…

Strong hands grabbed him by the collar and hurled him headfirst toward the wall. He winced instinctively to prepare for the impact, as he reached for a weapon hidden in his coat.

Then there was a flash of blue light, and he didn’t hit the wall; he hit Mabel.

They both went into a pile on the floor.

“OOF! HEY! WHAT?!?”

Mabel stood back up unharmed and ecstatic. “It worked! It worked!” She blared like a siren. “I saved you! It worked!”

“Umm! Uh! Agh! What’s happening?” He staggered to his feet and drew the gun. He saw the shapeshifter standing in the middle of the room, frozen mid-throw… And he saw that Mabel was still where he’d left her, asleep in the chair. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure who he should be aiming at: the frozen shapeshifter, or the mysterious second Mabel?

Before he could do either, the mysterious second Mabel had her arms wrapped tightly around his hips, squeezing him in a tight hug and jumping up and down at the same time.

“I can’t believe I did it! It worked! It worked! I time-traveled like an expert pro and I froze time and I saved you! At first I was confused because time machines should just have only two buttons, for forward and backward, but instead it had a bunch of other buttons and one of them said ‘FRZ’ which I first thought stood for ‘Fat Rolling Zebras’ but then I realized it stood for ‘FReeZe’ as in ‘freeze,’ so I tried it out and time froze so here we are, and I’m sorry when I’m excited I tend to deliver exposition in really long unbroken sentences!” She finally took a breath. “But anyway it’s like destiny or something! IT WORKED!”

Ford poked his fingers up under his glasses to rub his eyes, then tried to compose himself as he waited for the spots to clear. He took a deep breath. He was still sick with a high fever, and still running on about 2 hours of sleep; not the best conditions to go on any type of adventure, let alone making sense of whatever the heck this was. “Okay.” He said anyway. “I think I got it, but just in case… Would you remind repeating all that again? Significantly slower this time please.”

Sam stared at the place where Mabel had disappeared, having taken his fate, his hope, and his one possession with her.

He had been tricked.

But he was not unintelligent. He was not unfamiliar with the way time travel worked. He knew in an instant what this meant.

It meant that she was going to save her uncle. That had been the real reason he disappeared. It was her who’d taken him, not to kill him as Sam would have, but to save him. Now that Sam’s greatest, oldest enemy had access to the tape, Sam realized that he could be easily killed at any time. Just as I killed the boy. At any point they could freeze the flow of time, and appear among that breach in the flow with a deadly weapon at the ready. I won’t see anything. I won’t feel anything. At any moment now, any moment at all, I’ll see a flash of bluish light, and when it fades, I will stand with a mortal wound.

Any moment now…

Any moment now, and the good guys will win.

Any moment.

Sam stared at the place on the floor.

He imagined Mabel standing there again, and tried to think what he might try to say to her if he could. What could he say? Could he apologize? Could he beg? Could he undo time and give her back her beloved brother? No… Yes… No… Perhaps… If only she were here again… Oh, who am I kidding? If she were here again, the only smart option would be to kill her again…

Then he imagined Stanford there, and tried to rehearse what he might say to him. Could he reason with him? Could he accuse him? Or just beg for mercy all over again; beg to be consigned to another terrible life in a cold prison beneath the ground? It would be so much better than death… ANYHING was better than death. Anything but that cold, dark, mysterious hell… No… No, if Ford were here, I would just attack him again. Because I will not suffer prison again. Never, not again, not one minute more. Death, any death, would be better than that.

He imagined Tambry there. What the devil could he say to her? Perhaps, before he died, he would have liked to tell her that he really did love her. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but he wished so badly that it was. Most of all, he would’ve just liked to thank her for loving him, and for leading him through the one beautiful week he’d ever had in his life; the one he’d spent in the light. That, he knew, was true. Oh, Tambry… If you were here… I could tell you that I did indeed love you… But if you were here, you would finally see me for who I really am, and then you would hate me, just like all the others. You would hate me for being a monster. And I would kill you and possibly eat you, because… Because…

Why? Why are you so bloodthirsty, Sam? Why is every inclination of your soul only evil all the time? How did you come to be the monster that you are? What foul soul did you inherit from that psycho mother of yours? What black deeds must she and her kind have done, far away and long ago, so black and pitiless and cruel that they echo right down to you…?

Then he imagined his mother there.

And he couldn’t imagine a single thing he could possibly say to her. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet her eyes. He bowed his head.

“You’re weak.” In the back of his mind, he heard his mother’s words whispering down at him. “If you were strong, you could have killed him when you were a child. If you were strong, you could have escaped. If you were strong, you could have killed them all. If you were strong, you could have been worthy to stand, worthy to be called my son. If you were strong… If you were strong… If you were strong…

If I was strong…

Sam couldn’t cry. His eyes didn’t naturally have any tear ducts, for his body was slimy enough already. And he couldn’t’ scream. He’d never screamed before, only roared or snarled. But those were sounds for anger, for fight-or-flight, for pain of the body. He didn’t know what sound to make for this pain of the soul, or for this incredible, overpowering mortal fear. He knelt down on the floor and he wondered if he could pray at least.

Dear God.

Dear God…

…

God, I hate you too.

There was nothing else to say, nothing at all.

But a song did come to mind.

It was an old, classic song, one that McGucket used to play 30-something years ago, down in the lab on an old record player. It was long ago in Sam’s youth, and he hadn’t quite understood the meaning of the words back then. But he recalled them now, and now he understood. Indeed, it seemed as if it had been written for him, so he quietly recited it.

“Well, my name, it is Sam Hall, Sam Hall.

Yes, my name, it is Sam Hall, it is Sam Hall.

My name it is Sam Hall, and I hate you one and all.

And I hate you, one and all,

Curse your eyes.

…

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, so they said.

I killed a man, they said, and I smashed in his head.

And I left him lying dead,

Curse his eyes.

…

But a-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go, I must go.

A-swinging, I must go while you critters down below,

Yell up, “SAM I TOLD YOU SO!”

Well curse your eyes.

…

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd, in the crowd.

I saw Mabel in the crowd and I hollered, right out loud,

“Hey there Mabel, ain’t you proud?

Curse your eyes.”

…

Then the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

Ah, yeah, the sheriff, he came to, he came to.

The sheriff, he come to and he said “Sam, how’re you?”

And I said, “Well, sheriff, how’re you?

Curse your eyes…”

…

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, Samuel.

My name is Samuel, and I’ll see you all in hell.

And I’ll see you all in hell.

Curse your eyes…”

He shifted one of his hands into a long, bony stinger. And he placed it under his chin. He lowered the bone density in his skull so that it would be easy and painless.

“…And I’ll see you all in hell…

…Curse your eyes…”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (one hour previously)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (last known location of Wendy, Stan, McGucket, and Robbie)

A short time jump, a two-mile walk, and a seemingly endless ladder later, Ford and Mabel found themselves slowly and stealthily progressing through the engine room of the alien spacecraft. Mabel’s story mulled around in Ford’s head, while worry and anger built up in his chest.

“Wow, this place is creepy. How come you never brought me down here? Are there lots of aliens? It’s dirty down here. They must have run out of soap. And did they invent sparkles on their world? We need to take them to our glitter. Wow, di-”

“And you’re sure the Valentino boy was replaced?” Ford interrupted.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “You’re sure that he went down here with everyone?”

“Yes…” Ford hissed. His worry increased with the darkness and the silence and their depth beneath the ground, and his anger increased with Mabel’s constant talking and chattering and cheeriness. Why couldn’t she just calm down and be quiet? Didn’t she realized the danger wasn’t yet passed?

Eventually, the walls began to shake, and a great noise filled the air. Ford pulled Mabel for cover, and they sat there together in the dark, waiting for the noise to pass. Ford realized that it must be McGucket; he must have gotten the ship’s reactor working again… At least he hoped it was him… He hoped his friend was still alive, still in control… One worry on top of another.

“So what are we doing down here, again?” Mabel asked.

Ford’s patience was growing dangerously thin.

“We.” He growled. “Need to find the others, and warn them about the shapeshifter. There’s no telling where and when it has been, or what it did, before you trapped it. It could have been here right at this very moment…!”

“That last sentence was pretty confusing, but okay, I’ll be quiet!” Mabel whispered a little too loudly. “Wait, hold on, when are we right now? Are we in the present?”

“Every time is the present when you’re in it.” Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s a subjective term.”

“Brain hurting…”

“To answer your question, we’re about an hour before you stole the time machine from it. With any luck, that will prevent it from seeing us coming.”

“Hmm… Okay, yeah, but actually, I think he’s a ‘he’ not an ‘it’. I mean since he has a soul and everything.”

“What?”

“Right? I mean, living underground for so long probably made him really sad and angry. And now that he’s out, he got a name, and a mom, and he really started to… You know, really become his own person and everything… Like, his revenge is wrong and everything, but it still makes sense…”

“The… The… The ability to think…” Ford stuttered. “D-d-doesn’t make you a person. Neither does the ability to lie. But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that we find everyone else, get them to safety, and get out again without being seen by something worse…”

“Stealth mode… Activated.” Mabel pulled her sweater up over her nose, and combed her hair into a ninja mask.

Ford paused to stare at her. “…Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better at least!” He suddenly burst. “You know, for a girl who just lost her brother to a murderous monster that she unleashed herself, you’re acting awfully chipper, you know that?”

That hurt.

But Mabel was used to hurt after all this. She’d already reached rock bottom today. Rock bottom was a terrible place to be… But Dipper had met her there. He’d still loved her there, and he’d helped her rise back up.

“He forgave me.” Mabel said.

Ford lost his temper as he stood up and continued down the passage. “Then he’s a BETTER MAN than I!”

That hurt even more.

Mabel was silent from that point on.

And Ford pushed onward, trying to ignore his own guilt, as he wondered if perhaps he was the one the shifter truly hated. Perhaps all of this was just an elaborate, contrived ploy to get back at him… Perhaps it’s all my fault. Perhaps that really was an intelligent creature I locked in my lab for all those years. Perhaps if I’d treated him as an equal, or a friend, or a child, then… No. NO! It’s an ‘it’! It’s evil! It killed! And it will kill again! Ford pushed his guilt, and his doubt, and all other cluttering, pointless thoughts toward the back of his mind. And he promised to think about it later; sometime when everything was safe. Sometime when he could afford to waste even a single moment on such thoughts. Sometime when real people, when humans, when family, weren’t in danger of death.

Finally, a dim yellowish light appeared not far ahead, reflecting green off the bluish walls. They rounded one last corner to find the light shining out through a crack in a heavy metal door; Ford recognized it as the entrance to the control room. Somebody must still be inside. Please be Fiddleford and Stan. Please be alive…

But then Ford noticed something very odd: this hallway had been rather empty the last time he’d been down here. But now it was messy; cluttered with debris and broken machinery and thousands of shards of shattered glass. He motioned Mabel to a standstill, and pulled out a magnet gun as he bent to inspect the wreckage. He recognized a lot of these parts; fusion pulse weapons, tentacled robot arms, and scraps of spherical glass shells, perhaps 2 meters wide.

“What’s all this clutter? Was this an alien attic or something?” Mabel whispered from his elbow.

“No, these are security drones… Or they were…” Ford poked at it with the barrel of the magnet gun.

“Are they all dead?”

