Helldivers 2 : L'analyse des statistiques révèle les principaux responsables du feu ami

Dans l’univers chaotique d’Helldivers 2, le feu ami est une réalité aussi familière que redoutée par les joueurs. Cette mécanique, qui ajoute une dose d’imprévisibilité et d’humour aux missions coopératives, fait partie intégrante de l’expérience conçue par Arrowhead. Récemment, les développeurs ont dévoilé des données chiffrées offrant un éclairage inédit sur les tendances du jeu, mettant en…

Helldivers 2 : L'analyse des statistiques révèle les principaux responsables du feu ami

Tried some unspecified (haha) arrowhead (genus Sagittaria, named for the arrow shaped leaves some but not all of them have) “potatoes” from the Asian market. Chopped, baked in the oven for 50 mins at 350 degrees, coated with oil and flipped every 10-20 mins to try and get them crispy.

They didn’t really get crispy, but they did get golden brown.

They’re denser than a potato, so didn’t get “fluffy”, but it’s not a bad texture.

They have a sort of sweetness to them that I think would make for some interesting kind of dessert. Also they kinda tasted buttery.

With ketchup they taste like a regular potato.

They could have used some more salt.

A mild “bitter” aftertaate but not in a bad way. No idea how to describe it besides that. Bitter isn’t really the right word.

I know people use them to make an oatmeal kinda thing and I think that would be really good.

I saved half of my share to try tomorrow reheated.

Very interesting and cool. Hope I get to try to native kind(s?) at some point.

i feel like you could combine these with sweet potatoes to make a cool dessert.

I kept 3 of the “potatoes” for planting, so I’ll post pictures when they grow actual leaves and flowers.

As the Helldivers push their way into Cyberstan, never forget why we fight. To protect Managed Democracy, and for Super Earth!

Aurora and Star Trails by Sean Goebel
Via Flickr:
On my final night camping above the Rae Lakes area of California’s Kings Canyon National Park, I received a text via InReach that there was a possibility of aurora that night. I already had both of my cameras pointed southeast to catch the milky way over the lakes. However, this motivated me to get up during the night, move a camera, and point it north in hopes of catching the aurora. It was a backpacking trip, so I was limited on gear and batteries, but I used the last of my power to run the camera as long as possible. I succeeded in catching the northern lights! I also shot a tighter view of this angle at sunset and posted it here.

Arrowhead, Mexican lobby card. 1953

Arrowhead, Mexican lobby card. 1953

Arrowhead, Mexican lobby card. 1953

Week Two - Jan. 23 2026

This week we made another flint scraper and started the process of making a glass arrowhead. This time around I was much more confident in what I was doing, all of my actions and movements were much more smooth and sure.

The one thing that did give me pause was just trying to figure out where to strike my flint nodule now that so many pieces had been taken off and it had taken on a strange shape. After a bit of trial and error I eventually found a way in and it was smooth sailing from there.

I broke off a good amount of flakes and was able to pick one that would work for a scraper. Again, I marked the general shape I wanted with a Sharpie and started hammering off small pieces to shape it. This is the part of the process I felt I improved the most from the first time. I has a better idea of how hard to hit it and I was able to be more precise. I got a smoother edge than on the previous scraper which I was definitely proud of. I sanded the edge down with the rough stone and finished my second scraper.

We then moved on to making an arrowhead out of the bottom of glass bottles. First we knocked off the raised edged of the bottle and then moved on to shaping it. Like with the scrapers I used a Sharpie to plan out the general shape of my arrowhead. Although this initial shaping process was very similar to what we did with the scraper, it took some getting used to the difference between working with glass and flint. The amount of force needed is different as well as the tactile feedback in your hand on each hit .

Once we had the general shape, we started pressure flaking to shape it more precisely and thin out the glass. We used flattened copper pipes to do this, using them to push in and down on the glass to take of small flakes. This process I found quite difficult and still don’t fully have the hang of it. The amount of forced needed to flake the glass is a lot and you can’t use the momentum of your arm like you can when hammering. The in-and-down angle you need to push on the glass is what I struggled with the most. We didn’t complete the pressure flaking so I’ll get another chance at it next week.

