#do i think that the events could be executed better in terms of like. coding / design. yes on occasion

[whitmore]

really actually kind of enjoy how the big lore moments are sort of quiet on a singular stream (or a small group!) instead of the events solely being the lore; i think there would be this hesitation to develop anything solo if the server reinforced this idea that Big Lore could only happen during scheduled events and days. instead the more narrative-progressing moments (take the baghera hybrid experiments revelation or the philza birdnapping for recent example) are very low-key and almost unhyped up— there’s no expectation for that kind of lore necessarily at the time which makes it more rewarding to experience as a viewer. big fan of how they do the events as player bonding time rather than serious narrative progression because it allows all the players (especially the ones who don’t engage in the rp side that much) to participate and get to know each another more; it’s very neat it’s really smart it’s nicely executed

#eleanor.txt #qsmp #tag expansion time get ready for the nuance #do i think that the events could be executed better in terms of like. coding / design. yes on occasion #i’ve seen some frustration that some players don’t take the events seriously enough and that it’s frustrating as a viewer #which i understand and empathize with i think there’s definitely A solution somewhere but i’m not sure exactly what it is tbh #i try not to criticize what i cannot personally solve i think they’re doing their best with what they’ve got #i also do believe that like the Expectation for Big Lore almost always backfires #it’s something u cannot win i think . the expectation will always in some way let you down #(especially re: character involvement seriousness of the stream amount progressed narratively contribution to general plot etc etc #there’s so many variables when you expect ‘lore’ and what that means to people) #i think there’s always some disappointed group when Big Lore starts to be hyped up & teased #whereas i see a lot less general complaints when it’s an unexpected moment (other than people upset they missed it— #arguably unavoidable whether you advertise the stream as lore focused or not) #there’s still Lore during the events things still occur information is still exchanged #but it’s not structured on lore. lore isn’t the foundation for the event it just occurs by implication #anyway. very good job qsmp impressive stuff very enjoyable

[todayisafridaynight]

I definitely think Ryuji is the root of Shishido's archetype but that the closest branch If You Will is RGGO's Kagami. In not just being rugged and charismatic Kansai guys who live to fight and have the scars to show for it and so on, but in specifically being coliseum fighters with heavy involvement in an exclusive Den Of Debauchery (Shishido being an event coordinator at the Castle and Kagami being in charge of Purgatory), and in resenting their patriarchs for their (perceived) cowardice... and y'know... big cat-coded (lion and tiger)... big-ass bright-ass black and yellow coats... lol...

Given Gaiden was originally called 7 Gaiden, I feel like I could reeeasonably say that Kagami was split off into Tendo and Shishido in sort of a similar way as RGGJo was split off into Y7Jo and Aoki, but over a larger period of time. Made me laugh every time Shishido said some shit like 「あの人は関西極道のかがみです」 about Nishitani III like lmao... it may be purely phonetic but it's fun to think that's why Kagami's name is Kagami... because he is the model Kansai yakuza...

Also really funny because of your comic about Ichiban and Arakawa having a heart-to-heart while All That is going on in the background right because of the Kagami+RGGJo substory where Kagami starts shit indiscriminately in the meeting room hoping to test the new Omi captain's strength and then Arakawa shows up and knocks him out with one punch LMAO... Arakawa had to ignore that shit the fight woulda been Jover before it started...

Speaking Of Jo I still enjoy how blatantly RGGJo flirts with Kagami in that substory too... RIP babygirl you would've loved Shishido in the console timeline instead of just thinking of him as some Kansai punk </3

But to rewind, of course, Shishido does have that Aizawa DNA in being the Aizawa to Tsuruno's Morinaga, drawing Kiryu out of hiding with brawn and brains respectively, and in being a relatively straightforward ally Until He Isn't. It's joked about a fair bit that the talk about dreams in the finale absolutely was a nod to Y5, and it was.

That being said, I think Shishido and Tsuruno were more of an apology for how convoluted Aizawa and Morinaga's plots were without really going anywhere. I personally liked Aizawa and Morinaga a lot more when they were played straight, which Tsuruno is this time, and although Shishido isn't, I think he's signiiificantly better-executed than Aizawa.

Iiiiiiiiii do have to admit I have a lot of thoughts about Mine and Shishido as characters, because I think they're both very different people and very, very interesting to compare in terms of their trajectories and execution at the same time. At the very least, I love them--and Jo--for what I feel are incredibly similar reasons that I think go a little deeper than surface-level.

But I'll write in about all that when I have more time to... This Has Gone On Long Enough and also I have sooooooo much from the past week or more to write in about... and stream's soon...

To Be More Accurate yar i agree kagami is a closer comparison to shishido. fair to assert kagami was translated into tendo and shishido knowin em on that note too

always feel free to share your thoughts on shishido tho !!! s'always interestin to read what you gotta say :)

#snap chats #i had the greatest feeling you'd write in after seeing that ask LMAO ITS GREAT SEEIN YOU AGAIN #i aint got much to say. for starters i have to set up The Tower Of Terror but also there aint much i can say. i think #i do know i wanna go hunt down that rggo story tho that sounds fun.. #arakawa was never allowed to throw hands on screen lest they wanted the game ends in two hours </3 #shishido and tsuruno do feel like an elevated version of morinaga and aizawa so to speak #i already said it in the ask beforehand but i do think shishido is a refined version of the Omi Antagonist structure #if that makes sense. idk i have eight minutes LMAO BUT IN ANY CASE Yeah (TM) is the consensus of my. weird ramble down here #in any case. i await the day you write in why you like shishido :) most curious for the reason #OK BYE I HAVE TO GO SET UP I DONT WANT MY LIGHTING TO SUCK AGAIN

[jcmarchi]

The latest industry expert AI predictions for 2024

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/the-latest-industry-expert-ai-predictions-for-2024/

The latest industry expert AI predictions for 2024

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY:

In this highly informative and engaging interview, Check Point expert Sergey Shykevich spills the tea on the trends that he and his threat intelligence team are currently seeing. You’ll get insights into what’s happening with AI and malware, you’ll find out about how nation-state hackers could manipulate generative AI algorithms, and get a broader sense of what to keep an eye on as we move into 2024.

Plus, Sergey also tackles the intellectual brain-teaser that is whether or not AI can express creativity (and the implications for humans). Let’s dive right in:

To help our audience get to know you, would you like to share a bit about your background in threat intelligence?

I’ve been in threat intelligence for 15 years. I’ve spent 10 years in military intelligence (various positions, mostly related to cyber space intelligence) and I’ve been in the private sector for around 6 years.

These last two years have been at Check Point, where I serve as the Threat Intelligence Group Manager for Check Point Research.

Would you like to share a bit about the cyber trends that you’ve seen across this year, especially as they relate to AI?

Yes. We have seen several trends. I would say that there are 3-4 main trends.

One trend we see, which is kind of in-flux, is in relation to ransomware ecosystem development. The ecosystem and the threat actors are increasingly operating more like nation-state actors, as they’re becoming very sophisticated.

To illustrate my point, they now use multi-operation system malware. What does that mean? It means that they not only focus on Windows, but that they’re increasingly focused on Linux.

This matters because, for many organizations, critical servers are Linux servers. In many cases, the impact of disrupting these servers is much bigger than, say, disrupting the activity of 100 Windows laptops, for instance.

So, that’s a huge part of what’s happening in terms of ransomware. In addition, we’ve also seen mega ransomware events this year, like the MOVEit hack and use of it for a large-scale supply chain attack.

Another trend that we’re seeing is the resurgence of USB infections. When it comes to USBs, many consider it an old technology. A lot of people are no longer using them. And, the infection of USBs goes back to 2012, or even 2010 – with Stuxnet in Iran or the well-known Conficker malware. But what we’re seeing here is an influx in USB infections, as propagated by nation-state actors, like China and Russia, and by everyday cyber criminals.

Why do we think that we’re seeing a resurgence of USB-based threats? We think that the barriers for hackers in other areas – such as network security and email security – have become much higher. So hackers are trying different methods, like USB infections.

We’re also seeing a resurgence of DDoS attacks. Mostly from hacktivist sites. They’re trying to disrupt the functionality of websites.

And of course, our team sees all of the threats related to AI. The AI-related threats that we observe are mostly related to phishing, impersonation and deepfakes.

We do see AI used in malware development, but in terms of AI and malware, we aren’t seeing extremely sophisticated threats or threats that are “better” or more sophisticated than what a good code developer could create.

In contrast, in relation to phishing and deepfakes, AI allows for a level of sophistication that’s unprecedented. For example, AI allows cyber criminals who don’t know a particular spoken language to craft perfect phishing emails in that language, making the emails sound like they were written by native-speakers.

I would say that AI will be able to take malware to a new level in the near future, but we’re not there yet.

How can AI be leveraged to counter some of the threats that we’re seeing and that we’ll see into the future?

On the phishing and impersonation side, I think AI is being used and will mostly be used to identify specific patterns or anomalies within email content, which is no easy job for these tools. Most of the phishing content that’s created by AI is pretty good, especially since the data is now pulled directly from the internet (ex. the latest version of ChatGPT). The AI-based solutions can much better identify suspicious attachments and links, and can prevent the attacks in the initial stages.

But of course, the best way to counter AI-based phishing threats, as they exist right now, is still to avoid clicking on links and attachments.

Most cyber criminals aim to get people to take further action – to fill out a form, or to engage in some other activity that helps them. I think that a big thing that AI can do is to identify where a specific phishing email leads to, or what is attached to the email.

Of course, there’s also the possibility of using AI and ML to see what emails a person receives, whether or not they look like phishing emails (based on the typical emails that a person receives on the day-to-day). That’s another possible use-case for AI, but I think that AI is more often used for what I mentioned before; phishing attack assessment.

Could our cyber crime-fighting AI be turned against us?

In theory, yes. I think that this is more of an issue for the big, well-known AI models like ChatGPT — there are a lot of theoretical concerns about how these companies protect their models (or fail to).

There are really two main concerns here. 1) Will unauthorized people have access to our search queries and what we submit? 2) Manipulation — a topic about which there is even more concern than the first. Someone could manipulate a model to provide very biased coverage of a political issue, making the answer or answers one-sided. There are very significant concerns in this regard.

And I think everyone who develops AI or generative AI models that will be widely used needs to protect them from hacking and the like.

We haven’t seen such examples and I don’t have proof that this is happening, but I would assume that big nation state actors, like Russia and China, are exploring methods for how to manipulate AI algorithms.

If I were on their side, I would investigate how to do this because with hacking and changing models, you could influence hundreds of millions of people.

We should definitely think more about how we protect generative AI, from data integrity to user privacy and the rest.

Do you think that AI brings us closer to understanding human intelligence? Can AI be creative?

It’s an interesting set of questions. ChatGPT and Bing now have a variety of different models that can be used. Some of these are defined as ‘strict’ models while others are defined as ‘creative’ models.

I am not sure that it really helps us understand human intelligence. I think that it may put before us more questions than answers. Because I think that, as I mentioned previously, 99.999% of people who are using AI engines don’t really understand how they work.

In short, AI raises more questions and concerns than it does provide understanding about human intelligence and human beings.

For more AI insights from Sergey Shykevich, click here. Lastly, to receive timely cyber security insights and cutting-edge analyses, please sign up for the cybertalk.org newsletter.

#2024 #ai #Algorithms #Artificial Intelligence #background #bing #Brain #chatGPT #Check Point #Check Point Research #China #code #Companies #course #craft #creativity #crime #cutting #cyber #cyber crime #cyber criminals #cyber security #cybersecurity #data #data integrity #DDoS #ddos attacks #deepfakes #Developer #development

[harrowharkboygf]

rating the locked tomb characters by how good their met gala outfits would be

gideon nav

we can surmise from the “rapier with skulls puking other skulls” quote that gideon’s personal style, if she wasn’t beholden to the ninth house dress code, would be Loud and Tacky and A Lot. therefore, i think she’ll go all out with the theme. her outfit might not look objectively good per se — it will probably be a little too excessive and not super classy — but she will absolutely fulfill the theme and she will have fun, and that’s the most important part! 9/10

harrowhark nonagesimus

oh harrow will go all in on this. she will definitely be of the opinion that all guests should have to submit an essay explaining exactly how their outfit fits the theme, and she absolutely will get annoyed at the people who just wore simple black tuxes and dresses. she‘ll start planning her outfit months in advance, and it’s going to be incredibly complicated and very symbolic. her outfit is probably be a lot creepier and more goth than the rest of the guests, but it’ll still go perfectly with the theme anyways. 10/10

ortus nigenad

how much effort ortus puts into his outfit will depend SOLELY on what the theme was. if he thinks it’s a stupid theme he’ll put in zero energy whatsoever, and if he thinks it’s a good theme he will put in the work and come out with an outfit that’s definitely creative, even if it doesn’t look super great and is a little bit of a stretch on the theme. 7/10

judith deuteros

judith definitely does not care. she does not care at all, and if you asked her what the theme was, she couldn’t even tell you. she wears a simple black tux or black dress every year, and yes she looks hot as fuck and very classy and all of the gay girls on twitter go wild over it, but it’s not particularly creative or befitting of the theme. 3/10

marta dyas

marta cares a lot more than judith does, but she still focuses more on the event itself than the outfit; she’s more excited to dance, talk with her friends and acquaintances, and see other people’s outfits. if the met gala didn’t have a theme, she’d still be happy, but since it does, she’ll try to fit the theme as best she can! she refuses to sacrifice her own comfort or ability to dance in favor of an outfit though, which is very fair of her. no matter what, though, she looks good! 6/10

coronabeth tridentarius

oh you KNOW corona is acing this. she starts planning for her outfit a year in advance, but unlike harrow, she’s way less pretentious about it and willing to do something that might make fun of herself a little or make others laugh. she makes sure to call everyone she knows who’s going to make sure that their outfits won’t be too similar. she also makes sure that ianthe and babs’ outfits go good with hers. it’s the bane of her existence that judith won’t go to the lengths that she does. she fits the theme perfectly, she’s creative about it, and she looks hot as fuck. 100/10

ianthe tridentarius

as mentioned above, ianthe’s outfit is always designed to fit with coronabeth’s. it’s always very similar — not quite the same, but very close. same idea, slightly different execution. it’s always fitting with the theme, and looks really good objectively, but there’s a lack of investment and heart that ruins it a bit, especially next to corona’s extravaganza. still, when she’s next to the other guests, she definitely wins. 8/10

naberius tern

babs cares WAY more about looking good than he does about fitting the theme. his outfit is always a lot less creative than and themed than ianthe’s and corona’s. he never sidesteps the theme entirely, but he often refuses to go all the way in favor of not looking too weird. this is kind of a moot point, since he always looks a little weird anyway. 5.5/10

isaac tettares & jeannemary chatur

the awful teens were coordinating outfits each year, and each year they desperately want to fit the theme and do something cool, but they’re a little TOO eager about it. there’s always either a little bit too much going on with their outfits for the message to be fully cohesive, OR they didn’t go all the way because they were too embarrassed to do so. however, they definitely try their best and that’s what matters! 7.5/10

abigail pent & magnus quinn

abigail and magnus treat the met gala like a halloween party. they’re committed to the theme, but not in the militant, obsessive way that harrow and coronabeth are — it’s more that they have fun planning their coordinating outfits because costumes are fun! often their take on the theme is very nerdy and sweet, but maybe not super well done. still, they compliment everyone on their outfits and are so genuine about it that they get points anyway. 7/10

palamedes sextus

pal could honestly care less about the met gala, but he attends anyway and spends the whole night deep in conversation with anyone who will talk science with him. as such, his outfit is. Very Lacking. cam usually designs it for him and it fits the theme pretty well and looks objectively good, but he gets points off for not coming up with it himself. 5/10

camilla hect

pal and cam don’t wear coordinated outfits, but they are still somewhat cohesive, as cam plans them both. camilla’s outfit is definitely much better than palamedes’ is — it fits the theme and is more creative and she just generally looks hotter. however, she’s not putting the same level of energy most of the people listed above. but it’s fun, it looks good, and she passes the test. 7/10

dulcinea septimus

dulcie’s attitude towards the met gala would be very similar to magnus and abigail’s in that she treats it like a fun opportunity rather than a life-or-death situation, but she definitely leans more “tasteful” over magnus and abigail’s typical style of “dorky”. she follows the theme closely and she looks good! 8/10

protesilaus ebdoma

pro always goes with dulcie, and he just dresses in an outfit that she’s planned to be coordinated with hers. he’s a little bemused at the intensity of some of the others, but he goes along with the whole thing because it makes dulcie happy. points off for not coming up with his own idea, points added for looking very dashing regardless. ortus is fuming at how well-put-together his outfit is. 5/10

silas octakiseron

silas shares the same all-or-nothing attitude that ortus has towards the theme, but when he approves of the theme, his execution comes very close to beating out harrow’s outfit in terms of Drama and Sophistication. his outfits are often a little impractical — they’re hard to walk in or require elaborate props to be transported alongside him — but they’re worth it. 9/10

colum asht

colum just wears a suit the same color as whatever silas’ outfit is that year. boring! 2/10

augustine the first

augustine tries his hardest, but he never quite nails the theme. somehow, it always goes straight over his head, so when he explains it to people, they’re always like “*confused head tilt* hmmm, okay now i think i get it! huh!” he looks,,, fine in it, and he tries. he tries! 4/10

mercymorn the first

mercy’s sense of style in general is very good, so she always comes in a dress that’s fashionable and well-designed. the problem is that she actively abhors the idea of a themed party; she actively campaigns to the organizers each year to not do a theme. she thinks that everyone who does the theme is ridiculous. as such, she ends up with a low 3/10

cytherea the first

cytherea has a good Idea for the met gala every year, but for some reason — she bites off more than she can chew or she fails to accurately articulate her vision or she procrastinates until the last minute — that idea never translates into an actual outfit, so she always falls back on a simple, soft clinging dress. fashionable, but unfortunately not very standout-ish. 3.5/10

gideon the first

gideon (original flavor) just wears a boring black suit every year. THE most boring black suit ever. 1/10

pyrrha dve

okay, admittedly we haven’t seen that much of pyrrha in canon, but from what we do know, she is smart and talented and funny and good at everything and has a dramatic streak and is incredibly hot. therefore, i think we can surmise that she’ll absolutely nail her met gala outfit. it’ll fit the theme, it’ll be very original and very well-done, and she’ll be sexy as fuck! good for her! 15/10

john gaius

he wears the exact same black tux every year. the same one. he pays no attention to the theme whatsoever. this is very confusing, since HE is the one who organizes the met gala and picks the theme! weirdo! even worse, john makes a point to give backhanded compliments to people he thinks don’t fit the theme or don’t look good. bitch! -10/10

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #judith deuteros #marta dyas #coronabeth tridentarius #naberius tern #jeannemary chatur #isaac tettares #abigail pent #magnus quinn #palamedes sextus #camilla hect #dulcinea septimus #protesilaus ebdoma #silas octakiseron #colum asht #ortus nigenad #cytherea the first #augustine the first #mercymorn the first #gideon the first #pyrrha dve #john gaius #htn spoilers #soph.txt

[dippedanddripped]

Old Nollywood aesthetics and fashion may be considered trendy today, but the films were not always so well-regarded. In the 90s and early 2000s, when these movies were made and watched in parlours across Nigerian homes as they were shot, straight-to-video, they were considered as bad entertainment, or ‘low culture’. To watch and enjoy Nollywood films was to celebrate mediocrity. But today, nostalgic young Millennials and Gen Zers are overlooking the jarring audio, grainy pictures, and sometimes hammy acting, to appreciate not only the grooming and style of the actors, but the original and diverse stories that reflect unique Nigerian experiences.

It was for this reason that sisters Tochi and Ebele Anueyiagu started Nolly Babes, a nostalgic Instagram account dedicated to celebrating the cinematic period’s women. Started in December 2017, their first post was of Nollywood’s biggest star Genevieve Nnaji; a still taken from 2004 film Sharon Stone In Abuja, directed by Adim Williams. Nnaji plays the titular character, a sexually liberated young woman who uses her beauty and charm to ensnare unassuming men into doing her bidding.

The account is an ode to the female characters of old Nollywood who were often portrayed as warning examples. The storylines were steeped in moral principles rooted in the patriarchal culture and the dominant Christian religion of Southern Nigeria. A large number of the female characters were considered immoral because they kissed other women, challenged men, smoked and drank, or wore mini skirts. Today, Nolly Babes and similar accounts are reimagining these women, taking their scenes out of the moralistic context of the films, and turning them into iconic feminist personas.

The first time Nollywood content seeped into the mainstream internet consciousness can be traced back to 2017 when videos of Nollywood’s favourite comedic duo Chinedu Ikedieze and Osita Iheme, better known as Aki and Pawpaw, rose to popularity due mostly to the influence of a now-defunct Twitter account @nollywoodroll ran by Nicole, a woman based in Brazil.

Their memes became the go-to reaction videos for expressing a wide range of emotions: joy, disappointment, sadness, frustration. The appeal was in seeing children making mischief or in adult situations – drinking beer and smoking cigars, wooing bigger women, or in oversized suits shouting instructions at people twice their size. Although both Ikedieze and Iheme were in their 20s in the early 2000s when most of the films were made, they mostly played children because of their body stature. By 2019, the memes had achieved such virality that brands like Rihanna’s Fenty would use them for social media clout.

Theodora Imaan Beauvais is the curator of Yung Nollywood, another archive of clips and stills from old Nollywood paying homage to its controversial female characters, after screenshotting moments from Nollywood she found “appealing or inspirational”. Yung Nollywood is remarkably distinct from Nolly Babes for its subtitling of the films’ stills from Nollywood films, something she attributes to Tumblr. While the idea to give witty captions to the actors’ facial expressions came from watching Netflix. “I thought, ‘If someone could describe Nollywood reactions in short phrases it’d be an art form on its own,’ and I became that someone.’”

In December 2019, Tochi and Ebele hosted a Nollywood-themed party in Lagos. Nollywood actor and musician Nonso Bassey attended the party dressed in a two-piece jean set and bucket hat, a signature look of the bad boy/alpha male archetype, and a role reprised multiple times by older actors such as Hanks Anuku, Emeka Ike, and Jim Iyke. Since that party, Nonso has attended social functions and premieres in outfits that make a nod to the fashion choices of that era of Nollywood. He insists, though, that he isn’t cosplaying Nollywood characters of that era. “I’ve always been attracted to the idea of merging old world charm with a new school approach,” he said.

The party caused a cultural stir amongst Nigerians and Africans both at home and in the diaspora – every other week, there seems to be a Nollywood-themed party held either in Lagos or London. Take for instance friends and business partners Imani Okunubi and Aseosa Uwagboe, two Nigerian-British kids who grew up in the UK. Nollywood was one of the ways they could connect back to their roots. That experience informs their event brand, Lasgidi to London, targeted at Nigerians living in the UK. “We wanted to create events that were reminiscent of the Naija hall parties (Owambe) we attended as kids, as we don’t want to see that culture die,” Aseosa said. Their next owambe is a Nollywood-themed party and guests are expected to come dressed in their “best nolly Y2K aesthetic”.

Below, the Nolly Babes sisters talk about creating and hosting the first Nollywood-themed party and the cultural moment it has inspired.

How did that first event come about – please take me through it, from the planning to how it turned out?

Nolly Babes: From the inception of Nolly Babes, we knew we had to throw a party. Fashion is a huge part of what makes Nolly Babes different from other Nollywood-themed pages and we knew we were the only ones that could set Nolly Babes as the dress code and have people commit as they did. There are many iconic Nollywood scenes and scenarios. The daughter meeting her evil mother-in-law, the ominous visit to the Babalawo, the campus stroll – just the mere mention of these scenes evokes images that have been embedded in the minds of our fellow Nollywood enthusiasts. The party scene is probably the most iconic of them all. Whether it’s in a club, a mansion while mum and dad are out of town (but coming home early to crash the whole thing) or poolside, the Nolly Babes party scene has its staples: mad music, dancing, and sick outfits.

December in Lagos is notoriously hectic. On each day, there are day parties, beach hangouts, concerts, and we just knew we had to be a part of it. Our flyer was the first thing we made sure was done right, and that has been replicated (but never duplicated) many many times. We went through at least six drafts of that until we got the flyer to be a realistic replica of the home video covers from the golden era. The DJs Kemi Lijadu and vIVENDII Sounds understood the assignment and played music from the Nolly Babes era. We’re talking Tony Tetuila, Mo Hitz, Wande Coal, Plantation Boyz… We curated a special cocktail menu: Genny Colladas, Jim Iyke’s Hard Lemonade, MargaRita Dominic, and our Lagos Island Iced Tea, in tribute to Nollywood stars Genevieve Nnaji, Jim Iyke, and Rita Dominic respectively. We had a video projection on the famous red wall at Nok showing a mashup of emblematic scenes. We were partying while seeing images of a young Jim Iyke dressed just like many of the attendees were dressed. It was magical! We have an event we’re planning in New York for the summer – it’s going to be a madness.

Did you envisage it becoming the cultural movement it’s now become?

Nolly Babes: We really didn’t. We hosted the party because we knew people were taking inspiration from our page for styling jobs and music video treatments, and wanted to give everyone a chance to recreate some of their favourite looks. Now every week we see people planning Nollywood-themed parties and sending people to our page for references. It’s awesome. Toke Makinwa even recently attended a Nolly Babes-themed party and she was dressed as a character we have immortalised – Regina Askia in President’s Daughter. She killed it! Even though the character wasn’t referenced, it was clear as day and it was awesome to see that she pulled it off! Honestly, when we see people really pay attention to detail and execute the theme well it’s so, so dope.