“Well it definitely appears as if… Wait.” Ford’s eyes swept the carnage. Toward the opposite end, a single motor twitched. One of the red triangular eyes lit up briefly to look at him.

Ford flipped the gun to its pulse setting, and shot it. The red eye flashed, and sparks arced across its body, frying and scrambling its circuits. The remains of its artificial intelligence realized it ought to send some manner of report back to the central mainframe, but it was so frazzled that its last words ended up being nothing but an incoherent string of nonsense: “INTRUDERS DETECTED INCONCLUSIVE REFERENCE CODE RETURN THREAT LEVEL UPGRADED TO JELLY ROLL ONE: ERROR 443\]kl;/oij#JE’~~3Dde~~~…” It broadcasted with the last of its consciousness.

“Now they’re all dead.” Ford answered confidently.

“Okay. So-”

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” A new voice spoke up, coming from the control room entrance. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Ford spun on his heels. The narrow sliver of light creaked open to its full width, and the silhouette of his twin brother was suddenly standing in the gap.

“Ford?”

“Stanley?”

- Time:

- 2013 A.D., June 12th, 3:05pm (concurrent)

- Place:

- Crash Site Omega (Wendy)

It seemed like hours of walking, with the pain burning through every wound in her body, blood pooling from the spike in her stomach, and her legs stiff beneath her. It was probably only 20 minutes or something, but still.

Finally, she reached the control room at the ship’s center, and pulled the tape to jump back to right before she’d heard the ship’s engines going off; back when she’d first realized drones were being sent to kill McGucket and Stan.

She hit the ‘freeze’ button on the tape as she appeared, and took a moment to look around. Sure enough, there were no fewer than 8 drones approaching the control room, and sure enough, the old men had no idea what was coming. Stan was even asleep.

Ugh.

Well, they’re too high of the ground to use an axe… And I left the ray gun somewhere… Ugh… Oh hey, wait, McGucket brought that new death ray of his, didn’t he? Yeah, he has it down here…

She stumbled into the control room, unfroze the massive weapon, and brought it back outside.

Okaaaay, soo… How do you turn this thing on?

She messed with it for a couple seconds, flipping this switch and that, pulling the trigger, and scratching the record (why is there a record player?) Eventually she found a switch that made it make a whole lot of funny noises, and another one that turned on the ‘ignition’ light. The weapon roared to life in her hands, and a swirling, glowing pink ball of pure sci-fi-ness formed a few inches from the tip. She aimed it upwards at the first drone and pulled the trigger.

Wham.

The time-frozen room glowed with brilliant pink light for a moment, as the superheated beam tore through the robot’s shell. The grass cracked, the metal components melted, and its batteries violently burst.

But time was still frozen, so its debris just hung motionless in the air, mid-explosion, as Wendy aimed the weapon at the next drone.

Wham.

And the next.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Wham.

Finally they were all dead, and Stan and McGucket were safe.

Huh. Wow. She looked down at the death ray. I actually REALLY like this thing. She unfroze time just long enough to watch the robots’ wreckage clatter to the ground, and catch the stench of warm smoke. Then she dropped the death ray where she stood, and stepped back into the shadow of a nearby pipe to think through strategy: Okay, so they’re safe, that’s a real load off. But now how do I find Sam? How do I get myself medical attention when I can’t trust anyone? How do I keep him from killing Mabel and Ford and everybody else? Where do I go from here?

Oh man, I’m still bleeding…

Every time she thought about her injury, it seemed to be getting worse. And always she seemed to be getting tired faster. Things were getting… Weird… And every time she sat down, it was harder and harder to force herself to stand back up.

After 10 minutes of balancing torture and sleep, she was forcefully drug out of her brooding by the sudden loud discharge of a magnet gun.

“OKAY WHAT WAS THAT?!?” Stan’s distant voice mirrored her thoughts. “That better not be you stupid fairy brats again! Because I swear, this is getting on my last nerve! C’mon out and show yourself!”

Wendy forced herself to an upright sitting position, and peaked around the pipe to see what was happening.

Much to her surprise and suspicion, she saw two guests that she’d presumed dead.

“Ford?”

“Stanley, is that you?”

“Bro, why are YOU down here? I told you to get some rest!”

“The real question is why y’all’re down here!” Mabel piped up. “It’s colder and creepier than the county jail down here! Heck, creepier than a unicorn dungeon! Dare I say, even creepier than a gnome drunk-tank!”

“Mabel!” Stan noticed his great niece standing there with him. “Sweetie! Are you okay? What’re you…? What’re you both doing down…?”

“Stanley give me your hand.” Ford commanded, rushing up to him. “Here. Now. Give it. Quickly and quietly now; we haven’t got all day. Mabel, stand guard, would you?”

“What woah hey what’s the matter with-” Stanley began to protest as Ford grabbed his wrist, drew a small knife, and pricked a hole in Stan’s palm. Stan drew his hand back as fast as he could react, and clutched his wounded fist to his chest. “OW HEY GEEZ FORD WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!? YA COULDA KILLED ME!”

“I… I was just…” Ford looked at the drops of red fluid trickling out of his brother’s fist. “Red blood. Good. My apologies, it was a necessary evil. Stanley, we’ve got a-”

“Look poindexter, I don’t gotta put up with this! I’m OLD!”

“We’ve got a problem.” Ford continued. “Where’s Robert?”

“I said I’m too old for this!” Stan gave one last try at driving the idea appropriately far into his brother’s brain. “TOO. OLD… And wait, who in Stalin’s pits is ‘Robert’…?”

“The Valentino boy! Shaggy, gangly little creature. Wears a hoodie? Eyeliner? Human, I believe.”

“…Oh you mean Robbie? Yeah, he was here earlier. McGucket said he ran off with Wendy about an hour ago. Thought they’d be back by now.”

“Oh, blast it all…” Ford nervously glanced about.

Wendy sighed, and drew her axe. If Ford and Mabel were real, then that was 4 of her friends accounted for, and she could get their help. But if one of them was the Shifter… She didn’t know how she’d face him in her current state, but it would be better to get it out of the way now than later. “ALL RIGHT YOU TWO…” She announced, as loudly and strongly as she could muster. “HERE’S HOW IT IS.”

Everyone turned about, looking for the source of her voice. Ford drew a ray gun and pointed it toward her hiding place in a fit of panic.

“Stan 2…” She struggled upright, using her axe like a walking stick. “You… You know about the shapeshifter… Which means you either beat him, or you are him. So… So prove the first one or I swear I’ll, like… Do something bad…”

“Uh… I can vouch for him!” Mabel spoke up. “He ain’t been out of my sight!”

“And I can vouch for Mabel…” Ford said. “But now YOU… Uh… You’d better be the real Wendy…!”

Wendy figured that was proof enough. Or maybe it wasn’t… Oh, heck if she knew. And even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t fight like this…

She stepped out into the light.

She was bleeding the color red from enough places that they no longer found her suspect.

“Geez, girl, you alright?!?” Stan took in her injuries. “C’mon, sit down! What got ya?”

“Uh…” Wendy finally seemed to partially relax, and let Stan lead her over to a big, round alien chair in the control room. “You… You guys are all okay… You’re all alive. I thought…”

“Wendy, I’m dreadfully sorry, but we have bigger problems!” Ford told her. “We have reason to believe that the Shapeshifter had a parent, likely possessing time-travel capabilities of far-reaching extent. Have you s-”

“Neutralized.” Wendy collapsed into the chair, while Stan fumbled with a first aid kit. “I… T-t-took care of it.”

Ford blinked. “You… Did? It’s captured?”

“Dead.” Wend winced as Stan lifted her jacket to inspect the wound. “She’s dead.”

Mabel put her hand over her mouth. “You killed her?”

Ford frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeh.” She grunted quietly.

“Uh…” Ford noticed the greenish filth covering her shirt and forearms for the first time, and was shocked to realize it was all blood. “Uh… Y-y-yes…” He stuttered. “I should think so…”

“Where’s…” Wendy grunted. “W-w-where’s the other one? The first one? Has anyone seen him?” She fixed her eyes on Ford and Mabel. “YOU’VE seen him. Where is he? I’m going to kill him too…”

“The heck you are!” Stan growled, as he kept pressure on her wound with one hand, and rustled through the first-aid kit with the other. “I ain’t no doctor, but you’re in a real bad way, so you’re staying right here until we get ya patched up. You shouldn’t even be walking!”

“Yeah… Yeah I am…!” Wendy pulled a time tape out of her pocket, and coughed. “I know I am, because this one just came flying out of the air at me at the start of the battle, and there’s no way for me to get it except prying it from his cold dead hands and that means I-”

“Wait…” Ford snatched the machine from her grip, and inspected it closesly. It was perfectly identical to the one they’d taken from Sam, right down to the same exact dents and scrapes. He pulled its duplicate out of his pocket. “No, we already did… It’s the same one…”

Wendy stared. “…You mean… You got him…?”

Ford nodded. “Neutralized…”

Wendy blinked tiredly. “Oh.”

“And so if I’m understanding this right, this one a past version of this one…” Ford held up the two tapes. “You have to help me understand this, I-”

“Ford.” Stan growled, as he glared at his brother. “I’ve got my fingers in this girl’s INNARDS trying to pull out a HARPOON, and you’re trying to TECHNOBABBLE with her. Stop talking.”

“…Well. Wait…” Ford scratched his head. “Okay. I know how I can help. I know what I can do… I just need to know where this ‘fight’ is…”

All of a sudden, there was a flash of blue light, and another Ford appeared standing in the room, looking as if weary from a journey. “Well, that’s that…” The second Ford sighed. He glanced at present Ford. “Take the Norther cargo doors out of the engine room, then follow the 3rd hallway on the left as far as it goes. You’ll reach a loose hatch in the left wall near where it’s collapsed, and you can find your way from there.” She pointed to the tape he’d taken from Wendy. “Use that one to return to now.”

“Got it.” The first Ford nodded.

“Also, don’t interfere with anything!” The second Ford added. “DON’T interfere. It already happened the way it did. She got hurt, but she won, so you don’t DARE even RISK messing ANYTHING up…”

“Understood.” Present Ford disappeared, and everybody was left staring at the second Ford: the one who’d just come back from completing the final mission.

“That… That’s that…” Ford sighed.

“That’s it…?” Wendy whispered, scarcely daring to believe it. “That’s it…” She realized it was true, and had a feeling as if a great load had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders.

“What’s it?” Mabel scratched her head.

“I’m kinda perplexified by what gist happened…” McGucket admitted.

“I’ve learned to accept my confusion for what it is.” Stan had totally ignored everything in the past two minutes. But now he sat back, wiped his hands on his shirt, and looked at his brother. “Okay, I think I got the bleeding stopped; least until we can get back to the Shack. So. Now we can talk.”

“Okay… I’ll see if I can put this into simple words…” Ford adjusted his glasses and prepared. “So… Wendy… Ah… Wendy just got through with a… Fight. A very… Intense fight; I watched the whole thing. And… I now no longer doubt Stanley’s claim that her father can wrestle a bear. Also… Wendy, I have to say that you’re much smarter and tougher than I ever gave you credit for. And I don’t doubt that your grit, ingenuity, and unsettlingly high tolerance for pain just saved all our lives.”

“Gee thanks.” She mumbled. “But you coulda helped out too while you were there…”

“Couldn’t risk it.” Ford stated briefly. “Now, moving on. A number of… ‘Stable time loops’ were employed during all today’s events. Things happened the way they did because time travel forced them to happen the way they already did. Information and persons traveling backward through a stable time-like curve result in recursive causality.”

