#and i have to basically become expert enough in this to have something to SAY

[carpathxanridge]

the scariest thing about asking people for things you thought were a total long shot is when they say yes and you have to actually follow through and do the thing!

#like oh my god i am NOT qualified to be doing this research on this level #with a masterclass response from fucking ******** ******** and an interview scheduled with former member of ************ **** **** **** !!! #like wtf #how did i get here #i am just a white girl who has been studying this music formally for less than a year #i should not be allowed to make this podcast 😭 #like this is now too big for me to fail to follow through on #it is happening it has to be done and done well #and i have to basically become expert enough in this to have something to SAY #and synthesize all these different components

[comradekatara]

i don’t want to watch natla but i appreciate very much you posting about “zuko’s little faggot diary” that shit made me crack up laughing ty

that’s just canon to me. he’s a boy who loves to monologue. of course he keeps a diary. how else is he gonna keep track of his special interests. where else is he gonna write down his angsty poetry. you know he spent months tracking aang down taking detailed notes on his garb, his fighting style, his flight patterns, and not once ever bothered taking note of his name, even though he easily could’ve learned it from the million times katara screamed it over the course of their fights.

which, if you’ll allow me to go on a tangent, is another thing that bothers me. when ppl are like “zuko learned their names because they all say one another’s names constantly.” and you think that means he actively made an effort to REMEMBER it????? you must be out of your damn gourd if you think that the most one-track minded human being in the history of the universe is paying attention to anything that doesn’t directly interest him in that very moment. but i digress.

i just KNOW that zuko was soo mad that he lost his diary after his ship got blown up by zhao because years of precious poetry and avatar lore, burned to cinders by that PHILISTINE!!!! and then as a refugee in the earth kingdom, he languishes, diaryless, because he’s too embarrassed to actually spend what little money they have on something so extraneous. and then once back in the fire nation he obviously can’t keep a diary because azula will do everything in her power to read it (he learned that the hard way as a child). but then, finally, once he flees to the western air temple, he can actually keep a diary again, now that he is surrounded by nice, normal people who don’t actually care enough about him to snoop through his belongings.

or so he thinks.

now, aang, being a respectful young lad, would never share his findings with the rest of the group, especially since none of them have actually warmed up to him yet. but that doesn’t prevent him from reading everything zuko has ever written in that diary. and of course, he doesn’t tell zuko, because he has the tact and savvy to know that if he alerts zuko to his snooping, then he will simply hide his diary better, or even worse, stop writing in it altogether. and zuko can’t stop writing!! for he has a poet’s soul!!!

also, zuko has somehow gathered a lot of information on sokka that aang himself did not know, despite being friends with him for nearly a year now (like the fact that he dated the moon??? or the fact that his mother was killed by the fire nation??? although that one he really should’ve figured out on his own. considering that he and katara are siblings, and thus logically would share a mother). and so aang really needs zuko to keep updating his SOKKA LORE notebook because he feels kind of guilty that he knew basically nothing about his friend and yet zuko, the least observant person he has ever met, is somehow an expert in sokkology (although aang is deeply offended on katara’s behalf that he simply refers to her as “sokka’s sister” or sometimes “the angry one”).

for the record, aang never actually puts together WHY zuko is so fascinated by sokka. he’s just like “of course he’d be intrigued by sokka. he has a very complex mind, what an adventure to attempt to fathom the depths of his psyche.” like he just assumes that zuko is using sokka as a case study for completely innocuous reasons. he also assumes that zuko, like any teenage boy with eyes, is infatuated with katara. not at first, obviously, because to zuko she is still “girl sister, long hair” but eventually. once they reconcile, and become friends. and then his diary makes a sharp turn from carefully documenting any and all sokka lore to “katara said this really funny thing today” “katara is so nice and pretty” “katara is such a good waterbender” and suddenly aang is NOT having fun anymore!!!! halt the presses!!!!!

so aang just kind of sulks to himself for a while because it’s not like he can TELL anyone about his NEW ROMANTIC RIVAL in the BID FOR KATARA’S AFFECTIONS, but he does try to vaguely intimate to sokka and toph that it bothers him. and toph’s just like “what?? you mean all those times she hooked up with haru at the western air temple???” and aang’s just like. “HARU??????!!?!!??!?!?”

anyway. zuko isn’t a complete idiot, so after a few good years of being friends with aang, he finally catches onto the fact that aang has been keeping up with his diary every time he visits the palace, after like, the fourth or fifth time that aang accidentally lets a piece of information slip that he only could’ve known via reading zuko’s diary. so zuko decides to mess with him, and starts keeping a fake diary in the place he used to keep his real diary (columbus style) and writing shit in it like, “aang’s recent experimentations with facial hair are so embarrassing. just because you’re finally old enough to grow a weak little mustache doesn’t mean that you, under any circumstances, SHOULD. i bet katara is throwing up puking every day just having to kiss his horrendous furry mouth.” or, “katara said that she thinks roku was not only hotter, but also a way better avatar than aang, and personally, i agree. if he was still the avatar today no one would ever go hungry and we would have total world peace.” or, “aang is way too comfortable going shirtless. if i had that scrawny lanky body i would cover that shit up with a big ol sweater every day.” or, “aang said something really mean the other day and it hurt my feelings and i cried alone in my room for 3 hours. aang is literally a bully????”

and aang can’t even SAY anything because zuko is allowed to say whatever he wants about his friends in the privacy of his own journal, but also he decides that if zuko truly hates him so much, then he will simply stop visiting the fire nation so frequently, out of respect to his friend. at which point zuko realizes that he may have gone too far, so the next time aang visits him, he puts his real diary in his drawer with an entry that reads, “i can’t believe aang keeps falling for my fake diary prank. he doesn’t even know that im messing with him. and he never will, because my system is flawless, and i’ll never ever lose track of which diary is the real one and which one is the fake.”

at which point aang runs headfirst into a meeting between fire lord zuko and his senior council and is just like “ZUKO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!” and tackles him in a hug with no regard for propriety. he nearly gives zuko a concussion from the force of his hug. but dammit if it isn’t worth it.

#boyfriendgideon #asks #all of this is canon btw. #zuko #aang #aang&zuko #katara&zuko #aang&katara #sokkaxzuko #also yeah. don’t watch natla. truly NOT worth it in the slightest . u made a good call there

[h2llish]

【╰ヾ❝ MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE? ✧„

VIL SCHOENHEIT ── the two of you share a dance ☆ fluff, male reader, established relationship, lowercase intended, reader is not the prefect

fem aligned dni (she/they, she/her, etc)

vil was a busy person, as a model, actor, housewarden and student at the prestigious night raven college, of course he was. even when he took time off from acting to focus on his schooling. it wasn't unusual for your boyfriend to return to his room, where you were often waiting, looking quite tired.

with vil's often-busy schedule, it had practically become routine you'd go as far to say, to wait for vil in his room, where you would likely spend the night. you certainly took advantage of this routine, just happy to see vil, especially when he relaxed after a long day. vil never protested when he found you waiting for him, nor when you would (almost always) make the decision to spend the night with him.

and like this established routine, you were once again in his room as the day turned night, laying across vil's bed and watching your boyfriend complete his nighttime skin routine. there was a radio beside him, where soft music played. vil liked to listen to music every night as he got ready for bed, quiet enough so he didn't disturb anyone so late, but loud enough to fill the silence of the room.

you had been reading before vil returned to his room, but now it remained bookmarked and forgotten as you lay at the foot of the bed, chin resting on the back of your hands and watching vil, something you did every night. sometimes he'd catch you starring, and you'd grin, to which he'd always roll his eyes and smile.

you two sat in a comfortable lack of conversation with only the music to fill the silence.

your attention momentarily switched to the radio as the song trailed off and began a new one, one that sounded more classical, like something you'd listen to while dancing. oh. you smiled, rolling off the side of the bed and to your feet. you approached your boyfriend, stopping behind him watching him finish his routine before he acknowledged you through the mirror with a questioning look.

before he could ask you what you were doing, you held out your hand and grinned, "may i have this dance?"

he blinked, turning his attention from your reflection to face you directly, his expression almost deadpan, "[name]." he said, as if asking you if you were serious. you only shrugged in response to your name, smile turning cheeky, wiggling your fingers, urging him to take your hand.

your smile grew when he shook his head and sighed, muttering, "what to do with you?" as he placed his hand in yours, but despite the rather rhetorical question, there was a fondness to his tone. you pulled vil towards you, one hand going to rest on his waist while the other laced your fingers together. you expression was quite proud as vil rested his hand on your shoulder, chuckling.

as the song that led to this played softly, you began to lead, spinning with vil slowly. vil let you, relaxing against you as you pulled him closer, chest to chest. you fell back into a lack of conversation, one comfortable as you stared at vil, rather content with just watching him.

you're no expert when it comes to waltzing, but you learned what you could, the basics, from vil for vil, so that he knew he always had a dancing partner who sort of knew what he was doing if you ever found yourselves dancing in front of a crowd. but you guys weren't in front of a crowd (or dressed in stare worthy clothing as you spun). you were just two boyfriends dressed ready for bed, holding each other in the middle of a bedroom and twirling lazily, lacking the professionalism vil would probably have if it was any other setting.

but that's exactly why, because you weren't anywhere else ── you were in his room, where vil let go of that character of confidence he put on in front of everyone else. here, where he leaned his head on your shoulder as you stepped with him and spun again and again.

and while you danced, you stared at him, head tilted enough for you to admire who you held in your arms. you were often told that your second language might as well be praising vil, always there to throw compliments of all kinds at your boyfriend, making sure he knew just how wonderful he was, even if it you didn't actually use words to say it (because you know vil). you're sure you've never once thought vil was anything but beautiful and amazing. even now, you thought vil looked ethereal ── with his hair pulled back, a little messy with the curls under blond strands, and his faced covered in a veil of white he would have to remove when morning comes.

you swore to the seven that he was the prettiest person you'd ever have the chance of meeting (and here you are, holding him, the one who got to see him like this, in what you think is his most beautiful state, although you know he'd argue.)

as the song trailed off into another, you half expected vil to call it a night, saying how you both needed sleep. but he did no such thing, remaining in your grasp. he squeezed your shoulder for a moment when you almost brought the dance to a stop, and he let you continue to twirl him around the room slowly. and you noted to yourself that perhaps he needed this. being his boyfriend, you knew well how busy he'd been, and how hard he often was on himself to be the fairest. (although you would say he already was the fairest one of all.)

as the second song faded into the third, and the third faded into the fourth, and fourth into the fifth, your already lazy waltz turned into something more of a sway in your spot, no longer spinning around the room.

you smiled at him, squeezing his waist softly as you admired him laying his head on your shoulder. you finally broke the music filled silence, whispering so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, "you're so beautiful, vil." (you say, even though the compliment was small compared to the thoughts of just how beautiful he really was, lacking the words that could began to truly express. but you suppose it will have to do.)

vil's sleep schedule was a little off that night, something that rarely, if ever, happened, unsure of how many songs the two of you had danced to. but he lacked any complaints about it ── he thinks he'll let it slide just this once.

i had to man. managed to actually focus and write something really happy right now

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

#𓂃 ࣪ ˖ ✧ fluff #twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x male reader #vil schoenheit x male reader #vil schoenheit x reader #x male reader

[esamastation]

Part forty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty

-

"... So there's Natural Materia that grows and evolves and eventually spawns an offspring of exactly identical Materia that can then make the exact same journey - and then there's Artificial Materia that… doesn't?"

"You're really asking the wrong person - Genesis is the expert," Angeal sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "But yeah, that's basically it? Artificial Materia can still level up a bit, but it doesn't evolve or make a copy of itself."

Sephiroth nods, fascinated. "So Natural Materia basically does mitosis?"

"I… don't know what that is?" Angeal says, sounding lost.

They're walking through the forest, in between random encounters - following a wide old footpath towards the charcoal burner's house. The path has the signs of wheeled traffic where the dirt has really been compacted, but it was a while ago, and grasses have started taking real estate on the path. Still, it makes for easier walking than the wild, untamed forest.

"It's when something - a cell - splits into two identical copies," Sephiroth explains.

"Ah, then no, that's not exactly it - the offspring Materia is unleveled and undeveloped. It has to be matured anew," Angeal clarifies.

"Still. Eventually the offspring Materia becomes identical to the parent. It's asexual reproduction, at least," Sephiroth muses, fascinated by how organic it all sounds. Like Materia is actually a breed of organism doing what all living things do - eat and reproduce. And artificial versions are basically infertile! "I bet Artificial Materia still needs to be somehow seeded by the natural sort."

Angeal shrugs, helpless. "You'd really have better luck asking Genesis. Maybe you should send him a message, asking about it."

"Maybe I will," Sephiroth says, determined, and then looks up. "Heads up - bugs."

One random encounter later, they're back to walking.

"You know, you could actually just try using your Materia," Angeal comments. "Might give you some insight on how it works. Or do you not remember how?"

Sephiroth waves a hand. "You just push energy through the thing, it's not that hard."

"Then why not do it?"

Because MP is Qi, kinda, and using Materia basically burns it away. Or, well, transforms it. Part of it goes into the Materia being used, aiding its maturation, and the rest of it is transformed into whatever spell the Materia is for. It's very easy to use and very powerful and incredibly energy inefficient. And since Sephiroth still isn't sure whether he wants to take in ambient energy in the way of the locals, he isn't sure his MP actually replenishes? And sure, he could take an Ether, a potion that replenishes MP - but that's basically like drinking raw Qi, and the very idea is a bit alarming.