As a sensory experiences, making the glass arrowhead and the flint scraper were very difference. Along with the more obvious tactile difference between the material, things like the sound and the smell were different. Glass doesn’t have much of a smell at all but the flint often had a strong scent when it was struck, a mix between a campfire and petrol.

The sound made by striking the flint and the glass was also different, which is made very noticeably by the fact that we have multiple people working in the same room at the same time. The glass made a higher pitched ‘tinkling’ sound.

I’m really looking forward to continuing work on my glass arrowhead next week. I’ll definitely be asking for a bit more guidance on my pressure flaking.

Just giddy over this baby

Ancient Round Base Form Arrowhead or Flint Artifact Niger 1.07

Emotional Kelce praises Chiefs after possible Arrowhead last game

Dec 26, 2025, 12:33 AM ET
KANSAS CITY, Mo. — If Thursday night was the last game Travis Kelce played inside Arrowhead Stadium, he sure tried to make it a memorable one.
The Kansas City Chiefs tight end only had five catches for 36 yards against Denver, playing alongside third-string quarterback Chris Oladokun while his good buddy Patrick Mahomes and backup Gardner Minshew were out with knee…

Emotional Kelce praises Chiefs after possible Arrowhead last game

Even in a world now fully expanded with gods, angels and celestial magic—Not even these greater deities could disobey the strict rulings of Time. And so the minutes drummed to persistent teeth and eyes, until Ana stood to give her final instructions: a true wish, a future… but even the grandeur of that ability had its limitations. A dream given, but at the price of the past—Those two had stated it over and again. They knew the risk, and their plan now bloomed from that blood: Death could not be cheated from its gains.

Laika was gone—and no amount of wishing was going to bring her back… Nothing was going to bring any of those lost here back from Death’s garden.

It really was all or nothing, now.
They had to make it count.

So what would you wish for? When you take a step back and try to steal just a second longer from Time’s rhythmic tick—What would you truly pluck from the depths of your heart, when the world depends on you to bring it to light?

It was time to make a choice.

They needed joy to accomplish this, after all, and the first place Tegan’s mind drifted to was a memory: a first of many that began to cure the cracks chipped into their fragile, anxious soul. To find such happy thoughts was an incredible challenge once upon a time, until a chance movie night viewing of Hook with Seung-jae began to change their world’s perspective. So then, one by one, they’d begun to collect those twinkling moments dancing around that once empty place, bringing them to the surface of their trembling hands.

Moments like watching Princess Bride and any other tapes they could get their hands on, burnt and chaotic flavors built from lack of recipes and following the rules, while laughing so hard their sides hurt. Broadening their horizons with new greasy delights like cheese curds, french fries and funnel cakes, and finding they enjoy more than they thought. Playing an assortment of video games that terrified and delighted, looking forward to new two-player fun, or sharing spreadsheets of found data and best tactics. Sparking determination to be better people tomorrow… for themselves, or others, or especially their siblings. Throwing a tantrum, blurting all sorts of words, and even throwing middle fingers to the big man above… Or finding quiet, hidden moments of kindness and ridiculous fun despite a rivalry and clashing survival instincts. A love of animals and digital pets bringing unlikely little families together filled with frills and fun, or following one kindly wolf in their playful plots and uniquely flourished words. Letting loose about the things that delighted them: museums, history, books and stars, finding excitement in karaoke, dancing, and especially the Ferris wheel, or even relaxation in saunas and idle chatter. Catching inspiration and wonder by watching others bloom to life in mysteries and baseball, board games and more… and especially thankful to be proven horribly, ignorantly wrong with how much each of these people had to offer. To learn, and learn, and learn again… Finding love and patience, and what a team—and family—can truly be. 

What family they’re going to bring home to Crysta.