How has TikTok helped grow Nollywood's influence? You posted a scene from Girls Cot, the famous “you stink with poverty” clip on TikTok and it went viral and birthed these recreations even by non-Africans.

Nolly Babes: We’re just happy to see that another aspect of Nollywood that we champion – the iconic scenes and one-liners – is also resonating across the world. We see Nolly Babes as an archival work and as much as we focus on beauty and looks on Instagram, it’s nice to be able to point people in the direction of the scenes that are forever embedded in our brains. These are scenes we recreated in jest ourselves before there was even a Nolly Babes to begin with, so to see it catching on TikTok is exciting and a new frontier for us to fully explore. I think what distinguishes Nolly Babes from other Nollywood pages and what contributes to our TikTok success is that we really watch Nollywood movies. We grew up watching these movies and continue to do so now so we can capture those moments in films that the casual consumer or poster of Nollywood content might not.

What are your thoughts on Nollywood’s influence on the Alté scene? Music videos of artists such as Lady Donli and Odunsi nod to the aesthetic and fashion styles of that era.

Nolly Babes: Nollywood, and specifically the aesthetic we have shone a spotlight on, is probably one of the biggest influences in terms of visuals in that scene right now. I have never seen so many Eucharia (Anunobi) eyebrows on TV and we love it! It’s awesome to see our images and scenes being used in treatments and storyboards. If we’re being candid, we think it would be great if we got the chance to step into our stylist/creative direction bag and help with the execution of the aesthetic.

“The bottom line is really that Nolly Babes has brought what was already an international cultural influence to the modern social media realm with a new lens” – Nolly Babes

How far do you see Nollywood's influence on pop culture, beyond Nigeria and Africa?

Nolly Babes: When we moved to New York we found our Dominican and South American friends had also grown up watching Nollywood films. The bottom line is really that Nolly Babes has brought what was already an international cultural influence to the modern social media realm with a new lens. Nollywood clips were online everywhere – but it was always in a comedic way. Aki and PawPaw are meme gods now, and that’s because their expressions transcend cultural boundaries. Black Twitter eats that stuff up.

Nolly Babes chooses to center the beauty, style, and iconic imagery, even the home decor with our #NollyDecor hashtag of the golden era of Nollywood. We share the makeup, accessories, fashion, iconic phrases, and scenes in a way that isn’t just comedic but inspirational and aesthetically groundbreaking. I see Nollywood being at the centre of this Y2K resurgence that is happening all over the world, from TV to runways and fashion collections. That era is coming back around and, this time, the Black experience is being revisited and centered in a way it wasn’t back in the late 90s and 2000s. (Black people) were always the originators of the trends and this time they’re tapping into the source and Nollywood, particularly the era we celebrate as Nolly Babes, is a great resource for that.

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[vikingpoteto]

middle children must unionize

read on ao3 ______________________

my contributior for @batfam-big-bang

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Notes: I can't stress enough how grateful I am for joining this event. First of all, stan the mods. Stan my beta reader team, @timmydrakewings, @stormleviosa and @sun-lit-roses. Stan my artist team @houser-of-stories, @reese-haleth and @anicomicqueen To all of these amazing talented people that, for whatever reason chose to help me with this story, I can't stress enough how grateful I am. ________________________

Jason doesn’t keep in touch with the Bats after Bruce’s gone.

Batwoman only trusts him as far as she can throw him. Dick is not easy to avoid, but Jason keeps their contact to a minimum nonetheless. Ninja girl doesn’t speak with him. Replacement… Well. Jason does have a weird professional relationship with the kid. As professional as you can get with someone you tried to kill. Barbara will probably never forgive him for making Dick cry so many times. Brat girl will probably never forgive him for trying to kill Replacement. The other one, whatever his name is, is low-key/high-key terrified of Jason. As for the gremlin... Well, he’s like 10? 11? Jason doesn’t hang out with children, not even assassin ones.

So yeah. Not on friendly terms with anyone in the Wayne family.

However he is an instigator at heart and, while whatever they’re doing in the Batcave is none of his business, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish one of his rare visits by stirring things up a bit.

Dick usually makes sure he doesn’t do anything too outrageous, but a distraction comes in the form of Gremlin, who shows up demanding to know why Dick is late for their training session or whatever. The brat sends Jason a scathing look but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Dick only smiles patiently and waves Jason goodbye, leaving Replacement unsupervised. Before heading out, Jason approaches Replacement, who’s sitting by the batcomputer.

“So,” he starts. Jason notices when the kid flinches a little. Your regular guy wouldn’t, but Jason was once a bat too. “How does it feel to be replaced, Replacement?”

Replacement’s shoulders go stiff for half a second.

When he turns to face Jason, however, his expression is empty.

“Predictable,” he says.

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “Meaning?”

“I was only a Robin because I was, how can I put this, a coworker?” Replacement turns his eyes back to the computer and starts typing. “It was a no-strings-attached sort of deal. Bound to end at some point.”

That’s… new.

“You’re legally adopted into the Wayne family,” Jason hears himself reminding him.

“Yeah, ain’t that a pickle,” Replacement laughs. “Can you guess who forced Bruce to do that? My money was on Dick, but now I think it was probably Babs or Alfred.”

Jason stares, unsure what to make of that. Before he decides, the kid stands up.

"I have always been a patch job, so being dismissed is to be expected. I'm just overstaying my welcome at this point."

“You can get dismissed? I thought this was an until-your-untimely-death sort of gig.”

That was not how Jason expected this conversation to go, like, at all. He had never seen Replacement looking so… worn out? Lifeless?

“I don’t know, man,” Tim frowns as though he made himself confused. “God, I’m sleepy. See you around, I guess.”

And Jason watches him leave the cave with his shoulders hunched and an empty stare. Dick and Gremlin are so preoccupied with their sparring session that they don’t seem to notice. Jason sticks around for a few more seconds, stunned, before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes home.

Jason can’t stop thinking about what the kid said.

It’s not that he didn’t think something of the sorts, especially when he was angriest at Bruce. He had thought about how Batman trained his children to be soldiers and, like soldiers, they could be easily replaced. After all, what was one more problem child joining their broken family? What’s another deadly brat being thrown at some creeps wearing literal clown costumes?

He did think of them as Bruce’s kids though.

Not that Batman had any expertise in healthy parenting techniques, but Jason didn’t have any healthy son experiences to compare so it didn’t matter much. They were Batkids for the better and mostly for the worse, and if something happened to them, well, the crusade must go on.

He never thought of Robin as someone that could be sent home out of the blue, like your average GC Pig. A disgrace to the family? Sure. See, kids, we don’t talk about cousin Jason. He got himself killed and came back all crooked. That’s what happens if you kill murderers or forget to brush your teeth. Still, the idea of being dismissed for no reason never occurred to Jason. It was absurd, because, as far as Jason knew, his replacement was the perfect little soldier. Why would he walk away?

Dick fought with Bruce. Jason… well. You know. Brat girl had to move cities or whatever? Or she died, but got better? Jason doesn’t really know anything about the chick. Either way, he knows she became Batgirl soon after. Tim, however, had nothing stopping him from staying masked. Why would Replacement talk about being Robin as if it was a summer job?

Does that mean that the wimpy kid Jason has been bullying was really that cold and detached?

He thinks about it until his head hurts and he starts remembering times with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and suddenly he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

It’s a good thing Jason is good at compartmentalizing, because that’s what he does. He pushes thoughts of Batman and Robin to the depths of his mind and forgets about it.

He doesn’t find out until weeks later.

He’s not visiting the manor because he wants to. It’s just that there is this stupid encrypted information he needs for a case and he isn’t exactly tech savvy. He doesn’t think Barbara would do him a solid - she’s still ignoring him for… whatever. He doesn’t even know. Probably something about hurting Dick’s pwecious feewings or eating the last cookie Alfred made. Either way, Jason first tries contacting Replacement directly. Only when the kid doesn’t pick up he forces himself to go to the cult headquarters.

He needs that data, dammit, and whoever called programming logic, was out of their damn mind. If true, execute commands 1, 2 and IV, it said. If what was true? Jason read and read and still didn’t get what it was referring to. And why would someone name the commands regular numbers then just… throw a fucking roman number? Just to spice things up? Whoever wrote that damn code should get a bullet in the foot.

“Jay!” Dick grins at him, although he looks unamused by the fact that Jason is coming in through a window on the second floor. “You do remember that we have a door, don’t you?”

“I like to keep ‘em guessing,” Jason says. “Which room is the kid’s? I have a job for him.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, confused. “Damian is at school?”

And then there’s that. A lot to unpack. First, Jason is deeply offended that Dick thinks he would ever go there after Gremlin, the child that likes to criticize Jason's  skills despite the fact that a) Jason was trained by Damian's father and then b)Jason was trained by Damian's mother. Second, Damian Wayne. Going to Gotham Academy. Does he wear the uniform? Does he have homework or does he threaten the teachers with a sword until they quit? Did anyone explain to him the concept of playing tag before he murders a bunch of 9 year olds? Jason has so many questions. If only he had time.

“I said the kid . The human one, not the imp.”

“Oh.” Dick seems taken aback. “Oh, he... Jason, Tim isn’t in Gotham. You didn’t know?”

Jason groans. “Are you kidding me? You annoyed him into leaving the planet with his alien friends again, didn’t you?”

“No, he… I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Jason blinks in surprise. So Dick didn’t pick Bruce’s habit of microchipping his kids?

“What do you mean you don’t know? How do you lose a whole Robin? The uniform is basically a traffic cone.”

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason had seen Bruce do just that so many times he forgets for a moment whatever stupid joke he was about to make. When did his older brother become the dad?

“He left a while ago. He barely spent any time here at the manor after I gave Robin to Damian, so…”

Jason freezes. After I gave Robin to Damian, he says. Being dismissed is to be expected, the kid said weeks ago.

“Dick. What the fuck did you do?”

Dick looks surprised at the raw anger in Jason’s voice, even though he shouldn’t fucking be. Jason remembers the distant voice on that day. He did think that was oddly cold for Replacement, even if he was a calculating nerd. Except that wasn’t him being cold. That was him lying to himself.

Jason would know. He spent most of his childhood telling himself he didn’t need a loving father. A good part of his teenage years telling everyone that would hear that he didn’t care at all that Bruce kept holding him to the standards of the perfect son that went away. It’s a lot easier to pretend you didn’t care because it makes it hurt less when things are taken away. Jason was a fucking pro at that technique, so much he wonders how the hell he didn’t notice earlier.

“I did what I had to do,” Dick says, defensively. The way he does when he’s second guessing himself, but still in denial about it. “Tim’s a hero of his own right and he’s capable enough that…”

“That you fucking fired him?” Jason barks.

“Damian needs Robin, Jason! He’s just so lost and being Robin gave him a sense of purpose, allowed him to actually be a child.”

“No shit Gremlin is a child! What about Replacement? He’s, what, 15?”

“He’s 17, how do you not know your own brother’s age?”

“Whatever! He’s just a teen and you basically just told him to fuck off.”

Dick sighs. “Look, I tried to help Tim. Tim’s friends tried to help Tim. But he’s a mature person and he wanted some time for himself.”

Ain’t that a familiar song. A good dose of leave me the fuck alone while still wearing a goddamn bat on his chest and making sure to make enough noise to draw attention. He doesn’t like how close it hits to home, how Dick, who’s supposed to be the best of them, ends up being just as shit as recognizing emotions as any other Bat. Jason laughs without any humor.

Incensed, Dick’s jaw sets in challenge as he adds: “I trust Tim and I respected his choice to leave on his own mission, because he knows what’s right for him.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” Jason says. “You’re right. Give the demon what he needs. Replacement is a grown ass adult because you respect him so much .”

“Jason, I didn’t say that…”

“He was never a kid here, Dick, even I know that. You all keep throwing shit at him, messes for him to fix ‘cause it’s fine, it’s little Timmy, he’s so fucking capable, he can take it. Have you ever considered that he was always an adult because you all are the fucking children?”

I have always been a patch job sounds awfully similar to I’m here because he got lonely after you left.

But apparently Dick is done exercising his brotherly patience and Jason hit a nerve.

“What do you know about him? You never bothered to talk to him, to spend time with him. You don’t know shit about Tim.”

Jason scoffs. Dick’s face grows unevenly red.

“You don’t, Jason! You were busy trying to kill him. Remember that bonding experience? Must have been fun for him. Having the hero he grew up admiring trying to murder him?”

Jason throws the first punch. Dick easily dodges, the motherfucker, the damn superior Robin.

Screw it, Jason thinks as they start yet another classic Robin Brawl that would only end when Ninja Girl mysteriously dropped from the ceiling and kicked both of their asses.

Jason doesn’t hear from the cave for a while. His phone gets a weird virus, so he guesses Oracle heard he pushed Dick down the stairs. He just tosses the whole thing away and decides that screw his stupid case with the weird code, screw detective work. The biggest detectives aren’t around anymore. He'll just call Kory and convince her to help torch the place up and hopefully the new Batman and Robin will have to deal with the aftermath.

The next time Jason hears from his brothers, it’s a frantic call from Dick that makes Jason’s blood turn into ice: freaking Ra’s Al Ghul is in Gotham doing his whole Head of the Demon thing. He grabs his bike and he’s still on the comms with Dick as he heads to the manor because Alfred is in there.

“What did Gremlin do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dick answers and Jason can barely hear him over the wind. He’s probably swinging around Gotham as he speaks. “It was Tim. Tim’s back and Ra’s is after him and everyone he cares about.”

Fuck. This is the kid Dick trusted to go out alone on a self-discovery journey or whatever. Jason wonders what the hell he had been up to get that much unwanted attention.

In the end, everything works out, kind of. No one on their side dies, but Tim does get thrown out of a window. Of a very, very, veeery tall building. Jason still thinks he got off too easy. As smart as he is, Tim shouldn’t have survived a run in with Ra’s.

Jason is curious enough about it to stay in the cave after the fact. He and Dick sit near Tim’s bed while Leslie works her magic. Dick doesn’t take his eyes from his little brother’s pale face for even a second.

“We almost lost him,” he whispers at some point. “Again, we… I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Jason says, voice flat. “You saved him.”

Dick bites his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Jason punches his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Jay, about last time…”

“Ugh, don’t apologize, you freak. Why can’t you just bottle up your emotions and pretend nothing happened like the rest of this stupid family?”

That makes Dick give him a weak smile. If not for the bottling up part, for the part in which Jason admits they’re a family.

“You were… well, not right. I still think Tim shouldn’t be treated like a sidekick anymore,” Dick continues, despite Jason’s disgusted noises. “But he shouldn’t be left alone either. No one in this family should.”

Jason pretends to be gagging long enough that Dick gives up on trying to be a sensible adult and returns to silently watching over his brother.

After that, it’s a matter of stalling and by stalling he ends up watching the other Bats. He finds from Alfred that Ninja Girl isn’t looming over Tim’s bed because she’s in Hong Kong. Brat girl comes and goes the whole night and Jason doesn’t understand why she can’t simply sit down and wait as a pile of nerves like Dick is doing. At some point, she reads the morning newspaper and starts making so much fuss the one Jason doesn’t know the name - Dave? Dylan? - takes her upstairs to calm her down. Damian is nowhere to be found

In the end, Jason manages to be there when Replacement wakes up. Everyone is busy celebrating, too elated that Replacement is fine, so much they forget Jason is still lurking around. No one sees when his face goes pale and he feels like he’s going to puke.

“How did you know I was going to catch you?” Dick asks.

Tim gives him a tired smile. “You’re my brother, Dick. I knew you’d save me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. It’s like looking into a goddamn mirror, except Tim is so much better at this than Jason ever was. So much that he might even be fooling himself.

But he can’t fool Jason. Dick wants to believe in the best of them, he wants them all to be sane and safe and happy - as much as a Bat can be, at least - but Jason is more of a realist. He knows no one can plan that far ahead. He knows Tim went to a meeting with the Head of the Demon fully aware that he would most likely be carried out in a coffin. Considering Dick’s misstep from a couple months earlier and the fact that Tim had already assigned him and Damian a task, Batman was the last person Tim was expecting to show up.

Of course Dick would save him, any of them. Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason had his hero worship towards his brother restored pretty fast. Dick, the golden boy, the perfect son, loved him no matter what and Jason loved him back. Knew now that Dick had love enough to go around for all of them - all of them. But did Tim know that?

Tim finished his little mission, wrapped it all pretty with a bow, making sure no one kicked the bucket. Except for himself. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the contingency plan for Batman’s contingency plan, but he didn’t care enough to make a plan for himself.  

Bruce is gone. Dick is painfully blind. The Drakes are dead. Alfred has his hands full. The Behemoths or the Little League, or whatever the hell the super kids call themselves now, were just that. Kids. Jason curses to himself, because, if no one else will watch out for Replacement, it’s none of his fucking business.

It’s not.

However…

Jason doesn’t know how to put his not-plan in action. He can’t exactly walk up to Tim and say hey, I think we’re not so different, you and I, so I’m worried for your safety. I know I tried to kill you, but that like... two years ago, get over it. Let’s be friends.

Before he figures it out, he hears that Bruce is back. The real Bruce.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he decides to put some distance between him and the family one more time as he takes some weeks to process. He goes out of town to hang out with his friends. He is done with Gotham bullshit for a while.

Unfortunately, Jason finds himself facing his worst enemy: the damn encrypted data.

He hates that dealers now do their thing through the internet. Who the fuck buys marijuana online? Where is the poetry in that? The class of being friends with the sketchy guy that lives around the corner and hangs out with you while you smoke? If they’re gonna sell oregano online to rich white kids, fine, but they’re selling heavy stuff to people that live in his territory and there is a thing bigger than just drugs, if Jason’s hunch is right. He could confirm it by cracking the numbers he stole from their stupidly unguarded computers.

Except the encryption is too complicated for him to access the files.

Well, isn’t that the perfect excuse to take a visit to the kid’s apartment.

Because that is the situation right now. The kid is emancipated, controlling Wayne Enterprises and living by his damn self. There is so much to unpack that Jason wants to throw away the whole suitcase.

He should probably do just that, or at least that’s what he thinks when he climbs to Tim’s balcony (in his head, he hears Dick’s voice going what do you hate about front doors, man?) and he is immediately pushed to the ground.

He is wearing his helmet, sure, but it doesn’t make it less painful when someone fucking stomps on his head, forcing his face against the floor.

“Fuck,” is all Jason thinks of saying.

He then kicks his assailant in the shin and is satisfied when they tumble backwards. Unfortunately for him, they - she - doesn’t fall over the railing, she just stays away long enough to give him time to stand.

A bald girl wearing a distasteful crop top glares daggers at him. She is already back on her fighting stance - one that looks way too familiar for Jason’s taste - ready to strike. And strike she does.

Her movements are similar to Jason’s - fast, strong, unpredictable, unfair - but she has the advantage of being more slender and having more freedom of movement in the small space. All Jason can do is defend himself and not get tossed over the edge. Who the fuck is this girl? Why is she attacking him? Doesn’t she know he is the freaking Red Hood? He just wanted the damn-

“What on Earth are you guys doing on my balcony?”

The girl freezes. Jason does not. He lands a punch straight on her nose and she falls backwards, her mouth opening in pain even if no sound comes out.

“What the hell, Hood!”

Tim rushes to the girl’s side.

“What the hell Hood?” Jason parrots, indignant. “I just got here and she attacked me!”

Tim frowns and turns to the girl. “Is that true?”

Instead of answering, the girl holds her bloody nose and glares at him. She uses her free hand to show Tim four fingers. Tim sighs.

“I know it’s the fourth time you’ve had your nose broken,” Tim gives her a wry smile. “But the three other times you had it coming. And maybe even this time. Why did you attack Red Hood?”

She makes the gesture of someone walking with two fingers then points at Tim’s balcony door. Jason doesn’t know a lot of ASL, but those don’t seem to be the same signs Cassandra uses.

“She attacked me because she thought I was trying to break in?” He asks. “You have a bodyguard now?”

Tim stands and holds out his hand to the girl. She begrudgingly takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. “Why don’t we all go inside before someone notices the Red Hood on my balcony?”

Jason grumbles in annoyance but does make his way in. Tim is right behind him and Jason can’t help but think he’s acting as a shield in case the girl wants revenge for her nose.

“Come here, Pru, I’ll get something cold for your nose.”

Jason takes a look around. As they cross the living room, he notices it looks like a shiny rich person apartment you’d see in a magazine. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s new crib, and he knows the kid just moved in, but the fact that the place looks like a hospital’s reception makes him feel some sort of way.

Fortunately, the kitchen is a bit better. Not much, but it’s something. There are papers spread across the table, dirty glasses in the sink, a mug full of black steaming tea, Tim’s laptop open on top of a pile of books, and there are pictures on the fridge. Jason remembers vaguely Dick mentioning that one of the kids had a thing for photography and another liked drawing. He has to assume Tim is the photographer as he takes a good look at them: one of Brat girl’s grinning face with a big heart magnet, one of Tim and Cassandra sharing the same reading chair, one of Bruce in one of those fancy sweaters he used to wear at home, one of Dick and Cassandra doing handstands, one of a red head kid, behind him Tim, a muscular girl and an even more muscular guy. Jason doesn’t need to be a detective to figure those, even without the uniforms, are Impulse, Wonder Girl and Superboy.

“So,” Tim starts. He hands the girl a pack of frozen peas and shrugs at her dirty look. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without ceremony, the girl takes a seat by the table and tries to steal a glance at Tim’s laptop. He casually closes it and smiles at her. She scoffs.

“First, you explain the bodyguard,” Jason says, gesturing to the girl.

“Right. Where are my manners? Pru, this is Red Hood. Hood, this is Prudence.”

He doesn’t turn to her so she can read his lips or use gestures to speak, so Jason figures she isn’t deaf, only mute. Maybe it’s something like Cassandra?

“Really? Prudence? That’s ironic. ”

She shows Jason her middle finger. Definitely not deaf then.

Unlike Prudence, Jason doesn’t make himself at home. When he crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a minute more, Tim reads his silence correctly and adds, “We’re working together for a while and there are a lot of people that want us dead, so you’ll have to forgive her. She saw a suspicious guy trying to get into my place and she assumed the worst.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. Tim can’t see his expression behind the helmet, but he sighs nonetheless.

“Come on. She couldn’t know I sometimes work with the Red Hood too.”

I sometimes work with. Ouch. Jason supposes that’s fair, though. Tim hasn’t exactly been informed of Jason’s newfound empathy or his protective streak.

“How did you know where I live, by the way?” Tim asks.

“Alfred told me you moved,” Jason says. “I got your address from Cassandra.”

Tim’s brows disappear under his messy fringe. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Took a lot of convincing before she believed I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”

At that, Tim snorts. He’s still grinning when he asks, “What did you want it for then?”

“Tech support,” he says as he fishes a small flash drive from his pocket. “I was hoping you could crack some files for me.”

Tim takes it and nods. “I’ll check it out. I’ll send the results to you as soon as I have them. Anything else?”

Again… ouch. Apparently imprudent girl is welcome to kick back and hang out, but Jason is just a fellow associate that came to hand in an assignment and promptly piss off.

Then Jason realizes that that was exactly what their relationship was like before Tim went around the world to fight Ra’s al Ghul. Damn.

Well. It’s not like he can take off his helmet and stick around when there is a stranger in there, especially when Tim carefully introduced him as the Red Hood instead of good ol’ Jason Todd. He just wanted to check on the kid and he did. No need to get all clingy. That’s Dick’s thing, not his.

It isn’t until much later that Jason realizes how pointless the visit was. He wanted to see if the kid was okay. He suspected he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do about it.

Lucky for him, Tim looked a lot better than last time. Less dead eyed, more like he has some sort of purpose. The fact that Dick is included in his little photo collection must mean they made amends. Whether it was because Jason’s whooping Dick’s ass or in spite of it he’ll never know. Based on what he knows about Tim, the kid might have just worked everything out by himself and forgiven Dick on his own terms.

Despite his decision to take care of Tim from then on, Jason is definitely not great at it. He doesn't think he lost the rights to admonish Dick for not talking to his brother. The fact is Jason isn't great with words. He wants to help Tim through actions.

Still the question remains: how?

(And Tim emails him the files he needed 8 hours later and Jason worries that the kid didn’t sleep, which… great. This is just great.)

Less than two nights later, someone gets into Jason's frequency. He's about to head out for patrol when a creaking sound inside his helmet precedes a familiar voice slightly twisted by static.

"Red Hood, this is Red Robin. Do you copy?"

Right. He goes by Red Robin now.

"What you want, rep… kid?" Jason inwardly winces at his misstep.

There is a moment of confused silence before Tim mercifully decides not to ask what that was. "I'm pursuing a lead in your territory."

Jason hums. "What's it? I'll handle it."

"No!" Tim says too fast. "I mean… it's my case. I just thought you could take the night off? Please?"

This is supposed to be the smart Robin, right? He does know that Jason isn’t a complete moron, right?

“What’s in it for me?” Jason asks.

If this was Damian, he’d get a colorful death threat. If this was Dick, a winded speech on how brothers are supposed to have each other’s backs and he's just asking for a tiny favor, Jason, don’t make me make my ex-girlfriend hack into your phone and block Netflix again. Tim, however, knows that everything has a price and has an answer ready.

“You owe me for those files I decoded for you.”

Straight to the point. No bullshit. Jason is starting to really like this kid.

“Fair enough. You go follow your lead and I won’t murder you for being in my territory.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything about taking the night off, though.

Jason knows that, if he was working alone, Tim wouldn’t ask for permission. He would let himself in and out of Jason's territory assuming Jason wouldn’t even notice - he’d done it before as Robin, and Jason did notice but pretended not to. He can’t track Red Robin as easily, but the fact that he doesn’t want Red Hood around means there is something or someone he can’t control tagging along… and who’s the one person even Tim Drake can never control?