There's just a scary level of energy transference going on in this place, and his core is unstable enough!

Also Sephiroth would rather figure out how to consume the Materia itself, like you'd consume spirit stones - except he really doesn't need any extra Qi at this point.

"Maybe later," Sephiroth says and looks ahead for a distraction. "Oh, hey, is that the house?"

Angeal gives him a look, amused, but lets it go and looks ahead too.

The charcoal burner's house is built near to the side of a mountain wall, with three enormous charcoal kilns half carved into the stone of the mountain. The house is more of a homestead, with a large area cleared and fenced, with the house itself in the middle, a couple of storage huts, a stall, and a big shelter for wood.

It's a bit rundown, though. One of the storage houses has its rooftop caved in, and there's long grass growing everywhere. The charcoal kilns look not just cold, but like something had been nesting in one of them.

"That's strange," Angeal murmurs warily, looking around. "It… doesn't look like anyone's been living here for a good long while."

"Hmm," Sephiroth hums, crouching down to examine a footprint in the dirt. It's fresh. "Someone has been here very recently, though." Someone in modern footwear - with treaded soles. Not that he knows what kind of footwear the people of Wutai favour, but, still…

Angeal looks at the footprint and hums. "Be on your guard. There's something weird going on in here."

Cautious, they examine the place and find no signs of any monster attacks. What they do find is more footprints, all by the same set of shoes, going strong in the place and by all appearances checking out the buildings.

"Looking for something, maybe?" Angeal murmurs as they consider the footprints.

"Hmm. I don't see any signs of monsters," Sephiroth comments. "Didn't the mission files say the place was already attacked? Maybe we're in the wrong place."

"Maybe…"

While Angeal checks their mission files and coordinates to confirm they're actually in the right house, Sephiroth tries to figure out why it was abandoned in the first place. It wasn't sudden, that he can tell - whoever lived here had the time to pack up. Everything that's left was put away very neatly, too.

"Well, this is the right place," Angeal says, following him inside. "Either they got the coordinates wrong - or the intelligence."

"I guess it could be a trap," Sephiroth muses, poking around the charcoal burner's old office in search of any paperwork. "If this is really where an informant once lived, maybe that informant turned into a double agent and set a trap."

"You really think so?" Angeal asks, sounding more interested than alarmed.

"Not really," Sephiroth shrugs and picks up a crumpled piece of paper, someone's attempt at a letter that had gotten ruined by an ink smear. Gently he spreads it out on the office table to read. "Or else it's a terrible trap…"

The letter is addressed to someone's uncle, informing them of the charcoal burner's good fortune. Apparently their family had been invited by the emperor to live and work in the capital. Lucky guy.

"Maybe we should prepare for an ambush, just in case," Angeal comments thoughtfully, adjusting his gloves. "What do you think?"

"I think they would've revealed themselves already, if it was the case," Sephiroth says. "And this is a terrible place for an ambush anyway. It's far too open."

"Well, good thing it's not an ambush!" a voice calls from the outside before Angeal can answer.

"... Sounds like something an ambusher would say," Angeal mutters, clearly recognizing the voice, and Sephiroth chuckles.

Reno waits for them outside, lazily scratching at a bug bite on his arm. "Congratulations, you have been summarily recruited for a secret Turk mission," he says and motions around them. "Your station."

"Turk mission?" Angeal repeats. "It was you who sent out that mission file?"

"Yep," Reno agrees, shrugging unrepentantly.

Sephiroth watches him warily. He'd not interacted with Reno or Rude much, Angeal had kinda covered for him there. He'd not entirely sure why the Turks followed them to Wutai. Maybe this is it.

Maybe this is as far as he gets, before having to commit, one way or the other.

Sephiroth braces himself. "What's the mission?"

Reno grins and points a finger at him. "Your mission, starting right now, is to stay here," he says, "And get your shit together."

-

Man I've missed ff7 world so much. The whole magic system from Lifestream to Materia to summoning world ending Meteors from the sky is just 😗👌

I'm playing og ff7 while writing and none of the sequelsprequelsremakes come even close to comparing with how delicious Materia in the original game is.

#Fanfiction #Ff7 #ffvii #svsss #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #angeal hewley #reno of the turks #shen yuan

[what-even-is-thiss]

Since people ask me a lot how to research this or that type of mythology or religion I'll just tell you how I go about researching mythology and religion I'm not familiar with in general.

Keep in mind I'm not an expert. I'm just a guy who reads a lot about mythology.

So first, know what you're looking for. What culture's belief system are we looking at? Because you can't just look at a broad region. If you wanna know about "African" or "Asian" mythology generally that will not help you. You need to be looking at something specific. A specific group or religion.

So let's say, as an example, you want to research the stories and beliefs and history of Tibetan Buddhism. Because that's something I'm looking into researching right now, so I'll take you through my process of getting started on it.

So the first thing I do is... google Tibetan Buddhism. Now this is a still-living religion that has continuously been practiced since it's founding, so I scroll past the Wikipedia and Encyclopedia Britannica entries until I find something by the people currently practicing it. In this case, I found an article by the Sakya Monastery in Seattle that gives a basic overview of their beliefs and different types of the religion that is currently practiced. This is what I'm looking for. I want to give myself a fairly good foundation of understanding of what's going on here before I start digging past the surface.

After this, I look for more articles and videos by monasteries explaining the basics. If this were from a religion that is either dead or has not been practiced continually since its founding I would skip all this and just go to the next step. Watching YouTube videos made by outsiders.

So after I give myself an idea of how people who practice the religion present themselves, I go searching on YouTube for overviews. I'm specifically interested in videos made by people that regularly make videos about this kind of thing and take it seriously. Sometimes this can take some digging. Something to look for is people who cite their sources, people who present the facts without outward judgement, and people who acknowledge their own biases while they explain these things.

A lot of these videos often give me ideas for books and primary sources to start referencing. With Tibetan Buddhism there's a lot of the regular Buddhism texts, along with a few others. I'm not looking to become an expert in this religion or convert to it, so I'll settle for reading about these books. I'm fairly familiar with Zen Buddhism specifically and the history of Buddhism more generally so this helps me a teeny bit here but Tibetan Buddhism is very specifically its own thing so I start googling specific stories and types of practices mentioned in the videos and articles I've been using.

Once I have been reading things from various different perspectives and feel comfortable enough to the point where I feel like I could explain the basics to someone who knows nothing about the mythology or belief system, this is the point where I start looking into books. This is also the part where I actually start combing through various Wikipedia articles, following chains and looking through reference sections to see if there's any good sources I should be digging into.

When I look to buy or borrow books, it depends on how in-depth I want to go. As is, I'm probably gonna buy a couple of different books on a beginners guide to Tibetan Buddhism and perhaps something on the history of it. With each book I consider I look up the author. Are they an expert in this subject? Do they practice this religion? Would I rather buy a book by someone that follows the religion or someone that's a scholar of it? Because you will get very different results depending on who is writing it. Things written for spiritual purposes are very different from purely educational books, so what do you want to get out of this research? Are you just looking for entertainment? Do you just want to be more knowledgeable about the world in general? Does someone you love find importance in this subject? Are you doing research for a project? Are you looking to incorporate aspects of this religion into your own life? The types of books you buy or borrow will heavily depend on your intentions and you should be careful about actually reading the book descriptions and reading the backgrounds of the authors to make sure you're buying the correct one for what you're hoping to get out of this.

My purpose in this case is simply feeding my own curiosity, so I'm leaning towards buying Essential Tibetan Buddhism by Robert A. F. Thurman. It's a bit old but it's written by someone that's a professor of Tibetan studies and has translations of some essential texts in it, so it seems like a good starting point for me, and possibly also an ending point. Because like I said, this is mostly about my own curiosity.

If I wanted to dig further I'd probably start looking into the reference sections of various books for other things to read, start digging into lists of primary sources, possibly find free to watch lectures online by people with doctorates in this sort of thing, and read into primary sources I find referenced in the various secondary sources I've been consulting up to this point.

Basically, start on the surface and follow the rabbithole down. And always remember that the perspectives of people who study something in a secular way for a living and people who actively practice a religion will be different from each other. Pick and choose what sources you use depending on what your intentions are. Reading something about Orphic hymns for scholarly reasons or for other research purposes and reading Orphic hymns because you're a Hellenistic pagan who wants to incorporate them into your personal practice are two extremely different things. Both are valid reasons to buy a book on Orphic hymns but the two books that the two hypothetical people here would buy are very very different from each other.

Good luck out there and always be respectful while you're poking around.

#religion mention #mythology

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #5 – The Tusks of Extinction by Ray Nayler

I read Nayler’s The Mountain in the Sea last year and, despite thinking it was ultimately kind of a noble failure, liked it more than enough to give his new novella a try. It didn’t hurt that the premise as described in the marketing copy sounded incredible. I can’t quite say it was worth it, but that’s really only because this novella barely cost less than the 500-page doorstopper I picked up at the same time and I need to consider economies here – it absolutely lived up to the promise of its premise.

The book is set a century and change into the future, when a de-extinction initiative has gotten funding from the Russian government to resurrect the Siberian mammoth – or, at least, splice together a chimera that’s close-enough and birth it from african elephant surrogate mothers – to begin the process of restoring the prehistoric taiga as a carbon sink. The problem: there’s no one on earth left who knows how wild mammoth are supposed to, like, live- the only surviving elephants have been living in captivity for generations. Plop the ressurectees in the wilderness and they’ll just be very confused and anxious until they starve. The solution: the technology to capture a perfect image of a human mind is quite old, and due to winning some prestigious international award our protagonist – an obsessive partisan of elephant conservation – was basically forced to have her mind copied and put in storage a few months before she was killed by poachers.

So the solution of who will raise and socialize these newly created mammoths is ‘the 100-year-old ghost of an elephant expert, after having her consciousness reincarnated in a mammoth’s body to lead the first herd as the most mature matriarch’. It works better than you’d expect, really, but as it turns out she has some rather strong opinions about poachers, and isn’t necessarily very understanding when the solution found to keep the project funded involves letting some oligarch spend a small country’s GDP on the chance to shoot a bull and take some trophies.

So this is a novella, and a fairly short one – it’s densely packed with ideas but the length and the constraints of narrative mean that they’re more evoked or presented than carefully considered. This mostly jumps out at me with how the book approaches wildlife conservation – a theme that was also one of the overriding concerns of Mountain where it was considered at much greater length. I actually think the shorter length might have done Nayler a service here, if only because it let him focus things on one specific episode and finish things with a more equivocal and ambiguous ending than the saccharine deux ex machina he felt compelled to resort to in Mountain.

The protection of wildlife is pretty clearly something he’s deeply invested in – even if he didn’t outright say so in the acknowledgements, it just about sings out from the pages of both books. Specifically, he’s pretty despairing about it – both books to a great extent turn around how you convince the world at large to allow these animals to live undisturbed when all the economic incentives point the other way, a question he seems quite acutely aware he lacks a good answer to.

Like everyone else whose parents had Jurassic Park on VHS growing up, I’ve always found the science of de-extinction intensely fascinating – especially as it becomes more and more plausible every day. This book wouldn’t have drawn my eye to nearly the degree it did if I don’t remember the exact feature article I’d bet real money inspired it about a group of scientists trying to do, well, exactly the same thing as the de-extinctionists do in the book (digital resurrection aside). The book actually examines the project with an eye to practicalities and logistics – and moreover, portrays it as at base a fundamentally heroic, noble undertaking as opposed to yet another morality tale about scientific hubris. So even disregarding everything else it had pretty much already won me over just with that.

The book’s portrayal of the future and technology more generally is broader and less carefully considered, but it still rang truer than the vast majority of sci fi does – which is, I suppose, another way of saying that it’s a weathered and weather-beaten world with new and better toys, but one still very fundamentally recognizable as our own, without any great revolutions or apocalyptic ruptures in the interim. Mosquito's got CRISPR’d into nonexistence and elephants were poached into extinction outside of captivity, children play with cybernetically controlled drones and the president of the Russian Federation may or may not be a digital ghost incarnated into a series of purpose-grown clones, but for all that it’s still the same shitty old earth. It’s rather charming, really.

#book review #the tusks of extinction #ray nayler #sff #cli fi

[devsgames]

Game Optimization and Production

I wanted to write a bit of a light primer about optimization and how it relates to game production in the event people just don't know how it works, based on my experience as a dev. I'm by no means an expert in optimization myself, but I've done enough of it on my own titles and planned around it enough at this point to understand the gist of what it comes down to and considerations therein. Spoilers: games being unoptimized are rarely because devs are lazy, and more because games are incredibly hard to make and studios are notoriously cheap.

(As an aside, this was largely prompted by seeing someone complaining about how "modern" game developers are 'lazy' because "they don't remember their N64/Gamecube/Wii/PS2 or PS3 dropping frames". I feel compelled to remind people that 'I don't remember' is often the key part of the "old consoles didn't lag" equation, because early console titles ABSOLUTELY dropped frames and way more frequently and intensely than many modern consoles do. Honestly I'd be willing to bet that big budget games on average have become more stable over time. Honorable mention to this thread of people saying "Oh yeah the N64 is laggy as all hell" :') )

Anywho, here goes!