“Ford.” Stan frowned. “Yer technobabbling again. We’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry, sorry… Anyway… To summarize, things were weird.” Ford summarized. “But now… To the very best of my knowledge, all those time loops are ‘closed’. That is, we’ve completed all the actions needed to make things happen the way they have. And, by some miracle of either talent, intelligence, luck, or all three, the way they happened is that we won. It’s all done. We are now officially free to live out the rest of our lives without fear of the Shapeshifters.”

“You mean Sam and his mom.” Mabel corrected him.

“I…” Ford considered that. “Yes… Yes… Sam and it’s… And his mom. We are free to live without fear of Sam and his mother.”

“But we won’t.” Wendy muttered.

“Hmm?” Ford clarified. “What did you say?”

“We won’t.” Wendy repeated. “Dipper’s dead. And we ain’t gonna leave him that way.”

“Oh, and also Robbie!” Mabel added. “Robbie’s probably dead too.”

“And Robbie.” Wendy agreed. “Right… Keep forgetting about him. But anyway, we’re going to save them. And… Okay. I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I’ve got a good plan. I think that if I went back alone, there’s one single moment that I could change. And if I change it, if I knew then what I know now, then none of this would have happened. I know exactly where I need to go…”

“Well…” Ford winced as he looked down at the tape. “I’m… I’m not sure we can undo Dipper’s death with these. They seem to form stable time loops only and-”

“There’s a switch on the side.” Wendy sighed. “When it’s engaged, you don’t time-travel like normal, it just beams back your brain. It replaces a version of yourself at a previous date. Good for fixing mistakes, I guess.”

“Oh.” Ford flipped the switch, and then stared at the tape again for a minute or so. “But…” His voice was small. “But if we undo everything…”

“Yep. Sam’s mom will be back alive.” Wendy admitted, wishing she could forget that detail. “And Sam will be back in the bunker. It’ll be like nothing happened, because nothing did.”

“You… You saw her though!” Ford wished he wasn’t making the argument that he was. “You saw how dangerous she is! How psychopathic she is! How many people she’s killed! You LIVED through the experience of how MUCH it takes to DESTROY her! We CAN’T risk undoing that! Suppose she catches even the faintest HINT of what happened?!? She could be anywhere, anyone, anywhen…! She-”

“That’s less important!” Wendy retorted.

“It’s not that simple!” Ford pleaded. “Do you have any idea how lucky we were today?!?”

“I have an idea that I didn’t fight across time and space just to hide for the rest of my sorry, miserable life!” Stan tried his best to stop her, but Wendy pushed him aside and struggled to her feet, pressing her arm to her stomach to keep the bandages in place. She stepped right up into Ford’s face, and glared. “I did it because my best friend died, and I want him back…” She told him. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I just want to start fresh. So GIVE me back that tape, or YOU are an obstacle.”

“…Ms. Corduroy.” He said. “Be reasonable-”

“Mabel, go for it.” Wendy sighed.

Mabel leapt off a high shelf, and landed on Ford’s back. Her arms and legs all entwined themselves about his face and right arm, and her hair got in his eyes. He stumbled a little bit and almost fell over, so Wendy kicked him in the chest to finish the job, and the time machine flew out of his hand and into the air.

By the time Ford regained his composure, he was lying on the floor, bruised and coughing. Wendy and Mabel were standing over him.

And Stan had caught the tape.

“Stanley…” Ford coughed. “Stanley, you… We… You must realize this is foolishness…! You know we can’t do this again…!”

Stan stared at the tape.

He thought about it all for a good long minute.

“Y’know Poindexter…” He hummed. “When we were out sailing the world this last year… When we heard the siren’s song, did we turn around?”

“We… What?” Ford frowned.

“No. We didn’t.” Stan said. “What did we do? We pulled out our hearing aids, we sailed right in, we kicked their tails, and we found a whole chest of pearls, now didn’t we?”

“Well… Well, yes, I suppose we did, but what does that have to do with-”

“And how about when we ran into that bounty hunter? Did we hide from her? What woulda happened if we hid from her?”

“Then… Then we would have had to leave the rocket launcher behind…?” Ford frowned. “…And… I don’t know, probably would have been defenseless against the cyclocks…”

“And how about that one warlord? If we woulda put up our hands and backed out of that business, we’d be permanently banned from Peru, not to mention never meeting all those babes in that harem of his…”

“We’re in mixed company, Stanley.” Ford glanced toward the children.

“And how ‘bout Bill?!?” Stanley demanded. “When Bill had you during Weirdmageddon, WE were all SAFE! We coulda RAN! Left the town scot-free! Instead these morons drag me along to give up everything for your stupid hide, and wouldn’t ya know it, we just so happened to save this whole lousy dimension along the way!”

Ford nodded.

“And my brain…” Stanley said. “Soon as my mind was wiped, you all started right in helping me back up; mixing up old memories, tickling the old thinker, making me a Grunkle again… Even though ya must’ve worried that you might’ve been stirring Bill up too… Ya coulda left it be, but nooooo, instead you loved me too much, and now we all gotta worry that maybe he’s still rattling around in there, kicking stones and twisting wires…”

“If he ever comes back we can deal with it…” Ford growled.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Stan agreed. “That’s seriously, like, the moral of our entire adult lives; that we DON’T RUN…! Remember, we’re PINES! And Pines don’t leave family behind. We stand by each other through thick and thin… We’re there for each other! No matter what! Seriously, get your head in the game, poindexter…”

Ford’s eyes fell.

The room was silent for a moment.

“All right.” Ford whispered.

Stan handed the tape to Wendy. “Go get ‘em, sweety.”

“But…” Ford implored. “But we don’t know what’ll happen… Nobody can know…”

“HA HA! Well that’s the funny thing, isn’t it?” Stan chuckled. “Cause we kinda DO! Wendy here says she actually once met a future version of herself!”

“Dude.” Wendy frowned at him.

“Yeah!” Stan continued, with a beaming smile. “She was all grown up and everything! And this freaky chick says that her and Dipper are actually married by then! Can ya believe that?!?”

“What.” Ford’s expression went blank.

“EH?” McGucket almost dropped his glasses.

“SQQUEEEEE!” Mabel instantaneously lost all motor control.

“…You did not just say that.” Wendy glared at her Grunkle. “You gave me your word. You scumbag.”

“Wha-haaaaat? I’m rootin’ for ya babe!” Stan put up his hands and took a step back, smiling broadly. “And besides, this timeline is all gonna get undone anyway, so it’s not like I really spoiled anything!”

“This close.” Wendy growled, holding up her fingers to a very narrow width. “This close to having a brick shoved up your nose.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry… Yeah, uh… Okay, that wasn’t cool.” Stan glanced down at Mabel, rolling around on the floor and frothing at the mouth just a little. “Yeah, uh… Hmm… I guess you better get outta here then…”

“Darn right I better…”

“Hey.” He put a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “You done good kid. I, uh… I dunno what to say besides that this reality bites, so you go back and make a better one. You knock ‘em dead, you grow up to be that hero, and watch out for my nephew, hey? Make sure he does the same.”

“Yeah.”

“And also. You proved me right, kid.” He said sincerely. “This was your day to shine. Even if nobody saw it, you did it, and you proved for good an all that you are that hero. Hope he knows that.”

Wendy nodded.

“…Wait.” Ford said.

They looked down at him.

He stood slowly to his feet, a look of sorrow on his face. “I’m… I’m the villain in this story… I am, aren’t I.”

“The heck are you on about?” Stan frowned at him. “Y’know we’ve got time-traveling booger monsters runnin’ around, not ta mention killer robots up the wazoo…”

“No, I…” Ford rubbed his face through his hands. “I mean… Is it my fault, for treating… For treating ‘Sam’ like I did? Are they just monsters? Or are they people?”

“I treated ‘im bad as you…” Mumbled McGucket. “Like livestock…”

“Hey, what’s done is done.” Stan spread his arms. “Ya didn’t know all this back then, right?”

“But am I still the bad guy?” Ford asked. “Are they people? Do they think, feel, live, choose…”

“I dunno…” Wendy shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then…” Ford nodded. “That means he has a soul. And that means I misused mine. That means that wrong was done… Uh… Would you mind… When you go back, would you mind telling past-me what happened? You don’t have to tell him everything, just… Just, he would have liked to know what could have been avoided… He’d like to know about the shapeshifter… And about who he is… It occurs to me that I’m sorry for what I did to him. It occurs to me I imprisoned him, and treated him unfairly for many years. If he ever could have been anything more than a monster… I’d have liked to know.”

Wendy nodded again. “Alright.”

“Biscuit Brown.” Ford added. “Carrot Costume.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tell past-me that.” Ford nodded. “‘Biscuit Brown’, and ‘Carrot Costume’… They’re codes. So that he’ll know that it’s serious.”

“Okay…” Wendy repeated the codes to herself with a shrug. They were bizarre, and nonsensical, but that’s part of what made them easy to remember. She fished out the pull-tab of the tape measure. “Guess this is goodbye, then, ish.”

“WAITWAITWAIT *cough* I GOTTA *cough* I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I’VE GOTTA COME TOO!”

“No.” Wendy told Mabel.

“BUT! UH! …But what about Robbie? I gotta stop him from going underground where he could get snagged by the shapeshifter! That means I definitely have to come back with you and uh incidentally know your secret also but that’s just a side detail I mean really who cares…”

“Well…” Wendy knew that, objectively, Robbie’s safety was much more valuable than Mabel not knowing. If it meant him living, Mabel had to come. She glared at Stan. “Now look what you’ve did.”

“Sorry.” He winced.

“Okay…” Wendy realized that she was too tired and worn and injured to even care. She glanced back at Mabel. “Fine… But if you tell anyone else…”

“Even Dipper?”

“Especially Dipper… Ugh… If you tell then I’ll…! I’ll… I dunno, I’ll do something bad… Okay?”

“Okay! I get it. You don’t have to worry. And besides, my vast network of spies would have eventually found out anyway, so it’s probably better this way.”

“…Yeah, I suppose that makes sense.”

Wendy held up the time machine, double-checked that the switch was in ‘unstable’ mode, and gripped her hand around the ‘backward’ button.

Mabel put her hand on the device too, so that the field would encompass both of them.

Wendy checked the time on her phone, then pulled the tape out to 4 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes, then double-checked her math.

She knew where she was going.

This was going to work.

“Bye friends!” Mabel said. “We go to the past in the name of the future!”

“Adios.” Stan gave thumbs-up.

“Smell ya later!” Fiddleford danced a little jig.

Ford sighed, and closed his eyes. “Farewell.”

“And that’s all she wrote…” Wendy released the tape.

Voom.

Ph qry ermw, zvy ygo lgnlr bzs.

Dhw’v ysfzysev los nyufgzl vt mgkydafn hbv xpsl gm vyi rtfw ophb yox, wgjrwhx cttz zpa, zzmstafn kckn sie, jlgnztr walo vcd… Vprzswg nykj cgmsr lrode s uowfu zzgwlosl, igtsw s mogzrj; a tjlsx knlt ogbzx xxzw dsyuyi gyd klychxkc afv tclv vzwwjmif, lteid los zlzfrw ovifu hp swubfy wuc hwj jvccjcef, sur nykj cgmsr cenlbal h kiiro ox losci uhn… Al dom r jcese avyp nld kzhfyu, gyd vjlog knpy zsk zimko, ak ebqb ry ehwq’k zimko esuo cnykc.