“Brat girl,” Jason mutters to himself, a cocky grin spreading on his face. One of his informants just confirmed he saw Batgirl driving whatever the fuck that is that capsule vehicle into an empty building just south of Jason’s place.

Oracle is probably out of town again, otherwise she wouldn’t allow her precious not-daughter to be messing around with Tim in Jason’s territory. But then, if most of the rumors are correct, even Barbara can’t quite control the new Batgirl.

He wonders what the duo are up to as he lets himself into the abandoned place through a hole in the ceiling. Red Hood walks on the rafters in the dark until he can hear familiar voices. He stops on his tracks when he notices that Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t alone. Wonder Girl and Impulse stick out like bright red sore thumbs against Gotham’s darkness.

Red Hood hears enough to know they’re planning on saving someone - one of Impulse’s friends? - from a local group connected to Black Mask. Their plan is solid, but it’s hardly a task herculean enough to warrant the presence of a speedster and an amazon. Red Robin makes it sound like it’s absolutely necessary nonetheless, assigning each of them a role that fits their powers and going over every little detail. It’s the first time Hood sees the kid in a position of leadership and he thinks it suits him. He seems extremely at ease.

Actually… that’s not quite it. He’s not as wary of the world as he is when he’s with the Batfamily. Not Batman’s perfect mini-detective, not Nightwing’s model little brother, not WE CEO. He’s still very much a hero, a Robin, but it’s possible to see he’s seventeen under the cowl. Even his posture changes, his shoulders relax and he allows himself to be… God, himself. That must be the first time Jason sees Tim completely in his element, no tension, no (metaphorical) masks.

Real Red Robin stays close to his friends. Very close. Hell, Impulse is almost sitting on his lap, his arm firmly wrapped around Red Robin’s waist as he points at some sort of map his wrist pad is showing. Batgirl is clinging to his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder using the excuse to see better what he’s showing. Hadn’t those two broken up?

Then Red Robin says something so softly not even Hood picks up. The other three teens get tense. Impulse nods and disappears in a gust of wind as his friends wait in silence.

Half a second later, something hits Hood’s back at a very alarming speed because of course Red Robin noticed someone listening and sent his speedster friend to get him. He curses while he falls, barely managing to roll fast enough to avoid serious knee damage when he lands.

“Jason!” Red Robin whines not unlike an embarrassed child crying out mom, not in front of my friends!

“Maybe check who’s spying on you before sending a child bullet careening into their back, will ya?” Jason complains.

Wonder Girl frowns. “Is that…”

“The Red Hood,” Batgirl confirms in a flat voice. “Yup.”

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Impulse asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A facepalming Red Robin groans. “He doesn’t do crime anymore.” Under Batgirl’s skeptical glare, he corrects, “He doesn’t do bad crimes anymore. What are you doing here, Hood? You said you were taking the night off!”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you for being in my territory,” Hood corrects. “But I didn’t say anything about your super friends, because I didn’t think you’d be breaking so many rules in so little time. Really? Bringing metas to Gotham?”

Red Robin simply shrugs. “What Batman can’t see doesn’t hurt him.”

Batgirl snickers and Hood grins a little under his helmet.

“Little Timmy,” he gasps, resting his hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Shut up, why are you here?”

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up.”

The other three kids look from Red Hood to Red Robin. It’s obvious that whatever Tim’s verdict is, they’re going to accept it. Even Stephanie. And she knows Jason (sort of).

“Fine,” Red Robin groans. “But no shooting anyone.”

“No promises.”

Wonder Girl and Impulse are obviously wondering whether they’re joking or not. Knowing they’re completely serious, Batgirl makes a face and pokes Red Robin’s cheek. He frowns at her and the two of them seem to have a conversation consisting of weird mouths and head shakes for a moment. Jason would know. He and Dick used to do that all the time. Finally, whatever face Red Robin is making convinces her and she lets out a defeated sigh.

“Well then, ladies,” Batgirl deadpans, “let’s get this bread.”

Despite Dick’s best efforts, Jason never quite fit in with the Titans. With Tim and Stephanie, however, he can work.

Breaking into one of Black Mask’s hideouts is a piece of cake, if not outright fun. He has to hand it to Stephanie. She is not as cunning as Barbara or as deadly as Cassandra, but the girl can blow up a marijuana deposit like no one else.

Sure, the smoke makes them at least 30% high—all of them except Impulse, whose metabolism won’t let him get intoxicated, to which… Just R.I.P. you funky little man, Jason really feels for him.

Even with the little diversion, there were still plenty of crooks to fight. Wonder Girl takes care of most of them on her own— amazons, man —and soon enough Impulse comes running, carrying a dark-skinned boy wearing power-dampening cuffs who keeps yelling at them in Spanish. At that, Red Robin announces they’re retreating.

Tim looks a lot more comfortable with his peers than he is with the Bats. Part of Jason wonders if he could’ve been like that. If he would have ended up differently if he had actually stayed with the Titans and made friends like Tim had. He tells himself not to go down that path, because he is who he is, he certainly doesn’t make friends in that teen sitcom way and you can’t change the past.

He is genuinely glad that Tim has those friends, though. He’s glad that he can feel that way despite the hint of jealousy.

As they leave a ruined hideout behind, Wonder Girl and Impulse are drowning Red Robin in hugs and cheering so loud one would forget they’re still in Gotham. Their friend laughs with them even with the stress of being so rambunctiously rescued. Batgirl slaps her arm around Hood’s shoulder and admires the Titans being loud as if congratulating themselves on the job done.

If all of them— all of them—are still smiling themselves silly as they leave, it’s only 50% because of the marijuana.

Jason quickly learns that Tim doesn’t like owing people. When Jason asked Tim to crack some encrypted documents, he just needed the damn files. He didn’t expect the kid to show up to tear down the place when Jason decided he had enough reason to dismantle the operation.

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up,” Red Robin quips as he nudges a goon with his foot. The man groans, but doesn’t get up. Seemingly satisfied, Red Robin crouches down and starts cuffing the man to another by his side.

“Remind me to never ask for your help again,” Red Hood says.

Red Robin glowers. “I saved your ass from getting stabbed about three times.”

“I shot the kneecaps of four guys trying to murder you, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

They hear sirens. Red Robin stands. “Well, guess our job here is done.”

Hood nods. It’s been a while since he fought side by side with a fellow Bat, just him and another Robin and... it was nice. Roy and Kori are great partners and all, but they don’t have the same training a Robin does. They don’t get the specific maneuvers and the subtle secret signs. The fact that it had been so fun fighting side by side with Red Robin makes Jason feel like his not-plan of taking care of the kid was finally going somewhere.

Then Red Robin stretches his arm to grapple his way out of there and gasps.

“Red?”

“Uh…” He is now pressing his hand to his side.

“Is… is that blood?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you get stabbed and didn’t notice, you freaking idiot?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes over the cowl. “Why me?”

Red Hood sighs. “Relax, kid, it doesn’t look that deep.”

“I’m gonna have to call Batman,” Red Robin whines. “A’s gonna kill me.”

“Over a tiny stab wound? Don’t be a pussy, I’m sure you can stitch that yourself.”

“The stitches aren’t the problem, it’s just the medicine…” Red Robin says, making vague hand gestures. “I have no spleen.”

And then there’s that.

“I’m sorry. You what?”

Red Robin pulls a guilty face visible even under the cowl. Jason wouldn’t blame Alfred for killing him. He has no spleen and he just… decided it was a good idea to bring a staff to a gunfight at one of the grimiest places of Gotham.

Tim Drake-Wayne, everyone, smartest Robin to date.

Jason, however, decides not to kill Tim for his stupidity. He recognizes that particular frown. It’s the I-messed-up-and-I-don’t-want-dad-to-find-out face.

The GCPD sirens are getting closer.

“I’ve got a big collection of antibiotics back at one of my safehouses,” he mentions casually. “I could patch you up so A doesn’t have to.”

Tim’s wide eyes are evident. Jason wonders if this is him being able to read the kid too well or if Tim straight up sucks at hiding his emotions. It’s probably a bit of both.  

“You know. As thanks for helping me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t thank me.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

By now, they can see the red and blue police lights.

“Lead the way.”

He rolls his eyes and drags the kid to his bike. He really hopes the pigs didn’t see them, because it’s bad enough that a hero showed up to Red Hood’s bust, he doesn’t need any cops thinking that he kidnapped Red Robin or any shit like that.

“Are we going to the one behind the new theater or the one around crime alley?” Tim casually asks.

Jason freezes halfway through mounting his bike. “How the fuck do you know about those?”

“I know the location of all of your safehouses,” Tim admits.

“Batman knows about my safehouses?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, I’m not Batman.”

...oh.

That’s… nice. Kind of. A confirmation that he can trust the kid to have his back.

“Smug nerd,” Jason mumbles.

Tim only chuckles in response. They set off to Jason’s place.

The rest of the night is peaceful. At least for a Bat’s standards. Jason helps Tim disinfect his wound and stitch it closed while Tim raids Jason’s medicine stash until he finds the ones he needs. Jason promises to hook him up with his supplier so he doesn’t have to rely so much on the cave. By the time they’re done, Tim’s lips are permanently curled upwards.

When he starts shuffling awkwardly as if looking for a way to say goodbye, Jason nonchalantly announces where he can find clean towels and clothes, as if this is a thing they do everyday. Tim seems baffled, but thankfully he doesn’t call Jason’s bullshit and obediently heads to the bathroom. By the time he’s done, Jason is fixing a meal for the two of them and some stupid movie is on TV—never the news, god, Jason hates watching the news.

Like a skittish stray, Tim is unsure of what to do with himself at first, but he catches the cue fast enough. He sits on the couch all stiff and restless until something on the screen grabs his attention.

“You like Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?” Tim asks, eyes wide.

“Do I like fucking what?”

Jason just needed the background noise to avoid freaking out about  how weird he’s being right now. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Tim launches a rant on how amazing Wendy is and half of it goes over Jason’s head. He just gets that apparently Tim and Superboy both have a crush on this werewolf hunting chick and they used to spend hours watching her instead of doing actual work at Titans Tower.

He also manages to actually eat the food Jason made, which is a win in Jason’s book.

It’s a nice night, overall.

It becomes, not a habit, but a thing. Tim sometimes shows up to one of Jason’s safehouses needing a stitch job or medicine. Jason doesn’t know how he nails which one Jason is at currently or if he just goes to every single one still bleeding until he finds Jason. Or even if he just lets himself in and takes care of his wounds without any help. If so, Jason wouldn’t blame him. He’d choose his crappy hideouts over Tim’s soulless apartment any day.

On the third time it happens, Tim isn’t hurt at all. He just wants to bitch about Vicki Vale stalking him and his supposed ex-fiancée that he's actually trying to date. Jason feeds him real food, as usual, and listens to what he has to say, as unusual. They end up on the couch watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, which, oddly enough, has Tim getting overly enthusiastic about going to bed because he’s curious about the magic behind Freddy Krueger. Jason tells him to let him know if any dream demons show up when he leaves Tim dozing off on the couch.

Tim starts texting Jason. At first, it’s all very professional. Messages like 1 of the stupid crooks in your territory almost killed robin yesterday do smth abt it followed by I don’t care that he’s a demon in a kevlar vest Hood you didn’t have to deal with nightwing crying afterwards!!! Then they slowly shift into something more casual on the lines of is dis u? An d attached a picture of Elizabeth Bennet wearing the red Power Ranger helmet which… What sort of context led to that meme being created?

Jason pretends not to care, but he preens with pride when Tim laughs at his dark jokes. Stupid gallows humor that would have made Bruce call an expensive therapist and Dick squirm in discomfort have the kid snorting coffee out of his nose.

It’s like they’re friends.

Part of him sometimes toys with the idea of them being normal kids —or as normal as you can be in Gotham—and he realizes that he would’ve made friends with Tim so fucking fast. Dick is the golden child and all of them would end up worshiping him and respecting him as their older brother, of course. Tim would be added to their family and Jason, not-murdered, regular problem-child Jason, would resist him at first, but he would soon see that he wasn't just an annoying nerd. He was a fun, annoying nerd. They would gang up on Dick, as younger brothers ought to do, and Jason would protect Tim from bullies and Tim would use his good son credit to get Jason out of trouble with Bruce.

This, however, may be as good as it gets for people with their fucked up upbringing. Jason already knew Tim wasn’t your regular spoiled rich boy and they bond over having shit childhoods even if they don’t talk about it.

All in all it feels nice to be looked up to. To have the kid come to him when he’s in trouble. To have someone looking at him with a shine in his eyes like the one Jason has when he looks at Dick. It makes Jason feel like he’s worth something. He sees Tim get comfortable with him after weeks of acting like a stray cat and he knows the kid feels the same. It’s a new feeling for both of them.

It’s like they’re really brothers.

Being part of the Red Robin fan club, Jason finds out, gives him good credit with the Bats.

Bruce and Dick are always going to be concerned about Jason’s slightly loose moral compass. Gremlin is always going to hate him because he’s a Gremlin. Barbara tolerates him at best.

Stephanie, however, shows up unannounced to one of Red Hood’s busts and laughs it off when he complains about Batgirl ruining his rep. She then invites Jason to watch a movie with her since they finished early. He thinks that’d be very weird, so he refuses. Unbothered, she says an airy “Maybe next time” before leaving.

He thinks a shadow once told him to come by the manor more often, almost giving him a heart attack. He thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong, for fuck’s sake; when did she come back?

One time he texts Tim for tech support and no one but the Signal shows up at Jason’s doorstep with a codebreaker and a list of instructions from Red Robin. Duke doesn’t look as wary of Jason as he once was and the two quickly fall into friendly banter, complaining about Tim’s nerdiness.

Jason knows if he asked Steph about it, he would never hear the end of it. Cass isn’t the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He guesses Duke is decent enough not to dwell on it, so he asks,

“Why are y’all suddenly okay with me?”

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, he’s smart enough that Jason doesn’t need to explain further. “Tim trusts you,” he says simply. “Tim is the holder of the one brain cell of this family, so long we follow his cues, we’re golden.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Why, you don’t want us around?”

He mumbles something about it not being a big deal. Duke shrugs it off and changes the subject. Jason knows he’s doing it for his sake, because Duke might be the kindest person in their whole messed up family. Jason feels bad for refusing to learn his name for so long.

So it seems like two-thirds of the Batgirls and Signal were always less worried about Jason’s past than they were about his rivalry with Robin III.

And, fine, Jason does get a little jealous of that but he’s mature-ish enough to take what he can get. Plus Stephanie is funny as shit and it’s always fun to annoy Barbara by getting Batgirl involved in his fights, especially when Red Robin is around to back him up.

Everything is sort of nice now.

Sometimes, however, Jason wakes up in a cold sweat with the taste of copper in his mouth and a nightmare gunshot still ringing in his ears. He tried to kill Tim. He could’ve killed his little brother. He’s thankful for the times the nightmares come when Tim is sleeping over, because he can walk to the living room and check on the kid. Remind himself that Tim is alive and breathing under the old blankets and that he’s forgiven Jason. When he isn’t around, Jason is absolutely not above calling him in the middle of the night, making up a stupid case he needs Tim’s help with. For all his smarts, Tim never seems to realize Jason’s true motives.

Now that he thinks about it, he notices that Tim is on good terms with a lot of people that tried to kill him. Jason. Damian. That Prudence girl. He doesn’t find out the details, but he does hear something about Stephanie fucking him up and she’s now his best friend. Jason is more than a little concerned about that forgiving side of his.

Red Hood hates a lot of things. If he were to make a list, it’d take days to write it all down. He knows for sure that on the top of that list would be clowns. There is nothing he hates more than clowns.

Scarecrows are a close second, though.

Definitely close to a tie as he watches Red Robin stumble. “I think…” he mutters. “I think my rebreather is broken.”

“ Shit.”

Red Hood has to think fast. Fear gas is every-fucking-where and he lost sight of Scarecrow three canon-fodder crooks ago. He doesn’t have an extra rebreather, because he’s wearing his helmet and that does the job. He’s used to fighting alone. Not that having another rebreather would do them any good now that Red Robin has already breathed the nasty toxins.

In the end, Hood decides to take the defeat for what it is: a defeat. He throws a smoke bomb on the ground and grabs Red Robin by the waist, ignoring the startled squeak the boy lets out. They need to get out before Scarecrow’s goons realize what they’re doing.

“Stay with me,” Red Hood hisses. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing, it’s not real.”

They’re five minutes away from his nearest safehouse. It’d be faster to take one of their bikes, but he can’t risk it in case Tim starts hallucinating halfway there. They can make it there swinging, he can keep his brother out of danger.

“I’m fine,” Red Robin says. The way he’s limp in Hood’s hold, says otherwise.  “We’re going home. We’re safe.”

“We’re going home. Close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

He does it.

“It’s just us now,” Hood reassures him. “We’re on the way to a safehouse where no one can find us and you can rest until the toxin is out of your system. Safe, easy.”

“Steph is fine, Bart is fine, Cassie is fine,” he chants, “Cass is fine, Alfred is fine, Dick is fine, Tam is fine, Pru is fine.”

He keeps listing people that are fine, because of course his fears are all about his friends being hurt. Surprisingly, Hood recognizes all of them. He’s heard Tim talking about all of them repeatedly and he knows their names and personalities, even if he doesn’t have all the faces to match. He isn’t surprised that his friends come first then their family.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Jason encourages. “Who else?”

“Dad..” Tim’s eyes shoot open. “Dad’s gonna kill me. Dad, Dad will know I’m Robin, he’s- He’s gonna take Robin away from me, I can’t- This is the first time I’m being useful.”

Fuck.

“Your dad isn’t here. And you’re not Robin, kid, you’re Red Robin,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s… that’s right. I failed him. I failed Dick, so…”

Double fuck.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason says, but it’s hard to keep the conversation going while he’s carrying Tim’s weight.

They’re two minutes away from safety before Tim starts struggling to get away from Jason. He doesn’t say anything else, which may be more concerning, he just grunts with the effort and squirms. Jason really hopes no one was paying attention enough to notice what looks like Red Hood kidnapping a terrified Red Robin.

“Shit- Stay put, Red, we’re almost home,” Jason says.

Tim’s breath catches and returns, erratic, and Jason can’t bear to look at his horrified face, he hates to see the utter fear that has his brother’s already pale complexion turn ashen, his lips pressed into a line so tight it has got to hurt. Jason starts listing the names of the people that are supposedly fine and that catches Tim’s attention long enough that Jason can swing straight to the fire escape of the abandoned building where he set his hideout.

He sets Tim on the dusty mattress on the corner in a hurry and tosses his helmet aside. He starts undoing Tim’s safety measures so he can remove his cowl. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t wear a domino mask beneath it and Jason makes a mental note of talking to Tim about that later.

“Almost there, Timbers,” Jason says. He rips off his own domino without caring about the sting, hoping a familiar face will help. “I’m here. Now, where do you keep your fear gas antidote? I know you carry some around.”

Tim unconsciously reaches for a particular capsule on his bandolier. That’s enough of an answer for Jason, who pushes his hand away not as gently as he should and reaches for the small vial inside.

“Jay,” Tim whines. “Jay, you’re okay, right?”

Jason blinks, confused. “Of course I’m okay, Timbers. I’m right here.”

And as he rushes to grab the first aid kit under the sink, Jason starts to freak out. This gas isn’t causing hallucinations as much as it’s making Tim feel paranoid, it seems. What if it’s a new formula? What if the antidote doesn’t work? What if Tim keeps having anxious thought after anxious thought, until his heart gives in and-

“Jay!” Tim calls, desperate. “Jay, we have to get Kon! He’s- He’s in danger.” He starts getting up.

“Nope!” Jason pushes him right back into the mattress. “Kon is fine, he’s invulnerable, remember? He’s probably doing superdouche stuff in Metropolis.”

“He’s not, he’s- He’s gonna kill himself, Jay!” There are tears welling up in his eyes and Jason feels like someone just punched him in the gut. After all the shit they went through, he had never seen Tim cry. “He’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everyone, I can’t lose him, please, I’ll do it instead. He’s- No! Please, don’t do it!”

There we go. There are the hallucinations they all know and hate. Tim stretches out his hand as if he’s reaching for an invisible Superboy, so Jason takes the opportunity to start rolling up his sleeve and cleaning the inside of his elbow. Lucky for him, he always has a sanitized syringe. Now he just needs Tim to stay still.

What if it doesn’t work? What if I make it worse?

“Kon El, no,” Tim gasps. “KON EL! CONNER!”

Jason had never seen Impulse going full speed. But he did meet Barry Allen back when he was Robin and he never forgot the deafening noise of someone breaking the barrier of sound. More familiar is the noise of his freaking wall exploding. Before Jason realizes, he’s being ripped away from his screaming brother. He hacks and struggles, but there isn’t a lot he can do when a kryptonian steel arm presses against his throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Superboy growls, his eyes already glowing red.

Jason would be impressed with the boy’s ability to look murderous if he wasn’t about to have his head melted. He struggles a little more. Superboy doesn’t even seem to notice. Jason then pathetically raises the syringe in his hand and manages to choke out:

“A-antidote.”

Superboy blinks once. His eyes return to the regular shade of blue. He blinks twice. His expression shows only confusion when he releases Jason, that promptly falls on his knees. Jason coughs, touching his throat as if to make sure it’s still intact. Damn clone.

“What happened to him?” Superboy demands.

Tim isn’t trying to get up anymore, but rather convulsing on the same spot, screaming wordlessly in horror, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Jason coughs some more before he’s able to say something. “A-ask that first next time, will you? It’s… it’s fear gas.”

“And, what, am I supposed to believe you were helping him?” Superboy snarls.

Jason groans. He doesn’t have time for this. Tim has his eyes firmly shut and every scream, every time his voice breaks, it feels like someone is slashing at Jason’s chest, robbing him of air almost as effectively as Superboy did.

“I was about to do that before you interrupted,” Jason shows him the syringe again. “What do you think?”

Superboy squints at him, unhappy with his response.

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason snarls. “At this point, he’s gonna have a heart attack. I need you to hold him still.”

Superboy bites his lip in hesitation but Tim screams his name again and he winces as if the sound is kryptonite for his ears. Finally, he nods and crouches down by the mattress.

“It’s okay, Rob,” he says. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

At that, Tim miraculously relaxes for a second. Jason kneels by his side again and holds the outstretched arm Superboy is keeping still.

“Don’t hurt him,” Jason warns. Judging by the look Superboy gives him, the only reason he’s not getting the laser eye treatment is because he’s the only one around capable of helping Tim.

“No,” Tim whines. “Not Jason…”

Jason freezes. Superboy’s eyes start to glow again.

“Not Jason, not again,” Tim continues, delirious, his expression twisting in pain. “Please, please, don’t, help him, HELP HIM!”

Jason stabs the needle into his pale skin and it’s a miracle that he does it right, because he is shaking. Fuck this. Fuck Scarecrow. It’s wrong, it’s horrible to hear Red Robin begging like that. He hates the way the kid startles with the needle. He’s thankful that Superboy makes sure Tim stays put, because he doesn’t think his trembling hands could do that now.

“It’s okay, Timbers,” Jason hears himself saying, “it’s over now.”

“Please,” Tim sobs again, “I- I’m gonna solve this.”

God. Jason grabs his hand. “You did enough, baby bird. You solved enough already.”

Tim whimpers, but finally starts relaxing. It seems like the antidote is working its magic and the boy falls right asleep.

Superboy refuses to leave, much to Jason’s chagrin. It doesn’t surprise him, though. Conner is Tim’s favorite conversation subject when he’s in a good mood and apparently the clone is ready to just fly to Gotham if he hears Tim’s voice.

“You know, metas aren’t allowed here,” Jason reminds him.

Superboy has been stomping back and forth around Tim’s mattress. He's so angry that Jason is worried he’ll break the floor any minute now, but he stops to give Jason the biggest, meanest glower of the night. He doesn’t look anything like the mental picture Tim painted of him. Even with his ripped skinny jeans and 90’s leather jacket and dumb earrings, Superboy looks absolutely murderous.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Tim’s fine,” he says.

Jason sighs.

“Why are we here?” Superboy snaps. “Why didn’t you call Alfred or… or Batman or…”

“Because we don’t do that,” Jason cuts him. “Red Robin is not Batman's sidekick. If we can solve shit without involving Batman, we don’t involve Batman.”

It’s their unspoken rule, Jason knows that since the first time they fought side by side - the first time they had a sleepover - and he brought Tim home to patch him up. They don’t call dad or their older bro if they’re in trouble, because that’ll lead to them being in more trouble. They simply watch out for each other as much as they can.

Superboy isn’t happy with that explanation, but, before he can murder Jason for real, Tim stirs.

Jason and Superboy are kneeling by his side at the same time, which says something, since Jason doesn't have superspeed.

“Timbers?” Jason calls.

“Jay…?” Tim mumbles and his voice is still a little raw from all the screaming. He blinks and his eyes set on his best friend. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Superboy says simply. “I told you all you had to do was call my name.”

“How’s the head?” Jason asks. “You're still smart, right? You can’t afford to lose your brain cells, Timbers, with your ugly face they’re all you have.”

Tim snorts. Then groans. “Fuck off, Jason, don’t make me laugh.”

Jason smiles at him and he doesn’t notice the weird look Superboy is giving them.

“Rob? Do you remember what happened?”

Tim starts to sit up and Superboy is faster than Jason in wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. He helps Tim rest his back against the wall and the grateful look Tim gives him makes Jason frown a bit because he feels there is something there he’s missing.