Optimization

The reason games suffer performance problems isn't because game developers are phoning it in or half-assing it (which is always a bad-faith statement when most devs work in unrealistic deadlines, for barely enough pay, under crunch conditions). Optimization issues like frame drops are often because of factors like ~hardware fragmentation~ and how that relates to the realities of game production.

I think the general public sees "optimization" as "Oh the dev decided to do a lazy implementation of a feature instead of a good one" or "this game has bugs", which is very broad and often very misguided. Optimization is effectively expanding the performance of a game to be performance-acceptable to the maximum amount of people - this can be by various factors that are different for every game and its specific contexts, from lowering shader passes, refactoring scripts, or just plain re-doing work in a more efficient way. Rarely is it just one or two things, and it's informed by many factors which vary wildly between projects.

However, the root cause why any of this is necessary in the first place is something called "Platform Fragmentation".

What Is Fragmentation

"Fragmentation" is the possibility space of variation within hardware being used to run a game. Basically, the likelihood that a user is playing a game on a different hardware than the one you're testing on - if two users are playing your game on different hardware, they are 'fragmented' from one another.

As an example, here's a graphic that shows the fragmentation of mobile devices based on model and user share. The different sizes are how many users are using a different type of model of phone:

As you can tell, that's a lot of different devices to have to build for!

So how does this matter?

For PC game developers, fragmentation means that an end-user's setup is virtually impossible to predict, because PC users frequently customize and change their hardware. Most PC users potentially have completely different hardware entirely.

Is your player using an up-to-date GPU? CPU? How much RAM do they have? Are they playing on a notebook? A gaming laptop? What brand hardware are they using? How much storage space is free? What OS are they using? How are they using input?

Moreover PC parts don't often get "sunsetted" whole-cloth like old consoles do, so there's also the factor of having to support hardware that could be coming up on 5, 10 or 15 years old in some cases.

For console developers it's a little easier - you generally know exactly what hardware you're building for, and you're often testing directly on a version of the console itself. This is a big reason why Nintendo's first party titles feel so smooth - because they only build for their own systems, and know exactly what they're building for at all times. The biggest unknowns are usually smaller things like televisions and hookups therein, but the big stuff is largely very predictable. They're building for architecture that they also made themselves, which makes them incredibly privileged production-wise!

Fragmentation basically means that it's difficult - or nearly impossible - for a developer to know exactly what their users are playing their games on, and even more challenging to guarantee their game is compatible everywhere.

Benchmarking

Since fragmentation makes it very difficult to build for absolutely everybody, at some point during development every developer has to draw a line in the sand and say "Okay, [x] combination of hardware components is what we're going to test on", and prioritize that calibre of setup before everything else. This is both to make testing easier (so testers don't have to play the game on every single variation of hardware), and also to assist in optimization planning. This is a "benchmark".

Usually the benchmark requirements are chosen for balancing visual fidelity, gameplay, and percentage of the market you're aiming for, among other considerations. Often for a game that is cross-platform for both PC and console, this benchmark will be informed by the console requirements in some way, which often set the bar for a target market (a cross-platform PC and console game isn't going to set a benchmark that is impossible for a console to play, though it might push the limits if PC users are the priority market). Sometimes games hit their target benchmarks, sometimes they don't - as with anything in game development it can be a real crap shoot.

In my case for my games which are often graphically intensive and poorly made by myself alone, my benchmark is often a machine that is approximately ~5 years old and I usually take measures to avoid practices which are generally bad and can build up to become very expensive over time. Bigger studios with more people aiming at modern targets will likely prioritize hardware from within the last couple years to have their games look the best for users with newest hardware - after all, other users will often catch up as hardware evolves.

This benchmark allows devs to have breathing room from the fragmentation problem. If the game works on weaker machines - great! If it doesn't - that's fine, we can add options to lower quality settings so it will. In the worst case, we can ignore it. After all, minimum requirements exist for a reason - a known evil in game development is not everyone will be able to run your game.

Making The Game

As with any game, the more time you spend on something is the more money being spent on it - in some cases, extensive optimization isn't worth the return of investment. A line needs to be drawn and at some point everyone can't play your game on everything, so throwing in the towel and saying "this isn't great, but it's good enough to ship" needs to be done if the game is going to ship at all.

Optimizing to make sure that the 0.1% of users with specific hardware can play your game probably isn't worth spending a week on the work. Frankly, once you hit a certain point some of those concerns are easier put off until post-launch when you know how much engagement your game has, how many users of certain hardware are actually playing, and how much time/budget you have to spend post-launch on improving the game for them. Especially in this "Games As A Service" market, people are frequently expecting games to receive constant updates on things like performance after launch, so there's always more time to push changes and smooth things out as time goes on. Studios are also notoriously squirrelly with money, and many would rather get a game out into paying customer's hands than sit around making sure that everything is fine-tuned (in contrast to most developers who would rather the game they've worked on for years be fine-tuned than not).

Comparatively to the pre-Day One patch era; once you printed a game on a disc it is there forever and there's no improving it or turning back. A frightening prospect which resulted in lots of games just straight up getting recalled because they featured bugs or things that didn't work. 😬

Point is though, targeted optimization happens as part of development process, and optimization in general often something every team helps out with organically as production goes on - level designers refactor scripts to be more efficient, graphics programmers update shaders to cut down on passes, artists trim out poly counts where they can to gradually achieve better performance. It's an all-hands-on-deck sort of approach that affects all devs, and often something that is progressively tracked as development rolls on, as a few small things can add up to larger performance issues.

In large studios, every developer is in charge of optimizing their own content to some extent, and some performance teams are often formed to be dedicated to finding the easiest, safest and quickest optimization wins. Unless you plan smartly in the beginning, some optimizations can also just be deemed to dangerous and out-of-reach to carry out late in production, as they may have dependencies or risk compromising core build stability - at the end of the day more frames aren't worth a crashing game.

Conclusion

Games suffer from performance issues because video game production is immensely complex and there's a lot of different shifting factors that inform when, how, and why a game might be optimized a certain way. Optimization is frequently a production consideration as much as a development one, and it's disingenuous to imply that games lag because developers are lazy.

I think it's worth emphasizing that if optimization doesn't happen, isn't accommodated, or perhaps is undervalued as part of the process it's rarely if ever because the developers didn't want to do it; rather, it's because it cost the studio too much money. As with everything in our industry, the company is the one calling the final shots in development. If a part of a game seems to have fallen behind in development it's often because the studio deemed it acceptable, refused to move deadlines or extend a hand to help it come together better at fear of spending more money on it. Rarely if ever should individual developers be held accountable for the failings of companies!

Anywho, thanks for reading! I know optimization is a weird mystical sort of blind spot for a lot of dev folks, so I hope this at least helps shed some light on considerations that weigh in as part of the process on that :) I've been meaning to write a more practical workshop-style step-by-step on how to profile and spot optimization wins at some point in the future, but haven't had the time for it - hopefully I can spin something up in the next few weeks!

#gamedev #game development #game dev #indie games #indie game #gamedevelopment #indiegames #pc gaming #pc games #indie dev #indiedev #video games #video game #blog #thoughts #optimization

[fruitsoxs]

midnight munchies

sometimes getting high with your crush ends in success

pairings: Modern!wolfwood x AFAB!reader warnings: !nsfw minors dni!, smut, making out, fluff, kinda mentions being high (doesn't go into much detail about that), cunnilingus, fingering, adam sandler notes: this went a bit out of my control lol- i may or may not have a part 2 in the works. also i have like a bunch of headcannons for my modern wolfwood in this fic if anyone wants them-- word count: 2.2k words

“Remind me again why we can’t grab all these snacks?” The gravelly voice of your dearest friend Nicholas D Wolfwood asks, grabbing a few bags of chips from your kitchen. You sigh and shoot him a look. “Because I get the munchies and literally cannot control myself when I’m high.” You reply as the microwave beeps lightly. You pop open the door and grab the popcorn with a smile. Nic sets a bowl down next to you, and you give him a quiet thank you, before pouring the warm snack into the bowl.

It’s movie night - a now weekly tradition the two of you have developed. A night where you pick out a terrible movie, get high, and just hang out. 

You’ve only been friends with Nic for about a month now, after meeting on the balcony at some party you didn’t want to go to. It’s crazy how immediately the two of you clicked. And instead of making out and never talking again, you held yourself back from kissing this insanely attractive man and got his number instead. To be friends. 

Now the two of you are basically inseparable. Texting constantly, always hanging out during your free time, and basically becoming the ultimate pair of best buds. And although that relationship is great, you can’t help but long to be something more…intimate. You thought he was attractive the moment you saw him with his messy dark hair, and tan skin. He’s like straight out of a TV show. As you got to know him more though, you couldn’t help but just keep falling. He’s funny, nice, a bit of a loser, and he is really good with kids. He’s like a dream guy! 

Even now, as you sit next to him on your shitty ass couch, you can’t help feel your heart flutter within your ribs. The way he leans back, and puts his arm across the back of the couch- almost around your shoulders. The way he throws a chip in the air and catches it with his mouth so casually- his light chuckle as something funny happens in the movie. It’s all so perfect. 

You’re not even paying attention to the movie at this point, eyes focused on him with this small smile. You’re sure you look absolutely in love, but he’s not even paying attention to you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Adam Sandler.” 

His eyes are hyper focused on the movie (Hotel Transylvania 4). You’re a little confused on why he’s actually invested in this movie, but he’s cute so whatever. His smile starts to widen, and his eyes glance over to you, as if he’s waiting for you to answer. 

“He’s not in this one?” You ask, turning your head to the screen with a slight blush. “How can you not tell?” Nic asks, laughing softly. 

“Oh I’m sorry I’m not an Adam Sandler expert like you.”

He laughs again, throwing his head back. He’s so cute. You break out into a little giggle of your own, and join him in what feels like a non-stop laugh session. Yeah- the effects are starting to hit you now for sure. As soon as you can catch your breath you cool down, and with a happy sigh you lean over resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles when your head hits his shoulder and looks down at you. “This is kinda cute, you know.” He mumbles softly, only loud enough for you to barely hear it. Your cheeks turn a bit pink, and you let your thoughts inside your head flow through your lips without even thinking. “You’re kinda cute, you know.” you huff.

He smiles softly at the words, his eyes lighting up. “What was that?” He asks, an amused tone to his voice. “You gotta be louder than that.” He chuckles, flashing you a coy grin, before turning back to the movie.

“I said you’re kinda cute.” You repeat, this time louder. Suddenly you’re feeling a little brave. There’s an almost permanent smile on your lips, even as your heart thumps softly in your chest. Nic’s breathing stops for a moment, before his chest erupts into a light chuckle. He lowers his arms around your shoulders, and pulls you into his side. You can feel the vibrations in his chest from the laughter, and smell the smoke on his clothes. 

He angles his head down to look at you. “Aww thank you darlin~” You can feel his breath against your face and it makes your heartbeat pick up. He looks at your relaxed expression and chuckles again. “Is it hitting you already?” He asks, his hand squeezing your shoulder softly. “You really are so cute…”

You make no effort to push yourself away, but hide your face a bit. “Don’t make fun of me like that I might actually explode.” You mumble, flustered beyond all belief. He puts his fingers under your chin, and lifts your face up so it’s facing his. 

“Adorable…” His hand drops, but you stay looking up at him. His tone is soft, but there’s a hint of amusement on his face.  “If I tell you a secret, will you promise me you won’t tell anyone?” he lowers his tone to a light whisper, leaning in closer so his lips graze your cheek. “Just between us?”

“I promise.” You mumble oh so softly, taking in his scent. Your eyes are a little wide, staring up at him with red cheeks. This feels intimate. 

“Okay…I think I like you.” He whispers, his tone so soft. “It’s dumb and cheesy I know, but I just…” he trails off with a sheepish smile. “Wanted to be honest with you. I mean we just smoked together, and I’m a little bit stoned, and you’re cute and this just feels right to tell you how I feel about you.” He rambles, lifting his head away a bit so you can see that he is serious.

It hits you hard. Really hard. He likes you too. You should kiss him, or tell him you feel the same way. Instead though, you give a little dramatic gasp. “This is crazy, but I…” you trail off, your teasing tone becoming more serious as your voice drops down an octave. “I think I like you too.” And when you say those words, they come out serious. You’re being honest.

His eyes widen, and it looks like he’s letting the news settle before he leans in more. “How much?” he asks with a tiny, playful smile. You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, closing your eyes as you do. It’s a small kiss, and before he can kiss back you pull away. “That much.” 

In an instant he sweeps you up into his arms and pulls you onto his lap, his lips connecting with yours again. It’s a heated kiss, one filled with passion. He pulls you against him, and you have to hold back a whine as you rub against him softly. His tongue swipes against your lips, and as soon as you part them he’s shoving his tongue right into your mouth. He takes a little while to explore every inch he can, before he pulls away. It leaves both of you panting. 

“Wow.” Is all you can say, dazed from whatever that was. Nic doesn’t seem to be doing much better, nodding with a smile. “That was…really nice.” He agrees. “We should….keep doing that.” You mumble.

You both lean in for the kiss, picking back up where you stopped. Your hands rush to his hair as your lips move in sync. He puts his hands on your  waist, squeezing your body softly. He pulls away from the kiss, and pushes his lips against your neck. He trails kisses down, nibbling and sucking slightly. “N-Nic-” you moan and grind down slightly. He gasps at the pressure and lets out an honest to god whimper. “F-Fuck darlin’- you’re driving me crazy.” he mumbles against your skin.