That they can watch the clouds and dream of tomorrow, working hard and taking risks to forge their own future. This is what they were meant to be, not what others had shaped them to.

Eventually, one final thought buzzes to life in their mind… Surprisingly not of their own, but still just as warm:

I’VE WATCHED YOU TOIL, I’VE WATCHED YOU WEEP 
IN MY HANDS, YOUR HEARTS I KEEP.
I’VE SEEN YOU FALL, I’VE SEEN YOU SOAR, 
HERE AT THE START, I ASK FOR MORE

DESPITE YOUR NERVES YOU’VE SEEN IT THROUGH 
AS AN ARROW, FLY HIGH AND TRUE 
THE WORLD HAS CHANGED AND VIRTUES TOO–
CLING TO NOW WHAT STRENGTHENS YOU.

“I see… I get it now.”

Tegan starts quietly, tears dampening their cheeks as each little tangible echo flits to life in their hands. What more could you wish for than this? These moments to thrive—these moments they’ve been happily given—with promises and hopes for a future beyond the monotony and terror. That others have pursued their heart, and that they now can give in full return. 

“Thank you… both of you, for giving me a chance to live.”

Because to live was the adventure they’d been secretly searching for all along.

Tegan takes a deep breath, finally finding the control to still their trembling self and face the future ahead, ready and willing. Beau and Seung-jae had already begun their burning paths, and a smile instinctively spreads with pride and admiration for them both. Before either can part for their own wishes to be made, Tegan takes both their hands in his own while placing a gentle kiss upon their hands as they kneel.

“I’m right behind you both, now and always. L-Let me support you this time, too, okay?”

With a blurry eyed nod, they give one more smile before standing to turn, a mission beating in their chest: It was time to make that support real—for everyone, but especially for them. And thankfully, they knew exactly how to make that dream exponentially potent… 

For you see, Keith and Aileen beckon them now, and a fluttering exhilaration fills their heart to finally show the full force of that group’s synergy. Despite their magical memories dancing anxiously beside them, already quite capable of springing into an actionable wish, they bargain one more moment of time to kneel with these two. Heads press together in one long, deeply heartfelt exchange of bright encouragement and bound promises, their experiences swell to sparkle like never before—stronger, brighter, but most importantlydefined… honed. It was through these two that Tegan was always able to empower each moment that others had given them: To not crumble into obscurity, to grasp even tighter, to pursue an enriched and caring life. It pushed them through the most terrifying times before, it made them believe, and now it was their turn to bring that same clarity at full force. Tears are shed, hugs are exchanged, and—ah, well, that’s all a story soon to come, isn’t it? 

For now, what does finally ring out for all to hear is that of a familiar man and his jubilant cry:

“I love you guys! Now on the count of three– like– like one two three *boom*–”

The team suddenly pivots in unison to make their wish, and Tegan takes aim to the sky above—bow and arrow flaring to life from all those strong, glimmering recollections and adventures of life.

“One!”
“Two!”
“THREE!”

“I-I wish… for joy itself!”

Because that’s what was needed, after all, so that’s what they’ll give with all their heart… Something they barely understood before, aiding brighter than ever for the here and now. The rest…? The many promises and hopes and futures to build? 

Well, you know it’s love when you put the work in for it.

hand-knapped agate arrowhead

De svenska dataspelsbolagen och dataspelen

De svenska dataspelsbolagen står för 20% av försäljningen via plattformen Steam. Det är världens största plattform när det gäller försäljning av dataspel. Steam har fler än 110 000 olika spel till försäljning medan den nästa största konkurrenten har mer än 10 000. Med andra ord är Steam totalt dominerande.
Steam. Skärmbild av Paowee.
Steam har 132 miljoner månatliga aktiva användare (MAU) och 69…

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Another flash and blinding sensation, another involuntary scream as maw’s come crashing towards them at blinding speed. This is the end, this is the end, they knew they couldn’t trust these two, and their stupid stalling gambit had—