“Hmmm… We were fighting Scarecrow,” Tim says. “Fear gas, broken rebreather...” He looks at Jason as if seeking for confirmation. When Jason nods, he continues, “Jay got me out of there and the rest is… Wait. Where is Scarecrow? Did he escape?”

“That should be the last of your worries, Timothy, you almost died of fear,” Superboy scolds.

Tim sighs. “Oh, to be a young vigilante in the XXI century… passing away of fright.”

Superboy doesn’t get it, judging by his expression, but Jason does and he laughs out loud. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s lip quirk up.

“See, baby bird, this is why I wear a helmet and so should you,” Jason says.

“Okay, but have you considered that we’d look stupid if we were all the man in the iron mask?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “God forbid a whole family fighting criminals in leather fursuits look stupid. We wouldn’t fucking want that.”

Tim laughs, even if his voice is still a little hoarse, and Jason is relieved.

He is so relieved to see his brother fine that he doesn’t pay attention to the fact that Superboy still has his arm around Tim’s shoulders. That Superboy’s eyes get all soft when Tim laughs. That Superboy looks a little hurt when he offers to fly Tim home, but Tim refuses, saying that he’d rather spend the rest of the night here.

“I mean, if that’s fine…?” He glances at Jason, reminding him of those first sleepovers, when he was still unsure whether he’d be welcome or not.

Jason is so done feeling or letting his brother feel like an outsider. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, I don’t see why you’d go back to your own apartment when you can just sleep on a perfectly good mattress on the floor.”

“Hm. Cool then,” Superboy says, but instead of flying out through the giant hole he made on the wall, he shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, clearly stalling.

Both brothers notice it. Neither has a problem interpreting Superboy’s fidgeting. Jason finds it annoying, but Tim gives him a pleading look. Jason sighs.

“You can stay too, big guy, but you gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

Superboy’s face lights up and he definitely doesn’t look like he wanted to melt Jason’s head just a couple of minutes ago. He rambles that it’s all good, he just needs to text Ma Kent to let her know where he is and he’s used to sleeping on the floor of the barn with Krypto and the cows (Jason would find that more upsetting if he didn’t know there is a cow somewhere in the Wayne manor too and Damian sleeps in the cave with it all the time).

In the end, Tim bullies Jason into giving Superboy the thickest blanket he has around. He tries suggesting he should sleep in the blanket and let Jason and Superboy share the mattress, but shuts up mid sentence under their glares.

It’s probably the most awkward sleepover so far, but Tim grins at Jason, grateful, and turns his back to him to be able to talk to Superboy in hushed whispers.

Jason tunes out their conversation and focuses on the fact that he did it. He saved Tim. It doesn’t make up for the times he fucked up in the past, but it sure makes him feel better about the present. He’s also thankful that Tim stayed instead of going to his own place. Hearing your little brother scream in fear for your life isn’t something enjoyable and Jason is sure he would have nightmares about if it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was laying right there in front of him. It’s the sound of his brother’s muffled laughter, mixed with Superboy’s, that lulls him to sleep.

Jason should have noticed then. But he didn’t.

For an intelligent guy, Jason can be really stupid sometimes.

The thing is… Jason is smart. He’s not Tim Drake smart, but he’s still a good detective. He’s also fairly sociable. Or at least he used to be, before he, you know, died and went through all the trauma, etc. He is no Dick Grayson, but he can hold a good conversation, pick up the right social cues, all that crap.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t mess up sometimes.

You see, months go by. Red Hood and Red Robin don’t often go on the field together, after all it’d do a number to both of their reputations, but, when they do, one of them always ends up injured and the other carries him home. It’s like a curse, the universe telling them to stick to their off-patrol partnership. Then a couple of weeks go by and they miss the feeling of fighting side-by-side and there they go again.

Tim keeps showing up at Jason’s place whenever he feels like it and he even hangs around Jason’s visiting friends sometimes. Kori adores Tim from the first time she puts her eyes on him. Roy takes a little longer to warm up, but even he can’t resist the kid. Jason likes it. He likes having his brother around. He likes that they get on like a house on fire.

So much he forgets Tim is a master of hiding shit.

On the week nearing Tim’s 19th birthday, Jason goes to his apartment. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway there that he hadn’t been to Tim’s place since the night he met Prudence, which is odd, because it’d been basically a year and a half. Still, Tim goes over to Jason’s place all the time. The fact that Jason doesn’t repay the favor has everything to do with the fact that Jason hates Tim’s magazine apartment and nothing else.

Right?

Instead of going for the door, Jason uses his signature move and just swings to the balcony. The door is unlocked - Jason really has to have a talk with Tim about security, they’re in Gotham, for fuck’s sake - and he lets himself in.

To Tim’s credit, the place looks more well lived in now. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a forgotten mug and a couple of books on the coffee table. Jason recognizes his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and makes an annoyed sound noticing Tim’s bookmarker is still somewhere in the middle of the book even if it’s been weeks since Jason let him borrow it.

“Tim?” Jason calls. It’s half past nine, a little early for vigilante standards, but…

He hears the sound of someone sputtering and coughing from the kitchen. There he is.

Jason heads there and finds Tim desperately grabbing paper towels to clean coffee he apparently just spilled on his bare chest.

“J-Jason!”

“Jumpy aren’t we?” Jason comments. “What’s up, baby bird?”

It’s clear that Tim had just woken up, judging by his messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but red sweatpants with Superman’s symbol all over. His mildly terrified expression is weird, though. Tim is usually slow in the morning, but not that easy to startle.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispers, clearly panicking.

The fact that Jason never visits Tim’s place suddenly comes to his mind. The possibility of him not being welcome hits him and it’s surprisingly painful. He thought they were doing well, that the kid liked him. All this time, was he being arrogant?

As his brain scrambles for something to say, something to think, he notices a sound that he hadn’t registered before: the shower.

Suddenly Tim’s rapidly reddening cheeks and doe wide eyes gain a new meaning. Jason forgets the hurt and a sly smile stretches on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh god, this is priceless. Baby bird, do you have a lady guest from last night?”

Tim makes a weird choking sound and this is too good, Jason is too delighted, look at little Timmy go, already getting it. (Jason would’ve chosen different pants for the morning after, but alas.)

Then a voice calls out: “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

A male voice.

Tim’s face becomes three shades darker, now perfectly matching his pants. Jason’s grin is now frozen on his face, his eyes wide with the realization.

The shower stops.

“Tim?” The voice calls again.

“I’m fine, Kon!” Tim responds and his voice is surprisingly even, considering he looks like he’s having an aneurysm.

That’s a bat for you. Master of hiding their emotions.

Sort of.

Kon, Tim said. Jason realizes that Tim isn’t wearing Superman merch. The sweatpants are Superboy themed.

Jason still remembers Superboy’s protective streak all those months ago and the fact that he woke up to the two of them holding hands - at the time, he thought nothing of it, because it had been a stressful night and he didn’t blame either boy for wanting to make sure the other was okay - and he thinks of all the subsequent times Tim went on and on about Conner and how a couple of weeks ago Tim just stopped mentioning Conner altogether.

God, Jason is the worst detective ever.

Tim pushes Jason out of the kitchen and towards the living room, presumably farther from the bathroom where his boyfriend with super hearing was showering.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters, “ fuckfuckfuck… ”

And he looks and sounds so distraught that Jason loses all the eagerness to tease him, concern quickly replacing any initial surprise he might have been feeling.

“Look,” Tim murmurs, looking anywhere but at Jason’s eyes, “it’s not… we’re just…”

Tim scrambles for words and this is so unlike him - Tim always has a plan, always knows what to say - it takes a moment for Jason to catch up on why he’s a stuttering mess. Jason had been so excited to find out his little brother had a boyfriend he forgot he lived in a world where homophobia was a thing.

“Timbers, chill out.” Jason grabs Tim’s hands from where they’re still resting on his shoulders. “It’s just me.”

Tim dares raise his gaze to meet Jason’s and it hurts a bit to see still a little fear in his blue eyes. Jason gives him an encouraging grin.

“I can’t believe you officially bagged a kryptonian. Way to go, kid.”

His shoulders slouch in utter relief right before he starts blushing again. What a cute kid.

“You keep calling me kid. You’re not that older. And don’t say it like that,” Tim mumbles.

“Like what? Like you’re snogging Superboy?” Tim punches him on the shoulder and Jason laughs. “Now I know why you were in such a hurry to leave the manor, you wanted your own place to bring your boyfriend over…”

“That’s not why I left and who said anything about a boyfriend? Maybe this was just a one night stand.”

Jason gives him a condescending look. “Timbers, I might have not realized you’re gay, but I do know you. You’re a boyfriend kinda guy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and mumbles something about assuming shit. “I’m bi,” he says.

“Cool,” Jason says, a shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Tim groans and lets himself fall on the couch. “How do you de-escalate an emotional situation so fast?”

“It’s a Bat thing, and you know how to do it too. All of us are trained to avoid emotions like the plague.”

“I was not prepared to come out when I got up this morning,” Tim admits.

Humming, Jason finally realizes that Tim doesn’t want to skip the emotions for this one. He sighs. The things he does for his brothers.

“It’s not a big deal, though,” he says. “I mean, you’re happy right?”

“I’m never happy.”

“Don’t quote Zuko. You started the real talk. You don’t get to bat your way out of it now.”

A sigh. “I’m happy. Conner is… the best.”

Jason nods. “Then it’s all good. I’m sure all the others would say the same.”

“You can't tell them!” Tim snaps, his eyes suddenly wide with panic again. “Seriously, Jay, you can’t-”

“Calm down, kid,” Jason cuts him off. “When did I make a habit of spilling your secrets to the B-man? It's none of their business.” Tim visibly relaxes and Jason adds: “Actually… Want me to make your house Dick-proof?”

“...what?”

“I mean, not kryptonian dick, you’re clearly into that,” and he ignores it when Tim pops him on the back of the head. “I mean Dick Dick, our brother. I could set up a better security system so you don’t have to worry about one of your siblings walking into something scarring, especially the clingy one.”

“No security system can stop Dick’s clinginess.”

“How do you think I keep him off my place?”

That’s when their little pow wow gets interrupted by more kryptonian skin than Jason ever wanted to see as Conner walks in with nothing but the smallest of the towels wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what is--” He notices Jason and slips on literally nothing, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. “ Shit- I mean, nothing, I mean, we were just binging Wendy!”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does give Tim a look that says it all. He wasn't judging earlier, but he is now. Tim gives him a look that definitely means shut up.

In the end, Jason stays for breakfast.

It’s only mildly awkward, because he and Tim fill the silence talking about the latest case Jason’s working on while Conner makes them pancakes. Judging by the fact that he’s getting the ingredients from a bunch of plastic bags, he must have brought all the food with him. If anything, Jason is grateful that he and Alfred are no longer the only people trying to get Tim to eat actual food.

When Tim turns to Conner for his opinion, leaving Jason to enjoy his coffee, Jason looks around and notices that there are new pictures on the fridge. There are some of those disgustingly cute pictures of Tim and Conner, their cheeks pressed together as they make weird faces for the camera. There is a picture of Conner by himself and, again disgustingly, he is smiling at the camera as though the most precious person in the world is behind it. Both pictures are held by a sun magnet. There is a new candid shot of Cassandra, one of Alfred-Alfred holding cat Alfred, a new one of Dick and even Damian is in there.

And, his heart stops for a second, because now there are pictures of Jason as well.

They’re carefully placed far from each other, but there are three different pictures. There is one of Jason wearing his Lord of the Rings shirt, eating cereal on the couch, a confused expression on his face. He remembers when Tim took that picture, because Tim waited until Jason had his mouth full before calling hey Jay? and snapping the picture right as Jason looked at him, his cheeks like a chipmunk's. The second picture is a candid of him smiling, leaning against the rail of some safehouse balcony. The shot was carefully framed to not show anything distinct of the surroundings, just Jason and Gotham’s sky.

The third one is a selfie. In it, Jason is asleep, his lips parted and face relaxed, his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. Tim has a shit eating grin on his lips as if there is nothing funnier to him than his giant older brother falling asleep on him in the middle of movie night. Tim had the decency of drawing a mustache on Jason’s face to decrease sappiness, but that effect is ruined by the fact that the picture is held by a magnet that was clearly Iron Man but Tim had painted it red to look like Jason’s hood.

Jason had sworn off killing, at least for a little while.

But he would gladly kill again for his little brother.

As he gets ready to leave, he turns to Conner and deadpans, “I don’t have to tell you that I can and I will make kryptonite bullets, do I?”

“Jason!” Tim scolds.

“What? I’m the first of the family to find out. Least I can do is taje care of the shovel talk.”

“Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Conner blushes profusely and mouths the word boyfriend with marvel and ugh. Just… ugh . Jason is happy that Tim is happy, but he and Conner are apparently that kind of couple and Jason wants to have none of it.

“So, first we kill Damian,” Jason starts.

“No,” Tim says.

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even consider it!”

Cassandra waits until they decide their plan of action (it’s probably going to be Tim’s) and keeps her expression carefully neutral as not to show which one of them she agrees with (Tim).

The thing, Jason realized, is that all of them have favorites in their family and knowing that makes it easier to tear them down. Dick can fuck off with his I love you all equally bullshit, because he clearly always favors Damian. Damian swings between Batdad’s little boy and Nightwing’s murder baby. Tim will easily lose focus whenever Steph is involved. Steph is oddly protective of Duke, for some reason. Cassandra is mostly neutral. She’s everyone’s favorite, including Bruce’s, but she’s also the deadliest of them all so she is no one’s weakness. She does, however, have a soft spot for Tim over any of her brothers. Since Jason became close friends with Tim, he entered Cassandra’s selective protection bubble and he’s now, by all definitions, untouchable.

Or at least that’s how he felt when she chose him for her team right after Tim.

“We kill Dick first,” Tim knocks down the little Nightwing action figure on the carpet. “Cass, you’re the only one who can take him down. Jay and I distract the others while you do the job. Damian will get personally offended by that and will grow reckless.” He knocks down the little imp figurine. “I can take care of him then. Steph will be hiding somewhere ready to strike. She is best in close range combat. Jay, I need you to take her down before she gets too close.” He pushes down the Barbie doll someone dressed as Batgirl, because apparently they couldn’t find blonde Batgirl merch and they were very offended. “Then we win.”

He may sound impressive, but the whole time he’s speaking he has his head resting on Cass’ lap and she is carding her fingers through his hair as a villain would do to their evil pet cat.

“Can’t I murder the demon brat?” Jason complains.

Tim glares at him - again, not very intimidating while he’s basically lying on his sister’s lap.

“You know Steph would wipe the floor with me. You’re the only one I can trust to get her.”

“Unless…” Jason turns around. “Du-”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Jason, we’re all rich, you can’t buy me.” Duke doesn’t even raise his eyes from his book. “Plus last time I let y’all drag me into this shit, Steph knocked off one of my teeth with Tim’s staff.”

“If you hadn’t killed me, then she wouldn’t have taken revenge,” Tim argues.

“And yet you’re planning to kill Dick counting on the fact that Damian will try to avenge him.”

“Wet blanket,” Cassandra says.

Tim and Jason go into a giggling fit as Duke sputters, too indignant to put his thoughts into words.

In the end, Duke still doesn’t join them.

As they expected, the enemy was listening to their plan - Jason is sure Dick was against it, but Stephanie and Damian are definitely not above spying - nonetheless they still played their parts as expected: Steph and Damian tried protecting Dick first and foremost, but not even the two of them combined could take Cassandra. Not with Jason and Tim backing her up.

Cassandra knocks Dick down and sits on his back. The large yellow paint splash on his chest proves that he’s dead. Rather than being upset, Dick starts doing push ups with his sister there as the rest of his siblings and Steph fight to death.

Unfortunately, Damian wasn’t as angered by Dick’s demise as they expected and is still a good match for Tim. Until Tim gasps and goes Titus, don’t eat that! It was an obvious ploy, but still got Damian to let down his guard and whip his head around looking for his precious dog. Tim shoots him without hesitation and Damian goes on a rage soliloquy.

Jason would appreciate it if he wasn’t having such a hard time with Stephanie. Apparently Barbara has been feeding her steroids, because the girl is now as quick as a ninja. She hits Jason in the kneecaps with Tim’s staff - they’re not even in the same team this time, how the fuck did she get Tim’s staff??? - and shoots him point blank in the chest. And damn, that shit hurts. He bets it’s purple under his shirt too.

Steph is mid celebration when her victory whoop turns into a pained groan. Twin splotches of red and yellow bloom on her back as Cassandra and Tim lower their guns.

“Fuck,” Jason complains. “Couldn’t’ve done that before she killed me?”

“We win,” Cassandra says.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to the death now?” Dick asks. Now that Cass is off his back, he’s lying on the side like one of your French girls. Jason wishes Cass would shoot him again.

“I would never betray Cass,” Tim says.

“We rule together.” She walks to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.

Tim grins a wicked grin because he knows he is Cassandra’s favorite and everyone can die mad about it.

Steph and Damian start shouting their complaints at the same time while Dick laughs his ass off. From his lawn chair, Duke is glaring at them as if he can’t believe he’s legally related to any of these weirdos.

His gaze meets Dick’s and his older brother looks absolutely elated with pride even though all of their siblings are yelling about paintball.

Jason simply smiles back.

#jason todd #tim drake #red hood #red robin #batfam #batfam big bang 2020 #poteto writing #red bros #collab

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Black Tie.”

I hope you guys like this. Writing has been weirdly difficult for me these past few days, so I sort of hope it isn’t showing lol

This is a little peak into the way that humans try to subtly one up each other in social situations, so Karma is fun :) 

Krill was mildly uncomfortable, and so was Sunny. They had all been invited to what the humans described as a “black tie” event on mars mostly for political delegations, rich sponsors, a couple of famous people, and the occasional member of the UNSC or the GA. Most of the GA reps were Rundi since they tended to like this political sort of thing. There was at least one Tesraki, who had made the executive decision to come since he saw financial opportunity in getting to know some rich humans.

Sunny had been invited to stand in for the Drev counselor, who could not attend due to some issues back on Anum. Dr Krill and Dr. Katie had been invited to attend the event in case medical personnel were required for any reason.

Adam was the only one who had been invited for himself.

The black tie event had been sent by way of a physical letter which Adam had called, “Excessively pretentious.” in a day and age where everything was sent electronically. The fact they had managed to get a letter to him out in the middle of space in the first place was pretty impressive.

Sunny hadn’t really known or cared what all of this meant, but Adam had been nervous and very serious about the dress code. Despite thinking the entire thing was pretentious, that didn't stop him from immediately sending away for his mother’s help.

Sunny was, of course, encouraged to wear ceremonial formal armor to the event.

Krill was keeping very close track of this odd human behavior constantly asking questions as Adam was preparing himself.

“Why don’t you just wear a regular suit?”

“Because that would be a social faux pas.”

“A what?”

He sighed, “I don't know, it's french or something. I think it’s a ballet term. IT just means it would be a social screw up and people would totally judge me for it.”

“They would judge you for wearing the wrong thing?” Krill wondered curiously.

Adam nodded, “That is the point of these parties, and has been for the last two and a half thousand years. These parties are honestly just the biggest pissing contests where people try to out dress each other in subtle ways, and the old people who know what they are doing make fun of the new people for having no idea how to do it properly.” 

Krill looked interested, “how fascinating. So it is a way to show your status subtly.”

“Oh yes. Status is a big deal. It started to go out of style for a while, but this whole adherence to dress code has come back with a vengeance in the last few years. The fashion world has seen an upheaval in pretentiousness, and celebrities have been laughed out of parties for trying to be avant-garde.”

“To be what?”

“Sorry, pretty sure that’s also french too. It means new, interesting, or out of the ordinary usually to make a statement.”

Sunny leaned in a little, “And they expect an air force commander to know how to properly dress for black tie?”

“They don’t, which is why they invited me. I am supposed to make others look good by looking bad. Of course I also make them look good by being invited in the first place. Of course joke's on them because i have a secret weapon on my side…” He patted the front of his shirt, “Thank you mother.” 

“I am now confused.”

Adam waved a hand, “Yeah, I know, It’s pretty stupid 

“I thought you recently decided that you like dressing up.” The human turned in place a couple of times in front of the mirror trying to get a better view of himself, “Correction, I have always enjoyed dressing up -- got that from my mom -- what I don’t enjoy is the pissing contest that comes along with it.

“What is that?”

“Bow tie.”

“You look like someone’s Christmas present.”

He adjusted the bow tie, “Well than someone is getting a sexy as fuck Christmas present now aren’t they.”

He buttoned up the front of the ‘waistcoat’ and pulled on the jacket.

When he was done, the two aliens had to admit that he really did stand out, all in black black pants black tuxedo jacket, cuff links, black tie, black waistcoat, and a purple/blue carnation threaded through the buttonhole on the lapel.

His shoes were almost as reflective as the mirror behind him.

“How do I look?”

“Like a goofy idiot, but the suit wasn’t going to change that.” He lifted a finger to flip Sunny off.

“Not very dapper of you.” Katie said from the doorway.

They looked up to see Katie, who had also commissioned a dress from Martha, and honestly made Adam look a little plain.

“Ready to go.”

“As I will ever be.”

***

Krill kept a shrewd eye on all the strange human protocols. As far as dressing up went Krill could immediately see who the in-crowd included. Ost of those people understood the rules Adam had laid out for him wearing the proper evening attire, where those not in the-in wore clothing that approximated the rules but missed them on several occasions. 

The way the evening was set up was a little bit more like a ‘ball’ as Adam described being announced as they were walked in, and then ordered to mingle with the crowd. Adam and Katie got a few glances from the in-group who seemed surprised that a simple ship captain would known anything about formal evening attire.

Sunny just found the entire thing hilarious. All of this subtle dressing up to impress each other.

If Drev held balls, instead of dancing they would probably just beat each other to death.

But here, there were a lot of subtle clues and hints that went right over her and the Doctor’s heads, while Adam seemed to know what he was doing.

As they walked in waiters offered Adam an alcoholic drink, while Krill received water, and sunny a rather strange tincture that was generally just water with plant flavoring. It was pretty good though so she didn’t complain.

They were met on arriving by the event coordinator whose eyes opened wide when she saw Adam pausing and holding out a hand.

Due to the conflated and rather twisted nature of black tie events in the future, Adam took the hand, and bowed a bit lowering his head, a strange area between the less formal handshake and the more formal kiss on the hand, which was also not a thing in societies post WWIII

“Commander, I… you look…” She trailed off 

Even to sunny it was clear the woman hadn’t expected him to know anything.

He smiled icily at her.

Krill leaned in in fascination.

This was one of the most intriguing parts of humanity. The polite way in which they were totally rude to each other, “Well than you. My mother has a Ph.D  in the information age and a masters in historical fashion.”

That shut the woman up and she politely dismissed herself walking away straight back.

Adam smirked, “Her dress isn’t the right length for an evening event.”

“I thought she coordinated the event.” Sunny muttered

“She couldn’t coordinate herself out of a paper bag.” He winked at Sunny and Krill, “You can’t out-dress the son of a historical fashion expert. Simply not possible, she even used the correct materials.” He tugged lightly at his jacket.

Dr. Katie had disappeared on entry leaving the three of them to wander about the room as Adam pointed out the other important people.

There were a few military commanders, rundi, and the aforementioned Tesraki. There were at least five major political leaders, and even larger handful of actors who had their hands in charities or political causes related to the event.

Adam was only halfway through his first drink when he was waylaid by one of the younger actors. Even Sunny could tell straight off that he was not dressed appropriately.  He had clearly tried very hard, but his efforts were in vain. While everything looked alright from a distance, up close something was wrong about everything. The material of his jacket, the style of his shirt, the type of pants, the lapels on the coat, and even the patterned pocket square which should have been a solid color but wasn’t.

He was joined by another group of men who then began some pretentious conversation about noticing how Adam was new to these sort of events. The way they spoke made it pretty clear they had no idea who he was or what the proper dress code was either.

Adam smiled and didn’t say anything.

“And what do you do for a living?” One of them asked

“Simply a UNSC representative.”

“Ah that explains a lot.” They glanced down at him with pointed looks 

The conversation continued. Sunn wondered why Adam didn’t just shut them all up by telling them exactly who he was, but Krill had a theory that Adam was just playing with them as a human way to build up the moment so that he could socially crush them.

As humans do, their conversation wandered until it eventually moved around to the UNSC and other related topics. 

One of the men nodded knowingly, “I am somewhat knowledgeable on the subject myself.” Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Are you?”

“Well yes, I have a brother in law who flies shuttles and planes for the UNSC. Tell me, what is your opinion on the D-4 class engine on a F-90 darkfire. I honestly think they are rather overpowered for what is being asked of them.”

Adam frowned, “The darkfire doesn't have a D-4 engine. That is a warp classification which-”

The man raised a hand, “No no. I heard my brother in law talking about it. Personally I think they should have just kept the jet engines they would have been plenty enough power to make it into orbit.

The Commander’s face scrunched in confusion as he shook his head, “No, it's a fusion engine, and the jet engine can’t fly in the upper atmosphere because there is no lift-”

“Look, Adam, was that your name. I generally tend to know what I am talking about. The darkfire jet engines would have plenty of power to make it into atmosphere,”

“But its a jet engine which implies it is for a plane and not for a rocket-” 

The guy cut him off again and continued to ramble onward about how he took some engineering classes in college and would know what he was talking about. Since Adam Joined the UNSC and didn’t go to college, that he probably didn’t know anything at all, or at least that is what they said in not so many words.

Sunny was getting a bit annoyed and would like to have squished the guy, but Adam just shook his head at her.

She stayed silent and grumpy as the other men continued to correct Adam on knowledge of his own favorite aircraft.