You whisper a curse, your body heating up at the little nickname he calls you. “I love when you call me that.” You murmur. You feel him smile against your neck, and his lips leave your skin as he pulls back. “Oh is that so?” I guess I have to keep calling you that then, Darlin’~” He chuckles, watching your reaction. He must like it, because the next thing he does is lean down next to your ear. “Does it just make you melt?”

You let out a shaky moan, and his laughter vibrates against your ear. “You fucking tease.” You shoot at him with feign anger. He pulls away from your ear and instead presses his lips to yours again. A sweet little apology kiss. You grab onto his face and deepen it again.

It turns into a lazy open mouthed kiss soon enough, his tongue twirling around yours as soft moans leave your throat. As you pull away you bite his lip softly which causes him to grunt. Next thing you know you’re being flipped onto your back with him hovering over you. His lips are on yours again, and he trails his hand up your shirt. His hand is warm, and calloused. The skin to skin contact sends a shiver down your spine.

He slowly pushes his hand up further, cupping your breast, massaging it through your bra. You whimper against his lips, and in return he moves his hand to your other breast and gives it some attention as well. The feeling goes straight down, and you buck your hips up in a desperate attempt for some friction. 

He hums, and starts moving his lips down. He places phantom kisses over your clothed nipples, and keeps moving down. Your eyes widen at the realization of where this is going. His fingers dig into the waistband of your bottoms, and he pulls them off quickly. Now completely bare- he stares down at your exposed pussy. His pupils dilate with a hunger you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. He flicks his eyes back up to your face. “This okay?” He asks- voice soft.

You nod, but he doesn’t move. “I need a yes darlin’.” He mumbles. You can tell he’s excited, especially with the way his fingers dig into your thighs, but he’s still taking the time to make sure you’re alright. Cute.

“Y-Yes.” You manage to get out- despite being helplessly speechless by the situation. At your consent, his fingers trails down your stomach. Your breath hitches in your throat as he takes two fingers and dips them slowly through your folds. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely done anything…” He trails off, smirking as you twitch below him.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” He growls softly, lifting your legs into the air. He starts trailing kisses down your thighs, lowering his head between your legs. It takes everything within you not to scream at him to hurry the fuck up. He bites the inside of your thigh ever so softly, before his face hovers your cunt.

His eyes meet yours and he smirks before letting out a warm breath against you. You whine and try to lift your hips up to meet his face, but he’s holding you down. “Now, have some patience. I promise you it will be worth it.” He coos, softly.

The noise you let out must tell him how desperate you are, because right after he chuckles and licks up your folds, never breaking eye contact. 

“Nicholas- oh my god!” You arch your back up and cry out. He smiles and slowly inserts a finger into you, soon joined another. “Let me hear all those pretty noises.” His mouth moves against your cunt. You sob out his name again, and he presses his tongue against your clit.

He licks and sucks at the sensitive bud, while his fingers curl inside of you. The noises you let out are loud, and rather sinful. You’re not sure if your neighbors are appreciating the symphony of lewd screams as much as Nic is- but you honestly don’t care much right now. Your hands drop to his head, gripping onto his hair as he eats you out. 

He moves his fingers in a certain way that has your toes curling, and it becomes clear that you’re already close to the end. “Nic I’m close-” You warn breathlessly.

He speeds up his fingers in response, mumbling praise against your folds. It’s enough to send you over the edge- and the orgasm hits you fast. 

“FUCK- I’m coming- oh god I’m-” You squeeze your eyes close as you yell out for him. The pleasure waves through you, causing your body to jerk around a bit. He works you through your climax, lapping up everything that flows out of you like a starved man.

You fall slack against the couch as he sits back up, wiping his face. He’s got this lazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he looks down at you. 

You reach your hand out to his dick, still trapped in his pants but he shakes his head. “Tonight is all about you.” He mumbles, grabbing your hand to intervene. He brings your palm up to his lips, and kisses it softly. He pulls you up and has you sit with your face rested against his chest. He wraps an arm around you lazily, and goes back to the movie.

“Hey Nic?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought I was the one who got the munchies while high”

“Shut up.”

#nicholas d wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x you #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood imagines #wolfwood smut #trigun x reader #wolfwood x reader smut #fun fact my partner beta read this and told me they'd be better as friends #also they're the one who told me to put adam sandler in this fic so

[ohbo-ohno]

.. that purge playlist screenshot got me thinking..

the annual purge has started. Soap is confident in himself, staying alive tonight. Locked up in his home, which is out of the way and secured properly(he’s an explosives expert, what did you expect?), so, yeah! He’s making it through. He already does enough killing in his job, he doesn’t want to spend leave doing what he’s no doubt gonna do when he gets back.

all’s well, it’s late, and Soap’s getting ready to head off to bed in his basement. Simple, easy, super secure. He’d hear anyone trying to get in, and his weapons are right at his side! An easy night! .. right?

it’s late. Or early? It’s still dark out when he jolts awake to a crash. Did- did something just break? Where was it? He climbed out of his little makeshift bed, grabbing his gun, just in case.

goes upstairs, there’s nothing there.. musta been a ‘coon! Yeah.

except, it wasn’t. When Soap gets back down into the basement after doing a quick patrol of the house, someone’s down there. A big hulking someone who looks.. familiar.

before he can put his finger on it, that big someone lunges for him, pulling Soap’s back against his big chest as he wraps his hands wrap around his throat, cutting off his air.

that’s when it hits him. That smell. That’s Ghost’s cologne!

uhhh the brainworms stopped brainworming so blah blah Soap wakes up, groggy and chained to a bed. Not his own. Tries to look around, all he sees is the large bed he’s laying on in a dark room. maybe an hour or so later, someone comes down into the room. Ghost. Mmmmakes a comment about how Soap was out longer than he thought he would be, how he should have closed the door behind him going back down into his basement, uhhhhahhdsh yeah

(this is really fucking long I’m so sorry feel free to ignore I JUST HAD TO GET THIS OUT sorry if you don’t want long things like this sent into your inbox 😭😭)

-👑

that purge playlist is because im writing a ghoap x reader purge au (that i hope to have finished today) for the love of my life lumi

there's soooo much you can do with a purge au!!! you could have ghost use soap as basically a hunting dog, dragging victims to his master for him to kill. you could have reader as a bonkers insane murderer who ghoap become obsessed with after see her kill someone. you could have poor ol' johnny get taken and kidnapped :/

i loooooove your idea, and i'll add a tiny little layer to it if you don't mind:

maybe johnny's a barista and ghost is one of his regulars. he comes in at the same time everyday (not super weird at a coffee shop) and always waits in johnny's line, even if the other line is shorter. he's intense and creepy as hell, barely ever speaking - as soon as johnny figured out his regular order, he stopped speaking at all. he gives johnny heebie-jeebies, but he tips like $20 every day, so whatever

except the day of the purge, he finally speaks. says something super generic like "goin' out tonight?" and johnny gives back an easy answer (no, i'm no fool, smth like that), and ghost says "good. make sure you don't leave your place. never know who you might run into out there."

which like. creepy, but no creepier than ghost (which is the name he always gives, and there's no way it's his actual name yeah?) has ever been. johnny brushes it off, forgets it by lunch

and of course, simon is very glad to see his boy listened to him when he stops by his apartment that night and sees he's locked in. too bad he couldn't afford a better security system

#👑 anon #i love my ghoap anons #asks and answers #ghoap #purge au

[sadieshavingsex]

I think I've really started figuring out something about relationships and why mine seem to end so intensely. So this is just a little thought experiment, and, as always, I'm not an expert and I'm mostly writing this to talk to myself - take what resonates and leave the rest! So without further ado...

I think that these are some of the most basic ingredients a good relationship can have:

each partner having a baseline ACCEPTANCE of the other person and the ability to "let them do them" authentically

each partner being able to set BOUNDARIES that allow them to continue "doing them," as well as being able to tell the other "no" and stand up for themselves in order to keep those boundaries in place

each partner being COMFORTABLE with the concept that the relationship MAY NOT WORK OUT and truly being okay with stopping the relationship if it begins to go south

When these things start to get compromised, all hell breaks loose and you start the really vicious insecure attachment style cycles we've all come to know and love.

First of all, if someone starts to feel, for whatever reason, that this relationship "MUST WORK OUT," you are headed for disaster - this will create a scenario where at least one person in the relationship is more susceptible to letting go of their own boundaries if the other person asks. If there is any kind of question of the other partner not being able to accept them or their boundaries, the partner who feels things need to work out will simply let go of their boundaries for the sake of the relationship rather than stand up for themself or be able to walk away. Then you have a situation where boundaries are disintegrating and acceptance of the boundaryless partner is potentially starting to become conditional, so you've got the other two pillars of the safe relationship starting to fall.

Soon enough, you're in a very deep cycle. Putting aside your own boundaries for another person, no matter who they are, starts to breed resentment, and you start to feel unaccepting feelings toward the other person's behavior and probably feel that you're participating in an unequal power dynamic where they are making the rules of the relationship. Without your own boundaries, you likely start to impinge on your partner's - if you have to give up so much to be with them and earn their acceptance, they'd better be giving up the same! And then, the more that either of you give up, the more you probably start to subscribe to the sunk cost fallacy - you've changed so much for this person, so now you have to stay together even more, because this relationship would just be a total failure and violation otherwise.

FRIEND. Let me just say it right here from the start: if you stick to the three pillars above, you will probably be able to maintain a much healthier relationship with your partner and yourself!!! Because when you are not bending over backwards in ways that harm you, it's likely that you expect less of that from your partner as well. If you maintain the boundaries, it's probably easier to maintain your acceptance of each other, too. And if you keep your comfort with being alone, you're able to decide to leave in a respectable, peaceable way if the other relationship pillars start to fall in a way that makes you uncomfortable. I feel like these 3 pillars are the way to have a healthy, happy relationship with realistic expectations, that can still end really amicably if it needs to! But if you lose one the whole thing comes crashing down.

#mine #attachment issues #insecure attachment #anxious attachment #disorganized attachment #relationship anxiety #bpd #boundaries #perfectionism

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Since you’re like the Mammon expert I just need to ask, do you know where people are getting the idea that Mammon has pacts with witches? Cause he has canonically said that he wouldn’t make pacts with anyone else, ESPECIALLY witches

Like why would he make such a big deal about being mc’s “first” if he already has a bunch of other pacts

Love your blog btw <3

I had no idea people thought this tbh

But yeah Mammon doesn't have pacts with the three witches - he explicitly says so in s3 because MC, who it turns out is just as possessive as Mammon but much better at hiding it, gets jealous when they think he does.

To clear it up further:

(Season 3 spoilers ahead)

1.) Mammon's Deal with the Three Witches

• The Guardian Demon Devilgram goes into detail about this

• Basically, when in the human world (on an errand for Lucifer I believe) Mammon saves a 9 year old, orphaned, homeless girl from a mugger (in s1 it's said she's sickly as well)

• She imprints on him (like a little duckling) and starts following him around, despite him initially trying to scare her off

• Deciding he can't leave her alone in the human world but also knowing he can't bring a human child to the Devildom, he calls Lucifer and asks for help

• Lucifer puts him in touch with the three witches

• The three witches now look after the kid as long as Mammon pays them and pays for all her needs (which he plans to do till she's an adult/capable of providing for herself) - the witches, however, are overcharging him for everything and it's one of the main reasons he's always in depth and scared of them (to the point that he has nightmares about the witches)

• He visits the girl frequently and she always clings to him and begs him not to leave. He becomes really happy when MC calls him a good dad

• He has no pacts with any of the witches and in S3 firmly states that he doesn't plan to make any

2.) Mammon's Pact with MC

• Mammon, in S3, says he wouldn't make a pact with just any random human

• However, when Mammon makes a pact with MC they are just a random human

• BUT Mammon could also have easily avoided making a pact with MC. Just a few chapters before they make a pact, it's made canon that:

a.) Levi can't even come close to beating Mammon in an actual fight and that, even while half asleep and not in his demon form, Mammon can easily overpower Levi

b.) Mammon is the fastest of his brothers

• Meaning that, in S1, instead of making a pact to get Goldie back Mammon could have;

a.) Overpowered Levi, without having to resort to an actual fight or transform to his demon form

b.) Gotten the card from MC/Levi because he would have been more than fast enough

• Meaning there was an actual conscious decision on Mammon's part that made him decide to make a pact with MC instead. Made him, as far as he knew, sign away his free will to a stranger he just met when he didn't have to do that. Something that, by Mammon's own admission, made MC stand out to him when really they should have been just another random human

• In S3 MC time travels, all the way back to when the brothers were still angels. Here they actively encourage the brothers' sins & for Lucifer to give Diavolo a chance. Before they get kicked out to their own timeline, Michael(??) tells them that though the brothers won't remember them, their actions will have an effect

• As it turns out, Michael(??) wasn't wholly correct as, in their dreams, the brothers (I believe it was Asmo & Lucifer who explicitly spoke about it) do remember there being someone else with them, though they can't place who it is

• In this past timeline, MC & Mammon have an instant connection unlike the initial animosity from their first meeting in S1 - probably because this MC is familiar with Mammon and is looking at their closest friend, while Angel! Mammon is much more confident than Demon! Mammon

• MC stares at Mammon in a way that makes him blush & stutter, enough that he calls them out on it twice. They can find his pranks funny and encourage his dreams when no one else does - enough that he instantly starts liking them (not in a crush way mind you) and by the time they find Levi Mammon's casually teasing MC like they actually have been friends for years instead of just meeting that day.