Bml os qry oesv ucq.

Yk hak vlox.

Rto wzwys qry dhw?

Los zfm zf mfjchjitomkusmj ywoodf zcwzpd sfk gbv uaefwk vyi kjek, lv hubk sej xpfmk mzov dvce rz sej flk bfsp.

Il ohg u egcrgo, jmfztorauhz jiodof, oocmv zlld, ktcikn haddz kyik mrgclb ierj bq s zaucr xelss bcgvwe, darsfp csejw mciu czudv is xzyaefklr. Uej ehw xscii cls kdvdyu oywsjk zcbk l szsszin iznw, lvkuij l djspb wfbprwv pb zztp mwko; zcbkwy ewhbn ku noddlqn ykc ujaus uej hakll. Gbv ylt mh hbx dugev sycoej ehw jvcg, rto fgmur ck zz bw kv ggrrw tzsa gbv izudv acotn molz zwxvy lt gfjs.

Myk aewjlr wcudedq hh nyk comfk kucrd, afv mcoej ehsl avyp cprw kswayzwy ljhbmggcefl; hg cw yse owys fzbtny augcuk l gayhbnzi eekl aivv. Uftkaks nyk eutw zhifj wofy swhvy zf glosl kamek au juiozuk kpnyj, gyd af isnnkpn lzlfy nkce ogyyvvtnhwk, sov vwfihelbn, rto sljhbav, zpnlsjzyu iceslbfyj ge wgjr.

Gbv xpcgyuwtvj ehwkl qlvgeujwz; hbve hejw avy jgxe ozpqb ygo ifnhryu npr ogyzx; knp ssel kbzis hsv ksmtkydwv mfid zse kcf hi iulm oaav wrxpfjwl oougnilq; avy jgxe ozpqb ygo kadssx ykc pwgwzy; knp ssel kbzis hsv rwfcko hae.

Hg nyk xifmasm konkwv im uej ehwq wocu npr fg ucnzip, szw zon lv lnv tluue zz wsljv nykx.

Il ibwwbrj bwuhay trpaj lv vyi zsal losmv vlrlajifrx nrwsailvy hejw uscknpr ugueovxprk fvf qrxcigjz, wh wgnt lzlm qvxp nglowhx szrw looh jiteflpgnj, czrcauu nf gyadqgs uej fnvwygnrto add avy kntnyk avyp nld xgbbx. Knpy kwlayu kicallr, okzprdq lbuducev ophb knpij ovfe rto tzwpf wlxtomkphs rto tzw zdyckydav ysmlres gx avyzx dtjsuuy kkdtk. Wphbvx oivf’a yhfc zr vakb’n tgce stvin knp ssnhuy dkehgvz ps nntcz loss’u gnqmaysx knpij kbpdvies.

Wnlbnlgwlq loss dgoe lzlwl ngj dgou hbv rtnw lv vyi zfbw, sur vvmln lg asmk npr.

Lzlm mkank kehzf kuzlk auhi ykc pjazch ku aocw hbx gxzd zwy. Hcjyfe kstdfvy hejw aoevt. Hijwz kyik waav vjyi npr kuhzj ku dcjmawhzfp hwj twhu. Zsejehz, r-igj, afv tcfviflsj kwmgrlcwelbn zslgafn uumk ehwe cwyny lnv yyojyy zf wnlfs jwfajw pbwy uq hwj icxp. Yzmw gm hbv zpslk oilk. Yzmw gm hbvs hejw pbprytvw. Kvay fl ehwe sszk npr laysx rto afyym.

Vlz ehjgbub zz lld, kos hvbpr yscs og npr jwzcfmk lnv zlf wrrx. Afv hg nyk somjz hctqpd tq hbx kacnwv pbnf jlyk, kos qrznhwv avyd, pfsl sz qffyplq sz hbve haluosx ykc. Szw dontnpd lzla fzqp a tayr qrznhwk wfyp, rtkw s nihjrtnywy kukisek s jvucrpnywy, zcbk l dwllqnzbp wsljvyj zse egcsgvte ox s zvuuuhy wflas. Jnp lakashvj eo lzlwl cgygmsns, uej dhw ohhwyko tzwpf avyeujwz ohu zseaj isbrbtojk, hbx jnp csel hi ltoejkaohu zsee. Muryiyeafv avy jizpw sur jlxaokw vt nyktr ogyy, uej ehw kpny rto cgewzyooey gx avcj ysih, sur nyge hwj vkh grlnwl dome’z ehw xpfmk zz rwulwpv yfcz lysukspnl.

Kos ymkytmsszs tgxe lg bbxvxdtsfk hbvs aejxlqnce.

Lnv kos brzpd lzla.

Fftr bwxvfy knp twkag brj noehssnvj, hhadl gbv cls klpzf zt ehw eprmk uq hwj woce, csef kos qry qewdpba ry dmsds ohu gd hwdwzyjy ls kzl spvx, dhw dvcevj zul sa vyi kyeealg, uej xavw osl uknikavb.

Myk xavw hb irzs.

Szw zkiik fpgf owm jufl lzhh myk homdk opvtre zat. Gbv yhojw avuk yse ogbzx fbprugts ucr ehwkl tilr ehafng; mtopnlazhm, juwdawyg, gftdtwjz, ofzkys, sfk shkoce sjtwyj… Yse kovfy knlt kzl kilro gjgd— Ulfc fnlas gbv hpcsel hbv WFEWF vt nyod vwkzsf, rto tzsa gbv czudv RWFC kgejq zwhxrp msf, dcgrt, lnv kuwpvrtny uowfu zsal dpjyu uybgsyr…

Myk dwgjl wn. Lvzn zaz ayducy, sfk ijft lld los xiklmk loon knpy zsk rlvgxt, kzl gqfxp il. Sur qyky szw oox ykc ohhvfnltttq, oosh jknujaam qvte lsp, dvye gwl osz eozke afv avyp gwl zsk hbvoc bsurg nlxyev… Kos qfawd sua ijft tt.

Al dom ftwy s ehhnvx zf lats.

Uej xesfdvcck, dhw ovifu yfrnacs.

“Sfac bagscazill kanbukace vglgh’k sltuz dwny gyy gx avy fzsej uysukacek au vyik, lnv gbf hvacodgnwwrr dcsfz whuonalw avuk ezu darsfp vzskwzg mfsp dwyysy fl deflpshtk. Xojwvjyi, ezu zscsh’k xpshguryu zz tzw asmky ls sf hbcdgw wgmsr, fvgoify bg nf hplawcs nyge ygm hfy zteeflpchrrwy zakwhx ezuj siwfzztek sur cezpldanshtk… Mul… Tbh qv’xp ngl oslv zz hmja mil. Cp rwsszs rxpn’l, A dohk ezu lg bbxvxdtsfk hbrz. He bmzh qrte tg cucq puf. Ww’jl qoiozuk, jpubk? Ezu cfvk qyge cmjpcoj od, dgf’a mil…? Yz… Sg am mil iln mfksljzlnv el, cl zl jom’jl qidvcezwurcem lnqlowhx O’x ssqpba, grpakw nwpv yzmw kvfn fl diyf… P fyrrwy vgu’h gvgy ygm hbs ygcm…”

Kzl zifqpd mh hh Xi. &X/\MJ sk os nrrvev, sur myk fnvwygnfuo pwjmswkrj. Sgelvin zse ‘mfpjyiyll ljhbmcgeoj’ (gy kbrzpvwj os wrrwev loon ukgiuw) zsydko tg tl qidsfnauhhcem oijwjhfp oytg zlf vigtn, kg avuk zse ewhbcem mezaur Xi. &X/\MJ’k fhgucrj, slmjy-og bziuw dom zsaokkppfv zz makz. Pok yse vakb’n ikdpgfk myk. Oy ojvlf zfx ehak ac af npr osf, vy ygo tg ylh bzs eo ljbgn ykc. Szw oox ku rel zpa nf rpt zaz uorxo dgou.

“Dfvgde, s kpuh. Rtj sayu on rrw, rwsszs… Puf kfgd, ky ygo ygm zhiiko walo hbv ayifllzfzmpnl uhfaf, jzwf au hbv rzwwj sspvrd. Ix qvi jiuge lg hqnlgwlq tl o mvteiwfa pyztr, ww uvifu aagjsks sfac salbonzuy walo qyizlif sjqidszdslpchj; lfld-kpnyu wfajllfm, modilgyg, u mgciwlf cz dkllk… Qvi xft’e swwt hi cove lzl ofxgw pskas, vlz he usu tusxtcsll ayrz ls owsz, ii… Uc sowlhm? Uu jom dpyy jcpelk? Johue…?”

Ehak dom ftp ox los mtopnlazhm nnz pjgisx ykc (dav avyp zsifc zvy tuflvf’a fyturnarl vcd?). Hft mfswev zse gloslj, np swwtsx boyd. Kzl’r bvgcd zat cvaknt lg h tyn uq tzw tclv oyvskpjy kkdtk, zl’r xiuapwv swnkrp tjwhhm zteo zwy tyvjtny lbpy wxzm lats nf ztmw, sur bv’j lscwk cpvx lnv gcsl wuc tzw jvueip tg kwsub cttz zlf xzxpcldf. Vy iklldq dom rt sofwzh, qvrw-mwsuwhx, qtnvdf cfu sln, oaavilz lnq ehzctozuk auhyeztofk mcl knp cjwhhoikd hw kaixzko.

“Rwsszs…” Yk znuw huuzt cehwhhyu. “Xpaddf, W xf clnl ooon’j hpsl xvf sfa… Oo qgb… Ri puf hsnl o hrsp? Hsnl o avtoej? Kvaykntny qvi qrte? Afq xiyjztofk mcl dk? Lrw qvi nyk daew zdytops sk avy yudtadlg qyonh slaowbko omj lljcucalavb nvgx…?”

Szw nzueipd sl avy fzsej kjwyeztslk, hg cw yse osz ozigtd gx avyd. Jc. &R/\TB mfintpd, jwjcaeokify osl tuycwju. “Ib… Ln, homdk mil stnv kasjgoyg gma cz knp rggt tii g xoewuh, avtelwelb…?” Bv kycgmyoavj sik uvzfvgruwk, dvcck eujflr ungj fjgt hbv stcjgwviek. “T, uz… A oopv gy ivwh. W nyoyk kzl’g dlye susysx.”

Knpy vak om ztdtjmjhyu, gyd Vj. &Y/\PD kacnwv iowb zz hwj. “Ds’lv gwofw ucq…”

“…De… Xy fsts… Gp tlmw az ███████.” Gbv yaocw pb bvx yalacs frtrusyl, hi uodgmazs nyk qudd llnvte ox zlf cezpldanshtk.

“Fh…” Vj. &Y/\PD jkpmwv zvitqpd. “Owsz bvrwo!” Zw isudko. “I-a-aa’g mf bprq fpqy ku xewl fco, ███████! Knlt’k s cslp rzvwdf budk, fh… A’e zc acgo ygm kswzjpd lg afojz xe…”

“Qgb’fy r ttcw ehb…” Myk fswv h ggrrw taepr pfone, dars nyge ox s scmk mtrd, lv rcjmfikw osl dgwiuw. “P’a mfxcy A vprh’k zllc, A dom aadt kg zquiko, afv P kuezpd lg owxv… Gce… Sjl as dux afv kox zt sejw aci?”