“My brother owns a spaceship with a class E warp core one of them boasted.” 

Adam rolled his eyes, “There is no such thing-”

“My brother owns the craft, I am pretty sure I know what I am talking about. It’s one of the most powerful cores in the galaxy.”

“Um, I don’t think.”

“Yes the E is more powerful than the A. A ship like the Harbinger or the Enterprise would only make it part of the way across the galaxy but the-” He kept going. 

Adam looked like he was dying but why didn’t he say anything.

It was just then that someone appeared from the crowd. Sunny recognized a political figure they had met at GA summits on occasion.

He raised his glass and stepped into the group, “Ah commander! I am glad to see you could make it.”

The group of men glanced at each other in confusion.

Adam nodded, “It’s good to see you two counselor.” He motioned to the group we were just having a fascinating discussion on warp engines.”

“Oh yes.” He turned to look at the men, “Than I am sure the commander has told you about his escapades as a darkfire pilot.”

The satisfaction Sunny got from watching their faces was priceless, almost orgasmic. She could tell from the look on Adam’s face that he was feeling similarly, “Well no we had not made it to the subject, “I was just going to explain to them how the duel E 20 engine has both a jet engine and a fusion engine. The jet engine for flying in atmosphere and the Fusion engine for moving out of atmosphere considering that the jet engine is not powerful enough to lift the craft without air buoyancy.”

Sunny was laughing on the inside.

“Ah yes. I seem to recall a discussion along those lines. Tell me commander, what about the Harbinger’s engine is it a class A-1.”

Adam nodded, “Could potentially get you to the other side of the universe if you asked her. The classification system is A-D 1-4 on each, so my ship has one of the most powerful engines mankind has ever bothered to build.”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye and the other men who were beginning to slink away.

Sunny chirped in pleasure.

The rep nodded as they left, “I heard the futility of your conversation from the other side of the room.”

“Thanks for the help. I was dying inside.”

The two men laughed and took their drinks.

Krill was very pleased with his examination on how humans subtly tried to one up each other with their dress and understanding of certain topics, though it seemed odd to him that someone would claim to be an expert when it was, in fact, their brother or brother in law who knew about the subject and not them.

But he supposed that was the social nature of humanity. 

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Paint

Chapter 26 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is up!

In which Felassan reveals yet another hobby. 😂 Featuring gorgeous art this week by @elbenherzart​!!

~8100 words; read on AO3 instead.

The following days were a buzz of activity for Tamaris and Felassan. Gone was the lazy flow of leisurely-executed activities that had previously characterized their time; now, it almost felt to Tamaris like there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything they wanted to do. 

Their morning sparring sessions were becoming longer and more strenuous as Felassan’s grasp of his magic grew. He switching between types of magic now in his attacks, transitioning from fire to lighting to ice to raw Fade strikes while using barriers to repel Tamaris’s blows, and by the time they finished their sparring these days, they were often too fatigued to fuck right afterwards like they’d been doing when his magical control was more modest.

Outside of their sparring sessions, Felassan kept working on his magic by himself. He tinkered with Dorian’s crystals and pored through the few tomes on magic that he’d found in the mansion’s library, as well as a few tomes that Varric had given him from the stock that was salvaged from the Gallows during the Kirkwall Uprising. Dorian was sending a selection of more complex books from Tevinter, and until they arrived, Felassan cheerfully made fun of the Chantry-based books he did have access to, even as he read them. 

While Felassan was working on his magic, Tamaris worked on getting herself back up to speed about current events happening in Thedas and what the other branches of the wolf hunt were doing. They sat together in the study, Felassan working at the desk while Tamaris spread her papers and reports across the couch and floor, and they frequently made snarky comments to each other about what they were reading. Although it wasn’t pleasant to be so busy again, Tamaris had to admit that it was nice to have a constant companion who was working just as hard as she. 

One day, Tamaris looked up from one of Leliana’s coded letters to find Felassan leaning back against the desk with his arms folded and a pensive frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He met her eye. “That piece of ironwood I gave you. Can I have it?”

Her eyes widened. He’d given her his piece of ironwood so long ago now that she’d been half-wondering if he’d forgotten about it. “Of course,” she said, and she stood from the couch. “What are you — are you going to make a staff with it?”

“I’m going to try,” he said.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed. “That’s – I’ll go get it right now.” She ran upstairs to her bedroom and pulled the short length of ironwood out of her dresser. 

It was wrapped in a fine silk scarf Josephine had given her. She carefully unwrapped it, then ran back downstairs and held it out to Felassan.

He smiled faintly as he took it. “Why do I get the impression that you’re more excited about this than I am?”

“It is exciting,” she insisted. “You’re going to… I mean, I don’t really know what you’re going to do, but you’re going to try and make this into a staff! That means you feel pretty confident that you can do it, right?”

“I’m reasonably confident that I won’t blow up the house while trying,” he said wryly.

She frowned. “Come on, Felassan, don’t be so down on yourself. You’ve got so much more control than you did a month ago.” Just this morning, they’d been discussing the possibility that he shouldn’t spar with her anymore out of concern that he might harm her, since his attacks were surpassing the bounds of her barriers to repel him.

“True,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I am close to what I used to be.” He twirled the ironwood in his fingers and gave her a knowing look. “Using magic in this time truly is a matter of control and skill, you know. The feeling of magic being like a second seamless heartbeat really was an artifact of my time. Waking up in this time was like… like having to learn to speak again. Conscious manipulation of a skill I once took for granted.” He gestured at himself. “This relearning is like doing that all over again, but even more difficult since I can’t do what I intend to do.”

“You couldn’t before,” she said emphatically. “Now you can.”

He shrugged. “I can sometimes.”

She frowned more deeply. “Most of the time. You do what you mean to do three-quarters of the time now.”

He smirked. “Have you been keeping a ledger of my progress that I don’t know about?”

“I’m proud of you, okay?” she blurted.

He raised his eyebrows, and she hunched her shoulders defensively. “I’m just… You thought you might not recover anything when you first got here. You’ve come a long way.”

His expression softened with fondness. “I haven’t tried to do anything particularly complex. Certainly nothing as complex as making a staff.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “Just try, and if you can’t do it right away, keep trying. You’ll get it.”

His smile widened. “Look at you, being all optimistic. If not for your scowl, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

She scoffed and gently shoved his chest. “Go make your staff, you brat. I’ve got reports to read.” She started back toward the couch, but Felassan grabbed her hand before she could get very far.

He pulled her close and stroked the metal joint of her left wrist. “Ise inor vhenan. Do you know what this means?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “‘Heart of fire’?” she said hesitantly.

“‘Fire in the heart,’ yes,” he said. “It’s an Elvhen term for someone who refuses to give up, even when the odds are stacked against them.” He smiled faintly. “Determination to the point of stubbornness.”

“Uh-huh,” she said flatly. “You’re calling me the stubborn one here, I guess?”

His smile widened. “I’m saying you are the fire in my heart, Tamaris. And I appreciate your stubborn reminders that I am, in fact, getting better.”

Her belly burst into giddy butterflies. The fire in my heart... 

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a stupid grin from spreading across her face. She gave him a chiding look instead. “Now who’s trying to seduce whom?”

His smile curled with mischief, and he tipped her chin up with a gentle finger. “Not when you have so many fascinating reports to read,” he murmured. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips, and for a blissful moment, she melted helplessly into his kiss.

He leaned away from her with a smile, and Tamaris grinned goofily at him before tottering back to her spot on the couch. Felassan chuckled and returned to his desk, and it was with a light and happy heart that Tamaris returned to her pile of reports.

Their evenings were spent with Varric and Dorian discussing the ways they could use Felassan’s information to benefit the wolf hunt. Tamaris felt that getting in touch with the Grey Wardens’s commanders should be a top priority. “We should be telling them not to kill the last two archdemons, right?” she said one night as they gathered at the dining table with Dorian’s crystal. “They should know the archdemons might be guarding against the Blight, so if anything, the Wardens should be protecting the archdemons from being found by the darkspawn.” Based on the information that Felassan had outlined, they had come to the conclusion that events like the Fifth Blight happened when the darkspawn infected the archdemons, and not that the archdemons were galvanizing the darkspawn into action like everyone seemed to think.

Felassan shrugged. “It probably would be ideal for them to stop attacking the archdemons, yes.”

“But you don’t think they’ll stop,” Varric said.

Felassan smiled faintly. “I think they have several centuries’ worth of evidence that killing archdemons coincides with the end of a Blight event, and no reason to accept the hypothesis of a random elf.”

“Well, we still have to try,” Tamaris retorted.

“I am not saying not to try,” Felassan said. “But I also think it might be worth launching our own independent ventures to find the archdemons.”

Varric grimaced. “That’s a pretty ambitious undertaking, Jester.”

“True,” Felassan said casually. “You could also speak to individual lower-ranking Wardens rather than approaching their commanders.”

Dorian’s voice floated up from the crystal. “Why shouldn’t we try and approach the Warden-Commanders?”

“People in charge are usually disinclined to listen to strange ideas,” Felassan said. “They’re considerably more skeptical than the average person. The more experience they have, the more convinced in their rightness — and the more closed-off — they tend to be.”

Varric chuckled. “Not a fan of authority figures, are you?”

Felassan widened his eyes. “I respect authority figures deeply. That doesn’t mean I listen to them or follow what they say.”

Tamaris snorted with amusement. Felassan smiled at her, then casually waved his hand. “Anyway, we should start looking for stray lower-ranking Wardens. Not only might they be more open-minded, but they could lead us to Weisshaupt, if that’s still where you think the Wardens are gathering.”

Varric scribbled a memo in his notebook. “All right. More efforts to find the Wardens. Any other thoughts?”

 Dorian spoke up. “I was thinking about the fact that Solas has so much knowledge at his disposal now, with those two other souls piggybacking on his body. It certainly puts us at a disadvantage, but he’s not the only person we know whose head is stuffed with ancient knowledge.”

Tamaris nodded ruefully; she’d been thinking the same thing. “You mean Morrigan.”

 “Yes,” Dorian said. “We should try and get her assistance. There must be information from the Well of Sorrows that can benefit us.”

She ran her hand slowly through her hair. When Dorian spoke again, his voice was gentle, as though he could see her reluctance. “I know you wanted to let her raise Kieran in peace, but if Solas drops the Veil, there will be nowhere safe left for them to live. Or any of us, for that matter.”

“No, I know. You’re right.” Tamaris sighed and lowered her hand. “How should we even go about trying to find her? She doesn’t care about keeping in touch with anyone.”

Varric tapped his quill idly on his notebook. “The Hero of Ferelden would be a good bet. Nightingale said she and Morrigan were close back in the day.”

Tamaris frowned. “That was over ten years ago. And isn’t Mahariel already going off to spy on the qunari?”

“She’d have time to send a letter,” Varric said reasonably. 

“I guess,” Tamaris said, somewhat reluctantly. She still felt guilty about the Hero of Ferelden doing so many tasks for the wolf hunt after everything she’d already done for Ferelden, but no one seemed to have any choice about getting pulled into all of this. 

“Okay,” Varric said as he took another note. “Get the hero to write to the swamp witch.” He looked up at Felassan and Tamaris. “Any other ideas?”

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about, actually,” Tamaris said. She gave Felassan a critical look. “The Well of Sorrows. The fact that it even existed and that Mythal had warriors who were bound to her will. Don’t you think that’s fucked up?”

He pulled a little face. “It’s not a fate I would ever choose, that’s for certain.”

“So why did she make anyone choose it?” Tamaris demanded. “Why make anyone be bound to her will?”

“Remember that the Sentinel order arose around the time that the Evanuris were all starting to war with each other,” Felassan said. “In retrospect, I wonder if the rising of the Sentinels might have been the first sign that Mythal was worried she would be betrayed. An order of warriors who are bound to your will means they can’t betray you, not even if you die. Allegedly die, that is,” he added.

Tamaris folded her arms. In her opinion, that was no excuse. “What did Solas think of the Sentinels when Mythal started recruiting them?” she asked.

Felassan grimaced again. “He was… conflicted,” he said slowly. “On the one hand, Abelas and the others were willingly giving themselves into Mythal’s will, so technically they were submitting to her by choice. But by submitting to her, they were effectively making themselves her slaves.” Felassan twisted his lips ruefully. “It certainly kept him up at night, even if he didn’t speak against her outright.”

Tamaris relaxed slightly at this. “It didn’t seem to sit right with him when we were there, either.” 

Felassan nodded and gave her an appraising look. “You never considered drinking from the Well, did you?”

“I mean, sure, I considered it for a second,” she said. “Until Solas refused point-blank to drink from it. If he was saying no, then I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do it.”

Felassan snorted a laugh. “Wise of you to follow his example. It would be a very different Tamaris sitting before us now if you had drunk from the Vir’Abelasan.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here at all, if Solas really is hosting Mythal.”

Tamaris frowned, but Dorian filled in his unspoken thoughts. “Fasta vass. You think he would have taken control of Tamaris via Mythal?”

Tamaris’s guts went cold at the thought, and Felassan’s answer only discomfited her more. “It’s possible,” he said.

“So that means Morrigan could be in trouble now, then,” Tamaris said tensely. “And Kieran too.”

“Also possible,” Felassan said.

“Shit. Fuck.” She ran her hands through her hair, then gestured at Varric’s notebook. “Write that down. Trying to find her should be a priority.”

“Fen’Harel won’t kill them, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Felassan said. 

Varric gave him a skeptical look. “If he’s willing to bring the Veil down on us, he’s probably not too concerned about killing one woman and her kid.”

“It’s not like that,” Tamaris said. “Solas doesn’t want to kill more people than he has to.” 

Varric looked at her in surprise, and Dorian sounded surprised as well when he replied. “That almost sounded like you’re defending him.”

“She’s not defending him,” Felassan said. “She’s just explaining him.”

She looked up to find Felassan smiling at her. But instead of smiling back, she frowned. “Can you explain something to me? Why did he trust her?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Who, Morrigan?”

She gave him a chiding look. “No. Mythal. She was so fucking shady. The dwarf stuff, the Well of Sorrows stuff, hiding her dragon without telling him so he thought she was dead, not to mention how smug and bitchy she was when I met her, and all the shitty things Morrigan said about being raised by her. How could Solas have trusted her?”

His smile began to melt into that look of anachronistic melancholy that made Tamaris’s heart twist. “I don’t know if it is possible to explain the strength of the ties that exist between them,” he said quietly. “Can any of us even imagine the depth of love that could develop between two beings who have known each other for several thousand years? Solas knew Mythal since he was barely more than a wisp. She was one of the main sources of pride that fed and fostered him before he became an elf. She shaped him in ways that none of us can fully understand. Even if he later realized that some of her proudest achievements were terrible mistakes, the depth of his devotion to her would have made him incapable of seeing her as truly flawed.”

Dorian hummed an acknowledgement. “Love is blind, hm?”

Varric grunted. “It’s a literary cliché for a reason.”

“It really is,” Felassan said. His tone was jocular, but his smile was wry and sad.

Tamaris reached over and squeezed his thigh. Then Varric snapped his fingers. “Hey, that reminds me. I was thinking about the whole Mythal-hiding-her-dragon thing the other day, and I thought, uh… well, what if Mythal’s dragon really is dead?”

Felassan straightened in his chair. “Interesting. Then how do you propose that she survived?”

Varric put his quill down. “Well, Hawke had this amulet that Flemeth told her to take to the Dalish. She took it to our friend Merrill’s clan, and Merrill did some kind of ritual, and Flemeth popped out of the amulet like… like, uh…”

“Like magic?” Dorian suggested wryly.

Varric laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Obviously.”

Dorian chuckled, but to Tamaris’s surprise, Felassan just stared at Varric without laughing.

“Felassan, what’s wrong?” she asked.

He continued to stare at Varric. “Why didn’t you mention this the other day when I was talking about the dragons?”

Varric shrugged. “I didn’t think of it then.”

“I wish you had,” Felassan said. “That changes everything. If Mythal’s dragon truly was killed, but she had another piece of her life essence stored in an amulet…” He trailed off, then snorted a sudden little laugh. “Amulets are far easier to hide than dragons, you know.”

Varric shrugged and picked up his quill. “I mean, I could be wrong. You can read The Tale of the Champion yourself and see what you think.”

“You should read it, actually,” Tamaris piped in. “There’s more detail in there about Merrill and her eluvian, too.” She turned to Varric. “It’s the same eluvian that gave the Hero of Ferelden the blight, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Daisy said,” Varric replied.

Felassan looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, an eluvian gave the Hero of Ferelden the blight?” he said sharply.

Varric tilted his head in an equivocal gesture. “Well, maybe it didn’t directly give Mahariel the blight, especially if only living stuff can have the blight. But it was definitely involved, from what Daisy told us.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, eluvians aren’t alive, are they?”

“No, they’re… they’re not alive,” Felassan said numbly. He kept staring at Varric in a stunned sort of way that made Tamaris nervous.

She tapped his thigh. “Felassan, are you–?”

He suddenly burst out laughing — a distinctly hysterical-sounding laugh. Tamaris shifted closer to him and held out her hand, and he grabbed it as he dragged in a breath. 

She squeezed his fingers. “Just breathe,” she said soothingly.

He nodded, then burst out another uncontrolled laugh. “Just when I think I have a grasp on this time, I realize something enormously significant that I missed,” he wheezed.

“What do you think you missed?” Dorian asked.

Felassan giggled before dragging in another calming breath. “An eluvian that’s steeped somehow in the blight makes me think there is a specific place that it was keyed to access. A place that was so catastrophically affected by the blight that the eluvians connected to it might be growing red lyrium.”

Tamaris’s eyes widened. “Arlathan?” she breathed.

Felassan nodded and chuckled, and Tamaris sighed. “Fuck. So we should try and get Merrill somewhere safe too, then.”

Varric sighed. “I hate to tell you this, but I haven’t heard from Daisy in a while.”

Tamaris’s stomach went cold once more. “You think she’s working with Solas?”

Varric twisted his lips sadly. “She’d have good reason to, if he sweet-talked her with stories about the ancient elves.”

Felassan sighed. “That’s good.”

Tamaris frowned at him, affronted. “It’s good? What do you mean, it’s good? One more ally for Solas means one less for us!”

Felassan gave her a chiding look. “It would also mean that an eluvian leading straight to the Black City is under Solas’s control and not, for example, Tevinter’s. Neither is… ideal, but having that eluvian in Tevinter hands is probably worse.” He cocked his head. “Probably.”

“That hurts my feelings slightly,” Dorian said.

Felassan chuckled, then sighed and rubbed his forehead, and Tamaris studied him with a pang of sympathy. He looked so tired. 

She squeezed his hand once more. He gave her a little smile, then squeezed her hand in turn before kicking his feet up on the table. “In any case, I know what’s next on my reading list.” He shot Varric a smirk. “Maybe you should just give me an annotated bibliography of your work so I can catch up on everything I need to know about the last twenty years.”

Varric huffed in amusement. “I guess I could get you a copy of all my works. I am just a humble servant to my loyal readers, after all.”

Felassan smiled at him. “A sweet sentiment. That reminds me, how is your most loyal reader?”

Varric rolled his eyes. “Cassandra’s fine. Yes, I wrote her a smut scene. And no, you can’t read it.”

Dorian burst out laughing while Felassan complained playfully about not being allowed to read Varric’s smut, and Tamaris listened to the three of them faux-bickering with a bittersweet feeling in her chest. 

Later that evening, long after Dorian ended the call and Varric had gone home, Tamaris trudged gloomily back to the study to read some more reports. A minute later, Felassan sidled into the study as well.

He pushed some of her papers aside to sit down beside her, and Tamaris poked him in the arm. “Hey, don’t touch my mess. I have a system.”

He draped his arm over the back of the couch. “You’re not really going to continue working now, are you?”

She scratched her ear. “Well, I — there was one last report I was in the middle of reading, so I just want to finish it.”

“Finish it tomorrow,” he said. 

She gave him a chiding look. “You’re being a brat.”

“And you’re working far too hard for someone who doesn’t actually have anything to do.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to rub it in? I feel guilty enough already.”

He tilted his head. “You feel guilty staying in this house with me while my magic is too uncontrolled to travel?”

Her eyes widened in dismay. “Wha– no, that’s not what I mean at all!”

“Then why bother feeling guilty?” he asked.

She gazed at him in exasperation. “It’s — I can’t just turn it off, okay? Everyone else is working hard, including you. I need to do something.”

He shrugged. “You can help me with making my staff.”

Her irritation melted into surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said. “You have full control of your magic. It will form a stabilizing influence to help me channel mine into the ironwood.”

She smiled at the thought of helping Felassan with something magical, then wilted slightly. “Are you sure you don’t want Dorian’s help instead? His mana reserves are way stronger than mine.”

Felassan smirked. “Jealous, are you?”

“No, for once,” she said snarkily. “Just being practical.”

His smile widened. “So you admit that you are jealous of my friendship with Dorian.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her half-read report. “Fuck off and let me read my report, will you?”

He chuckled and plucked the papers from her hand. “To answer your question, no. I don’t want his help. Even if he could help via the sending crystal, which he can’t, I would still be asking for your help instead.”

“And why’s that?” she grumbled.

“Because I’ll enjoy feeling the hum of your magic in my fingers when I use the staff,” he replied.

She looked at him with fresh curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll leave a magical signature in the wood if you help me make my staff,” he explained. “It will be an enjoyable feeling when I’m blowing apart our enemies.” 

“Oh,” she said dumbly. His tone was casual, but she couldn’t help but feel oddly flattered that he would want to feel her magical signature during a fight. 

She shyly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, um. Sure, I’d be happy to help.”

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll let you know when I need your hands.”

She blinked in confusion. “Oh, you – you don’t want to do this now?”

“Oh, no,” he said casually. “My experimentation today proved that I need more time to practice the spells for imbuing our signatures into the wood, not to mention tailoring it to the size-modulating spell I’ll be putting on the staff.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Besides, we’re not working anymore tonight.” 

“We’re not, huh?” she said wryly.

“No,” Felassan said. “We’re going to do something fun.”

His tone and the curl of his lips were mischievous, and Tamaris smirked. “Like what?” she said drolly.

His answer surprised her, though. “Like painting the walls.” 

She wilted. “You want to start painting the walls? Now?” She eyed the plain washed walls of the study with some resignation.

“Not those walls, and not that kind of paint,” he said. “Come.” He stood up and held out his hand.

Tamaris sighed and allowed him to pull her up from the couch. He led her to the foyer and jerked his thumb at the east-facing wall of the foyer, which they’d painted a deep peacock blue. “This bores me,” he said. “I think we should paint a mural.”

She balked slightly. “A mural?” Her mind instantly went to the murals Solas had painted on the walls of the rotunda: those huge, floor-to-ceiling works that he’d painted during the year he’d spent by her side — beautiful masterpieces that she’d once considered as tributes to his love for her, but which had later been too painful for her to look at, leading her to avoid the rotunda altogether. 

Felassan, as usual, picked up on her thoughts. He gave her a knowing look. “Not a mural like Fen’Harel’s. Something much simpler and much less planned.” 

Tamaris gave him a cautious look. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing in particular, really,” he said. He looked at the wall and thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I usually just start painting and see where my hands take me.”

She gazed at him with growing confusion. “W-wait. You… do you know how to paint?”

He shrugged. “I have been known to paint sometimes.”

She gaped at him. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe I didn’t want to be made fun of for having yet another hobby.”

She gently punched his arm. “Don’t be stupid! I would never make fun of you for being an artist! Would I have seen anything you painted? In the Vir Dirthara or any ancient temples or anything?” Her eyes widened. “Or — or even at Skyhold?”

He gave her a mischievous grin. “You flatter me by suggesting anything I paint would be worthy of such illustrious locations.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “That's not an answer.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. And you might have seen some of my work, though it would be hard to tell it apart from the work of others.”

“What do you mean?”

He let out a little huff of laughter and rubbed his mouth, as though he was thinking of a private joke. “Did you ever see quick, messy paintings of elven warriors going to battle on halla?”

“Yes, in many places,” she said. She paused, then double-taked at him. “Wait, those were by you?”

“Not just me,” Felassan said. “Fen’Harel’s rebels had a tendency to leave our mark in the places where we foiled our foes.”

Tamaris stared at him, then smiled. “You vandalized the Evanuris’s property while you were freeing their slaves?”

Felassan grinned. “I like to think we improved their decor, much like you and I are doing in this house. Now let’s see how we can improve this wall, why don’t we?” He started opening the pails of paint, then glanced up at Tamaris. “Can you bring some bowls so we can mix the colours?”

“Sure,” she said. She hurried to the kitchen and came back a minute later to find that Felassan had already laid some dropcloths on the floor along the base of the wall.

He gestured to the floor. “Set them here. You don’t mind ruining those bowls with paint, do you?”

“I don’t give a single fuck about these bowls,” she said.

He snickered. “I figured as much.” He poured together some red and yellow paint to make a deep orange shade, then looked up at her as he stirred the paint. “What colours are you in the mood for?”

She blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said drolly. “What colours do you want to start with?”

She recoiled. “What? No. I’m not — I’ll just watch.”

He paused in his stirring. “That won’t do. You have to paint.”

She laughed at his bossy tone. “No I don’t. I’ll just watch.” She sat on the carpet and wrapped her arms around her knees, perfectly willing to watch Felassan the way she used to watch Solas during the long nights when he painted his murals.

Felassan gave her a chiding look, then gestured for her to come closer. “Come, avise. Paint with me. You’ll like it.”

She stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t know how to paint.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I knew how to paint before I started vandalizing the Evanuris’s walls?”

“I thought you were ‘improving their decor’, not vandalizing,” Tamaris retorted.