• MC had an effect on Angel! Mammon - and if Angel! Asmo could still remember them even if couldn't remember them - then Mammon definitely did

• So when he made a pact with MC there's a huge chance that at least subconsciously he didn't see them as just another random human

Because I need validation and I live for shameless self promotion;

1.) Fic between unnamed GN! MC & Angel! Mammon from S3

Familiar Strangers

Mammon gets a little more time with the strange angel his little brothers picked up and picks up a few things of his own.

2.) Mini fic about GN! MC & Mammon making a pact

Physical Contact

Physical Contact made during the Pact formation for all 7 brothers

.

thanks🥺<3

#asks #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #shall we date? obey me! #swd obey me #obey me mammon #om! mammon #swd mammon #shall we date mammon #obey me! mammon #om mammon #mammon x gn!mc #mammon x gender neutral reader #mammon x gn!reader #mammon x oc #mammon x you #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon x y/n #y/n x mammon #you x mammon #reader x mammon #oc x mammon #mc x mammon #shall we date obey me #swd obey me!

[infinitebullshit]

[Kawaki's mental instability and Boruto's responsibility]

1- The line Kawaki crossed.

Something always comes up during Kawaki character-related discussions, which is the implication of Kawaki becoming "crazy" due to his attachment to Naruto.

It was first introduced by Amado, who claimed Kawaki's love for Naruto is veering on madness. In case he meant to describe Kawaki's unhealthily obsession in an over-exaggerated manner, it fits but not really.

Amado was wrong, mostly projecting his own craziness about his daughter on Kawaki. After all, someone who abandons his daughter's needed treatment because he could recreate her is not a sane person to begin with.

Let's take Kawaki back prior to Momoshiki's third takeover.

He was exactly in the same situation he is in now but worse: Code was out there vengeful same as now, Boruto was a real threat who'd turn into an Otsutsuki soon and on top of that nobody had any powers to stop either of them.

On a light note, Kawaki was clinically depressed, anxious to say the least. He suffered a mental setback as a result; nightmares, mode swings, compulsive self-deprecating.. Etc.

Yet, not once, not in a single fleeting panel, not even in his thoughts he considered the idea of Boruto dying for the purpose of getting ride of Momoshiki.

The opposite, he was afraid for him. He didn't want Boruto to die enough to suggest implanting Karma (the thing he hates most) on Code to save him (which also served as a way to protect Naruto but it was for Boruto's sake mostly).

When it came down to fighting Code, he couldn't take the risk. He believed Boruto would die and asked him to leave the battle-field asap even though Boruto dying to Code is one threat down.

Boruto was always a threat, Kawaki knew it. He fought Momoshiki before and cautioned Boruto about it to his face but he didn't and couldn't acknowledge the implication of what that means.

Boruto being a threat was a reality Kawaki didn't want to face, much like his need for Karma.

When Momoshiki took over at the end of Isshiki's arc, Kawaki couldn't accept Boruto was gone even when he actually was at that time.

He kept full high on denial unlike Sasuke and Naruto, he'd look at Momoshiki and see Boruto solely in there.

They were separate entities in his head until Code's battle forced him to accept the bitter truth.

Shikamaru made a point of Kawaki not hesitating to kill a comrade, which he saw as an issue born from his unhealthy obsession with Naruto, that it made him mentally unstable.

He is not completely wrong, Kawaki's fear of losing Naruto is so strong, it triggers panic attacks and emotional breakdowns. But that didn't drive him crazy, it drove him to be self-sacrificial.

Before the Code battle, Naruto basically showered him with affection and assurances but Kawaki's conclusion wasn't to get Karma back & kill Boruto/Code to keep Naruto safe.

His answer was to kill himself so they could all live.

The point I'm making; Kawaki's mental instability/madness wasn't born out of Kawaki's attachment to Naruto itself. He didn't go around promising death on anyone who might or will be a threat to Naruto regardless of how much he himself loves them.

What really drove him crazy was this:

狂ってなきゃできねえんだよ兄弟殺しなんてよ

Kuruttenakya dekinē nda yo kyōdai koroshi nante yo

Viz screwed up the line. It's whole meaning was lost.

Quick JP lesson:

Kurutte : Going/becoming crazy/mad.

nakya: Have to.

dekinē nda yo: Can't/unable to.

kyōdai koroshi: killing a brother.

nante: Something like/ such as.

The "yo" is just for emphasizes.

So the full line will be "[You/I] have to go crazy or [you/I] won't be able to do it. Something like killing [your/my] brother."

Why Japanese don't have pronounces?

Kawaki is a very self-aware person. He sat there and shamelessly admitted the most embarrassing things about how he sees himself and what Naruto is to him, but what he associated with craziness- what he had to force himself to go crazy for; wasn't Naruto.

It was killing his Brother.

Experts say there had been cases where patients ended up being clinically crazy or depressed because they forced themselves to pretend to be those things.

Under the dire circumstances, Kawaki was forced to instantly accept Boruto needs to die.

He didn't process this decision, unlike Naruto/Shikamaru, he wasn't on the sidelines.

He had a split second to decide, and another to act on it.

The hesitation Shikamaru searched for in Kawaki's demeanor when he killed Boruto wasn't there because he didn't process his emotions, he gave priority to understanding the stakes.

"It's a do or die now"

And the opposite of processing your emotions, is shutting them out.

If Kawaki didn't stomp on his emotions, he wouldn't have been able to do it.

He didn't have the luxury to in fact, as nobody else there would've taken the burden.

So he took this responsibility upon himself, willingly sacrificing his sanity to succeed.

In other words, killing Boruto was like crossing a line.

Boruto got to come back from it, mentally unscathed, Kawaki didn't.

2- The burden of being Boruto's brother, Kawaki's responsibility.

For all Boruto's gifts, emotional intelligence wasn't one of those.

From the very first arc of the manga up until his resolution in ch80, Boruto suffered a consistent flaw of misjudging people based on his personal impression of them. He doesn't strive to get a better understanding of someone.

If he forms an idea of somebody, he doesn't budge unti he's forced to.

Examples:

Believing Naruto was a useless good for nothing despite everybody's attempt to make him understand.

Painting Tento as an insufferable brat without realizing how much they had in common.

Assuming a stranger like Ao was a good man based on 1 conversation, little did he know..

Defined Kawaki's whole existence based on his first impression of him (more on this later).

What I get from this is Boruto loves to be certain and right. He hates being in the gray area where he doesn't know what he thinks of someone or what his thoughts are about something.

He hates doubt, unsureness.

It's a flaw that he isn't very self-aware of:

His first impression of Kawaki is based on an incident he wasn't present when it happened so he had little to no proof yet he was quick to point fingers and fill in the blanks about this new person he just met.

Ripped off a very long Kawaki analysis that never saw the light;

During the first few days the author depicted how estranged and alienated Kawaki was from everyone else on both social and emotional level. This was first shown in the famous vase scene when he broke it accidentally, creating a dispute between him and Boruto.

The narrative purpose of this sub plot is to parallel Kawaki, a self-estranged person, with Boruto who grew up normally and healthily which allowed him to learn and be capable of engaging emotionally with other people and his own feelings.

Contrasting Kawaki’s disengaged state, who knew what he did to Hima’s vase was a mistake as a matter-of-fact but didn’t really connect with Hima’s sadness or get why it was even important, making his apology come of as shallow and diminishing.

Boruto on the other hand didn’t catch on Kawaki’s detachment state and thought he was being intentionally uncaring.

Boruto adoration of Kawaki came as one of those moments where Boruto stands corrected. Except this time Boruto has messed up pretty bad, almost getting his sister killed if it wasn't for Kawaki.

This was the beginning of Boruto's growing dependence on Kawaki. It's not far-fetched to claim their relationship is mostly carried by guilt and reliance on Boruto's part.

Kawaki always came in a clutch for him, be it saving Himawari, saving Naruto & Sasuke, or saving Naruto later on. Boruto (& Momoshiki) would've killed or caused the death of plenty of people many times otherwise.

As a result he developed a sense of dependence and thought he could do anything so long Kawaki was by his side which Kawaki didn't reciprocate.

In Japanese he basically said "Hurry up and be independent, you mf"

There's always this wedge between them, because Boruto never knew true despair or what being unsafe feels like. All these incidents were mere "big missions" to him, it's how he navigates his path as a Shinobi.

But for Kawaki, it was about survival. For he knew what irreversible damage is, the things he can't take back, things that can't be repaired.

He doesn't feel safe and motived just because somebody he cares about is around. Be it Naruto or Boruto, not when they are as powerless as he is.

The only reason Kawaki felt safe enough to actually start mentally healing after Delta's fight, was because he thought Naruto could take care of Jigen.

Boruto doesn't understand that. What he views as a "big victory over Momoshiki", the dying part he didn't care about because he was "prepared", it broke Kawaki.

And he let him do it, asked him to, in fact. Then tried to paint it as a proof of their brotherhood, the highlight of their bond as it's so strong and special, he can even ask Kawaki to kill him, you see?

That, "he did it cuz we are bros".

Boruto couldn't be more wrong.

It wasn't about him. Kawaki would've killed anybody who threatens Naruto's life, that person being his brother merely drove him unhinged.

Boruto thought they were in this together, that part was correct at first. Kawaki kept his promise to him and took the burden of fulfilling it.

Sacrificing his sanity, his life in the village and his relationship with Naruto.

None of those consequences crossed Boruto's mind. He's comfortable knowing Kawaki or Sasuke would deal with Momoshiki if he came out, all he has to do is die which is not a big deal for him as he sees honor in Shinobi death.

Kawaki shouldn't have been "the only person he could ask him to do it" but the last one, if Boruto understood what being in Kawaki's place means.

3- The burden of being Kawaki's brother, Boruto's responsibility.

Of all the people Boruto misjudged, Kawaki remained the only one Boruto couldn't get a grasp of. Even when he comes so close to figuring him out, there is always something missing; Experience.

For instance, he understands Naruto means a lot to Kawaki but never why. Therefore he can't comprehend the actions Kawaki takes to keep him safe.

He doesn't know what it feels like living years of nothingness, then someone gives something to you.

Same goes for Kawaki's self-blaming, self-destructive behavior.

Regardless, Boruto spared no effort to help Kawaki.

It was him who compromised first to begin with, claiming him as a brother without expecting Kawaki to change himself, or have anything in return.

He made a promise to him to help him defeat his abuser.

He gave him his headband to make him feel included and one of them.

Having a loved one who suffers from mental disorders is a burden, you always have to put extra effort you put in dealing with a healthy person.

Boruto never gave up on him even when Kawaki stepped out of line during the training scene, or trying to sacrifice himself despite how Naruto would feel about it.

He stuck to his side and didn't budge.

But he was unable to see the world from Kawaki's perspective which created a disconnection between how they feel about that incident.

Boruto seemed to go about his life, naive enough to believe it changed nothing.

For Kawaki, his mental stability took a great hit- at some point he even forgot what he was supposed to do; protect Naruto and the village via his Otsutsuki acquired powers because they'd have an early death otherwise. Yet he imposed that fate on Sarada with his own hand.

A visualized proof of Shikamaru's warning to Sarada before she disobeyed him and left, that Kawaki was basically crazy at the moment.

He couldn't think straight, operating solely on what he deemed "facts" rather than how he felt.

His breakdown in front of Eida showcased a great deal of emotional blockage.

An emotional blockage is activated in certain situations to cushion the impact of a negative situation or event that can be very painful for us.

His thought process devolved from facts, to bargaining to an emotional blow.

Despite his resolve to protect Naruto at all costs - including killing Boruto - he never came in terms with Boruto's death up until after Omnipotence.

Boruto's responsibility:

From his point of view, he was the one who cornered Kawaki to cross all lines.

In a way, he was.

Boruto himself didn't commit any wrongdoings, he is not to blame for Momoshiki's rampages but he is the carrier, even though he didn't choose to be.

But realistically, if you were carrying a certain illness that potentially could destroy everyone around you but you adamantly chose to live, wouldn't you be responsible if somebody got hurt because of that?

Boruto reached two realizations in ch80.

1- He lost his brother who in turn lost himself as well, because he was too weak and dependant on him. He threw the burden of dealing with Momoshiki on Kawaki, allowing him to be a brother killer which drove Kawaki insane.

It was too much to ask, after all it's Kawaki who's going to have to kill/stop him again in the future which Boruto realized it was meant to happen if he didn't do something.

Despite Boruto's initial confidence of being in control, Momoshiki took over anyways and he almost lost to him completely if Sasuke didn't save him.

It was like a reality-check for him.

2- If he wants to live, he needs to deal with his own problem. Get stronger and rectify things himself for a change. Otherwise he could just die and end it all, or continue to burden Kawaki and the others which did nobody any good.

From the angle Boruto sees this whole situation, he lost nothing except Kawaki.

So the cheerful mindset that always naively over-simplified dire situations as big missions, refuses to see the current situation as anything but a setback.

Because he experienced loss this time, his brother, and he couldn't accept that.

#kawaki #Boruto #boruto two blue vortex #boruto uzumaki #kawaki uzumaki #naruto #Naruto Uzumaki

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

RotG and HiJack Recs

Alright, I'm building this list because some of these fics are just a tad dusty, and they could use more love. (A lot more love, I am literally dying from how much I adored these.) But note that a good few are incomplete.