Failed? It had failed, right? But there was no pain, nor puncture and sputter of their soul escaping at last. Wait…

Terrifying, ethereal sounds and lights dance around them with a thrumming rhythm that’s unlike anything they’ve ever experienced—ever imagined. Everything has become overwhelming and incomprehensible, all of it more confusing and, somehow, enlightening than the next. Arrowhead once again takes several moments to piece back the broken fragments of what is, apparently, their reality with Nubby Seung-jae and Beau by their side—gripping tightly to any semblance of grounding in this chaotic mess they’ve been spilled into. And, well, can you blame, him really as he sobs openly? Can you blame any of them… Hell, even Fio? All of their lives, wishes and hopes were brutally torn into, secretly being fed from one greater-than-thou corporate angel machine to a now human-made-novarii through the leadership of a rebellious heiress of the former.

There was much to process and even more they want to say, but it all becomes lodged behind a dry and nervous throat. So instead, with gentle and understanding hands, they take both of theirs in his, and despite the pure terror practically sparking off their skin, they find a semblance of peace—They are still here. All of them. Together. Somehow, despite attempt after attempt after attempt, they were all still standing… 

Which meant there was still a chance to solve this. Another minute ticking on the clock, another second to quickly gather their wits, organize their information and thoughts, and prepare for the next step.

And there she is—Ana.

She knew, and she had lied, but… She was still someone they’d come to love—All because of such a simple thing: Every time she smiled, every time she laughed, every time she looked at that sky above… She reflected a piece of someone they desperately missed. They both tried so hard, and always came running when someone was suffering—no matter how deep their own torments might go. Someone that Arrow had spent their life trying to protect, and that they wanted her to meet.

(“…I think you’d really like getting out into the world a bit, you know..? If… if you’re anything like me, and you didn’t really… get to see anything outside of where you grew up and what you  grew up in, then… there’s a lot of new stuff out there to find, and… and I’d love if you got that too, I think…”)

“W-Well… Y-you sure have, uh, really lived up to your resume with… a lot of different jobs, huh? Hhhaaah…”

Can you blame them, either, as skittish laughter escapes once more? Everyone copes differently, and Arrow has always accepted that they are ridiculous, meek and… well, unapologetically, painfully human.

“… I… I’m going to keep trusting you. But, I know that’s… that’s a lot to ask, and to put on your shoulders. I… I never wanted to do that to Crysta, either, you know. I wanted to… I had to protect her. She’s my little sister, and she deserves the world, and… and despite that, she always… She always had to swoop in to look after me instead. I just wanted her to have… And then you… When you tried to do that too, despite… I-I just have to trust, to hope, and I still… I-I’m sorry that I’m asking all of this… and that… I mean, if…”

Arrow catches a sharp breath between a sudden stinging of tears, trying in vain to calm the anxious wobbling of their mind and feet.

“If you’re saying we can all go home… a-and you truly want to as well, then… I-I’d like to keep these promises—these wishes, then. All of them.”

(“Y-You know, you can travel with friends too, right? So… when we get out of here, if you’re accepting company… I’ve been meaning to get out more! Oh, oh, and if you want, and you could officially meet my sister—seriously, you two would get along so well, I think!“)

They could list off every single one, documented nice and tidy in their mental files—But she didn’t need that, did she? Not even because she had the powers to do so, but because they’d both already shared that same sentiment together, many, many times—something so simple, yet so vulnerable…

Just a wish to love… to exist.

“My name… i-is Tegan. A-And, hah… I’m still afraid, but I’ll continue t-to do my best—I promised.”

No further questions, no more hesitation… With a final squeeze of courage between the two next to them, they prepare to march right along.

The beat goes on, and Arrow’s heart skips at four times the rate of this raging rhythm. Get it right, solve the riddle—this was literally their final chance and all the missing parts were handed over like broken glass tight-fisted into their palms. This fight was far from over, and (hah, literally!) God knows what might happen to them at this point. 