He grinned. “Silly me. Of course that’s what we were doing. Now come, I need your help to improve this wall. What colours do you want to add?”

She gave him a knowing look. “If I touch that wall, I’m going to fuck it up.”

“Anything you do will be an improvement over the wallpaper that was here before,” he said.

She snorted a laugh. “You know what, that’s true.”

He raised his eyebrows hopefully, and Tamaris finally gave in with a sigh. “Fine. How about…” She paused and gazed idly into his expectant violet eyes.

“Purple,” she said. “Mix me up some purple paint.” 

“Purple it is,” he said. He mixed together some red and blue paint and added some white to lighten the shade, then held out the bowl.

She stood up and took the bowl. “I need a brush.”

“Use your fingers,” he said.

She recoiled slightly. This would make an enormous mess if she painted with her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I never joke about vandalism,” he said. “I take it very seriously.”

He was grinning. His eyes were dancing with mischief and he looked so carefree and young, and Tamaris couldn’t help but smile in response to his joy. 

She blew out a breath. “All right, but if it looks really bad, we’re painting over it.” She dipped her fingers in the thick paint, then smeared some of it on the wall. 

She immediately regretted what she’d done. The paint began to run in slow drips, and Tamaris was forced to catch it with her fingers and smear it even more. Exasperated, she started rubbing the paint haphazardly onto the wall until it was a blobby patch of purple.

She threw Felassan an I-told-you-so look. “See? It looks like shit.”

He shook his head. “Keep going,” he said. He was still smiling, and Tamaris gazed at him with rising annoyance.

“Keep going with what?” she demanded. “It’s an ugly smudge.”

“You had something in mind when you started painting,” he said. “Keep going with it.” He picked up the bowl of orange paint, then padded over to the other end of the wall and began dashing the paint onto the wall in quick practiced strokes that clearly told her he’d done this a thousand times.

She sighed, then dipped her fingers in the paint again and kept slapping it haphazardly onto the wall in a series of vaguely rounded irregularly-sized blobs. A few minutes later, she set the bowl down and wiped her hand on the dropcloth before looking over at what Felassan was doing. 

Her eyebrows jumped up. Felassan was painting a series of what looked like stylized orange teardrops that varied in size and shape, but the shifting shades of orange and red and yellow were clearly meant to signify fire. 

She narrowed her eyes. The shifting colours in his painted flamedrops represented such a subtle blend. How was he managing to make the colours meld so seamlessly? He was holding the bowl of orange paint, but the buckets of yellow and red were sitting on the floor a good two metres away from him. 

She stepped away from the wall, and Felassan looked over at her. His gaze darted to the wall, and he smiled. “Clouds,” he said.

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Really original, I know.”

He gave her a chiding look. “A wise woman once said you shouldn’t be so down on yourself.” He approached her end of the wall and examined her purple smudgy clouds for a second, then dipped his fingers into his bowl of orange paint and added a dash of orange to the underside of each cloud.

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. The orange underline gave the impression that each blobby cloud was lit from below by the setting sun. It was exactly what she’d been thinking of when she started to paint: sitting on the roof with Felassan while the fading light of day lit the clouds aglow from beneath.

She looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Better? Worse?” He smiled faintly. “Did I ruin your artistic vision?” 

She swallowed hard, feeling oddly emotional by his addition. She shook her head. “You un-ruined it,” she said gruffly. 

His smile widened. “Oh good. I’d always dearly hoped to un-ruin something during the course of my life.” 

She scoffed, then nodded her chin at his drops of flame. “What are you doing over there?”

“Sketching,” he said. “Working out an idea.” He nodded at her clouds. “Keep going. Or paint something else.”

She nodded, but as Felassan returned to his side of the wall with his bowl of orange paint, she couldn’t help but watch him instead. He continued painting drops of flame on the wall, then eventually put the orange paint aside and picked up the bucket of green paint instead. He set the bucket on the floor by his feet and started scrawling green shapes on the wall that looked like stylized leaves, and Tamaris was once again awed — and bemused — by how seamlessly he seemed to be blending the orange of the flames into the green of the leaves. 

She watched him with unabashed interest, her own painting endeavours forgotten in favour of watching Felassan instead. He eventually paused and smiled at her. “If you’re going to stare, this really is your chance to paint a picture. The paints are open and everything.” 

She smiled at his cheeky remark. “I’d honestly rather watch,” she said. “I want to see what you come up with.”

He gave her a reproving look, and she waved dismissively. “I mean it. I’ll have more fun watching you than I will with actually painting.”

He frowned at her for a moment longer, then finally shrugged. “All right, but you’re going to start off the next mural. I insist on it.”

She wilted slightly. “The next one?”

He nodded. “We need to cover every wall of this house with filthy knife-ear art.”

Tamaris burst out a laugh. “That would be pretty good revenge for how aggressively Orlesian this house was before we got here.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” he said complacently. “I have always enjoyed exacting petty revenge through the use of paint.”

She beamed at him. “You really are a vandal, you know that?”

He bowed politely to her. “Thank you, Tamaris. That warms my heart.”

She chuckled and settled on the carpet once more. She hadn’t been self-deprecating when she’d told Felassan she wanted to watch him instead of doing the painting. She’d always enjoyed watching artists working on their craft — and one of the artists she’d most enjoyed watching, unfortunately, was Solas.

She’d never seen an artist who worked the way Solas did. Watching him transform the rotunda walls from raw rock to smooth plaster to charcoal sketches and finally to fully-rendered murals had been, in her eyes, its own form of magic. Solas’s careful stepwise method had also been something to marvel at; he always started with a lovingly-crafted small-scale sketch of each design before translating the sketch to the walls in perfect proportion, and the actual painting of the mural was an all-night process that exemplified his focus and methodical devotion to the art. During those all-night painting sessions, Solas was intent and focused and almost completely silent, and Tamaris couldn’t remember a single time when he’d faltered or made a mistake in the execution of his spectacular works.

Watching Felassan paint, on the other hand... truly, it was nothing like watching Solas. Felassan hadn’t planned a thing, opting instead to experiment directly on the walls with his fingers instead of the sorts of fine brushes that Solas used to use. His movements were loose and relaxed and lacking in precision, and he kept jumping between the different elements of the scene he was creating: adding a bunch of those green leaf shapes, then adding some more flames, then swiping a streak of gold in a bold vertical arch through the cluster of flames before starting to add some violet clouds to his end of the mural. He hummed to himself as he worked and made little playful comments to her over his shoulder, and when the occasional drop of paint rolled slowly down the wall from his quick and messy application, he simply blended it back into the wall or painted over it with a new leaf or flame. 

She stared shamelessly at Felassan’s emerging work. His application method appeared slapdash and careless, but the effect was anything but; his work was striking and bold, and to Tamaris’s eye, very appealing. The lines varied from dark saturated lines to graceful faded streaks, giving his mural a dynamic and energetic feel that was more emotion than story, and Tamaris felt energized in turn as she watched him moving from one end of the wall to the other and back. 

The longer he worked, the less he spoke and the more focused he seemed to become, even as his movements remained loose and flowing. He looked incredibly graceful as he moved across the wall, and he was using both hands now to paint, and–

Wait. Both hands? she thought. And with a jolt, she realized that Felassan was no longer holding a bowl of paint in his hand. Even so, the colours continued to flow from his fingers as though he had dipped his fingers into the paint. But how…? 

She narrowed her eyes and watched him more carefully. And eventually, with a rising of wonder, she realized what he was doing. He kept gesturing in the direction of the paints and twisting his wrists as though he was dipping his hands into the paints, and the amount of paint in the buckets and the bowls was actually decreasing in accordance with the movements of his hands. 

It’s magic, she thought in amazement. He’s using magic to pull the paint to his hands and to blend the colours. Her heart was pounding now with excitement at his exquisitely controlled magical feat, but she continued to watch him in silence, unwilling to disturb his flow by commenting on what he was doing. 

He flicked his wrist at the bucket of gold paint, then dragged his fingers in a long horizontal line from the center of the vertical arch and back toward Tamaris’s end of the wall, and Tamaris finally recognized the shape that dominated most of the mural: a stylized bow and arrow, with a background of flames toward the front of the bow that blended into leaves toward the end. Enthralled by his design and by the magical way he was executing it, she wrapped her arms loosely around her knees and continued to watch as he added a silvery-white bowstring, then a purple-silvery arrowhead and purple-and-red fletching to the arrow. 

He stood back briefly to study the design before going over the golden bow and arrow again with a smattering of brown, making the bow and arrow look like a combination of wood and gold. 

He paused again and idly scratched the back of his neck, and Tamaris watched with a swelling of affection as he smeared some paint on his neck. 

He turned to face her then. “Look at me?” he said.

She lifted her eyes to his face, and her breath stalled in her chest; his beautiful amethyst eyes were bright with focus. He studied her face intently for a long second, then nodded and turned back to the wall. He flicked his wrist at the paints, then started painting over the leaves again with a slightly lighter shade of green that blended into a darker green at the edges. 

When he finished re-painting the leaves, he stood back once more and folded his arms as he surveyed his work, and Tamaris stared shamelessly at his handsome profile as he studied the wall. He carelessly flicked his wrist at the paint buckets, then flicked his fingers at the wall, and Tamaris watched as a fine blend of white and bright blue droplets appeared in misty-looking streaks near the upper edge of the bow — a fine blend that would have required painstaking care to paint by hand, but which Felassan’s magic had rendered quick and doable. His magic, which he was clearly gaining better control over with every passing day… 

Her heart throbbed again with an undeniable surge of pride. Felassan continued to flick streaks and curls of fine blue-and-white droplets across the mural, and Tamaris eventually realized that the streaks and curls looked like smoke, which made sense given the omnipresent stylized fire that dominated much of the right-hand side of the mural. 

He stepped away from the wall one more time to examine his work, then finally nodded in satisfaction. He turned to face her with a smile. “So? What do you think?”

“I love it. It’s beautiful,” she said. Then she immediately regretted her inane compliment. It sounded so paltry compared to the way her heart was pounding in her chest, as though it wanted to escape the confines of her ribcage and leap into his open hands.

He sat beside her with a satisfied sigh. “I’m glad you like it. It’s us, after all.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

He gestured at the wall. “It’s us. A slow arrow dancing with flames. And a little bit of deep mushroom smoke, of course.” He smirked, then gently lifted her chin and studied her face. “I’m not convinced that I captured the shade of your eyes right, though.”

“My eyes?” she said stupidly.

“Yes, your eyes,” he said vaguely. He was still carefully examining her face. “Those green shapes on the left half of the wall.”

Those are my eyes? she thought. The green shapes he’d painted, then painstakingly repainted a second time to adjust their shade: those were meant to represent her eyes? 

He chuckled and lowered his hand. “Tell me the truth. You thought they were leaves, didn’t you?”

She stared wordlessly at him, overwhelmed by the perfection of this moment — the perfection of him. Her body was still buzzing with energy from watching him paint, and her heart was humming besottedly from the careful way he’d inspected the verdancy of her eyes. The memory of his loose and joyful movements danced across her mind as surely as his paint-slathered hands had danced across the wall, and gods, the laughter in his voice and in his smile… 

Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was shocked he couldn’t hear it. She swallowed hard and gazed at the mural once more — this mural that was them, that was her and Felassan together: a slow arrow dancing in flames, splashed boldly across the wall of this house for everyone to see. As Tamaris studied the bold jewel tones of the freshly-painted wall, it dawned on her that she had never seen any mural more beautiful than the one Felassan had just rendered with his magic and his own two hands. 

Tamaris tore her gaze away from the mural and met his bright violet eyes. “I love you,” she said.

A slow and brilliant smile lit his entire face, like a bursting of joy that rendered him even more painfully handsome than he already was. Tamaris stared gormlessly at him, her throat thickening with emotion as she took in the tenderness in his face. 

He cradled her neck in his palm. “I know, Tamaris,” he murmured.

Her heart squeezed with nerves. She swallowed hard, then smacked his chest. “You know? What do you mean, you know?”

His smile grew wider and softer at once. “I know you love me. I don’t need to hear you say it.”

Feeling slightly stung, she scoffed and tried to push him away. “You’re so fucking smug.”

He pulled her easily into his lap. “I don’t need to hear you say it, but I have been waiting for you to say it first.”

“Why?” she complained. “Why did I have to say it first?”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if I said it first,” he replied.

She darted him a cautious look. If he said it first? So that meant — did that mean…?

She cleared her throat and rubbed at the dent on her metal arm. “So… say it back, meaning…?”

He chuckled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It means that I love you too, felasil’ain. But I think you already knew that.” 

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she gazed silently into his glittering amethyst eyes. As usual, Felassan was right. He’d been right when he said that empty words couldn’t wipe her bitterness away. And now, in this moment, he was right when he said that mere words of love weren’t necessary. Just because he’d never said he loved her didn’t mean she didn’t know — and if she dug beneath the surface of her own stubborn insecurity, she could openly admit that she’d known all along.

She knew Felassan loved her; of course she knew, because it was infused into his every act. He made foods that he knew she would like and concocted herbal remedies for her withdrawal and her pain. He offered her massages and pulled her out of her terrible moods with his terrible jokes. He kissed her like there was nothing else he would rather do, and he fucked her like he was trying to wring every last shiver of pleasure from her body, and he was patient — almost unfathomably patient. He listened while she talked about Solas, and he’d tolerated the torture of their heated trysts until she was ready to have sex again, and he’d waited quietly while she held back the words of love that seemed to consume her more with every passing day.

No longer would she be consumed by those words. No longer would she be held hostage by them — especially not when his feelings for her were so patently obvious. 

She straddled him and cradled his paint-stained neck in her palms. “I love you,” she said huskily. “I — you’re right, okay? I wanted to say it for weeks but I felt — I don’t know, shy or something. I was being stupid.”

He squeezed her waist soothingly. “You were not being stupid. And there’s no need to explain. I told you, I don’t need you to say it.”

“Well, I need to say it,” she retorted. “And you deserve to hear it, okay? I fucking love you.”

He grinned at her, then broke into laughter. “How is it possible for someone to be affectionate and rude at once?”

She tsked and smacked his chest. “Shut the fuck up,” she said, and she kissed him. 

He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her tongue with his, and Tamaris happily capitulated to the heat of his kiss. When he broke away from her lips to laugh, she was helpless to do anything but laugh in turn.

They sat twined together on the floor, kissing and laughing and making fun of each other in husky murmured voices, and Tamaris basked shamelessly in the ample evidence of Felassan’s love. His lips pulled gently at hers and his hands moved carefully over her body, and there on the wall, looming benevolently over them in bright and brilliant strokes of colour, was the most visible sign of his love: a mural rendered by Felassan’s bare hands — a mural showing his slow arrow dancing fearlessly and boldly through the fire of her heart.

#felassan #save felassan #felassan romance #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #the love that grows from violence #pikapeppa writes #elbenherzart

[notes-from-sarah]

The Thimblerig Plot

Link on Fanfiction.net

Link on Archive of Our Own

Rating: T

Summary: Anakin is captured by Count Dooku and slated for execution. This is a problem for Sidious who must quickly free Anakin without arousing his current place-holder apprentice’s suspicions. Hiring a Mandalorian might be the only solution. Set during Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Lucas era canon compliant.

Chapter 1 - A Small Problem

A/N: Set after Star Wars: The Clone Wars Season 5, Episode 16. The Clone Wars Season 7/The Final Season is not considered canon for this work. 

*****

"Master," Darth Tyranus' dulcet tones filtered through the static filled holo connection, "I have tremendous news to report."

The recorded message had been sent some hours ago by this point, Sidious had only just now been able to tear himself away from his duties and find out how the battle had gone. He had foreseen Tyranus' victory at Cressill and he knew that the message would contain news of the Separatist conquest. The Dark Side was a swift friend, bringing him news sometimes even years before an event.

"I have brought an end to Republic interference on Cressill. The system is now under the loving guidance of the Confederacy."

Good, thought Sidious. The fall of Cressill would weaken the entire sector and spread the Jedi even thinner than before. Soon, the Republic would be so weak that the slightest pressure would bring the whole corrupt, bloated mass tumbling down. A dark smile broke over his features.

"I am also pleased to report that I have captured alive the Jedi knight Anakin Skywalker, the so-called Hero of the Republic. I am en route to Raxus now where a highly publicized execution at the Separatist capital will take place. I think such a move will be sufficiently demoralizing for Republic forces." Tyranus' bluish holo projection waved and sputtered as the signal struggled to maintain strength.

Sidious blinked, trying to make sense of what Tyranus had said. If he executed Anakin–

"Skywalker is regularly a thorn in the side of the Separatist forces. His capture and death will put us on the path to victory." Tyranus' image looked smug and his tone was self-congratulatory. The hazy holo image somehow not managing to hide the odious man's victorious smirk.

Sidious couldn't wait to be rid of the fool.

"I will contact you when I have reached Raxus." Tyranus vanished, his curt holo transmission ending with no revelation of the count's plans once he reached the planet.

Sidious twisted his lip, this couldn't have come at a worse time. Things had to be orchestrated just so, there was no room for error in this endeavor. He needed Anakin alive, and until Anakin was his apprentice, he needed Tyranus alive. He couldn't, at this moment, be without either of them. Somehow, Anakin had to escape and Tyranus had to allow it and neither of them be any the wiser to his true role in all of this. He would have to play this round very carefully, he knew all too well that a slighted apprentice was a dangerous thing.

Sidious submerged himself in the Dark Side, only it could tell him what to do.

*****

Dooku paced back and forth in front of the cell where Anakin was held, his luxurious cape just sweeping over the floor panels of the ship. The young Jedi was currently being restrained with a combination of electro-cuffs and a few tranquilizers. No need to tempt fate, after all. The young man had been something of an ever-present pest since that day in Geonosis, now he would be rid of him for good. Kenobi's former padawan was about to deal a severe blow to the Republic's morale. Once they landed on Raxus the war would be all but over. Had he realized on Geonosis how troublesome Skywalker would eventually prove to be Dooku would have ended him immediately back then.

Anakin grunted, the tranquilizers starting to wear off.

"Awake at last," said Dooku, "I was afraid you'd be asleep for hours."

"Dooku," Anakin started to struggle to his feet, but feeling the effects of the drugs seemed to think better of it. "What slimy hole did you slither out of? You always take great pains to be as far from the front as possible, I was surprised to find you on Cressill."

"Isn't that why you were on Cressill in the first place, young Jedi? Weren't you there to capture me and bring an end to this war?" Dooku leaned on the word young knowing how provocative it would be.

Anakin scowled. "I suppose you think you have the upper hand here, don't you?"

Dooku looked pointedly at the bars and cell walls before returning his gaze to Anakin. "Yes, I do."

"Well, I wouldn't get comfortable if I were you." Anakin pulled against his cuffs a bit, but promptly stopped when the electro-cuffs began to crackle. "As usual, you play the part of the coward."

"Young one," said Dooku, brushing aside the accusation of cowardice, "you have no idea how happy your impending death makes me." It would be a delicious moment when the stupid fool met his fate. Some part of Dooku knew that destroying Anakin was the single greatest thing he could do to change the course of the war. His master would be so pleased.

Anakin shook his hair out of his eyes. "Is that supposed to scare me? You're nothing but a feeble old man, you're never going to get away with this. I'll be out of here before you know it and on my way back with my legion before you even realize I'm gone."

Dooku smirked. "I got away last time you and I went head to head, I don't see how you've changed any. Even with a thousand clone slaves I don't know what you could possibly do against the power of the Dark Side."

Anakin scowled even deeper. "Mark my words, Dooku, this will end on my terms."

"Somehow, I don't think so, young one." Dooku raised a hand to summon a droid. "Now, I think you'd best go back to sleep." Punching in a code the cell door opened enough to permit the robot entry.

The round droid hovered into the cell carrying with it a long, sharp needle.

Anakin flinched as the needle found its mark. "You're never going to win, Dooku," he managed to say as the tranquilizers took effect.

"Such a childish sentiment. Goodnight, sweet prince."

*****

Bo-Katan rose at the sound of the lock to her cell door being disengaged. True to his word, Kenobi had raised the alarm about the anarchy on Mandalore. The resulting military action on the planet had swiftly resulted in her capture and confinement. She didn't know if the Republic had quashed the violence, but she rather suspected they had not. It was most certainly still ongoing and would continue to until the day the last Mando had been bled dry.

The door slid open and a Republic guard stepped into the room, two more hovered in the corridor outside the cell. All were armed and armored. "You are summoned for an audience. Turn around so that I can cuff you and bring you to the chamber."

"Who wants to talk to me?" Bo-Katan was suspicious. She'd been here for weeks already and so far no one had given a damn that she was in custody. The fighting must not being going well. Undoubtedly they wanted her to give them information on the inner workings of Mando culture, or Death Watch in particular. Whatever they wanted was sure to strip away even more of Mandalore's independence. She had told Kenobi to tell the Republic when her sister died, she regretted doing that.

"I'm not permitted to say for security reasons. You will find out soon enough." The guard motioned for Bo-Katan to turn around, the cuffs ready in her hand.

Bo-Katan turned, holding her hands behind her back. The guard cuffed her securely and led her out of the cell.

"Don't try anything extreme," warned the guard as she brandished her weapon, "I know you Mandalorians all have a death wish and I'm not about to get in trouble because of some suicidal heroics."

…

Bo-Katan was led into a spacious room with a huge picture window. Coruscant was big on a scale that was almost unimaginable. Mandalore seemed like a child's dollhouse in comparison. She stared at the traffic flow in the twilight sky, it was almost mesmerizing.

"Hello, Lady Kryze, it's good to see you finally."

Bo-Katan turned to see none other than the supreme chancellor. His neat hair and velvet robes the polar opposite of her own far shabbier appearance. She glanced the elderly man up and down as he strode across the room to his desk where he took a seat. She was fairly certain she could take him and escape custody if she really wanted too. She was a Mandalorian warrior, after all. And he? Just a withered prune. "Chancellor," her voice was cool, but not nearly as cold as Satine's would have been, her sister had had a talent for bone-chilling iciness. "To what do I owe the honor?"

The chancellor smiled blandly at her. "No need for the hostile tone, Lady Kryze. I apologize that I have not looked into your predicament till now. Your plight is a most stirring one, but I'm afraid the labors of the war have kept my every moment busy until just now."

Bo-Katan despised being patronized. "I thought the Republic would be ecstatic that they have a chance to grab another system for their side." She took a step closer to the desk. Asking Kenobi to bring in the Republic had certainly been a mistake. "Unless the Republic's takeover isn't going well and you've decided that you need my help." She would never forgive those offworlders who had killed everyone she loved and tore her planet to pieces.

"That is not quite why I asked you here today." Palpatine gave her a watery, meaningless smile. "In fact, I do believe the outside forces on Mandalore have expelled, much of the current fighting is between various factions of Mandalorians. I actually wanted to speak to you about you." Palpatine leaned back in his chair and observed her for a long moment.

Bo-Katan waited for him to continue. The cuffs chafed against her wrists and she twisted her hands uncomfortably in the silence.

"You, Lady Kryze, are a bit of an enigma." Palpatine folded his hands together. "Ostensibly, you are fighting against Separatist forces on Mandalore, and are in line with the Republic, so really you should go free and lead the anti-Separatist faction on Mandalore."

Bo-Katan was certain there was a however coming up somewhere.

"However," Palpatine continued, "that does not absolve you of your affiliation with Death Watch and it's anti-democratic activities. Death Watch has committed serious crimes against the Republic."

Here comes the deal, thought Bo-Katan. Whatever he offered she would very likely have to accept it. It wasn't so easy to get to Mandalore from the inside of a cell.

Palpatine rose and walked behind her. Releasing the lock on the cuffs he freed her hands. "I think the Republic will be able to overlook your past indiscretions on account of services rendered."

Bo-Katan turned to face the old man again. "And what services are those?"

"The Republic needs you, Lady Kryze. This war has too many fronts, it's impossible for the Jedi or the Grand Army to be everywhere they are needed. The Republic has need of a stealthy and cunning warrior, such as yourself, to complete an urgent mission behind enemy lines."

"What's in it for me, why should I risk my neck for a government I don't believe in?" Bo-Katan wasn't going to mince words. He had better have something good to offer.

"If you complete this task then you have my word that the Republic will back you to reclaim the throne of Mandalore. I can offer you money, troops, weapons, whatever you need to take back what is yours." Palpatine placed the cuffs on his desk. "However, if you are unable to accomplish the mission, then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to appoint a provisional council to govern Mandalore. Regrettably, such a council is unlikely to have any Mandalorian members, after all, most of them are caught up in a civil war and are of dubious loyalty to the Republic."

There it was, as neat a deal as could be offered. Bo-Katan crossed her arms over her chest. The Republic couldn't get away with this forever. For now, though, she'd have to acquiesce. She looked the old man square in the eye. "So, what's the mission?"

#Star Wars #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Bo-Katan Kryze #Boba Fett #Asajj Ventress #Anakin Skywalker #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Rescue Mission #Action/Adventure #Mandalorians #Jedi #Sith #Pic from the official Star Wars website

[gordonwilliamsweb]

If You Are Vaccinated, You Can Dance the Night Away

Marissa Castrigno was walking through downtown Wilmington, North Carolina, when she spotted the sign in the window of one of her favorite dance clubs. After months of being shuttered by the pandemic, Ibiza Nightclub was reopening April 30, it announced.

This story also ran on Raleigh News & Observer. It can be republished for free.

Thrilled, Castrigno immediately made plans with friends to be there.

About 50 miles north in Jacksonville, Kennedy Swift learned of Ibiza’s reopening on social media. He, too, decided to attend with friends.

But on the night of April 30, the two groups were in for a surprise — one they would react to in starkly different ways.