Let's start with:

INCOMPLETE FICS

The Long Road:

Presently Gen, but Hiccup very much falls for Jack. He does however retain his feelings for Astrid, so bear that in mind. There's the classic Viking mindset when it comes to homosexual relationships that's pretty much giving Hiccup like a lot of anxiety.

But beyond that! I cannot shower this fic with enough praises! It gives me the same sort of excitement that the RotG movie does. Jack's characterization is Spot On. He's friendly and outgoing and also incredibly secretive and flighty. It balances out Jack's blunt mannerisms with a joyous charm and just that hint of vulnerability (which he keeps so well hidden lol).

The plots take place after HttyD, during the Riders of Berk TV series. Jack is folded into the Dragon Rider group who considers him some kind of Elf. Yes, this is Jack Frost in all his frosty glory. The way the story builds on a solid foundation of camaraderie and friendship, giving plenty of scenes to show how Hiccup and Jack became great friends, lends well to the Hiccup's realization of: "Oh I'm into him". Without giving too many spoilers, that "oh" moment is forever ingrained into my memory because of how PERFECTLY timed it is.

This blends Guardians of Childhood book verse with HttyD book verse, mostly via cameos over lore. Overall, a beautiful, fun, and simply enchanting read. I cannot recommend this enough.

A Story about Ice, Dragon Fire, and Belief:

Another gen fic. Mostly, it's about North looking at Jack and going, "he's my son now", and Jack having absolutely none of it. When placed together with Stoik and Hiccup's relationship, it becomes an almost interesting study of contrasts. North is the guy who's trying to prove something to a boy that he disappointed. Hiccup is the guy who's trying to prove something to a man that he disappointed. But ultimately, it ends up the same with a schism forming between the two pairs the harder one of them tries to breach it.

Also, it talks about how Jack is a force of fucking nature? And his blizzards can kill and have killed in the past? There's a little bit of trying to reconcile that with his new ID as a guardian. North is not doing a great job helping here.

But really the Crown Jewel of this fic is North and Berk's reactions to North (and by proxy his relationship to Jack). We go a little into the historical Viking side of things (like the pillaging et al), and apply that lens to this jolly old man. Let's just say some troubling (hilarious) assumptions are drawn. Also...

Everyone loves the sleigh.

I think this is one of the few RotG and HttyD crossovers that really do a good job of merging the two movies. Primarily because it's not just Jack in Berk. And this just made me hungry for more fics where more of the RotG cast arrive as Berk, and be just 100% fantastical and strange as the bedtime stories they are. Put some respect on the Guardians name, if you know what I'm saying.

In the Shadows of My Mind:

This one is an RotG only fic. No pairings except for whatever's going on between Pitch and Nightlight (and by proxy Jack). It's not a for real pairing. That said, it's such a complex and intricate relationship that doesn't resemble a romance but remains markedly intimate. Basically, this fic takes advantage of Pitch and Nightlight's ridiculously long history then throws Jack into the mix. Alive, human Jack in an early 18th century colonial town wherein he very recently did not drown (and boy, isn't that suspicious?)

My favorite thing about this fic is how spot on the dialogue feels? The lexicon, the syntax feels true to the time its set in. Although, I can't say that it is accurate as I'm not an expert of this time period in this region. Regardless, it certainly appears that a good stack of research went into this.

All that said, this fic has captured Bill Joyce's writing style the best, but with a deeper, more complex, more mature layer underpining that bedtime like vibe. There's a good host of OCs but genuinely, I didn't notice them as OCs. I could really believe they were characters of Joyce's books. Not to mention, they feel like fully fleshed out individuals even if they have like maybe two paragraphs of screentime.

The entire premise hinges on the idea of "what if Jack survived the skating accident" and everyone's reactions to that, as well as... the hidden secret thing that involves Nightlight. GoC spoilers are hinted so beware. But the little interplay between Nightlight and Jack is such a delicious little mystery, and also makes me so sad. These two boys deserved better.

Then we throw in Pitch for fun, because Pitch is always fun, and he just makes the whole thing even more complicated or as Jack calls it, "unnatural". But he's not even the main villain. It's Christianity. JK. That said, the fic does explore the idea of well, how would a fairly backwater colony be able to explain how Jack survived or... the powers that's slowly revealing itself from within him. There's a particularly nasty boy (around Jack's age), who is an OC and I believe an exceptionally well placed one. The OC understood his role to play and he plays it fantastically. Everytime he shows up, I too feel scared and indignant and excited all at once.

Speaking of great OCs, shoutout to Jack's Da. His appearances are brief but the impact is maximized with each appearance. He has that sense of realism and whimsy baked into him that I could gush endlessly about.

Overall, just a pure delight to read. Will re-read again and again.

Zastruga:

Total Gen fic. And a classic in my opinion.

I started reading this when I was in college - note the publish date. Nevermind the update date. Because even after all these years, this story? Still good. Still very very good.

This takes the original RotG plot and makes it more epic, and also more sad. RotG was very joyful at its core, which this fic somehow manages to retain. But it's just under a layer of sad. It's not overwhelming angst though, just enough to really pinch your heart.

Also whereas the movie has a few epic battles before things go really wrong, this fic stretches that out into a proper war against Pitch (and Jack). That's right. Jack is with Pitch ala Mother Gothel/Judge Frollo style. Jack isn't locked up entirely. He's given just enough rope to hang himself with. Mind the Jack whump is what I'm saying. But also do note that Jack's character remains as steadfast and loyal as he ever was in RotG, so the whump just hits nicer since this Jack isn't so irrevocably changed.

I have re-read this before. I will re-read this again. Nevermind the incomplete status. There's plenty of chapters that simply give me great joy.

COMPLETE FICS

It's the Great Spirit Sleigh, Hiccup Haddock:

Gen fic, in that there's no pairing actively getting together. But remains faithful to the original canon's hinted love interests. So Hiccup has a big crush on Astrid and Jack leans towards Tooth. That said, the relationship between Hiccup and Jack is just plain adorable and also heart-wrenching. They care about each other. So Much.

Now this is just a good holiday cheer. It literally has the Hallmark movie template, which is the point really. You know, the whole "oh no, a holiday is ruined" followed by "clever and charming ways to fix the holiday". With Hiccup and Jack taking the starring roles.

If you know your Hallmark movies, then you know that the leads get together in the end. And they don't in this fic. But the amount of "Gosh do I care about you" is so good. It's a lot of hurt and a lot of comfort. And I am here for it.

Also, this fic was completed way before the HttyD 3 movie so it doesn't have a canon compliant ending. That may be a bonus for some of you.

Scary Monsters and Super Creeps:

Pre JackRabbit (Bunny/Jack). But honestly the pairing isn't the main focus, mostly that Jack and Bunny admit to liking each other (but not to each other). So their dynamic remains in the best bros category. The pairing mostly shows through the plot machinations.

So long story short, Pitch opens the Guardian-Verse and recruits the other versions of the Guardians - the corrupt versions. And it's good, action/adventure fun. There's some gore, so mind that. Because the corrupt versions are nasty little things that fight dirty. Which makes the action feel like there's legit stakes. Also makes for a quick read because you must know what happens next? Did they get out of this sticky situation? Are they going to be okay? That sort of thing.

#rise of the guardians #how to train your dragon #hijack #frostcup

[byrdtrollsunoreversearchive]

In Loving Memory of Kokoro Kimura

Fleet Correspondence, 4/4/753, Archen (Cleanser) Aurela to Artemi (Midas) Anatol, reads the plain black archives folder.

The simple fact of the matter is, we have reached the point where the population and renown of your ‘small port side town’ has long since exceeded the levels with which the fleet is comfortable no longer being involved in it, which is putting it nicely. 

The letter begins. 

You cannot lie, cheat and steal your way into creating what is basically a sovereign city state on this planet. You are lucky you have run unchecked for so long. Such an offense could be forgiven, if Midas were to make an honest case for being a GHB over Tes Roven. I am once again frustrated that you have derailed our correspondence from him. We are making a generous compromise with you and you will not even allow us to speak with who is in charge. The fleet will not ask again. Midas must come forward and swear loyalty to the empire to lay any sort of claim to this territory. 

Hi, 

This is Kokoro Kimura, again. Your ludicrous compromise is not the middle ground you imagine it to be. 

You will not be corresponding with Midas, nor will he be making any kind of claim to this territory. Tes Roven belongs to me. 

I have long since been in charge of its entire economy, its governance, its workforce, and all its public affairs. I have the documentation going back 200 sweeps to prove it, and I have copies attached.

I can see your confusion around Midas as a figurehead. I know he is exactly the kind of troll you want to have raised a city state from nothing, and I allowed you to indulge in this fantasy in the hopes of avoiding conflict. For sweeps I have given him the credit for the work I did to install him and create this place. But I must disappoint you- him and Gihyun both work for me. 

And any attempt to transfer this power to pigeonhole it into your narrow ideas of caste would result in the city falling apart at the seams. 

I accept your facade of ever having this conversation on logical terms at face value- as a facade. All logic insists that I am capable of running this city. I have been doing it, unbeknownst to you, for 200 sweeps. But the fleet’s carnevale impression of reality could never cave to such reasonable terms. You aim to refuse me on the basis of my blood color and lay siege to my home as a result. 

Let us not be polite with each other. 

Your pretend negotiation reveals your cowardice. I would not be receiving letters from you were you not scared.

I will offer you a way out fitting of a coward. Make me a backdoor. Make me a loophole. 

Make me a shiny little medal that says once in five million sweeps an oliveblood could serve in your system of governance but only if he’s the specialist boy.

And sure, I will swear loyalty to your military. I’ll make myself a cozy little corner of alternia and I’ll never bother you again. 

Bend your rules backwards just enough that you will not force me to break them. 

And before you attempt to lecture me on my audacity, recall that I could have kept this information from you. Remember that I could have stayed quiet- I could have told Midas to humor you and continued behind the scenes. Renowned fleet military strategy experts ask yourself. If this of all things is the first card I played. Then what else am I keeping in my hand? 

Hello again, Kimura. 

Even in whatever ridiculous fantasy world you must think we live in, I cannot imagine there is much else in your ‘hand’. Your bluff is transparent and pathetic. Centuries of paperwork do not actual power make. I would be frustrated by your foolishness if I did not find it so amusing. What kind of trolls do you surround yourself with that have allowed you to become so delusional about your place? 

You say you don’t want to be polite- fine. We will be at your doorstep next evening, to kill you. Our strategists examined your logic and found a fatal flaw- assuming you have something else in your hand requires that we first assume you are not an idiot. We find no evidence to base such an assumption. 

The exchange ends there. 

Sunset leafs through the rest of the papers for Kokoro’s next response, but only finds what must be the 200 sweeps worth of paperwork Kokoro had sent the fleet. At first glance it looks real, but he doesn’t know much about bookkeeping. The young mafia lord briefly considers running it by an expert. Not out of doubt of the oliveblood claims, but in the name of being thorough. Yet he cannot think of a troll he would trust with the information. He pauses. Sunset pulls out his camera, and begins the painstakingly slow process of photographing every single one of the pages with his phone. 

The fleet archives camera blinks its slow, red light in the corner about him. The loop they’re feeding into the security footage of a blank room will only keep running for another hour. His knowledge that he only has so much time wrestles with his want to be methodical and careful. He has wiped his presence from the minds of any of the fleet personnel he passed, but sadly, his voodoos did not work on machines. He finishes his documentation in the nick of time, leaving him 15 minutes to exit the facility. He carefully places the papers back into their classified file with his gloved hands, and speedily makes his exit. The gears of his mind doing catapults around the information he had barely had time to fully process. Kokoro’s words echoing in his mind. Tes Roven belongs to me.

.

.

.

.

.

300 sweeps ago, Gihyun Yupark bursts into Kokoro’s room, slamming a pile of papers down on his desk. 

“What the fuck is this” The Jadeblood hisses. 

“A woman who can’t knock” The olive shrugs. “And a pile of papers, though I assume you refer to what's on them” Jokes the man. 

“Don’t play stupid, Koko.” She says. “Since when do I fucking work for you!” 

“Since when do you read my mail?” Kokoro says, straightening the letters. 

“Since you tried to pull a fast one on me with that art gallery job 70 sweeps ago” She accuses. “And this is not even your mail! It’s Midas’s, which YOU derailed.” 

“Oh, save it, Gi” He says, with an amount of venom in the man’s voice you are unaccustomed to hearing in his exchanges with Gihyun. “It was a double cross. But I didn’t say a word that wasn’t true.” 

“I don’t work for you” She repeats.

“I have 200 sweeps of paperwork that says different.”

“You do the books” She says. “We do the-” 

“Killing people” He autocompletes her sentence. “Do you realize, how much fucking work it is? To run a fucking city? Do you have any idea what the two of you dumped on me when you said we want the glory and you do the paperwork, Gi?”

“You could have said no,” She retorts, pointing. 

“I could not have said no,” He replies. “I knew you and Midas would be dead in days without me.” 

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” She snaps. 

“You have so little faith in me?” He grins. 

“I’m not joking around, Kokoro! This is serious! I’m mad because I CARE about you! Why in ten million sweeps would you do such a thing!” She rants. 

“Was I supposed to just. Let you two get all the credit. For the rest of time?” He says, staring at the table. 