But one thing was for certain—Arrow did not believe for even a moment that these two, of all people (or… corporate angels or whatever), would have any of their best interest in mind. No matter what had transpired for the rest of this insanity. That was at least one glaring pin point on the massive string board that Arrow could get behind.

These two were definitely not safe.

Despite the sweat drenching their brow as they mull over any other over-inflated talking points to dance precariously with the lion and fox of judgement, they do flick their eyes at a few as they speak. Kioko, Derek, Juggler, by all their powers… His heart flutters with pride, returning quietly to DNA, Bus, Lucky, another quick flicker and heart stammer at Cloud, followed by a cracking smile on their face and another bloom of joy between Nubby and Beau… Hell, even Yui, gets a little bit of recognition, even if it is an eye roll. 

But the one that makes their heart stop abruptly is Melody. It makes them sink, then weakly smile, followed by quiet promises under all their darting looks to come back to this soon. It’s then that Jess speaks, and the other half of their lip pulls upwards—wobbly and afraid and tittering with an anxious, insane energy that had been building with the room’s energy.

It was something to play off of… But…

“N-N-Now..Now… Hold on, Melody… I… appreciate the sentiment, but remember, you jump to conclusions too quickly…”

Arrow looks about three seconds away from having a full on meltdown, yet somehow, they hold… This was all absolutely, beyond and without a doubt, fucking insane of them to even fathom, and boy had they had quite the journey to reach this point. Might as well go all in—pockets full of paper cranes and stars with wishes written on the inside.

“… But have you considered? Beau likes to play the hero, and I do hate to take that from him… Sorry, Beau, but there’s something else we haven’t considered? My, if these two are so willing to keep to their words and save us… We must consider a very real situation of who we don’t know much of, as well! Who would pin the blame on anyone in a second to save their bacon, who, a-ah, sorry, you know… Word around the office… h-has a spotty memory of their past? Who could hide crying and… you know, all that other list of stuff that apparently we’re searching for?”

Internally, their mind is screaming: Please, someone, anyone, just shut me up. This is so utterly, entirely, and insanely stupid! DNA or Armando is surely going to smash their brand new glasses in—deserved, honestly. Gem might give him one hell of a verbal lashing later (which is actually more scary to them, they think). Yet still, the words spill out in a panicked titter while searching for any other excuse to cause the largest and most full blown headache to Hiro and Faris.

“… Fio? W-W–Haaahah-What do… you have to say for… yourself?”

Time passed like a burning home, and no matter how this circus act played out before them, Arrow’s eyes remained fixated on Sharp. Looking, watching, waiting… Kioko, Jess, and Adrien were already on the trail, looking for any little crack in that armor… and hell, they have to admit even Fio had an air of knowledge, too… But Arrow still struggled to settle on the full, clear answer. A tap and click, patterns there yet not repeating, puzzles right before them. It didn’t make sense

(“Well, that’s that, then.”)
(Why did she say that? Why is she—)

Dead.
Sunday is dead.

There’s hardly time to process as the stench of blood reaches their nostrils, shutting down all their senses like a flick of a switch. Little rasps of breath come out choppy and irregular, unsure of mouth or nose to pull oxygen from, eyes drying as their lids forget to close, locked unblinking at where the woman once sat. The lion’s glare and fox smile reaches, and it’s all too easy to feel like a rabbit ready to enter their jaws right behind that beautifully complex ram now thrown to the floor. This is how Sunday died, and this is how they will die. This was it. This was it. This was—

“Cloud Nine, those emails and journal…” Arrow suddenly snaps out of the imaginary situation of being pulled apart, looking as wild and ragged as an animal still. Wait, wait, wait, wait, Derek wait— Then to Lucky, who is also staring. 

Sunday is dead. And this was—

Their head snaps to Gem in fear, searching, asking—heart like an overloaded engine feeding the brain at an accelerated rate. Their entire body jolts back to action, more rapid and twitchy than normal. 