In addition to IDs, they learned, they’d need to show covid-19 vaccination cards for entry. The club was letting in only people who had had at least one shot.

“I was shocked,” said Swift, 21. He learned of the policy a few hours before the reopening, when the club posted it on its Facebook page.

He and his friends had to cancel their plans, since none of them was vaccinated.

“I’m not against [Ibiza] exercising their rights as a business,” Swift said. “I just think it’s foolish. … This will discourage a lot of former patrons from returning to the club.”

On the other hand, Castrigno and her friends, most of whom had been fully vaccinated since early April, felt the policy made their return to nightlife even better.

“There was raw excitement about going out to a place and feeling safe,” said Castrigno, 28.

Similar conversations are playing out across the country as vaccination rates increase and bars, clubs and other businesses navigate how to reopen. The concept of vaccine passports — which allow people who have been inoculated against covid and are at lower risk of contracting or spreading the disease to participate in certain activities — has been floated for clubs, cruise ships and other spaces where large groups gather in close quarters. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s recent announcement that vaccinated people can safely gather indoors and outdoors without masks has reignited the idea. Yet these passports remain highly controversial and their implementation is largely piecemeal. Many private businesses are making their own decisions, and governments in different parts of the country are adopting varying stances.

In New York, for instance, Gov. Andrew Cuomo announced in early May that places where proof of vaccination or a negative covid test are required can operate at a greater capacity. Some nightclubs there have implemented policies similar to Ibiza’s. In Florida, however, Gov. Ron DeSantis recently signed a law prohibiting businesses, schools and government offices from requiring proof of vaccination, with fines of up to $5,000 per incident.

For Ibiza Nightclub in southeastern North Carolina — a political battleground state — the vaccine card requirement is proving to be a lightning rod. The club’s Facebook post announcing the policy had sparked 70 comments as of mid-May, and posts across other platforms echoed different sides of the issue.

“I am thrilled to see a personal business putting the health and safety forward in order to keep their business running,” one comment read.

Others took a markedly different tone: “This is pretty dumb!”

“Discrimination, expect lawsuits,” read another.

The Honor Code

Last week, after the CDC said vaccinated adults could largely live their lives mask-free, Raleigh restaurant owner Hisine McNeill felt a troubling pang of déjà vu. He owns Alpha Dawgs, a sandwich shop in southeast Raleigh, and said small businesses like his carried the burden of mask enforcement for much of the pandemic. Now, he said, they’re tasked with trusting adults who say they’ve been vaccinated. He isn’t ready to do that.

“I don’t have the luxury of taking chances on an honor code,” McNeill said. “If I have an outbreak because someone didn’t wear a mask and have to close down, who’s going to help keep me open?”

McNeill opened Alpha Dawgs in 2018 and, like most restaurateurs, he said, struggled through the pandemic, professionally and personally. He said he has lost friends and family members and doesn’t believe the pandemic is over.

“I know people personally in the ICU still recovering from [covid],” McNeill said. “I don’t need any more examples about how serious this is.”

So McNeill posted a new requirement on the restaurant’s Facebook page. He asked everyone to continue wearing masks unless they were prepared to show him a vaccine card.

“To whom it may concern,” McNeill wrote. “If you decide to come into my establishment claiming that you are fully vaccinated, I WILL ASK TO SEE YOUR CARD. If you don’t want to provide it then you will have to wear a mask in my store. And if you still don’t want to comply with either then I have the right to deny service. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The day after he posted that statement, North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper eased most covid-related restrictions in the state, including its mask mandate. The Alpha Dawgs post stirred some online debate over masks and vaccinations and led to a few responses, including one from the Raleigh Republican Club.

“Should you be in the area…,” it read. “Eat somewhere else….”

McNeill felt the Raleigh Republican Club was calling for a boycott. Afterward, he noticed multiple one-star reviews pop up on Google, not from people who had been to the restaurant, but people accusing McNeill of discrimination.

“This is not political for me, this is a personal belief,” McNeill said. “I have an 85-year-old grandmother I see every other week. I’m going to make sure she’s protected.”

Raleigh Republican Club board member Guy Smith said the group’s post was written collectively, but he didn’t see it as a call for a boycott.

“Our philosophical position is it’s his business, the owner can choose to do what they choose to do within the confines of the individual business,” Smith said. “Our philosophical position is, to demand someone to demonstrate they’re vaccinated with a card, we think that’s out of bounds.”

Smith said the group also condemns writing bogus reviews of a business.

McNeill said Alpha Dawgs’ business has not suffered from the online dust-up.

“I haven’t had any problems,” McNeill said. “Only the online harassment.”

The Nightclub Expected Opposition

Charles Smith, general manager of the club, said he knew the policy would garner backlash, but “we’ve always put the health and safety of both staff and our patrons, and their families, first.”

Since opening as a gay bar in 2001, Ibiza has been a pillar of the LGBTQ community in Wilmington. Although its clientele has expanded over time, it’s still known for drag shows on Friday nights.

Last year, the club shut down March 12, about a week before Gov. Cooper ordered all North Carolina bars and restaurants to stop dine-in service. Ibiza remained shuttered for 14 months, using the time to renovate, Smith said, and leaning on federal and state assistance for small businesses.

When it came to reopening, he said, “the question was: How do we provide the absolute safest experience alongside the nightlife experience we’ve been known for?”

It wouldn’t be easy. Nightclubs are a perfect cocktail of covid risks: lots of people socializing and dancing in close quarters. Alcohol lowering inhibitions. Music forcing people to speak louder, releasing more droplets into the air.

“The concept of social distancing in a nightclub is an oxymoron,” Smith said. And the club’s staff didn’t want to be “the police of nightlife,” trying to separate people on the dance floor, he added.

The safest option, it seemed, was to require people to be vaccinated.

The club waited till all adults in the state were eligible for vaccines before reopening. 

Now Ibiza requires patrons to present their vaccine cards or photos of the cards for entry. On reopening night, the club asked customers to wear masks and limited its capacity to 50%, per an executive order from the governor. But as of May 14, the state lifted its capacity restrictions and masking requirements.

Castrigno, who’d been looking forward to that night for weeks since she saw the sign in the club’s window, said it was “the most jubilant I’d ever seen Ibiza.” Several performers put on a drag show. Customers took turns dancing on poles. Some people wore masks with rhinestones to match their outfits, she said.

She wasn’t surprised that many people took the vaccine requirement in stride. “Queer people are well versed in the risks of public health crisis and protecting the community,” she said, referring to the AIDS crisis, which devastated the community in the ’80s and ’90s.

For James Colucci, who has been a customer since 2016, supporting Ibiza’s vaccine policy is about protecting the club’s employees. Some of them have “spearheaded the [LGBTQ] movement, so we can get together and have events like this,” he said.

But others say the policy is discriminatory and injects the nightclub into people’s personal health care decisions.

Joey Askew, a 37-year-old from Greenville, wrote on Ibiza’s Facebook page, “I’ll never go back to this club until they lift this mandate!!”

In an interview with KHN, Askew said he’s not ready to get the vaccine because there haven’t been lifetime studies of recipients to determine long-term side effects. He’s willing to wear a mask and maintain physical distance, but a vaccine requirement goes too far.

“A mask is something I can buy from anywhere and take off whenever I choose,” he said. “But I can’t take a vaccine out. It’s a permanent choice that [the club] is involving themselves in, and it’s not their place.”

In between the people condemning the club’s policy and those applauding it are many who are conflicted.

Mark Russell, 29, is a nurse in Washington, D.C., who cares for covid patients and contracted covid last year. He plans on visiting Ibiza Nightclub in late May while attending a small wedding in North Carolina where everyone will be vaccinated.

The club’s policy makes him feel safer, Russell said. But he also worries about its effect on people of color, who in many places have faced barriers to vaccination.

“It’s a battle in my own brain, thinking those two things,” Russell said.

For Heidi Martek, 55, the policy raised a personal question. “What about those who can’t get the vaccine?” she wrote on Ibiza’s Facebook page.

She has an autoimmune disease, making her body hypersensitive to any vaccine, Martek said, even the flu shot.

But when commenters on Facebook suggested she sue the club, Martek pushed back. The club is facing difficult choices, she told KHN, and there’s no right answer.

“Whether I can go in or not, I support them,” said Martek, who’s been a patron at Ibiza for six years.

She wants the club to survive the pandemic, unlike other establishments that have closed in the past year.

“It’s not like Wilmington is overwhelmed with LGBTQ clubs,” Martek said. “Ibiza is really important.”

News & Observer reporter Drew Jackson contributed to this story.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

If You Are Vaccinated, You Can Dance the Night Away published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[godkilller]

@magical-girl-coral​​

So two questions - one, does Gin eventually use a prosthetic arm in the redemption au like Izuru? And two, where did the "Gin totally abused Izuru" story come from? Because I couldn't find any evidence of that.

          out of character.  I’ll start off by saying thanks for the message !  I always appreciate seeing new faces in my inbox, especially when they’re tossin’ me challenging or otherwise worldbuilding questions. That said, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I mean to police what Izuru’s headcanon for their character... however, I have had several experiences, as well as my partner during her time writing Gin, in which headcanons / fanon interpretations included Gin being a r/ap/ist to them and other upsetting material was forced onto us.

          Not only am I not comfortable with writing that material in general, I feel extremely more so when placed into that position, and I believe I would be understood with that approach. By mere roleplaying standards the whole ordeal can be ruled as godmodding, but there’s also a massive amount of pressure when writing a villain muse to be as detestable as possible so people’s hero muses can explore the coping, healing, and angst of being a victim. I’m happy to be villainous, Gin is not a protagonist regardless of the themes I explore with him, but I draw the line at depictions of sexual violence and other darker instances of abuse. I SHOULD NEVER FEEL EXPECTED TO WRITE MY OWN CHARACTER DOING THINGS I DO NOT WANT TO WRITE HIM DOING. I do not headcanon him as such, and I do not acknowledge other’s headcanons of such topics due to this extreme discomfort.

          I’m not here to say that Gin was absolutely wonderful to Izuru !  Because no, he wasn’t. Their relationship was doomed to become toxic by the end of it due to the nature of its creation. That last day of them together in which Momo and Izuru fight beneath Aizen’s fake dead body, and then the following hours afterwards up until the three traitors leave to Hueco Mundo... they’re awful. Izuru is rightfully distraught. Aizen crafted himself and his two trusted subordinates the perfect lieutenants for them to control. He took Momo, known for her massive idolization of him, and Tousen took Hisagi, who would obey without question, and Gin took Izuru, a man who suffers great insecurities. Each one was destined to be manipulated, and manipulation is a form of abuse.

          That aside, Izuru’s insecurities are present before he even knew Gin. Like it or not, the traitor did NOT create Izuru’s instability, his mental-illness coded breakdown, nor did he delight in Izuru’s suffering  ( unless people want to tell me that Gin grinning indicates he was amused, when in actuality the whole point of Gin’s grin is to be unreadable, thus almost 99% of the time it’s implied FAKE, a mask, so like... is he amused, or are people just taking his smile at face value? )  Gin IS guilty of enabling Izuru’s dependency on him, his blind obedience and trust. GIN COULD HAVE LET IZURU DOWN IN PREPARATIONAL WAYS PRE-BETRAYAL, AND MAKE THIS FIERCE LOYALTY HIS LIEUTENANT HAD LESS CATASTROPHIC WHEN IT WAS FINALLY BROKEN.

          If Izuru had been abused by Gin so regularly pre-betrayal, there would have inevitably been a clicking moment in his head going ‘ah, yes, I knew it, he was rotten all along!’ but no, Gin was canonly described as a great captain to the Third Division, and that’s what makes the betrayal to Izuru hurt him all the more; HE WASN’T, ACTUALLY, BAD. It takes having a good thing for the subsequent back-stabbing to ache. Gin went, within 24 hours, from being Izuru’s beloved captain to his enemy, and all in between he was asked to do things he felt, at later times, immense regret over doing. That’s the impact Gin had, and it doesn’t matter how good he was prior to that day / night. That’s the hurt I’d like to explore with the two characters, and the possible route towards healing that we may venture for if the mun is comfortable.

          So yes, the fanon interpretation that Izuru was abused for years and years underneath Gin is one I feel is false, or at the very least largely misinterpreted. The events of the betrayal leading to Rukia’s execution highlight the worst Izuru went through in terms of his relationship with Gin. I’d love to one day delve into that wound, and find what these characters need to grow beyond that darker time. Gin certainly felt no pride in what he did, and his canon last words pertaining to Izuru ring true for myself too: I’m just glad he’s doing alright.

          And to take the edge off, now I’ll reply to your FIRST question swbedhrfjmk. I think Gin’s not very open to ‘solutions’ or aid given to him post-Winter War. He, like Yamamoto, kind of accepts his injury as a punishment  ( though, Yamamoto rejects healing / aid as a point of pride and stubbornness )  because Gin feels he doesn’t deserve the help. It’s also a rant I’ve posted before where disabled or hurt characters, especially in Bleach, are often slapped a bandaid on and fixed instantly because Tite seems to be allergic to lingering wounds and trauma and the idea that a disability should instantly be dealt with via magic breaks the illusion of there being ANY sort of consequence for ones actions. The concept of immediately healing back Gin’s arm turns me off, to be honest, because it erases that pain and that failure, as well as narratively gives any disabled person the middle finger.

          Story-wise, the only character I believe capable to negate Aizen’s massive reiatsu imprint on Gin would need to work at it for days to get past its black hole-esque nature of not letting her heal the injury, and also... Orihime, unless written and developed otherwise, should not ever feel that she needs to heal someone who took part in holding her captive within Las Noches, a very traumatizing time for a young girl. GIN DOESN’T FEEL LIKE HE’S WORTH HER TIME, NOR DOES HE WANT TO ASK. He’s not even good at asking for help with Rangiku, so he sure as hell isn’t going to walk up to this poor kid and tell her to heal him.

          I know Kukaku also has a prosthetic limb, and Izuru too down the line, so the option is probably more doable than Gin getting his arm back magically... but until he’s OFFERED help, and maybe even forcibly so, he’s hell-bent on rejecting it based on a self-sabotaging belief that he needs to accept this as punishment and move on all the same. Gin makes peace with the injury later down the line within Redemption Verse, and no longer sees the missing limb as a consequence... just a reminder to be better, to stay.

#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #[ headcanon ] fresh snowfall; fading footprints mark his path #[ verse: redemption ] i am healing by mistake; rome is also built on ruins #tw rape mention #tw abuse mention

[chargetheintruder]

Tangents/Insights 2.

--You can’t spell “empathetic” without spelling “pathetic.”  Meaning?  Sure, it’s all right that you can understand how other people think, that you can see the other side of an argument.  Sometimes, however, you do have to stand up for yourself, and understand YOUR point of view, and give what you need priority.

--I’m actually afraid of the future now.  It isn’t just that under climate change, we really don’t understand how completely the Oxygen Cycle of the planet will be fucked if we don’t aggressively save algae, coral reefs and plankton of the ocean (its photosynthesis, in other words), or that we’re on the edge of Peak Water on dry land.  It’s that we in the developed world could react so strongly to authoritarianism that a “let A.I., drones and robots do it ALL” mentality could develop.  This could be very bad in multiple ways.

--Take armed drones.  No, take them, PLEASE.  Point is, having armed drones fly over civilized soil in general and over the USA in particular, could be a nightmare.  A) First, we don’t even know that the A.I. for drones will really be that: it could be a 90 percent human/10 percent artificial intelligence affair like Google Duplex, with militarized police flying the drones and pulling the trigger.  In essence, this could be a repeat of the Sniper’s Law By Drone policy we had in Afghanistan, and for what reason?  Not terrorism, not even drug enforcement.  Just Big Bad Police, executing people of color, homeless people, mentally ill people, from a mile away facelessly and without any recourse.  And B), Second, do we even know that a predictive A.I. would be any better, if it was Trained By Police?  Garbage In, Garbage Out is a CRITICAL RULE to consider with artificial intelligence.  Whoever gives the system its datafield, puts whatever implicit biases they have in the field, on a largely unquestioned basis.  Think of the Google Facial Recognition program that called the Obamas “gorillas” thanks to bad training on people of color.  Now give a biased program a GUN and a right to kill people for any reason at all.

--Mainly though, my beef with predictive, neural networked A.I. as it stands runs deeper than a “stop the drones before they stop US” mentality.  Because the real issue I see here is that  A.I. as such, is never going to be _Smart_ as we know it.  That’s not the way it’s built or coded, if I get this right.  What it will be is massively to _galactically_ clever.  There’s a difference.  Imagine someone who has read EVERY book ever: every book that does exist, did exist and _could have_ existed.  They know of and recognize ALL possible knowledge.  Endlessly well-read and erudite to a fault.  Why?

Well, the person is also a shut-in with no real-world skills or experience, and has no real clue what interacting with other people means, outside of in a very strict, procedural and rules-based basis.  Say their native language isn’t English, but COBOL.  That’s your A.I. for you: knows what the correct answer is, knows what the next ten thousand steps in the sequence are . . .assuming it even infers what the correct sequence of events is, because it doesn’t get context, aside from a very narrow view of what it sees on surveillance cameras and what it hears in spoken words, and of course, highly massaged metadata.  It’s clever, endlessly so, but has no clue and has to be updated--taught everything--all the damned time.  By us.  By humans, who might have it in their best interests, as individual persons, to hack and subvert the system and not help it, for the best interests of society.

In short, keyword the terms “mouse utopia studies” if you can.  It’s an old experiment and an eye opener.  If you overcrowd and slightly under-nourish and under-stimulate a bunch of mice who live sheltered lives with no real threats or challenges?  Well, things get violent, and deviant, really quickly, it turns out.  And while it might take more to put humans there?  Truth is, we might be a bit close to that situation as it is.  And yes, pay attention to the numbers and percentages in the mouse utopia experiment--they tell the real story.  A little violence or social or sexual strangeness is to be expected--but not overwhelming amounts of it.

And an A.I. guided society that doesn’t enforce Sniper’s Law by Drone, might instead lead us into that situation with the best of intentions.  If the internet could GIVE you everything you ever wanted, no consequences or regrets, and it did this for everyone, ditto . . .what would that do to us?

#Long future fears assuming we survive 2020-2022 assuming the O2 cycle doesn't go bork AI problems if I get them mouse utopia

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 4 of 26

Title: Finch (Ambergris #3) (2009)

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Weird, Noir, Mystery, Cosmic Horror, Fantasy, Science Fiction (ish), Cyberpunk Dystopia (non-traditional), Mushroompunk (yeah), Third Person, Unreliable Narrator.

Rating: 9/10

Date Began: 2/02/2020

Date Finished: 2/10/2020

Years after the events of Shriek, the gray caps– strange, fungal denizens of Ambergris’ underground– stage a hostile takeover of the city. Now living under an oppressive surveillance state, the last remaining humans eke out an existence surviving at the mercy of their new overlords, enslaved in work camps, or transformed into fungus-enhanced hybrids called Partials. The last remnants of the resistance, led by the mysterious Lady in Blue, disappeared years ago. 

Enter Finch, a detective tasked with investigating an impossible double murder case– one human and one gray cap. Things take a turn for the strange when factions throughout the city take an interest, and Finch soon finds himself trapped in a web of conspiracy, danger, and deceit. 

The past didn’t seem like another world. The past seemed like it had never happened. Couldn’t have happened. The leap to this too hideous, too nightmarish. Better to have no past at all.

Finch was by far my favorite of this “trilogy”. VanderMeer incorporates several disparate genres to create an eerie and haunting drama. The previous two books, while good, always have a layer of disconnect from the action of the story. Not so here -- this is the first entry that feels truly direct and gritty. Ambergris as a setting is omnipresent and oppressive. As I read, it felt like I was living and breathing the city in all its disorienting and claustrophobic glory. I could practically feel each fungal growth creeping up my wall.

I found Finch to be an interesting perspective character. You learn early on that he’s not who he seems to be, with hints and allusions to his past. It all comes together brilliantly over the course of the novel. "Playing roles" is a running theme throughout the story, and it's very satisfying to see all the ways it plays out, so to speak, with Finch in particular.

Technically this book is a standalone! Until it's not. Definitely read the first two before Finch, even though Finch is the best one, because otherwise most subtleties and twists will be lost on you. This book finally answers interesting lore questions which have been hanging from the beginning. There are also references to the other books all over the damn place.

So, some basic things to talk about. As my earlier observation implies, Finch is the most traditional story of the “trilogy”. Both City of Saints and Madmen and Shriek: An Afterword are experimental and postmodern. Finch really... isn’t? It’s not exactly a NORMAL book, but it’s as standard as these books get. The most “experimental” thing about Finch is the sheer number of sentence fragments in the narrative, but that’s more of a nod to the noir genre than anything else (though it does have symbolic meaning as well). 

While I tend to like experimental styles, in this case it held the series back. When Ambergris is unleashed and experienced directly, as in this novel, it finally has a chance to shine in its full glory. I didn’t know what was missing until I read Finch and felt it firsthand.

Side note -- I totally called foreshadowing in my City of Saints and Madmen review. The version of Ambergris described in “The Man Who Had No Eyes” is ABSOLUTELY the version in which Finch takes place. So Finch was in some capacity planned from the beginning, which is good to know. And it was hidden in plain sight via a story written in code. That’s the good shit. 

Finch does make great use of plot twists; there’s quite a few and they feel natural. They aren’t so much surprising as “Huh. Well, that makes sense”. One, however, did totally blindside me. Halfway through the book we learn the identity of the dead man in the murder case. While I did guess his identity early on, there’s a second part to the twist that caught me totally of guard. Like... there was something off, but I totally failed to guess or even think about it that much. So I did get sucker punched there, but it was a good feeling. I love when a book or story pulls that off. 

I mentioned one of the themes -- “playing roles” -- above. While that was my favorite recurring theme, there’s quite a few of them and I can’t understate the others. Doors, remembering and forgetting, falling (from a great height), playing both sides... without getting into too much spoilery detail, I thought these were incorporated very well into the story. So if you do read it, definitely keep an eye out for these. As for me, I’m willing to bet Finch is a great reread. 

If I had to nitpick this book, my biggest challenge was the characters. Some of them are brilliant and well-utilized, like Bliss (who seems fairly minor at first), Wyte, Sintra, or even Rathven and The Photographer. Other characters just kind of... fall flat for me? The other detectives were hard to differentiate in a meaningful way. The Lady in Blue gets a ton of buildup, but she’s really only there for a handful of continuous (albeit memorable) scenes. Heretic and the other gray caps are creepy, but they all but disappear partway through the story, which feels wrong based on the premise. The Partials replace them as the creepy antagonistic force (in terms of this story, anyway), but really didn’t feel like they had the buildup, backstory, or execution to be as effective. 

Other than that, though, I really enjoyed Finch. Definitely my favorite read of 2020 so far. As I read, I used little Post-It tabs to mark parts that felt interesting/relevant/foreshadow-y, then went back through when I finished and reread those sections. I think it really enhanced my experience with the novel, so I’m going to do that with the other books going forward. 

While Finch was great, I can only recommend it if you read the other two books and are interested in an (excellent) conclusion for the series. Unfortunately, it’s hard to get even a used copy of this book for a reasonable price. It had a limited indie print run in the US and UK back in 2009 and 2011. It took a lot of digging/eBay stalking to find something under the $45 range. Since the other two books have seen reprints, I’m hoping Finch gets the same treatment, because in my opinion it’s the best in the series. 

#taylor reads #9/10 #2020 reading challenge #me waking up in a cold sweat: this is the bioshock infinite of ambergris. no i will not elaborate on that

[serenasoto-blog]

9 Best Places to Add Keywords Inside Content for On-Page SEO

Catchphrases. Web optimization is about catchphrases.

Right stated, huh.

Catchphrases resemble the seeds that connote the entire tree in itself.

Accordingly, they convey tremendous significance with regards to SEO.

Truly, SEO is nothing without watchwords.

Its everything about the best catchphrase rehearses, utilizes and the executives that prompts all around streamlined on page SEO.

Previously, I will proceed onward directly to the subject, it will be a great idea to convey a harsh foundation on catchphrase inquire about.

Substance cover up

1. Watchword investigate

2. #9 Best Places to Add Keywords in Content

3. 1. Website design enhancement Title – The #1 Best spot to include watchwords

4. 2. Meta depiction

5. 3. Title of page content

6. 4. Beginning passage of substance

7. 5. Headings and subheadings in content

8. 6. Fundamental substance

9. 7. Picture alt labels

10. 8. Stay writings

11. 9. Labels and breadcrumbs

12. Outline

Catchphrase inquire about

The world is loaded with words, characters and sounds. So do you put all of them any place you need, anyway you need?

No!!!

Truly, much the same as you can't talk b***s***t to anybody, you can't compose anything you desire, trusting getting included on the first page of Google.

In this way, you have to do an appropriate research before you even beginning composition.

I have quickly canvassed watchword explore procedure in my instructional exercise here.

To close to put it plainly, you can utilize Google straightforward hunt, just as different instruments for catchphrase explore.

Google catchphrase organizer, keywordtool.io, SEMRush,.. There are many out there.

OK… So now you're prepared with your rundown of catchphrases. Next what?

You will obviously begin composing on the theme. This is what you have to mind while adding watchwords to the substance piece.

#9 Best Places to Add Keywords in Content

Website design enhancement Title

Website design enhancement Meta portrayal

Blog entry title

Beginning passage of post

Headings/Subheadings

Fundamental substance

Picture alt labels

Stay writings

Labels and breadcrumbs

Lets comprehend individually.

1. Website design enhancement Title – The #1 Best spot to include catchphrases

website design enhancement title

Website design enhancement title is the MOST (I state multiple times) significant thing you can't pass up a great opportunity.