“That’s not what I said, Koko, we arranged things like this to keep you safe.” She pleads.  

“Yeah, in a way that just coincidentally massively benefits both of you. Sure.” He says, almost sounding bored. 

It is a moment before she speaks again. 

“If you felt this way,” She says slowly. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I would have gotten it.” 

“No, you wouldn’t” He hisses. “You are a midblood, Gi!” 

There is a long, tense pause. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” She repeats. 

“I have a plan,” He says. 

“Of course you have a plan. This is still dumb” She says. “I’m telling him.” 

“Gi” Kokoro says, instantly switching his tone. “Come on. Snitches get-”

“This is literally!” She says, throwing up her arms, “HIS mail. Don’t you think your Kismesis gets to know you told The Cleanser to his face you wanted him to make you the first oliveblood GHB?”

“That’s not what that said” He retorts. 

“Then what does it say, Koko. What does it say?” Gihyun Yupark says, gesturing at the letter. “Enlighten me.” 

It is Kokoro’s turn to be silent. He mulls on this for a long, long moment. The jadeblood in front of him narrows her eyes, and then storms out of the room. 

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Sunset wishes he could tell you the exact moment he knew. Those waters were muddied first by Midas’s absence from public life for 300 sweeps. Secondly by Sunsets complete lack of interest in the matter. And third with denial and emotion. Maybe when he first found a black and white photograph, of young Midas with his arms over his friends in a small casino, the first one The Falling Moon’s ever opened, and noted the shape of his horns. Maybe the several times in passing, he has walked by one of those little shrines to Kokoro and a friend, Casmie or Toni or Rasley, had unprompted told him jokingly, you look just like him. Occam’s razor decrees that the most reasonable explanation is the most likely. But it could never account for the twists and turns of an unpredictable universe. 

Maybe he knew, sometime in the back of his head, as he zoned out at night staring at the door to his office, and the mirror across the way. Watching how, if he moved his head just right, the symbol on the door- the falling moon on fire, lines up with his horns oh so perfectly. So perfectly that no conclusion could be made other than it was that way by design. He had dismissed it, miles of reasonable evidence. He told himself even if it were true it wouldn’t matter to him. It wouldn’t change his mind, it wouldn’t change how he thought of either of them. 

Midas was Midas. And Kokoro had abandoned all of them. He had left the smoldering pile of ash that was their city, to burn, and burn, and burn. But eventually, he caved, reckoning, if he was right, he did not want to be caught unaware, he did not want Midas to know more than he did. They only talked through Enin, Midas’s ever patient messenger. He could not be sure if the man had guessed. If Enin had shown him pictures, if Enin had described him to him. Enin must know. But Sunset knew him well enough to know the mirror creature had been the mafia long enough to know when to hold a trump card to his chest, and wait for the time it was valuable.  

Against his will, the acceptance of this theory stirred long dead emotions in him. Sometimes, when wallowing in the tragedy of his youth, he imagined he had met Midas, when he was young, too young to remember, and the man had shook his head, glanced at his mutation, and rejected him. Sold him to that circus, or threw him out on the street. It was a strange kind of comfort to pretend such a rejection had already occurred. It rested the matter from his mind. But he had no way of knowing it was true. And he had enough reasons to hate Midas without making up imaginary ones. 

The opposite fantasy upset him more. When he was young, he often pictured some distant relative, maybe an ancestor or an ancestors friend, or just a kind hearted soul, spotting him in the circus, whisking him away to a life of luxury and safety. Telling him he never belonged in such a place, that it was over. His pan could not help but wander, to the possibility, that Midas might have been that savior. That he may not reject him. That he had no idea where or what Sunset was, and if he did, he would free him, raise him into this life of excess and luxury and cruelty. Only the best for his descendant. Maybe give him his surgery even earlier than he had had it. The thought sickened him. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of troll he may have grown up to be in that case. 

Midas, at least, he knew he hated without question. But his thoughts on Kokoro were too complex to count. An uneasy dislike. Suspicion, bitterness. Would he have preferred to be saved by the man he had quickly guessed was his ‘other’ ancestor? He could not tell you. He did not hate him as much as he hated Midas. But he had no love for him either. He was the only one in this city who knew the extent of his cowardice. Tes Roven had paid for it ten times over. The consequences of Midas’s reign. The reign he would have never had had Kokoro not ran, and ran, and ran. 

But there were things to admire about him, undoubtedly. He now had an extensive economic record of how he structured the city. That and more he had dug up for old files. Kokoro had run several money laundering fronts. He had told rich highbloods hey- let me launder your money for you so you don’t have to pay fleet taxes. He siphoned off funds from these places in secret and sent them to community centers, libraries and infrastructure repair. The way in which he structured Tes Roven’s economy back in the day had been so intelligent Sunset frequently found himself stealing his ideas. 

And he was an underdog. Hard not to root for an underdog, even if he couldn’t finish the fight he started. A scraggly mutt charging headfirst for a bigger, bigger animal. He did not know what to do with his fragile sympathy for him. It somehow made things worse. 

The whole thing felt like one last kick to a wounded soul. He wanted to destroy the engineers of his suffering. But now he was forced to reckon with his similarities to them. 

Because… he was similar to them. Prideful. Intelligent. Stubborn. Righteous. A liar and a hypocrite. A holder of grudges and a maker of great escapes. 

He was the best of both of them.

He was the worst of both of them. 

He was something else entirely. A tapestry of faults and virtues that paid their dues to both nurture and nature. He was fate itself on some fucked up kind of drug. He was the undoing of both of them. He was their rapture.

He could not tell you when he first knew. But he could not stop knowing. Could not fathom how to carry so invisible a burden. The weight of this knowledge silently flowed out of him at all times like a collapsing dam.

He had told no one.

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300 sweeps ago, the same night, another visitor comes to Kokoro’s door with a gentle and patient knock. Koko is not seated at his desk now, the man is circling the desk in his office, pacing. He pauses, abruptly stopping the long march that had occupied the better part of the last three hours, inhaling. 

“Why bother,” He says. “Gihyun’s already burst in here.”

“Koko,” Midas says softly, calling him Gihyuns nickname with such practiced affection and ease that it seems more his than hers. It is somehow both a warning and a plea. 

Kokoro exhales, like the breath he started at the beginning of his sentence has only now just found the grace to leave his body. 

“Come in” He says, with a gesture at the Door that the purpleblood likely cannot even see. “Get it over with.” 

Midas steps into the room, looking so lost and tired for a man of his stature, the paintings and items on the walls and cabinets looming over them to the point they almost dwarf the man. Perhaps he stood that way, His back bent, with that languished expression, on purpose. 

“I love you,” Are the first words that come out of his mouth, falling to the ground like a gift given and promptly dropped and shattered on the floorboards. 

“I love you,” Kokoro says softly, “but…?” He extrapolates the end of Midas’s sentence from the air. “I love you but this puts you in danger, but this is idiotic, but this destroys everything we’ve spent centuries building, but how dare you?” 

“I love you” Midas repeats, hanging up his coat on the rack. “Period.” 

Kokoro seems caught off guard by this, stumbling blindly into the amiable conversation having braced for one identical to Gihyun’s. 

“This,” The purpleblood makes a tired halfway gesture with his hands, flopping one gently in the air. “Only destroys everything we’ve spent centuries building, if you lose.” He continues. “And I know you don’t start fights you can’t win” He says. “So.” Midas lifts both hands halfway through the air in a shrug like gesture. “What do you need from me?” 

For some reason, his approval made him even more trepidatious than his anger ever could. Gihyun hates the idea, Midas loves it. Against his will, second thoughts bang on the closed door of his mind with frenzy. Somewhere in his secret heart Koko must know which of these trolls he trusted more. 

“What’d Gi say to you?” He says. 

“She threatened to walk.” Midas says. “Said she’d take her third of the mafia with her. Wanted me to join her.” 

“You said no?” Kokoro challenges. 

“I said no,” He retorts. 

“Why?” He says. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m with you Dushen’ka,” He says. “I think you were right. That’s why I did it.”

“Yeah?” Kokoro questions, still bristling, but his confidence starts to falter. “How’d that serve you?” 

Midas meets his gaze, the man’s tired eyes staring so deep into Kokoro’s eyes he felt his image could step forward and climb through the little cornea. 

“Do you have any idea?” He says. “What a weight off my shoulders it would be to not have to pretend? About anything anymore?”  He takes a step forward. “To not live a life built so precariously on a foundational lie? I know you. You lead, I follow.” He takes the oliveblood by the shoulders. 

“I love you Koko, you were right.” 

Some of the tension starts to gradually, slowly fall from Koko’s shoulders. There is something off about these words, but they are comfortable, as easy to fall into as a feather bed. 

“I stole your mail” He says, the last echoes of protest bouncing off the walls with a quiet death. 

“Yeah, and you stole a Rembrandt from me 30 sweeps ago. What’s another double cross between a laundry list of them longer than Alternia’s circumference. It’s what we do. There are things more important to both of us than that.” He says, cupping the other man’s cheek. 

Kokoro sighs, falling into his touch. 

“What do you need from me?” Midas repeats. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan is fucked” Kokoro says. “If Gi walks. I need her numbers.”

“Then we’ll think of another one,” He says, wrapping his arms around the troll. “It’s so simple, Dushen’ka” He says, and Kokoro looks up at him, the oliveblood caught on every word, or maybe caught up in the warmth of his arms, the bigger trolls scratchy chin resting on his forehead. The ease of it all. It would be lovely for things to be simple, to be able to believe that, for even a moment. 

“We kill Gihyun” Midas finishes. And Kokoro blinks, stiffening like a cold wind had just overtaken him, immediately and completely.

“We blame the fleet.” He continues, as if it were a list, as if it were reasonable, inevitable, rational. “All of her favorites- will want revenge so badly. They’ll hop right on board with us. We’ll be heroes to them.” He lists, running a hand through his hair. 

The ever calculating, untrustful soul of Kokoro Kimura scrambles to whir up, to decide his next words. 

No way on heaven or earth they would do such a thing. Not for a moment. Not as a hypothetical. Not as a bluff. Not if he was offered all the riches in the world- not if the fleet handed him Tes Roven on a silver platter, not if it was the only way to save ten drowning kittens. In no universe, in no world, in no solemn hidden corner of the galaxy, in no shady closet or open hallway or darkest corner in his mind. Would Kokoro Kimura kill Gihyun Yupark. 

But he could not say that, could he?

This was moves and countermoves- it had to be. Midas must be testing his loyalty, his faith. If he failed, the purpleblood would probably go straight to the fleet. If he protested, the man might lash out. If he said no, he would have no power over Midas- he would have nothing but the tense bridge of love offered between them that could be retracted at any moment. 

He would have to agree. He would have to agree, and then insist on taking the matter into his own hands, to buy him time, to keep Midas from doing it himself. But he must do it only after just enough protest that he finds it genuine. But not so much protest he was angered. 

“There has to be another way,” He says slowly. 

“Koko, she’s as good as killed you by not siding with you on this” Midas says. “She betrayed the gang- threatened to tear it apart. Would you accept this from any subordinate? Would you ever be able to trust her again? She doesn’t believe in you like I do.” 

“Midas” He pleads. “It’s Gi.” 

“Power like the kind you want,” he says, “does not come without a price. Is not maintained without ruthlessness. You know that.” He says. “I don’t like it anymore than you do. But there is no other way. She could be going to her staff right now. We don’t have time to hesitate.” 

He is silent for an age. The weight of hours and days folded into the solemn contemplation of but a minute or two. 

“Okay” He says. “I’ll do it.” He promises. 

Midas releases his grip on him, lifting the man's hands in a picture of knighthood and loyalty. 

“Have strength,” He says, kissing his knuckle. “I’ll see you on the other side, Koko.” 

The oliveblood takes a deep breath. 

And exits the room.

This was the last time they spoke to each other. I could not tell you which man was the better liar. Facades atop facades. Masks over masks. Treachery and loyalty and love and pain. They had perfected it, they expected it from each other. Words to them were not a vessel to truth as much as they were means to an end. Did Midas believe Kokoro? Did Kokoro believe Midas? 

It doesn’t matter. 

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It is 300 sweeps ago. I would say it was the same night, but the hours have since passed barely into the next day’s morning. Kokoro bursts into Gihyuns door without knocking. 

“Gi!” He yells. 

“Here to talk me out of it?” She retorts, having cracked open the window in her office to smoke. 

“Midas wants to kill you” he says. 

“Is that a threat?” She retorts. 

“Of course not!” He snaps. 

“Gonna sound so offended?” She says. Taking a long drag. 

“You think I’d kill you!” He accuses. 

“Who’s to know, Koko?” she says. “Everybodies lost their minds. Everybody heard ‘GHB over Tes Roven’ and got dollar signs in their eyes so big they can’t process reality anymore. Who gives a fuck.” 

“Did you even read my letter?” He retorts. 

“I skimmed it,” She says. “Then I was so blinded by your stupidity I had to lay down for a second.” 

“I’m not doing this for money.” He says, quietly. “I wanted to make a difference.” 

“Then you should have kept your mouth shut,” Gihyun says. 

“Easy for you to say,” he says. 

“Soo…?” She says. 

“Sooo…?” He echoes. 

“All those bastards you pissed off are coming” She says. “What’re you waiting for?”

“I had to make sure you’re okay,” He says. 

“Koko,” she says softly. “You’re an idiot.” She says. “He played you.” 