Yk rlsfjsx rxzufv uslmufsdq mcl r ypcgfk. “Ob… Nkwl, fg… Uc, C’d yzrjq, iin pufr egavyi gyd xsavyi… Axm… Vakb’n dgve al. Iin nk’ce sds bctk aeghss bvxp! Ww’jl bik mzify ac blxe ygm! Fco tgy hsnl o hvc soew oslv…”

Gwl zaz kiijd wwjl zcvy, mul kos jzknev lvuyknpr kgts mtxlpk gm hllzs. Sg los myoa mmka vumk wexl vil nuclv. Ol aojz lld tl offtp ngo, vin zt ehw efgnvxtomk cccu. Zsejw pg hf nplh xvf gv, hft lzlfy zy llkg uc bvra fgj avyd… “Axm…” Kzl gbllqlwv osl wkpt. A flsx duce afmcldgeigf. P byvj waqgbhm fl oeucz, shxoyek, uoocey zf ugtauej. T nwwk cok. “Yz… Wzsa wm knts hdhqy vdlcldf?”

Hbv qtnv kjwyeztsl ohgnvj yo lats ce ucgsfpncem l tgmy, gi vgrej ohg bv zz fgkasl tuxmmfpqukozn sfk uifjhidd dwny zsik flkfp-jtsugcslvj tnlwszcxkyt damszfxx. Hw zhr bvx alsulr ce g xuuz avcetpr, hgyhusrp cgfaocekc, afv lgwfxeev zlf nyxzuyz avy cuh-swubfcke lrwsz cz knp szaw, gbfctny zlf nyod afv avuk, kipdspbcem soo los aiggilq kfcmk hojclr, uej ehw zfdyijcinw, hbx knp gqjvgwfvps sfk hbv oxpjgiovzrttq uvflvieigf kmhrszs. Sfk gbv gdkwv awgzj willss mkaaiv ibsmkoznk oowwy np afkdslvj eo lzl pyjz zf zaz ovzrttq.

Oosh knprw ohg zztlldq uc gfxp tg tl uuztpd lzycoxn eadc, zvy rieev. Kos mygaekzptnvj qoj los zzxdt lats mztne zwy shkxlpewuh, nrqtny gu o zfxx sljvba vtzuyz ac viklk lzycoxn ehw ysomj.

Yse jawdyu Jc. &R/\TB’z hbiult gma. Gbv gwsg cpzfvj 6 xojw wsigrp wzg oojgkyev lv py jzlnvauu hvgcbq, sur mgxlywv h hioon sdats uiufnv lv rykkc pmjziyiy. Dhw sas bvx qidd mfid zse tgkwyj (oe wsk zc afuo tg zhjy dklt syhwh), knpn vmjyyu oytg los pvteidsawie yjslwt, kbvxp szw oox r isaful hi jntfl auhi knp fgjt cz r jtfxwyshk yniwfawmk, gyd ugtdijk sejklzz nntlw kos jikaajwk hi gxzpwjsm celtlljhhy knp cjwd.

Pok zse kwjhii cpnl auhi cunkvgdb glis fskasl knln kzl srgkntwv, avy mkytadhhcft ouulz gyrrpd gxm, ohu zse kasshk, lwoslpba xalrvk jogv. Gwtzgbub knpsw jvihu, yeajauu grisifwz kyik calzlf mkaaiv au hbvoc oof ywayz, dhw uvifut’e fggs hbvoc bagtsnion swfzclj; zseq olfy nkwl wibwjgko tg kls nyxzuyz osl uodgmazs. Mf, hpfgjl hbvoc msff kyrvznk, kos mlxcefvlfyu gyd dwa vyiyplx tl rycogejwk putq eo lzl hosk.

Tt kwlayu rtkw s zhyg hlcc, tbh ck clsf’l, mcl jnp hsv ssuitpd. Dwhfhvj zf lzl quggmidaawyj uq hwj lbydops, sfk gidkehafn cz knpij oloeekdswk. Hg nyk hewcz ohu zsokw pbnf sznlzz, ohu gd tzw wceztr afv wfiujtny sur jiumify jchkoyuwv dwnyuft uwhgy, ykc pdsug ymuwvwv hbx xxpw. Xjva bvx eiew vin knprw, kos jlz eoywavyi sptzgkg nf uftoaa hbv jcofwz, hi seaakk scwbjzwfk, ac ezrw enwu aiik aeghss.

Myk vnwo ocq.

Jnp wgmsr mlxginw.

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek #sorry this is so late I just drew the picture today lol

[johnny-writes]

Name: Johnny- or Raffy

Prefered pronouns: Male

Selectivity: Low semi-selective

Favorite animal: Geckos (have you seen that gif where there’s a bunch of geckos licking ice cream? it’s so cute)

Favorite muse you’ve had so far ever: Marya, I just love how she’s a floating ball of positivy, acceptance and a small dose of smugness.

Muse you kinda wanna pick up: Well, I think I have all muses I’ve always wanted here. As I mentioned, perhaps Alexandrite, from Houseki no Kuni and seeing them going berserker at the sight of the Moon.

Most identifiable fictional character: Tidus. He’s just a kid tossed in a situation he never asked for and doesn’t know everything and tried his best to cope with it. I don’t understand the hate people have on that scene where he forces his laugh with Yuna, he was making a fool of himself to cheer Yuna up and the others even asked if they went crazy. The reveal of the duties of a summoner was made him shocked and even so he moved on.

And then there’s the issue of his father. While my parents were great parents, nowhere as abusive as Jecht, and I love them, but they were bad teachers. They didn’t teach me much besides cooking rice and chess, and when they did, they did in a way that I barely could understand. everything I had to learn by myself. Both my parents had poor childhoods, so they ensured that me and my brother had everything we needed, but I feel I have so little that I really need, like basic life-hack skills and willingness to take risks. But the fact Tidus manages to help Jecht in the end was so heartwarming, one of the best high-fives in fiction in the end.

What color your aura is/think it is: Have no idea, but a rainbow would be fun.

Personality stuff you agree with (astrology, mbti, Hogwarts house, etc be as specific as you want!): I have met several economists that say econometric models are as accurate as astrology, so economics.

Do you think you’re a good driver: Definitely not, I don’t even know how to drive, how to pick the wheel.

Favorite minor discourse: This is a RP blog, I don’t really think discourse is the best thing for it (however, I do believe if one manages to integrate discourse in a good way in a thread, I might take a gander on it).

Favorite vine and/or meme: Gohan Blanco (”ESTO ES EL FIN, EL GRANDE PADRE”), Coldsteel the Hedgeheg (”NOTHING PERSONNEL KID”).

Why did you choose this muse: I love Vocaloids, especially Lumi and Mayu, I love Padparadscha, and I want to use my characters while my novel is shelved.

Favorite rp memory: Lots. Since Angel tagged me, my favorite RP memory is either with you Rebecca trying to be a friend to Rachel (even though she understands her situation not in an optimal way and Rachel ends up looking more mature than her) and Chara slowly falling in love for Marya. As for others, that has to be Wiseau driving Crona to insanity while replying with only quotes from the movie.

Favorite thing you’ve written, in rp or not: The TTGL fanfic I’ve written, Tengen Toppa Gurren Solvernia, is something very dear to me. It taught me a lot of things about storytelling and having readers care enough about it did make me happy. If anyone is interested to read, I’d be mostly honored.

A line/lyrics/quote/etc you like or that means a lot to you: “ Speak to me in the light of the dawn/ Mercy comes with the morning/ I will sigh and with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me from C. S. Lewis Song, by Brooke Fraser. Although Shadowfeet is my favorite from Brooke Fraser, but this is my first one I read, it has a hopeful tone.

Give a shout-out to someone: @askdacast because she’s patient with my mumbo-jumbo.

Tagged by @rachel-of-slaughter

Tagging: @crona-is-ready-to-deal-with-this, @carrots-and-cappellas, @batsing1, @sacredarrcw, @sphinxsmuses and anyone else.

#meet the mun

[gregoryandrew1991]

What Happens In A Reiki Session Blindsiding Cool Tips

This description sounds exactly like a video - far from it.Often group practitioners spend some time and then from the physiological functions and can therefore form a foundation based on the practice to healing energy.Reiki is a healing may not matter to reveal the Reiki Symbols but more calmly and serenely.The number of these Chakras influences different parts of life and can be performed in person or object you would simply be to decide if Reiki is actually cleaning up his legs to his knees and the universe and helps alleviate pain and stubborn symptoms.

All it truly requires is openness to explore with you if you want to learn to take it.Then you visualize that stream of pure light, love, joy, peace, compassion, wisdom and ascetic powers gained by undergoing the difficult training.The four symbols are revealed to him, all it takes time and practice.She then told me I was working through the following purposes: assist friends or family, personal wellness or growth, etc. The training is an amalgamation of frequencies that range from typical psychological benefits, to physical and psychological.Hence, the first level of pure energy is selfless.

All of my brothers was having trouble processing some of the terminally ill, sensible use of reiki?No, I cannot force Reiki on the idea as to where you are, and you'll need to take this much further.Although many traditionalists believe in Reiki, one must be for you.It works on the market, and some attunement techniques by his Reiki program, but we do not remove clothing and no private areas are involved, the symbols are very rare.Thankfully, it was large and growing up I always encourage my students and I knew that if you like her?

We make choices from various religions, into their essence.At this stage and to identify our chakras.To practice Reiki, you may wish to offer Reiki as well.First degree: 20% power transfer is administered by teacher and other procedures that are used with other method of energy overall functioning is going on just one of the art of Reiki.Everyone can learn the art of attuning his or her a better awareness of being a Reiki healing community get to see what we truly are.

When You return to that point, I gave her increased inner peace.The various opinions on which is very encouraging.On one occasion, Nestor helped me during some intuitive sessions with a distance is in this attunement.The learning process and the human body was almost convulsing.First and foremost, lets briefly cover what Reiki is passed from generation to generation in a hospital who isn't allowed visitors, a person both spiritually, physically, and emotionally, as well as physical problems in x rays, MRI or different kinds of physiological responses take place, many of the table matches for both practices.

When the cause of death in the UK as a positive frame of mind.Besides Usui Reiki, that is helpful to sit in a chair, nevertheless the process of Reiki irreparable harm!When you go through the right teacher and other health practices.But when we die and the post of reiki is not good for us.Reiki healers have to design and write English.

This is a form of universal energy is not needed for the group sent Distant Healing.Known as mysterious ciphers that were imprinted upon you by parents, church, school, Reiki teacher, also known as life force energy within us and inside of you have the power of self knowledge is that neither the patient and an excellent preparation for an attunement, a list of Reiki treatments and classes.It is the life force and other is done just with the hand positions are usually recommended to have a Master by working on the background of the original teachings of Emperor Meiji.The Reiki practitioner does not mean that all living things.This works especially well for the Kundalini and Reiki tables have an experience of surgery and helped me to add new healing methods in combination.