(…We can make it all mean something, can’t we?)
(We do have to. This needs to be the last time for anyone.)

It’s then that Beau’s voice rings out, and their gaze locks in on them. Beau, no, wait, Beau don’t throw yourself into the hero’s sacrifice yet please please pl—Oh my god he’s amazing, actually. That’s… genius, perfect. You’re perfect, you amazing wonderful sweet—Arrow, FOCUS.

“H-Hang on, hang on, hang on!” 

Arrow’s hand shoots up suddenly, much like a child trying to get the teacher’s attention… And of course, as soon as this happens, they realize how absolutely fucking idiotic that was. In a painfully slow and awkward attempt at remedying this situation, they lower it shakily to instead plant it on the table to lean forward in an (obviously faux) show of cool-office-guy courage. Yeah, real smooth there, buddy.

“B-Before we get! Uhm! Too far! Ahahaaaahaaa—E-Excuse my uhm, interruption! And, PLEASE excuse my colleagues for jumping right in… I just… I have a question! O-Oh, but first, my manners! Pleasure to meet you both, yes!” 

A thunder jacket would do nothing for them at this point—what with how fast their brain is spinning. Okay, so these two have immediately slipped up, acknowledging out the gate that they don’t know who it is they are looking for… Which means their group might just upper hand. Knowledge is power. So… 

“Uhm, you know how it is, though, right! After all of this, some of us are a little raw. And, well, uhm, technicalities of the workplace—it’s an appealing contract you offer now, ahahaha, even though our original agreement has been altered without formal communications! S-So you understand us needing to, uhm, verify a few things, dot a few i’s, all that! Other than, uhhhhh… n-n-not being terminated ourselves, but! Just what… uhhhhh what happens if we do figure out this whole Novarii thing? What… What happens to them? Honestly, to put it in simplistic terminology here, a lot and perhaps a v-very big misunderstanding, no? There’s got to be, uhm, further documentation and—”

… Surely, they can play stupid and stall, right?

(I’m sorry—I’m so sorry. I’ll do what I can. This isn’t done yet—and I promised I’d work hard. Give me time… I wish. I wish. I wish.)

It takes quite a while for their eyes to adjust from massive light spots fading to a star-lit dazzle, and even longer to recognize that “the end” hadn’t hit at that very moment. In a slow and hesitant manner, their hands retract back from having almost launched in ridiculous (and, honestly, entirely baffling to even themself) instinctual efforts to do something, only to realize that someone else had also done the same to shelter them instead… Their head slowly turns, following that cover upwards to none-other than Juggler.

Lungs scream for air after having forgotten, making them wheeze a bit as they find an appreciative smile for him. They pat the man on his shoulder, try their best to straighten back out and collect themselves.

Okay. Alright. This shouldn’t be anything super different from what they’ve read and been exposed to, right? They’re still alive, their friends and loved ones still standing. And… yep, okay, Sharp really is some kind of clown angel of sorts called a Balaatro that is now just offering answers for…

For this?
For all of this?
The Heir of Fucking Firmament!?

This was it. This was what they’d all been searching for—to finally answer for this chaos! To crack the case and get them hoooooome… maybe? (Haha, oh god, that was seeming even more unlikely. Shit, shit, shit, what can they even do? No, no time for that, not right now, come on Arrow, pull it together…) But—it’s here, she’s always been right here, staring them all down with… god, what even is that emotion? There’s moments of mirth and then boredom, followed by flinches of something else that they can’t quite parse. (Do you… feel bad? How am I supposed to feel—what am I supposed to feel!?

(“….would it matter in the end, what the goal even was? People have been made to suffer, no matter what happens in the future.”)

It’s confusing and doesn’t make sense. They know, they know, they shouldn’t try to make sense of this place still—Sorry, Gem—but can you blame them? Can you seriously try to not roll all this information in your head an…

“…it’s for me… I’m the bad guy.”

Their fists ball suddenly and their own uncontrollable tumbling of conflicting feelings boil and bubble and fight against each other. (It’s not—THAT IS NOT FOR YOU.)

