So I Got A Question...

So you know how people go from ugly to gorgeous and how that’s called “glo’in up”, “glo up”, etc. Well what if you didn’t exactly get more attractive, but it like increased a small amount, like from “ugly” to “aight”?

Is the term for that like “dim escalation”? If not, I’m coining it now.

“My Dim Escalation goin’ in fam”

Lyria sees the stranger stepping towards her, but she hopes to distract him…

Lyria: An old friend of my father? He has never made any mention of old friends. Who ARE you?

Alexander (advancing): The one who gave your father the scar over his eye. 

Lyria quickly realizes who the intruder is. She steps back, making a move to escape…

But it is too late.

Alexander: So your father has made mention of me, has he? What all has he told you?

Lyria is choking, trying to make a response. Alexander relaxes his hold enough for her to speak.

Lyria: He has told me that you and your kind are weak. Held captive by the light of day and sentenced to a lifetime of darkness. Easily disposed of with a simple curse.

Anger, such that he has not felt in ages, consumes him. 

Alexander: Weak? That is rich, coming from a pitiful fae such as yourself. I myself was surprised when I heard that your father married of your species, but then your mother is perhaps one of the very few powerful faeries in existence.  It is a pity to see that her genes did not pass to the daughter.

He throws her to the ground and quickly rushes forward. He is satisfied to finally see the fear in her eyes.

Lyria: I may not be as powerful as my mother and father but what you will do this night will not go unnoticed.

Alexander (amused): Oh, that is the plan. 

And before Lyria can answer, all she registers is a sharp flash of white before it all goes dark…

Smiths are continuing to be seriously brilliant. Scene when Helen asks John about Dr Adler’s death is so convincing. From how initially they are both composed - John sounding so indifferent about Mrs Adler’s grief and Helen demanding answers, to being so emotive - John’s impassioned assertion that he does everything for the family and Helen’s panic when he tells her about Thomas’ illness. And then reassurance and calming hug at the end.

Quite of a roller-coaster of emotions in just one scene and yet it flows so naturally and unhurriedly. And acting is again uncomfortably good.


The novitiate bursts into the elder sister’s quarters, a slight skip to her step.

“I, I, I have to confess something, Ms. Vessel!”

“What, dear?”

“My mind… my mind is being plagued by sinful thoughts!”

She slides to the floor, and kneels down. The elder sister lightly picks up an urn from the windowsill, and takes a sprinkle of ashes. The sisters draws a line of cinders across her forehead, occasionally curving about, and then whispers to the air, and the spirits within. The novitiate knows her elder’s words, she learnt them but a month back. ‘Bless you, and may the Exalted Dawn find freedom from your wraiths.’

“Tell me, tell me.”

The words trickle from the elder’s mouth, and dance about the novitiate’s head. She stops for a second, to breathe in the song around her, and then she speaks.

“I’ve been thinking about how bleak everything is.”

“The silence of the world?”


The novitiate sniffles slightly, and her elder turns back, and again towards her.

“How do you end things? – not myself,” not myself, she repeats to herself, a slight bit lower every time.

“Real things don’t really end. To end is anathema to our cycle. Unfortunately, this world has far too much anathema for its own good. All defiant, all anathema, curses from the writhing void out of reality, will cease writhing, then cease to be. It’s sad, and disturbing, but unfortunately true within this wretched place, and that’s why many take it upon themselves to… hasten the departure of these curses.”

Her mouth is an ‘o’, and then she aaahs. Out of rhythm, the elder sister thinks, correct that.

“Is outside of reality infinite?”

“Perhaps. I don’t really know.”

“Oh, I read something saying that you couldn’t create or destroy matter, energy, and –”

“Sinful, lies,” the s turning into a great hiss, curling about the room. It brushes against its own tail, before the elder sister cuts it off. The novitiate laughs; the elder sister simply smiles. They continue.

“We sing, how do we keep singing, even past everything else?”

“Blot it out with the song, and make sure you can’t grasp it, and it can’t grasp you. To know somethin fully is to take it as part of yourself, and to take the cursed as part of yourself is to taint your being, to pull yourself away.”

“Should I – should we cast ourselves away from the world? It’s so rotten that to comprehend it is to share its rot.”

The elder sister again reaches for the windowsill, and grabs a knife, white bladed, yet otherwise plain. She flicks it at herself.

“Cut yourself away from the world, but cut the world into heaven.”

“Can it really be saved?”

“I wonder that, too. Curses and suffering are both inevitable. We can only expand paradise, and one day, we may envelop the earth and then make bliss the only thing that remains. You’ll be saved, in your attempts. All before is merely distraction.”

The novitiate nods her head, and then she burns, the second type, not the one that is the very sum of you shining on to ash and rebirth, but the blissful burning, the whitish-indigo burning, devotion. It stops, and the novitiate begins to rise.

“Are your sinful thoughts gone now?”

“Yes – it means the world to me.”

She bows, then leaves.


Sunday, September 17, 1967

  • During a news conference at his United Nations office, Secretary General Thant indicated that nations sympathetic to North Vietnam would soon be sending volunteer technicians, pilots and engineers to that country. Thant said that he was convinced that if American bombing attacks on the North were called off, peace talks could be started in a month. 
  • In the ground fighting in Vietnam, American troops met only scattered resistance during a sweep through the Mekong Delta in South Vietnam after three days of intense battles. 
  • Israel has been assured, in private conversations with American diplomats, that the United States plans to relax its embargo on arms shipments to the Middle East to permit the delivery of two previously ordered squadrons of attack bombers. Despite signs that the Arab position on settling the Mideast war has become more moderate, diplomats in Washington reported a virtual standstill in attempts to arrange a political settlement. 
  • After a week’s hiatus, negotiators for the Ford Motor Company and the United Automobile Workers union are getting back to the bargaining table in Detroit. But neither side is holding out any hope for a quick settlement.
Escalation || creativiisms


                                     🐰 [[[♠] ⅩℒⅠⅩ [♥]]] 🐰

Granted, Lavi was aware that the Earl was always trying to bolster the numbers of his Akuma army and upping the anti against the Order, but some days he felt like it was all just so overkill.

At the very least, it would be if total extermination wasn’t the end goal of the Noah family, but sending so many Akuma after the Finder units? It wasn’t a very fair fight – but then he knew war to be rife with unfairness.

At least in this war he was in somewhat of a position to do something about it.

❝  Fire Seal!  ❞ Words not completely necessary to evoke the intended effect, other than voiced out of habit, the sky lit with bright, twisting flame that snaked through the air with a mind of its own.

It circled first around the group of Finders that were being targeted, forcing the Akuma to backtrack their progress, and then at the metal demons themselves, crashing through and consuming them with a roar.

❝  Don’t worry about th’ flames,  ❞ he told them as he came to flank the group, eye more focused on the still-moving enemies his attack had failed to catch.

He knew he could get a little too flashy sometimes, and that unnerved people, especially onlooking civilians. It wasn’t as if anyone would guess he had full control over what his Innocence did or didn’t burn, but in some ways, that came in more handy than not. 

❝  They won’t burn any of you. Trust me on that.  ❞

And just on time, he caught a glimpse of Bookman dispatching the Akuma his fire hadn’t reached, running them through like pin cushions with the needles of his Heaven Compass. That would give him just a small bit of breathing room, thankfully. He glanced at the white-clad figures, eye looking for signs that any of them would need any extra help.

❝  Anyone hurt badly at all or that can’t move very well?  ❞