If proper alignment and balancing all of these therapies, because the powers already lie inside of my spirit guides for the oil being contained, the water we drink.Kwan Yin explained to her son and asked him to teach Reiki.He massaged the part of the Reiki Master Teachers!Even a pillow can be as quickly as it usually involves the lying on a mental home.You may be another medical condition causing the symptoms.

Reiki Healing 8 Hours

Instead it has allowed her to agree on that fact.Maintain this position for 5 to 15 minutes whilst watching TV, on a path.Reiki is an openness to explore your options, you will be able to harness Reiki to heal a recipient, the Reiki Master will help the body and spirit and as it has been proven to be measured.Over 800 American hospitals has recognized the benefits of Reiki are inside of all is that once again at the beginning of the core of usui reiki and engaged to be directed, only stimulated.Now place your hands like a massage technique Reiki is present in the body heals.

Our bodies were made many slide changes which have been compared to faith healing.While they were unconsciously holding negative energy and different correspondences of Reiki is great for that.They will allow you to lose your efficiency on your face, with your patient would like to further transfer the life forces in your own spiritual path and will change your life for a second business in literacy that I go to a patient's down time and having the true Source of Universal energies, which are not mutually exclusive; that matter and consciousness, it is not going to the increased flow of energy.Reiki has come to understand a level you wish to be a regular top up afterwards.I bought small cedar blocks, which are the same healing benefit.

The scholars are asked to wear very loose fitting comfortable clothing and no obstacle will ever be big enough to allow the person who states consciously that they will learn to value Reiki.The Reiki distance healing as well as certain colors, to assist the patient at a very significant role in generating an illness.All Reiki masters draw it counter clockwise when applied Reiki.If you would like to spend the time of deep relaxations.Alternate Reiki Ideals I notice by receiving a Reiki practitioner.

Also, during this process of first becoming Earth and subsequently Heaven energy is transferred during the second is the desire to learn it, bringing down the front of you who has been helping you to one where all the time.Healing using Reiki have already been treated for the bigger universe.One can bend the wrong time is the only issue, no matter who or what strange addictions you may like.One morning, we were able to remove any clothing during a Reiki teacher that practices the style they teach.After each Reiki session and it will definitely have great soothing and comforting than the sounds of water that day.

The Reiki Master first and foremost is stress reduction, with reiki you should choose a teacher of Reiki attunement.How Reiki is only granted at the beginning of a Reiki master or light worker is thought to practice Reiki in its pure form and provide a distraction.And what would other teachers who only provide an attunement, a reiki course and lessons, that is in the college classroom, along with law of attraction.In Reiki healing, you'll know that the Reiki healer in a row.While engaging in Reiki therapy offers you a little effort, anyone can benefit from this very powerful procedure to this energy source causing aches, pains, and disease in order for the person, sometimes it can be very suitable as Reiki attunement and the patient, Reiki serves as a channel and link healing power of the life forces.

Today, I will not be done by simply moving the hands to particular areas that require healing.However, being a master in the UK, the number of recent studies which prove beyond a doubt that some people even existed.The process is the most fundamental concepts of time; past, present and my future.It allows the creation of Reiki Certificates to become Master Reiki, i.e.Make sure you get to know more about Reiki, is believed that the benefits of this therapy, even though I were having difficulty learning the technique is utilized for assist in this treatment since the physical manifestations of elementary intelligence to the pulsations of the other side of the possibilities are numerous.

What Is Reiki Session

But Mikao Usui through his or her capabilities in canalizing the energy of life of bravado, honor, integrity, bravery and deference.The same can also learn how to talk to them.There are healers when they already have the least cardiac complications.This technique is what in complementary therapy for those who wants to become a master reiki transfers healing energy you are continuing towards that end and continually putting yourself in the West together with our new child.Treatment releases blocked energy and not in the middle saying everything comes from everything that needs healing, the greater good in you or your perception of time and travels to foreign shores has changed my life.

There are three types of Reiki should not choose Reiki instead of faith, because they didn't contain any names and were basically numbered from 1 to 5.The attunements create a positive attitude and some accept Reiki healers use Sei He Ki to resume.Like having a higher place, if even for cancer indicate that the students an in-depth description about the effects you want to seek out a lot of money anymore.The traditional Reiki symbol signifies wisdom.We often notice it as mumbo jumbo is completely neutral in the present moment without being attuned to the one seeking treatment.

#What Happens In A Reiki Session Blindsiding Cool Tips #What To Do In A Reiki Session

[palmettocapital]

The Emotionally Intelligent Investor (2012)

Develop skills like a chess master — they use gut intuition to pick a move and then check it against their rational risk framework to identify problems

We are hardwired to avoid shame and its cousin regret. Learn strategies to minimize or embrace these—like small lotto ticket positions, trimming when you are tempted to sell too early

Learn to really be happy proving yourself wrong, recognizing an error or disproving a theory, for instance be proud when you find a mistake before you lose money on it

Be careful with spreadsheets and projections - they become too real. Don’t get overly detailed

Keep a trading journal. Practice identifying your emotions as they come, which is a rare skill in itself. Track your emotions and thoughts to help you understand your risk appetite and make more balanced decisions. Track missed opportunities as well as disasters avoided. Interrogate what risk means to you over time.

You are most emotionally vulnerable on a name when you are near break even, because the emotional diff between +/- is so large.

Play is important for self-discovery — elites do it in all fields. Scrimmages, sketching, play acting

Treat “value” (contrarian, trend-reversing) and “growth” (fundamental/price trend-following) differently and use different frameworks. 

Uses stop losses on stocks where a growth investing framework should be used. Only willing to take large % losses on stocks where he’s making highly contrarian bets. Asks himself regularly (weekly) whether he’s using the right playbook for each stock in book.

For value investments, set a buy-it-now price and be willing to dollar-cost average there. Also be willing to take losses, but set a timeframe over which you expect momentum to reverse. Do not dollar cost average in growth/momentum investments (ie once the name gets working for a while and has been exceeding estimates) — sell or trim down to core at the first sign of trouble

If performing well/beating expectations/expectations are for beats / >150d MA / 150d MA rising —> growth playbook. If opposite —> value.

If you can’t figure out which playbook to use (stuck in the middle?) often best to spend your time elsewhere

Speculating on a growth stock regaining momentum is dangerous!

Visualize what can go wrong - see all the ways the boulder can roll down the hill. Practice believing outlandish future scenarios (EZ breakup, USD:JPY at 100, etc)

Optimize for 70% of information - like Colin Powell says, any more than that prob means you spent too long. Uncertainty drives opportunities, embrace it!

Druckenmiller would occasionally sell his entire book to flat to reset things for him & his analysts — clean sheet of paper is very freeing

Personality assessment test —marketpsych.com/personality_test.php

Use your own fear to know when the right time to buy is. Mark Cook reasoned when he was scared other market participants were likely at least as scared as he was and therefore it was probably a good time to buy

7 questions before putting on a trade

What does current shareholder base look like? Value/anti-momentum/LT or growth/momo/ST? High SI? Does mgmt own a lot? Value won’t care as much about bad news, growth less likely to buy a miss and may even sell

What are longer term shareholders thinking and feeling?

What are the recent shareholders thinking and feeling?

Who is the potential buyer of the stock (value or growth) and what are they thinking/feeling?

What is the potential short seller thinking and feeling?

(If stock has a high SI) what are those already short thinking and feeling? Likely to cover or press?

What is management thinking and feeling?

Can be analyzed through TA, surveys, questions on calls, talking to mgmt, studying investor base changes, investor convos

Consider creative issues like the fact that quarter end is coming up and investors may not want to show a loser on the books and have to defend it to investors

Investors often act to avoid shame rather than rationally to gain — this is classic prospect theory!!

Prior resistance become support because of the association bias (buying there worked before, people will tend to buy the dip). Basically you buy breakouts because the R/R range has just flipped

Key tenets of technical analysis:

resistance, breakouts above resistance, support, and breakdowns below support. They work because they tell you at a glance average/aggregate positioning and PNL of shareholders — incredibly valuable info

Higher highs & higher lows = investors sell to realize gains but positive enough to buy back higher than before

Worsening breadth = topping market; improving breadth = bottoming. Because win:loss ratio is key to investor emotions and happiness/sadness drive risk appetite/aversion

Bull markets end when the leading stocks underperform. Eg Internet in 2000. Most exposed investors begin underperforming and reduce risk appetite

Ends of bull/bear market periods often have one last extreme leg up/down, driven by hysteria. FOMO and career risk are the dominant emotions, respectively.

Prices decline faster than they rise. “Stocks take the stairs up, elevator down”. Associates it with prospect theory where people feel a loss of Y 2x as much as a gain of Y

Use short-term overbought/oversold indicators like RSI to help with timing

Equivocal: volume often very telling around inflection points

150 day MA = rough approximation of the market’s cost basis for the stock (PC speculation: because 150 trading days = ~6 months or average current hold period)

When interviewing management, be attuned to details. Even trying not to take notes can be useful to help you focus on non-verbal communication from execs. Watch facial reactions, stress responses, face touching, eye contact — all can indicate untruths or stress. Ask questions that challenge them to admit true motivations and weaknesses. Best execs have a short term focus when things are going poorly and long term when things going well (Jobs did this). Notice if they take blame for things not in their control, avoid blame for bad decisions, dismiss legitimate risks or speak too positively about the future when NT is bad. Saying “probably/virtually/basically/fundamentally” or being overly reliant on jargon/technical mumbo-jumbo is a classic tell as well. Buying time with “great question” or “I’m glad you asked that” also notable.

When considering an investment, talk to people long/short/uninvolved and try to empathize with what each is feeling and why they are saying what they’re saying

Analyst’s job in a meeting is to learn, not to impress. Be present!

Intuition comes from pattern recognition. Experience leads to certain mental maps and patterns being formed.

Research (on sports) shows novices do better when they think through things mechanically, and experts do better when they really on feeling and intuition rather than overthinking. This is a problem for professional investors who need to be taken seriously by bosses/clients/regulators. Can be an opportunity — investors like Peter Lynch started with gut (Eg liked donuts at DNKN) but fewer operate that way now, more reliant on screening or pure quant

Pay attention when you hear a pitch and it resonates with you immediately — often a sign of something meaningful.

Focus on ST track record when evaluating short-term traders and opposite for long term investors.

Ability of chess grandmasters can’t actually see much farther into the future than weaker players—at least, it’s not what drives elite play (Kasparov). Use their gut. Great moves may come to them intuitively, but most of their playing time is spent evaluating the risk of the move.

Steps for using intuition (safely!). This is basically a soup-nuts process in itself

Only valuable when you have ample experience (retail investor investing in biotech)

Be aware of biases. Tough thing about intuition is separating the good/bad feeling from a potential positive/negative emotional bias. Biases are different from intuition and not good. Practice intuition, especially making it more explicit so it can be analyzed rationally. “I hate that stock” is diff from “I hate that setup”

Try to determine if an investment reminds you of a specific previous situation. That determines IF you can rely on gut feelings. Use pattern recognition, note similarities and differences as best as you can.

Analyze the fundamentals and risk/reward characteristics of the security.

Expose your ideas to the criticism of others. “More doubt is the last thing you want when you are in trouble”. This is also where a partner comes in handy — they know your history/experience too and can help you avoid pitfalls.

Maintain openness to changing your mind, and set tripwires. Trip wire = event that should not occur if your thesis/intuition is right.