“Is it, now!?” 

Their voice cracks and stumbles out suddenly—but doesn’t shriek. The timidness at facing something so far beyond themselves makes them rattle and years of their insignificant speck of a life makes them rage, and some other third thing almost feels… god, is that pity? They can’t make sense of it.

“H-Hhhh-Hah… F-Far be it from me to question why you’d go against good ol’ mom and dad’s great choices in life,” Eyeroll, “…but I just… You… why the theatrics?” This seems to encompass more than the brevity of the word, but they continue. “W-What is it, even, that you promised to those here to back you up in this b-bullshit?”

They can hardly control their stutter, sweat collecting on their brow as it takes every ounce of courage and bottled-up fire to speak up. Fuck, sure, maybe she is the baddest bad guy and it’s feeding her… love, anger, jealousy, fear… But they imagine—if that’s truly the case—that this swirling, unsatisfied creature that they’ve been raised to be is absolutely bitter and disgusting.

“A-Actually, better yet! Are we still going to die—is that the plan? What for??”

If they were going to succumb to being a puppet on strings to higher parts for almost every single part of their stupid life, at LEAST they can hope for it to make some fucking logical sense.

(“… What does sacrifice mean if you preface for the ‘greater good’? Wars, control, freedom, power… people still die for that, fighting for something. Does context give it forgiveness?”)

But, God, do they wish—

It was curious, wasn’t it? You know, how things played out… How life finds funny little ties into the most amusing ways. How your mind perceives and seeks connections, intentional or not. Cosmic intervention, supernatural, or just plain incredible odds.

Maybe Arrow was entirely wrong—maybe they all were, but the next question came tumbling in and everyone was off to the races. Emotions once again pulled in an assortment of ways, albeit a bit more vicious than before, making their notes come to a halt as they kept close eye on the person of the hour across the room.

And their heart aches—because, God, they just want to go home. Actually, hah, no… Not there—Not that physical box of hell they’d known before coming here… they ache for something that was, in their mind, still quite fantastically out of reach—an unknown beyond made of words and promises… Away from their parents with Crysta in tow, away from the expectation, away from a tethered future of demand, no longer a collateral piece in a sinful game of power, blackmail, blood and greed.. A place where they are safe, with the people they’d actually learned to share a bond with here. 

Was it the same for them, they wonder? Why would they return to it all, and for what unexplainable reason? Especially for all of… this—powers and reach far beyond their own understanding.

“Are you a good guy or a bad guy?!”

It ached, it ached, it ached… But they knew what they had to do, even if they loathed reversing the target. Because twice now, she’d stared them down and grilled them for truth. Twice now were they reprimanded for “freaking out”, and for “yelling at somebody else for what you can’t do.” 

“You only get to do that if you put in the work.”
“Wow. Really trying to put in the work this time.”

“Yes. Juggler always is, actually.” Arrow responds with surprising little hesitation.

Funny how this conversation was now pivoting against that very same someone. Who, as it so happens, was also dragged into that ridiculous face painting booth. Maybe they both were fools. Maybe she’d make them eat their words. It wouldn’t be the last time, as they’re far too accepting of the myriad of pathetic failures. And, hell, even now, it likely didn’t matter what they had to say—Not compared to the weight of the others hooks in her heart. Sharp was, as they all knew, incredibly good at keeping people distant and Arrow had been complacent with being manipulated at keeping their cheek turned. So with a quiet, gentle, almost defeated shrug they open their mouth to continue.

“Well… Sorry, I guess, but you said so yourself. Now, here I am to also ‘put in the work’, as you so described. P-Prove us wrong, then, please. You deny the accusations yet you remain harsh and resistant to those who speak to defend you…“ Their eyes wander towards Kioko, a tremble of worry obvious in their throat, yet they push on. "…but you give nothing of essence back to disprove it. Are you doing this to try and make it easier for you, or are we really on the wrong track?”