Fundamentally, it is this title appears on Google indexed lists in blue shaded connections.

So you can think about how idiotic will it be to skip including SEO title.

Let me clear one thing here.

In reality, regardless of whether you don't include SEO title and depictions (coming up straightaway), your substance despite everything can possibly be positioned!

Goodness God, at that point what was that previously? You may be thinking.

Truth is, its not tied in with planning for the most pessimistic scenarios all things considered!

Furthermore, on the off chance that you don't include these labels, Google will haphazardly pick the initial not many lines as the portrayal for your page, and the blog title as SEO title.

Also, wonder in the event that you that isn't as significant as what you could really had in charge of!

Right?!

Thus, don't face such challenges, simply compose a basic better than average SEO title.

It has be to totally pertinent to the substance and exact, long-tail!

In case you're utilizing WordPress, you can a few modules for this.

Yoast SEO, RankMath SEO are truly outstanding out there for holding nothing back web optimization benefits.

I have added connections to the modules toward the finish of instructional exercise.

Give them a shot!

2. Meta portrayal

That is second most significant spot.

Meta portrayals are essentially said metadata of the run of the mill site page.

You can check for metadata of destinations in their source code, which can be seen utilizing "View page source" (or Ctrl + U) in Google Chrome.

These are some place covered up inside <meta> labels in the source code.

As examined in the past subject, the equivalent modules, Yoast SEO, RankMath SEO can likewise be utilized to include meta portrayals in the substance.

Along these lines, when you include both the SEO title and depictions, you essentially state the Google, "Hello bae, please me. Take me with you."

Tips to remember while including meta information:

Try not to keep it excessively short or excessively long. The modules in WordPress help you with as far as possible.

In the event that conceivable include the center watchwords, in the beginning just as in the center of the meta portrayal.

Try not to include immaterial stuff here. This should be extremely important just as appealing at that point. Think, individuals perusing your portrayal ought to get spurred tom read your substance further by tapping the connection to your subject.

3. Title of page content

post title search engine optimization

This is only the genuine title of the substance that you see when you land on the page.

For instance, here in this example, "10 best places to include catchphrases inside substance" is the subject of this post.

This is additionally eqaully significant in light of the fact that it can possibly get the peruser's consideration.

Envision, if a peruser likes the title of your post, he will peruse on further. Or then again he may simply tap the back catch and skip perusing by any stretch of the imagination!

You won't care for that occur!

In this way, take a stab at including a sharp however alluring title to your blog entry.

As a tip, its better to keep the title long-tail here as well.

4. Beginning section of substance

WordPress modules like Yoast SEO request you to specify catchphrases in the beginning section of the substance.

Its not critical to state honestly. Be that as it may, including it, won't hurt you truly.

Consider it like the third limit for your peruser, the first being SEO title-depiction, and second, post title.

Who needs to lose individuals in the wake of snaring them in not once, however twice?!

Feel free to compose the primary passages for your posts.

5. Headings and subheadings in content

Headings resemble the little loosen up focuses in your article!

Truly, envision that it is so exhausting to peruse entire large lumps of content with no breakpoints in the center.

Senseless right?

Indeed, even I despise that. C'on, we are bloggers, advertisers, scholars. Not promoters or Ph.D. holders.

Try not to outrage please. I regard you as well.

So as you probably are aware, its imperative to include watchwords in headings and resulting subheadings in article.

This gives an away from to web search tools of something identified with the watchwords and valuable coming up in the accompanying segment.

Snappy tip: Never include superfluous sub-headers and headers in your substance. Break the substance into pieces as required and reasonable to facilitate its meaningfulness.

6. Fundamental substance

Furthermore, here's coming the body of your substance.

I will pressure more here.

There have been numerous contentions, a large number of them uncertain and even profoundly questioned with respect to what ought to be the specific include of watchwords in content.

Suppositions with respect to this shift from individual to individual, SEOs to SEOs, journalists to authors.

The best practice is to include the catchphrases just where required and coordinate the significance of the present setting.

In straightforward terms, I mean, simply be it common.

It ought NOT be constrained notice. Keep in mind, Google has treated such substance gravely previously.

You additionally may fall prey to Google's punishment, emerging by the spam factor.

7. Picture alt labels

picture alt labels for website optimization

Pictures resemble the magnificence of your article.

They add beat to the understanding experience.

As the time is advancing to an ever increasing extent, visuals have become a significant piece of our lives, Internet is no special case to it.

Thus, adding pictures to content is sound. Truly.

However, does the Google search bots truly comprehend your picture proerly like we people.

You may contend that, AI and Machine learning is changing the way Google bots decipher substance and visuals. I concur, master!

Yet at the same time its a best practice to add alt labels to the pictures in content.

Who knows, Google bots may be as yet searching for it?!

You can include these basically by altering the HTML code of your page.

In HTML, the <img> label serves picture on the site page. "alt" is one of the key traits of <img> tag, which you can alter utilizing any code supervisor of your decision.

Good karma!

Tip: The alt labels ought to carefully be basic, short and direct. Try not to be senseless to compose long queues and passages here.

Get familiar with picture website optimization in our article.

8. Grapple writings

Ever observed those blue hued hyperlinks on sites?

Did you consider it a spot to grandstand your watchwords?

Truly. The content on which a hyperlink is assembled, is called a "stay content".

All things considered, it fills in as an extraordinary open door for good SEO.

The truth of the matter is very generally welcomed that watchword focused on grapple writings fill in as solid advantage to both on page and off page SEO.

Ensure while composing stay writings, it needs to representation the connected substance extremely right. A ton of fledglings miss this out.

9. Labels and breadcrumbs

catchphrases in labels breadcrumbs

Truly, this isn't SO significant one. So I'm hardly any requiring some investment here.

Labels and breadcrumbs are essentially billboards on your site. Inquire as to why?

At the point when you read a concise substance, regardless of whether short or little, labels help to associate the substance with explicit subjects. This is especially valuable while having more substance than typical.

In spite of the fact that labels have been a pattern via web-based networking media, their utilization on online sites and entryways is as yet common.

Breadcrumbs are the office to sort out your substance into a chain of command.

This is something that you frequently find at the highest point of the substance on certain website pages.

Assembling everything, labels and breadcrumbs do support your site or blog look progressively sorted out in a way. Be that as it may, the decision is to actualize them is yours.

You can utilize your catchphrases in these and help Google and other web crawlers see better.

Synopsis

So people, since you have the information, its opportunity to execute it straight.

Beneath you can discover connections to different modules or applications for different stages, which will assist you with doing SEO.

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Fruits Basket 2019 Episode 19: “I’m So Sorry!”

You know, considering how apprehensive I was going into this episode since I knew what it was going to cover, I gotta give them credit for how by the end of it I actually really liked the little things they did to flesh out this part of the story, even if they only had so much time to work with.

I think this is gonna be a divisive episode for a lot of reasons, including the fact that some manga fans might not like that they toned down the comedy [relatively speaking] and fleshed out the character interactions more, but one way or another I think they did a nice job with it.

Anyway, thoughts under the cut [and spoiler warning for the whole manga]

I didn’t expect this episode to give me a whole lot to talk about [in terms of positive stuff, at least] since Ritsu’s intro arc was always kinda short and simple, but they actually made a fair amount of edits to how the whole episode played out. It’s still the same length and covers the same basic plot beats, but with a different sort of execution compared to the manga.

Specifically this adapts chapters 44 and 45 of the manga, though technically Ritsu first appears at the very end of chapter 43. And there was a fair amount of stuff that was cut or replaced in this episode, mainly the couple of scenes with Yuki and Haru that were there to follow up on what happened in chapter 43. Since that hasn’t happened yet in the anime, obviously it had to be cut. I think we’ll be seeing that whole part of the story happen near the start of season 2 at this point, since they definitely don’t seem to be planning to introduce Rin in this season. So in that sense at least this episode played out similarly to how it did in the 2001 anime [where Ritsu’s intro was in episode 23]. But there was also a lot of stuff changed outside of that, which made this more of an entirely unique version of this part of the story.

Basically most of it boils down to how they edited the whole flow of events to give Mitsuru [and her interactions with Ritsu] way more screen-time and focus, which I think was exactly what this episode needed. In the manga their interaction in this whole part is literally just contained to one page worth of dialogue at the very end, and it only vaguely sets up the idea that they might have stuff in common. And for the record, at least in the manga, that’s also basically the only time they ever interact in the story to begin with. After this I don’t think we ever see them again at all outside of one bonus comic page that, at least in the collector’s edition, is compiled at the back of the final volume along with some other bonus material. Both Mitsuru and Ritsu kinda vanish from the manga after this point, and then right near the end we suddenly get told that they’re dating and it’s all just kinda weird and unexpected.

Maybe it’s just the writer in me who likes nerding out about this kinda stuff, but I thought it was really neat how elegantly they managed to incorporate Mitsuru into how almost all of this episode, and how they used some of the scenes from the manga that they cut as inspiration for the more original scenes here. Like how the scene with Ritsu freaking out about cereal and spilling milk everywhere got replaced with him spilling coffee on Shigure’s manuscript. I also liked how instead of having a scene near the end with Tohru and Ritsu talking in private, we got to see Ritsu and Mitsuru talking about the same sorta stuff.

The other really big change, which lead to how they could more or less cut out that one scene between Tohru and Ritsu, was how they heavily fleshed out the scene with Ritsu about to jump off Shigure’s roof by basically inserting his whole talk with Tohru into it, which I think worked surprisingly well. Some manga fans might dislike how it made the scene less comedy-focused, but I think it worked well. I did think it was kinda unintentionally funny how it reminded me that Tohru keeps finding new and exciting ways to fall off, or nearly fall off, dangerously high places, lmao.

I’ve seen some people say that it felt too over the top and melodramatic in a way that made Tohru feel too much like an unrealistically perfect therapist, but honestly that’s just kinda how this part of the story always felt. Tohru’s whole conversation with Ritsu about the meaning of life and whatnot always felt like the part where Tohru’s place in the story felt the most forced. But with the amount of characters the premise of this series demands introducing, it’s commendable that most of the parts where Tohru basically serves as the Soma family therapist don’t feel this way.

It probably doesn’t help that the reboot shuffled this around in the timeline so that it’s right in the middle of two other arcs about Tohru meeting a new Soma family member. This episode coming immediately after one as good as Kisa’s episode really set it up for failure in a lot of ways, lol. But ultimately I think it was a good idea to move this where they did. It makes sense that they’re trying to rearrange things so that all of the zodiac members except for Kureno and Rin get introduced before the end of season 1, and this is the best place in the season to put this episode. I think it at least works a lot better here than it did in the 2001 anime where it happened literally right before the Kyo arc, right near the end of the season, which was just a really awkward place to put it all around.

In terms of other stuff that got changed/removed from the manga, they cut out a whole bit with Hatori getting called over to bandage Tohru’s hand after Ritsu broke a cup and she ended up getting cut, though honestly I’d kinda forgotten about that whole scene so I didn’t even notice it was gone. And along those same lines, I guess they also cut out the minor detail of Ritsu spraining his ankle on the roof and it having to also get treated by Hatori, since they had Tohru have a much more dramatic fall on the roof instead.

Like I said, basically every single scene with Mitsuru was anime-original since in the manga she only really appeared in that final scene, and even that got fleshed out a fair bit in this episode, so that we actually got to see them becoming friends, and they both had the same sorta monologue to tie everything together. Which did a way better job than the manga ever did at setting up their relationship, lol. It’s still kinda forced, but it’s not the gaping void of nothingness that it was originally.

Another thing they changed, which I didn’t even notice until I checked the manga again afterward, was that Ritsu was wearing his kimono throughout this entire episode, whereas in the manga he switches to wearing a more masculine outfit immediately after Tohru finds out that he’s a guy. It honestly felt so natural to have him just keep wearing the same outfit the whole way through that I didn’t think anything of it.

Which finally gets us to the elephant in the room, the hornet’s nest, the can of worms, the grand king of controversy, that is Ritsu’s crossdressing.

I definitely think it felt a lot better in this version of events specifically because they at least let him still wear his kimono and his feminine hairstyle even after the ““““gender reveal twist”“““ without it being some sorta issue, but ultimately the way it’s handled still feels notably dated, and I definitely think there’s gonna be a lot of entirely new fans who immediately view him as being heavily trans-coded. Since he really is.

I feel like this should be fairly self-explanatory, but just to be completely clear, this isn’t a matter of “wearing feminine clothing must mean you’re a girl”. This is more specifically about how Ritsu’s crossdressing is framed completely differently to how characters like Momiji and Ayame crossdress. They just do it explicitly because they’re carefree and self-confident and don’t care what people think about them, and it’s not a particularly major or defining part of who they are as a character. But with Ritsu, it ultimately ends up being one of his defining points as a character if only because this is basically all we ever see of him, and the story goes to pretty great lengths to detail how his motivations for cross-dressing come from an entirely different sort of place. Instead of him doing it because he’s naturally confident enough to not care about societal judgment, he does it because it’s the only thing that *makes him* feel confident in himself at all. It’s shown as being pretty much the one and only thing that alleviates his crippling self-hatred. In particular I think the flashback to him trying on one of Kagura’s dresses as a child and having a moment of realization and euphoria really feels like a distinctly Trans Experience [tm] kinda thing. Not to mention the other flashbacks to how he felt ashamed of himself because his parents were constantly apologizing to other people because of how he is, which comes across even more strongly as being specifically tied to his gender expression since at least in the anime, he’s also wearing a dress in that flashback.

It’s also worth noting that in the manga they placed a fair bit of emphasis, especially in his big talk with Tohru, about how he basically ‘wants to pull himself together and stop needing to dress like a woman’, as if it’s some sort of emotional crutch he needs to move on from, and it seems like that basically got cut out. Which is for the better, I’d say. I’ve said before in relation to Momiji that I also disliked there how [in the long run] his own crossdressing is treated as something temporary that he’ll inevitably move on from, and it stuck out even more in the manga when we also got this whole part later which even more explicitly framed cross-dressing as a ‘phase’ that someone needed to move on from. I guess in a lot of ways it really says a lot about the subtly yet meaningfully different way Ritsu’s framed in the reboot, that he just continues wearing his kimono throughout the whole episode and nobody really talks about it after Tohru finds out he’s a guy. I much prefer this more neutral framing of ‘this is just how he dresses and that’s cool’ more than ‘this is something he needs to stop doing in order to grow up’.

It all still feels a little bit outdated even in this version of the story, but I think it would have been even more noticeably outdated and uncomfortable if they had kept all of that stuff from the manga too. So I’m glad they cut it out. They did technically add an original bit near the end with Mitsuru realizing that Ritsu isn’t actually a woman, but I think that was handled perfectly well. Her reaction was basically just ‘oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made assumptions like that’, and him freaking out about it was basically just treated as him getting unnecessarily apologetic for something that isn’t a problem at all. Interestingly enough, I think that little scene between them was at least vaguely inspired by that aforementioned bonus comic page about them.

It’s obvious that it’s not like the reboot’s gonna retcon it so that he’s trans now, but I much prefer this take on his crossdressing compared to the manga.

I’m kinda curious to see if they’re going to do more with him as a character after this in the reboot, since Takaya’s said before that his lack of screen-time and importance is one of her big regrets. Though it’s honestly kinda hard to think of where they could even fit him in, aside from maybe the summer vacation arc. Ultimately he kinda suffers from not really being connected to any of the other zodiac characters, which makes him the odd one out who’s difficult to insert into scenes. I think they could probably at least do something with his apparent friendship with Kagura, though, since that never really got elaborated on in the manga.

I’ve always wondered if him getting sidelined after his intro arc in the manga had anything to do with the fact that his arc was the exact point where Takaya’s hand injury caused the series to go on hiatus. It’s not like we’ll ever know one way or another, but I wonder if the fact that his introduction happened to coincide with such a stressful and draining part of her life made her want to basically ignore him as a character afterward to try and forget about all of that. But who knows.

I do have a feeling that the fact that they edited and fleshed out this episode a fair bit compared to the manga might be because Takaya wasn’t happy with what she did with this arc originally, which probably had a lot to do with her hand issues. It might have lead to her not being able to put as much care and thought into this arc in the manga as she would have liked, so she might have even given the anime staff some pointers on how she wanted it to be improved.

Anyway, that’s a lot more than I expected to say about this episode, lmao. All in all I liked it way more than I expected, and I hope they can find some sorta way to give Ritsu more screen-time than he got in the manga.

And as we basically all knew would happen, it looks like next week’s episode will be Hiro’s introduction. I’m kinda curious to see how that goes, since Hiro’s the sorta character who I think is well written for who he’s meant to be, but it doesn’t stop me from kinda hating him as a person, lmao. At least to the extent that you can hate a preteen kid for being annoying and bratty.

#murasaki rambles #fruits basket #I didn't expect to end up feeling so positively about the Ritsu episode of all things but here we are lol

[canalstreetbaker]

Sixth World Storytime

Sit back kids, and get comfortable.  I’m going to tell you about Dozer.

Shadowrun, as most of you are aware, is a cyberpunk hypercapitalist dystopia which we’re slouching to even today, with a bevy of guns, cars, sweet-ass cybernetic implants, corporations larger than any country today with yearly profits in the trillions, and absolutely everything being for sale.  Food is mostly soy and corn reconstituted into a myriad of things and treated with a flavor faucet.  Surveillance is omnipresent but the analysis systems are so bad that those without ID numbers just kind of slide through the spaces between.  Those without System Identification Numbers - without SIN - do not exist.  This is good, and bad.  

Shadowrun also has magic.  And fantasy races.  Specifically it has Orks.  This is important, because Dozer is an Ork in a Human’s world.

(Below the cut we get a little nasty.  Disclaimer for the admins when they eventually fall upon this depravity - this is a fictional event in a fictional world based upon a tabletop roleplaying game.  Back the fuck off.)

In the Underground of Seattle rests a community of Trolls, Orks, and Dwarves no that’s all.  Until recently in 6W canon, the Underground was not recognized as an official District of the Seattle Metroplex - and the Orks liked that just fine.  The Trolls didn’t care much, since they tended to hang with the Orks or their own kind, shared Hurlg (a hyper-IPA with plenty of nutmeg and a caustic that could burn an Elf’s stomach to pieces) and plenty of meatlike substances at bars and restaurants that catered to them.  In short, the Ork Underground was its own little city, with businesses, religion, medicine, and police.

Dozer, an Ork, was a member of the Underground’s police force - the Skraacha. An Or’zet term meaning ‘Scorcher’, the Skraacha handled neighborhood watch, ne’er-do-well training into ‘functional’ members of society.  They kept the peace, supported metahuman rights rallies, beat the fuck out of the local neo-Nazi human supremacists in town (Humanis) and in their off time ran protection rackets and smuggled wepaons.  They loved young, angry Orks with a bone to pick and a chip on their shoulder.  Dozer fit in perfectly.

An aside, this is 5th Edition Shadowrun.  Dozer was built as a cybered ‘street samurai’ specializing in close-encounters of the murderous kind.  His muscles were cybernetic, he had a blade the length of his forearm concealed in his forearm, and he’d somehow begged, borrowed, and stole enough nuyen to install a bespoke Synaptic Booster, which - coupled with an Adrenaline Surge to make sure he always went first - ensured anyone who crossed his fist had a very bad day.  

By the time he retired (a wonderful story in itself, but not the focus of today), Dozer had about 350 karma, 4 Street Cred (after faking his death, a story I’ll tell later), 4 Notoriety, and managed to stay out of the Public Eye until the very end when he stole a nuclear submarine.  Again, a story I’ll tell later.

Dozer had quit the Skraacha after a terrible fight between a lieutenant of the group (Eybyu) and another pipe-thumping patrolman which left both patrolman and lieutenant dead, and Dozer in critical condition with massive damage to his face.  Upon recovery, he promptly quit the force and went into business for himself - running a food truck he’d bought with the “insurance money” that he called C2T Solutions.

(Because you can solve any problem with a Cyberspur 2 the Throat.)

You see, Dozer had also installed a Suprathyroid Gland, which is pretty much what it says on the tin - it’s a carefully engineered runaway growth problem which confers increased strength, speed, and toughness.  It also makes one the terror of buffets everywhere, and after Dozer had been thrown out of the fourth one he decided he was going to start cooking.  And if he was going to cook, then by Dunkelzahn he was going to make enough for everyone.  

Plus nobody looked at the cook unless he had a ponytail and a storied Naval career, so he could use it for information gathering.  Only...things didn’t go that way.

Dozer’s first use of the food truck was when he and a team of pipehitters was hired to cross off a list of names - with bonuses for those made to look like accidents.  There were six names on the list:

* A Federated-Boeing executive

* A Stuffer Shack employee

* An IT goon in a corporate enclave

* A retiree on the state dole

* A city employee with the Parks Department

* A ten-year-old trustafarian in a ritzy enclave

Dozer drew the short straw (or stole them while the rest of the crew argued) and took the city employee, the Stuffer Shack employee, and in a move that disgusted the rest of the team, the ten-year old. How can an Ork just cruelly kill a ten-year old kid?

With cupcakes, Dozer reasoned.  Kids love cupcakes.

In a stunningly macabre display of chemistry and culinary science, Dozer whipped up a pair of dark chocolate cupcakes one would expect to find at a boutique patisserie, both frosted with chocolate buttercream icing. Special icing.

Because icing doesn’t burn off the alcohol content of spiced rum - and Chloral Hydrate (Shadowrun’s version of Rophynol) has double potency when mixed with said rum.

Add in a gaily-wrapped box from an actual boutique patisserie with an Augmented Reality tag noting they were offering gift boxes as a ‘thank you’ to the community they served, and Dozer had created the perfect lure to ensnare anyone with a sweet tooth.  

Ten-year old Trudy stepped out of the schoolyard gate, savoring the fine Bellevue weather as she walked along the road towards home.  She didn’t *need* to walk, but it had been a nice day at school and Trudy felt even better about the day as she could remember the highest points of it while getting that last bit of exercise before the afternoon homework session began.

The sun was shining, the roads were quiet save the occasional yellow bus or GridGuided car taking her classmates to *their* homes.  Allison had suggested Trudy come over to her house for a group study session, but the last time that had happened Allison’s homework looked suspiciously similar (okay, they were exactly the same) as hers.  

“Afternoon, Ms. Appleton!”

The voice caused Trudy to turn and wave with a bright smile, her DocWagon bracelet jangling against her pale wrist.  Two Knight Errant patrol officers leaned against their car, waving back before scanning the area for potential suspects to question and search.  

“Good afternoon Officer Cortez!” she yelled.  “Hi Sergeant Weber!”

The two officers were well known in the neighborhood, and Trudy’s parents had noted with pride the discount they had received on their insurance premiums by agreeing to the surcharge for having physical patrols in the area during and after school hours.  Really, they had said, it was leaving nuyen on the table if they hadn’t, and having security services available during their 12-hour workdays meant they could put in the extra hours at the office but still sleep easy at night.

As she walked past manicured lawns, a smelly groundskeeper trimming hedges, and Augmented Reality picket fence property indicators to her own modest home, Trudy’s day got even better as she spied a specialty cardboard container from her favorite bakery on the doorstep.  She’d never thought that Le Petite Sweet would send a delivery, but someone must have really been thinking of her today to send over such a treat!  Trudy picked up the box before sending the unlock code to the house’s front door via her bedazzled trode patch on her temple - right where her Datajack would be, she thought.

The cool air of the perfectly-adjusted central heating and cooling system brushed against her face as Trudy stepped inside, her commlink downloading personal messages from the corporate grid once her PAN interfaced with the wider house network.  There were two more messages from Allison, one of which was a repeated offer for Trudy to come visit today and do homework, and a second one that her Nixdorf Sekretar agent indicated was a phishing attempt via a picture of a cat playing a piano.  Trudy thought the picture was funny, but not funny enough to allow Allison access to copy her homework directly. Besides, there were much more important things to consider.

Trudy set the box on the dining room table and opened her prize, finding a pair of chocolate cupcakes with a dark chocolate icing.  They smelled freshly baked and sweet - not as sweet as she liked, and without the chocolate sprinkles she always wanted when she would get her weekly treat at Le Petite.  In fact, they didn’t even look quite like the bakery’s signature cupcake - but her stomach growled in anticipation anyway, so she took a bite while going through her homework questions for the day.  The rich flavor of the chocolate was slightly offset by the spiciness in the icing.  Trudy was confused for a moment, then took another bite.  

There was rum in the icing.  Trudy knew because she had stolen a drink from her father’s liquor cabinet, and the dark liquid in the bottle tasted just like this.  The icing, however, was much better than that terrible alcohol.

In no time at all, the first cupcake was gone, and Trudy yawned while sending a message to the fridge unit to pour her a glass of milk.  She felt oh-so tired all of a sudden.  Maybe the nice groundskeeper opening the back door could help her get her milk.

Shaking his head, Dozer gently took poor Trudy upstairs to the bathtub, ran the water, and laid her inside.  He took the box and the detritus from the cupcake, and let himself out the door he entered.

The payment hit his account fifteen minutes later, as medical services screamed towards the house where a drowning had occurred.

There are, of course, several other stories I have involving Dozer and his food truck, Dozer and his old patrolman buddy Stamp, Dozer being thrown off a ten-story building and hitting the pool with nothing more than a bruise, Dozer inventing the term ‘dumptrucking’ as it refers to lateral strategy, and finally Dozer stealing a nuclear submarine and becoming a pirate king with a mage and a decker he’d run with on that last score.

But for today, we’ll leave it with poor Trudy.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk about how Dozer changed the outcome of a re-enactment of the historic Battle of Helm’s Deep.

#shadowrun #culinary fuckery #orks is best #sixthworldstorytime