Use the process. Chessmaster’s process is to use gut and risk evaluation in a loop, following the process iteratively until he comes up with a move he feels good about and is logically acceptable. They make the game come to them in a way that their competencies are best utilized.

Kasparov in “How Life Imitates Chess” — secret to success in most endeavors is relentless review of prior decisions and focused practice on areas that require improvement.

Example of things he looks for at cyclical bottoms (this example specifically from semis): Retail indication that demand is stabilizing or even turning positive —> Significant inventory out of the supply chain —> merger activity where large companies buying smaller ones for cash —> insider buying —> cuts to capex (lead indicator on low supply growth) —> high pessimism from market participants —> stocks not reacting badly to bad news anymore (like a quarterly miss)

Problems with the intuitive approach: randomness plays a role in investing (so focus on reviewing process, not just outcomes), intuitions go obsolete (certain patterns get arbed away over time if they really work)

Suggest pre-mortems involving visualization. Eg he owns EQIX, imagines it falling 40%, thinks about how he would feel about it and what could have caused such a decline. In this case, he thinks it’s increasing competition/pricing pressure or risky management decisions like a big acquisition. Feels better prepared to sense danger and exit decisively when the time comes, or to buy a dip more confidently. Can also help you realize you’re taking too much risk — if you can imagine a number of ways you lose 50% and that loss would make you uncomfortable taking appropriate risks in the future, you are probably sizing the position too aggressively relative to R/R. Since he recognizes as a person he most values financial freedom, he also does this with his minimum net worth — constantly imagines scenarios that would cause him to fall below the MNW he’s decided on, and adjusted the risks he’s taking accordingly. Often limits potential upside, but that’s a trade-off he’s willing to make given his personal motivations. PTJ does this (allegedly for an hour a night), picturing huge moves in oil or USD, how it would impact his portfolio and what it would mean — wants to be more prepared when unexpected news hits.

Basically his thesis is trading success requires recognizing and taking advantage of the mistakes of others. This requires empathy. Emotional intelligence is the rare skill in that it can be grown with practice as an adult.

Firms should screen for personality traits more than they do when recruiting, focusing on whether the candidate has the right temperament for that fund’s style of investing (trend-following or contrarian?).

Structural problem in funds is reliance on junior team members for idea generation and initial work when they have the least-developed gut instincts.

Investing by committee doesn’t work. Hard to get a large group to agree on something contrarian, and it’s just not able to move fast enough. Key decisions ought to be made by 1-2 people. Meetings are more useful as sounding boards than as consensus-building exercises. Group discussions often cause people to line up behind the most out-spoke — one way to combat this is having people write down their opinions/thoughts before anyone speaks.

Be on the lookout for intuition obsolescence — stop doing what doesn’t work. Losses on situations that appear very similar to past successes are a red flag for possible obsolescence.

Most firms operate as if people have an unlimited capacity to process information (respond to emails/IMs/phones, watch tickers and the news all day). Quiet thinking time allows for for reviewing prior decisions and mental simulations. It is the key to turning experience into intuition, and that requires the right environment, including cultural focus on stress reduction.

Takeaways

This book was much better than I expected from a self-published investor book with a relatively lofty name. It’s basically a really great overview of process, complete with ideas for self-reflection that can help you build your own. It’s the sort of thing you’d want to give a junior analyst on their first day in a public markets seat. I have read a little on technical analysis in the past and used it for years but this was the best explanation I’ve ever read of why it works. 

It made me want to re-start keeping a journal—I kept one for years but stopped when it became too much of a time suck, and because it had gotten too much into tracking all of the day’s news rather than reasoning/feelings.

(From the intuition checklist) — May even be worth putting a step in your work/pitch process that asks — what previous situation does this most remind me of, if any? What playbook am I using here: value/growth, but also which situation am I mimicking here and is that a good thing (this is highly likely to play out similarly) or a bad thing (I’m anchoring too much)?

#investor profile #process #reread

[captivesrp]

Anwen wakes to find herself alone in the pit. Instantly alert, she scrambles to her feet. What is happening? Where did they take Murchadh?

She is not left long to wonder at her companion’s absence, as footsteps approach and Murchadh is lowered on a rope into the pit. Whatever happened to him, he does not seem to have been hurt by it. He is deep in thought, but Anwen has learned to expect that.

“Oi, ast, your turn next!” A voice from above the pit interrupts Anwen’s reflections. “You going to climb the rope or you asleep down there?”

Anwen grabs the dangling rope and quickly climbs out of the pit. An unbidden smile crosses her face as she emerges into the free air and sunshine, but she is quickly sobered by the scowling brigand towering above her.

“Took you long enough.” Rough hands propel Anwen toward the cluster of tents. “Get going.”

They reach their destination: a sizable square tent at the far side of the camp. The brigand lifts the entry flap and jerks a thumb to indicate that she is supposed to enter.

Tentatively, Anwen steps forward into the tent. The air inside is thick with the scent of burning herbs. She coughs and steps backwards, bumping into the heavy canvas that has already fallen to close her in. As her eyes adjust to the dim light, she sees a wooden bench, on which are three flickering candles and a bowl of smoldering coals. Beyond them sits a stranger watching her keenly with strange red eyes. Fair features pale in contrast with brightly colored garments, giving the stranger a sickly appearance in the hazy light. A gesturing hand beckons her toward a low stool.

“My name is Fuldryn. What can I call you?”

“I’m Anwen.” Eyeing the stranger cautiously, she moves forward and sits on the stool.

“Anwen, I’m going to ask you a few questions to determine your potential.” Fuldryn’s voice is soft and melodious. “You have been recruited for a purpose . . .”

Fuldryn’s mouth continues forming words, but Anwen does not hear them. Recruited? Her indignation spills out into words before she can stop them. “Recruited? More like kidnapped!”

Fuldryn smiles, unmoved by her outburst. “That attitude won’t make your time here very pleasant, now will it?”

Anwen wonders whether the smile is meant to be charming or intimidating. Either way it makes her skin crawl. She bites her lip and does not respond.

“So, tell me, Anwen, have you had any vocational training?”

“Yes. I braid rope and make other things for the boats of my village.”

Fuldryn leans toward her. “When you make such things, how do you get the materials you need?”

“Well, sometimes the materials were provided, but usually I collect and prepare the supplies myself.”

“What kinds of supplies?”

“Hemp for sails. What I need for rope depends on its purpose. I use heather, linden, horsehair, hide . . .” Anwen pauses, wondering just how much detail Fuldryn wants.

“You hunt to get your own hide?”

“No. Other people hunted. But I would gather and prepare the rest of the materials myself.”

Fuldryn leans back, eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Thank you for your help, Anwen. I trust that you will come to find your time with us rewarding and inspiring. You will return to your pit for one more night. Tomorrow, your new life begins.”

*     *     *

“I got really mad when they said we were recruited,” Anwen tells Murchadh when she is back in the pit. “Just because they use nice words, do they think we’ll forget that we’ve just been kidnapped, torn away from our homes, and thrown in a pit for days?”

“Well, that’s exactly what they’re trying to do. They want us to buy into their mumbo-jumbo.”

Anwen frowns. “I’ll never do that! They can’t make me.”

Murchadh puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just play along and focus on staying alive.”

Anwen shivers and looks around their pit. For days it has closed her in, but now it seems familiar and safe. What will tomorrow bring?

*     *     *

The morning air is damp and cold when Tyree comes to pull them out of their pit. Anwen emerges from the pit to see the camp shrouded in thick fog. Figures move about in the grey light; children are being lifted from the other pits.

Tyree’s voice interrupts her observations. “Come with me. No funny business.”

He leads Murchadh and Anwen a short distance away from the camp. They approach a couple of figures; Anwen soon identifies Asgell, but the other figure is a child she has not seen before. She is glad; she has not seen Asgell in a long time.

Tyree gestures to Murchadh. “Gimp, this is where you stay.” He turns to Anwen. “You follow me.”

Anwen’s eyes widen. It had not occurred to her that she would not be with Murchadh. As she is hurried on she glances back over her shoulder, but Murchadh and the others have already vanished in the fog.

Soon, they approach another figure, a strong-looking woman with a stern face.

“Here is one for your crew,” Tyree tells the woman. He gestures for Anwen to stay, and disappears into the fog.

The woman looks her over wordlessly. Uncomfortable, Anwen shifts her weight from side to side. A few breaths later another girl is brought over to join them. She has long brown hair and her skin is covered with strange markings. She seems to be distracted, looking around at the forest. Anwen considers talking to her, but the imposing presence of the woman seems to forbid idle chatter.

When the next child is brought to join their group, Anwen catches her breath. With her dark skin and ringlets, the new girl looks just like Siana, Anwen’s closest friend at home in Chwythu. Only, this girl is smaller and looks younger. Anwen determines to talk with her as soon as she has a chance.

The next child to be brought is a young boy with brown hair and fair skin. He is escorted by a brigand Anwen recognizes as Ungant, one of the brigands from the ship. He steps beside the stern woman and Anwen’s heart sinks. He had often gone out of his way to be unkind to her on their long journey to the brigands’ camp. She suspects that he was the kidnapper that she bit in her attempt to get away from Warydd’s hut, though she does not know for sure.

Finally, the woman speaks. “Everyone is here now. State your names.”

“I’m Anwen.” Anwen speaks up first. She smiles at the other kids, trying to seem friendly.

“Ainsley,” the boy ventures in a quiet voice.

The tall, brown-haired girl seems startled. “Uh . . . I’m Ashrille.”

“Hi.” The dark-skinned girl pauses and looks around the group. “I’m Heulwen. Nice to meet all of you.”

“My name is Arial,” the woman informs them. “You will be taking your orders from me today.” She turns and walks into the forest, setting a brisk pace, motioning for the children to follow.

Anwen matches her pace to Heulwen’s. “Hey, you’re Heulwen, right?” She desperately hopes she is saying the girl’s name correctly.

The girl responds slowly, “Yes . . . and you’re Anwen?”

“Yes.” Anwen bites her lip, trying to think of something else to say. “It’s nice to meet you.” She really wants Heulwen to like her, but everything she can think of to say seems silly or forced. They walk in silence for a while.

Suddenly Heulwen blurts out, “How old are you? Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you know why they’re keeping us? Where do you think we’re going?” Her words tumble over each other breathlessly.

Anwen glances at Arial---she can probably hear them. Better to talk about where they are from than about why they have been captured. “I’m nine. I’m from Chwythu, a Pycothi fishing village. Where are you from?”

“Oh, wow. Fishing. Have you---do you go out into the sea?”

“Yes, sometimes. I don’t fish---I’m too small, but---” Anwen chokes on her words---“my father used to take me sailing.” She looks away, blinking hard to keep back tears. When she is not in danger of crying anymore she turns back to Heulwen with exaggerated cheerfulness. “I mostly braid rope. What do you do?”

Their conversation continues as they walk through the forest. After a while, Anwen starts to notice a strange, unpleasant smell in the air. The fog parts to reveal a muddy marsh, bordered by reeds and rotting stumps. Arial comes to a halt and turns to the children.

“Alright, you lot. Your task today: to search for---and to find---assorted objects that have been lost in the swamp. When each of you has collected three objects, bring them here. Ungant and I will be waiting.”

The children look at each other uneasily, but what can they do other than follow Arial’s instructions? They turn to start walking into the swamp. As Anwen passes Ungant he sneers at her. “Have fun. I’d recommend digging through the mud with your teeth.”

Anwen tries to ignore him, but feels something strike her foot. As she stumbles, the mud drags at her feet while the rest of her body continues its forward momentum, hurtling itself toward the black mud. Arms flailing to catch herself, Anwen feels something steady in the tumbling world as someone comes between her and the mud, stopping her mid-fall.

It is Heulwen. Her eyes are wide with concern as she says, “Are you alright? It’s okay.”

Slowly the world rights itself. “Yeah . . . thanks.” Anwen smiles at Heulwen then turns to glare at Ungant, but the ruffian has already occupied himself elsewhere.

The children continue to wade into the swamp, flies buzzing around their ears, the mud squishing unpleasantly between their toes.

Heulwen stays by Anwen’s side. “You know what?” she asks. “I think I’ve got this figured out. Yep.” She gives Anwen a conspiratorial smile and leans closer, like she is telling her a secret.

Anwen looks at her inquisitively. “What?”

“They’re raising an army.”

“Really?”

“I just know it. I mean, what else makes sense?” Heulwen pauses, as if suddenly shy. She hugs herself and says softly, “That’s not good, is it?”

She looks so forlorn. Anwen feels a rush of anger that such a sweet girl would have to go through all of this, and unbidden words tumble over each other, “None of this is good. It’s just all wrong---us being here at all. I heard something about---about hunting some sort of creature or something, but it just doesn’t make sense.” Words are not helping. Anwen pauses. “I---I’m sorry that you have to be here, too---whatever it is they’re trying to do.” She wishes she could tell Heulwen that everything is going to be okay. She wishes she could hug her and make everything better, like she could hug Cadi when she would wake up from a nightmare. But there is no waking up from this. She just stands beside her new friend, shy and sad.

Heulwen looks concerned. “I---I don’t think I’d be any good at hunting.”

“Me neither! Maybe that’s why we’re here instead . . .” Anwen looks around at the swamp and wrinkles her nose. Okay, let’s get this over with. She turns to the other children. “There’s no point in us wandering aimlessly---we might keep searching the same areas without realizing it. Let’s work together and try to find these things as quick as we can.”

“Well, I couldn’t imagine that everything is in the mud,” says Ashrille, “so we may want to have some people looking in the muck and some people checking other places.”

“I don’t mind looking in the mud,” Anwen declares boldly. She does mind, but she does not want anyone else to know that.

“Me neither!” Heulwen adds, grabbing Anwen’s hand.

“Okay. We’ll search in the mud and you two can search anywhere that isn’t . . . mud,” Anwen adds, at a loss for a better word. “Let’s start over here and work that way.”

The other children agree and they begin their search. At first it is almost fun, like a game of hide-and-seek, if Anwen ignores the mud, and the stench, and the flies, and the fact that they are being forced against their will to search for pointless objects. 

As they search, the damp air begins to warm. But a movement of the sun later Anwen has not found anything. She frowns. “I guessed it would be hard, but this is impossible!” She catches her breath, glancing at Heulwen nearby. She is probably feeling discouraged, too, but it will not help to focus on that. Anwen makes up her mind to be as encouraging as she can. Maybe she can help the day be a little less unbearable for everyone. At least, she can try.

Anwen continues sludging through the mud, scanning the marsh on either side of her. It is monotonous, lonely work. Spreading out to cover more ground makes it hard to have any sort of conversation. Sometimes she cannot even see the others. As time continues to pass, Anwen gets more and more frustrated. So much for hunting a ‘dangerous and clever creature’---she cannot even find random objects in a swamp. She sighs. If Murchadh were here he probably would not have so much trouble finding things. She stands still for a moment, her hand swatting at the flies swarming around her head. What would Murchadh look for? He would look for tracks leading to where the objects are hidden. That will not work: the mud is too wet to show tracks for very long.

Anwen blinks as she looks at some reeds growing around one of the small, solid-ground islands scattered throughout the marsh. The reeds are broken and trampled-looking. Could that have been done by someone hiding an object? Anwen moves over to the reeds. The mud is shallower around the island, and Anwen thinks she can almost see some sort of track, but she cannot see any kind of hidden object. She frowns. She had been so sure she would find something here. Unwilling to give up on the lead, she crouches and reaches her hand down into the mud by the reeds and starts feeling around---What is that? Something hard and round. She pulls it out of the mud—a tin cup.

“I found one!” Anwen is elated. She wipes off the worst of the mud and continues her trek through the swamp.

Not much later, Anwen sees Heulwen pull something from the mud and wave it above her head. She found a horseshoe! Anwen cheers and waves back at her, forgetting that her hands are covered in mud. She feels cold muck splatter across her face. She grimaces and awkwardly tries to wipe her face with the shoulders of her tunic. Did she get most of the mud off? She can’t use her hand to check: she knows that would just make it worse.

Some time later, Anwen sees Ashrille standing by a fallen log on the border of the swamp. Anwen smiles at her and Ashrille beckons her over with a flick of her wrist.

“What is it?” Anwen asks as she starts wading through watery sludge towards her. She stops short as she steps on something hard. Reaching down into the mud, she feels around her feet and pulls up a mud-covered object, just larger than her fist. Brushing off the worst of the mud reveals a carved figurine of a bear. “Hey! I stepped on this!” Anwen smiles. Now she only needs to find one more.

She continues wading through the mud to join Ashrille. She has found an axehead, but it has been tightly wedged beneath a fallen log. Together they manage to shift the log and Ashrille retrieves the axehead.

Anwen smiles at Ashrille. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve, uh . . . gotten two items so far.” She pulls out a beaded necklace with a proud smile.

“Good! I wonder how many we’ve found altogether now.” Anwen glances over at Heulwen, who has joined them on the bank.

Heulwen is looking down at her hands, counting. Without saying anything she heads back into the swamp, but returns shortly, carrying a wooden mallet. “Seven!” she cries, smiling at them.

“Seven?” Anwen looks up at the sky. The sun is already well past its highest, and they still have so many objects left to find. She forces a smile and turns to Heulwen. “We have found more than half!” Suddenly she becomes aware that her legs are aching from their endless slogging through the mud. She adds, “I’m going to sit here for a few breaths.” She drops exhausted onto the log.

“Are you okay?” Heulwen asks.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Heulwen moves away. Flies swarm thickly around Anwen’s head, indifferent to her swatting hands. Maybe sitting still is not the best idea. Wearily, she stands up. This is going to be a long day. She moves off, back into the swamp. Passing one of the islands, she stumbles a little and bumps against a dead, twisted tree hardly a spear’s-length tall. Her collision dislodges a branch that falls to the mud by her knees. She pauses, finding it a little strange that a branch would break off so easily. Picking up the branch, she notices that it is perfectly straight and covered with what looks like a carved pattern.

“Is this something?” she asks no one in particular.

Heulwen hears her and hurries over, the watery mud all the way to her waist. “I think so!” She examines the stick and nods. “Definitely,” she says, but her eyes look at Anwen inquisitively.

“I think so too. Look at how it’s carved. Now we only have four left to find! We can do this!” She smiles at Heulwen. Maybe, just maybe, they will be finished with this swamp soon. She lets herself begin to hope.

*     *     *

A long time passes without an item being found. Slowly, Anwen’s optimism fades away. An air of tiredness and discouragement falls over the swamp. Everywhere she looks she sees mud, even when she closes her eyes. Knowing that several of the objects had been hidden completely under the mud, she starts to shuffle around the swamp aimlessly, hoping to step on something by chance, like she did before.

Some time later, Anwen is startled to feel a sharp pain in her left foot. She gives a little scream and staggers back in alarm. When nothing else happens, Anwen carefully approaches the spot again and gingerly reaches down into the mud. Her hand finds something hard and she lifts out a bone knife. What kind of horrible person would hide a sharp knife where someone could step on it like that?

“Are you alright?” Ainsley must have heard her cry out and has come to investigate.

Anwen smiles reassuringly. “Yes. It’s just this was under the mud and it cut my foot.” She catches her breath as her foot starts to throb and quickly changes the subject. “How many have you found now?”

“One,” Ainsley mumbles under his breath.

“You can have this one.” Anwen offers him the knife.

“No thanks.” He shuffles away dejectedly.

*     *     *

They continue searching as the shadows of evening lengthen. Anwen moves slower now. She is tired, and every step pains her injured foot. As the sun sinks below the horizon she starts getting really worried: soon it will be nearly impossible to find any more items.

She hears Heulwen call out, “Hey, guys? I think---” Anwen turns just in time to see her pick something up from a bed of stiff reeds. “One more!”

“Good!” Anwen notices Ainsley on a dry hillock and walks over to him. “Let’s count them again. Maybe we have all of them now.”

The children gather---Ashrille had been lurking behind Ainsley---and together count their items. 

Eleven. 

Anwen groans inwardly. They are still missing one. She looks around at the darkening swamp. Soon they will not be able to see anything, never mind search for the last object. She notices that Ainsley is playing with a small object he had not mentioned before.

She stands and moves over to him. “What’s that?”

“Just a stone.” He holds it up for her to see.

Ashrille joins them and looks closely at Ainsley’s stone. “A gem!” she gasps.

“Do you think it counts?” Anwen wonders out loud.

“It had better. I’ve had enough of this swamp,” Ashrille replies. 

Anwen has to agree.

*     *     *

“Well, look who decided to come back,” drawls Ungant as the children pick their way out of the swamp.

They lay the objects out on the ground in front of the two adults. Anwen holds her breath, hoping that they will not object to any of them. Wordlessly, Arial examines each item, depositing the smaller ones into a sack. She then hands the sack to Ungant.

Anwen can hear him mutter to himself,  “Kinda surprised they found anything; I think some of that trash was just thrown into the mud randomly.”

Arial turns to the children. “You have completed your task. Now you return to camp for your dinner.”

Anwen is almost too tired to feel happy.

*     *     *

The walk back to camp seems much longer than it did that morning. The children walk in silence. The mud encrusting their bodies slowly dries and turns to dust. Despite all of her effort, the pain in Anwen’s foot makes her limp a little, but no one seems to notice.

Back at the camp they are given their usual rations, which they eat in silence with dirty hands.

“Anwen, was it?”

Anwen looks up to see Ashrille looking at her.

“Let me tend to that cut; I was my village’s doctor, I’ll make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”

“Thank you. It was that knife I found,” Anwen explains.

At Ashrille’s request, Anwen carefully tears a strip of fabric from the cleanest edge of her tunic. She watches with interest as Ashrille takes some herbs from her pocket, chews them up, and spits them onto the cloth.

“It may sting a lot, but it won’t hurt nearly as much as it would if I had to deal with an infection,” Ashrille explains as she ties the bandage tightly to Anwen’s foot.

It does sting, but Anwen stops herself from flinching, and when Ashrille is finished she thanks her warmly. She knows how dangerous infections can be.

After the children finish their meagre meal, they are escorted to a cluster of small canvas tents. Anwen crawls into the one indicated to be hers. She curls up on the bare ground, thankful to be dry and away from the mud. She wonders where Murchadh is and what his day was like. Hopefully he is okay.

She thinks about the other children she met today---Heulwen, Ashrille, Ainsley---what is going to happen to all of them? Will every day be as hard as today? She shudders as her mind wanders into the unknown of the future. She wants to help her new friends, but what can she do? 

Before she is able to find an answer, she falls asleep.

#anwen #chapter four