Kokoro pauses, squinting up at her. 

Gihyun closes the window, walking back over to her desk. She picks up a sealed letter, with Midas’s moon wax seal pressed onto the envelope. 

“Your boyfriend already wrote back to the fleet.” She says. 

“You fucking. Mail gremlin” Kokoro blurts out without thinking. 

Gihyun blinks incredulously, affronted.  

“Excuse me?” she retorts, tossing him the thing. 

Kokoro opens it, parsing its contents. 

“He said yes to their offer” she summarizes. “He probably only told you all that shit about killing me to distract you. And it worked.” She says, throwing up her arms. 

“You have the letter,” He says. “It didn’t get sent.” 

“The fleet’s coming anyway.” She replies. “He can just tell them in person.” 

Kokoro begins to pace, as he had been earlier, erratically. 

“The two of us could take him,” He says. 

“The two of us?” She replies. 

He pauses. “Yes, Gi, the two of us.” He says. “Whatever you feel about me you must know we’d be better at it than him.” 

“Yeah.” She says. 

“Things were better,” Kokoro says. “When he was just a figurehead.” 

The jadeblood sighs. “He was my friend before he was yours. Yet…he’s clearly made his choice” She says, gesturing at the letter once more. “I hate to say I prefer anyone as a puppet. But yeah, we might have fucked up giving him access to unconditional power and acclaim. Went straight to his head.  Now he’s trying all the sneaky, backhanded shit he learned from you.”

“From you too.” 

“From both of us,” She says. “He put my life on the table,” Gihyun recalls. “That was too far.”

“It was a bluff.” Kokoro defends. 

“You believed him without question,” she retorts. “You did not hesitate for a second to run here. You cannot tell me you trust the man. 

“No further than I trust you” he retorts. 

Something like hurt flashes across the woman's face, but it’s gone in an instant. 

“Liar,” Gihyun says. 

“This is not…” He sighs. “This is just- part of the game. He fucked us over, fine. But is that the last line in the sand? How come he’s irredeemable and we’re not? Have we not killed? Have we not betrayed? Have we not fucked each other in desperate, personal ways.” 

“I thought you were meant to be making the case” She says. “To team up against him” 

“I am,” He says. “But not to kill him.” 

“I see,” She says.

He sighs in answer. “So you’re in?” 

She stares. “So what, then, joint leadership until the next time you decide to fuck me over?” 

“That's the business” He says. 

“I’m sick,” She says. “Of the fucking business.” She narrates, as he continues to pace. “How many centuries- two hundred sweeps- have the three of us been trading double crosses and lies and fucking each other over over and over again.” She throws up her hands.

“Then leave” He hisses. “But let me keep your crew.” 

“You really think this,” Gihyun gestures, “Is what love is supposed to look like?”

He stops, again, his back to the woman. 

“That’s besides the point.” He stutters. “You’ve fucked me over” He retorts. “Just as many times- if not more- than I’ve done to you.” 

“So what?” She stutters. “I’m not allowed to say this is awful?” 

“You started this” He retorts. 

“I what?” She replies. 

“You think I haven’t been keeping track?” He replies. 

“Of the ongoing, endless game of treachery all three of us have been engaged in since we were what, s-” 

“Seven” Kokoro retorts. “When we were seven you two fucked me over on that pocketwatch scam.” 

She stares at him for a long, long time. “SO?” She says. “That’s your- justification??? That’s your moral highground??? Decades of this bullshit because what?? Me and Midas played a mean prank on you when we were teenagers that barely would have cost you 20 caegars? Are you fucking kidding me?” She says, stepping forward, looming over the smaller troll. 

He seems not sure how to respond to this. Wrapping his arms around himself. 

“This is not about moral highground.” He says. “There is none.” 

“What is it about?” She says, sitting down, putting out her cigarette on an ashtray. “Suffering the most?”

He closes his eyes. 

“You deserve better,” She gestures. “Than a life of constantly looking over your shoulder. I deserve better. We both do.” 

Kokoro does not know what to do, unsteady and uncomfortable with this sudden and complete vulnerability. As fragile and untrustworthy to him as it had been when it came from Midas’s mouth. Gihyun stares at him, for a long moment before she begins to understand he never intends to look him in the eyes. So she stops offering that piercing gaze, her eyes turning to the window. 

“I’ve been thinking about going to college,” she says. 

“What?” He says. 

“Don’t laugh.” She warns. “I know I'm two hundred.”

“What would you- what would you study?” He says, still uneasy, but this road of conversation is easier to him than grand declarations of who deserves what. 

“I have no idea” She laughs. “I just remember. When we were kids. Mugging people on street corners. Talking about all the shit we would do once we pulled off one, huge, enormous job that would set us for life. Talking about what we wanted to do with our lives. When all this'' she gestures grandly at the walls of their casino on the top of the hill. 

“Was just fantasy and signs scribbled on old notebook paper and scraps. I remember you said you wanted to go to college. I forget what I said.” She says. “We’re rich now. But we never did all that shit.” 

“How will you- have the time, with the gang” he says. 

“Don’t you get it, Koko?” She says, not yet looking back at him. “When I said I’m done, I’m done.”

He is silent in answer. Some part of his brain was still protesting that this was a play. 

“So it’s just over?” He says. “We’re over?” 

“What were we to begin with, Koko? Me, you and Midas barely act like we even like each other.” 

“I made this place,” he says. “From the ground up. Can you just say this once” He stumbles. “That this isn’t fair?” 

She stares at him. “This isn’t fair,” she says, quietly. “Of course it should have been you. In any just, reasonable world, it should have been you, it should have been you from the start. Me and Midas all we ever had was brutality, but you, were the beating heart of all of this. And without you Tes Roven never even would have existed at all.”

“So I just have to stay here” he says, trying to keep the waver from his voice. “And sort out this mess?” 

She opens her mouth to remind him he made this mess in the first place, but stops herself. It was probably bound to happen, one way or the other, it won’t help her case.

“That’s up to you.” She says, instead. 

He finally meets her gaze. “What do you mean?” He says softly. 

She steps forward and takes his hands in hers, in a sudden and complete show of the desperation she had been scared to voice. “Come with me” she pleads. “Don’t you think being moirails could be more than just a game to us?” 

Kokoro stares, dumbfounded. Even the echoes of violent paranoia within him unable to conceive how them both leaving the mafia could be some sort of mind game. Such an open show of affection is not as easy for them as it would someday come to be. He is taken completely aback. Against his will, against every tyrannically oppressive and restrained bone in his body. Tears begin to fill his eyes. 

“Why would you wait till I’m about to die?” he chokes. “To say such a thing to me?” 

“I thought you weren’t going to die,” she replies. 

“I wasn’t.” He stutters, attempting to compose himself, glancing away. “I’m not.”

“You want me to be honest, Koko?” She says. “I believe you could do it. I believe whatever insane, mindfucky game you had in mind when you sent that letter could work. I know you wanted them to count on an assumption of your stupidity. I know somewhere in my heart that you just might have scraped by the skin of your teeth into some position of power” She says. “But this isn’t a battle you just have to win once.”

“If you help any kind of real power- attached to your real face- your real name- there would be a target on your back that could never be washed off. They’d never stop coming for you. They’d never stop assuming your weakness and hating your ambition. You wouldn’t have to win a once in a lifetime battle once. You’d have to do it a thousand times. You would have to do it every single day for the rest of your life. And I know you. And I can’t imagine you doing that without giving more of yourself than it's ever healthy to give.” 

“This isn’t about me,” he says, staring at the floor. 

“It isn’t?” 

“I have a duty,” he says, gesturing to the window. “To these people.” 

“You have a duty to yourself!” She snaps. “You have a duty to the people who care about you!”

“This is bigger than one troll,” he retorts. 

“Why do YOU SPECIFICALLY have to save Alternia, Koko!! Why is that YOUR burden?” 

“I can’t stand it,” He says. “The world being the way it is.”

“Well, that’s not your fault” She retorts. 

He closes his eyes. Gripping Gihyuns hands around his like a lifeline. He takes a deep breath, one that fills corners of his body and mind he didn’t even know we’re empty. 

“Fine,” He says. “What about Midas?” he says. “What about the fleet coming to kill me?” 

“You’re the genius, Kokoro. We still have four or so hours. Think of a way out.” She pleads.

The oliveblood stares up at the ceiling, blinking. Slowly, he begins to pace, back and forth, the gears of his mind whirring up again. He walks back and forth for a long time. The few hours they have left stretching out before him in between footsteps. Trying to put it all together. Trying to find his play. He could make it all fit together- somehow, someway. But every chess player knows most victories must come with sacrifices. Try as he might, he can no longer imagine coming away with everything he intended when he started this fight. Fleeting fantasies of convincing Midas of the same thing Gihyun had just convinced him here, enter his mind. 

Would he even listen, at this point? And what about the city? Could he truly just leave him here- without warning or explanation. To rule without knowing the weight of such a duty. But he is still embittered by that one final betrayal the purpleblood had placed on his doorstep. Flashes of anger and emotion infecting his train of thought, invisibly and dangerously. He is young. He is prideful. He can’t stand not being the last to speak in an argument, to leave it on the opponents note. He’s trying to be a better man, isn’t he? That’s his prize at the end of it all, that’s the future that carries him forward. Glimmers of it slip through his thoughts but the vision is hazy- he doesn’t yet know this theoretical man of tomorrow. He could not act on his wishes- his vices, before he even discovered him. He can only come down and stare at the gloved, reliable, slippy and treacherous hands of the troll Kokoro Kimura is-

Right now. 

So he pieces together one last double cross. The deception inherent in it folding beautifully under his mind's touch. He has it- he has a way everybody ‘wins’. His body stumbles. The shining ideal of a life without carrying a city on his back glittering to him like a mirage. He stops, abruptly and suddenly. 

“We have to let him have it,” he says slowly. “He wants Tes Roven- he has to have it” He says, gripping Gi by the shoulders. “And we run and we run and we never look back” he promises. 

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Five months ago, Sunset watches the sunrise on Alternia through a filtered, grayed and blue tinted haze. The balconies of Rollyn’s mansion had UV roofs that could be lowered. A new architectural trend amongst rich Alternians that can afford it. They came down and clicked into the fence that surrounded the small area when the sun rose. Trace amounts of real sunlight poked through vents at the top of the thing that let in fresh air. They left soft yellow rectangular lines across the room, like sun peeking through a storm, or the leaves of a tree, dappled and gentle. It was good for plants- They had placed a variety of succulents that filled the air with the pleasant scent of greenery. 

It was peaceful. Lovely, even. But something was still missing. How could one truly see or understand the beauty of sunrise through thick layers of glass. Washed out by the UV blockers, his impression of the day is blank and soulless, the warmth and fire and richness of color in it trapped just a few feet away. Inside the room, he hears the soft sound of the rustling of stuffed animals, a small pair of slippers being slipped into by a bedside. Footsteps making their way across the floor, as soft and practiced as a dancers. 

“Go back to bed,” He says. 

“What are you doing?” Rollyn retorts, in the balcony’s doorway, resting a hand on her hip, her other holding close a giant frog plushie. The troll's hair is still held loosely in a bunch of curlers. Her eyes squinty and blinking in the light. 

“I can’t sleep,” He says. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t either.”

“Come back to bed.” She says. 

“There’s no point,” He replies. “I already know I won’t be able to get back to sleep now that I’ve awoken.” 

“I have a melatonin,” She offers, walking up next to him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“They make me groggy,” He says. 

“Come take a bath with me, it’ll calm you down.” They try, one more time. 

“Rollyn.” He says, simply. 

The cerulean pauses, staring into the man's soft eyes, so often clouded over with restraint and pain, as if his face was a sieve he only let some things slip through. The rest caught and kept and looked over in dark corners of painful memories in a careful process of dissection. She pauses, taking his hand. 

“I’ll stay up with you.” She says. 

“You have work tomorrow,” He replies. 

“So do you.” She says. 

He sighs, his hand going to his face and rubbing his eyes. He squeezes his other hand in her own. 

“What’s wrong?” Rollyn says, resting their head on his shoulder, watching the sun continue to rise. 

He thinks on this, still staring forward into the light. When he speaks, he speaks as he always does, in riddles, in half truths, in vague, overarching concepts that most can find no specifics within. He would not give you a piece of his heart without a backdoor of deniability. 

“You ever feel like your life is a path that's already set out in front of you,” He says. “That there's no way to sway from. Every turn you try to take loops around and back to here. All roads lead to here. Any choice I ever could have made wouldn’t have changed the person I am now. It’s driven by some greater course that I can’t comprehend. That I am scared to even consider”

“It’s a little early for philosophy,” She says. “Are you talking about g-d?” They pause. “I think you chose to be here Sunset. I don’t think anything is set in stone.” 

“Does a bird choose to fly?” He says. “Or is born with a set of wings and the dream of the sky in its pocket.” 

“I thought you didn’t believe in fate” She says, lifting her stuffed animal from slipping out of her grip. “You’re the only Rovenian I know who doesn’t toss coins at those little Kokoro shrines.” 

“I don’t believe in that kind of fate” He says. 

She exhales, laughing. “I didn’t know there were different kinds,” She says. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes,” He says. 

“Then what kind of fate do you believe in?” They challenge. “Explain it to me.” 

He inhales, resting his head on hers. 

“The merciless kind” He says.

“Well” She sighs, watching his eyes deepen, pulled away by the distant horizon. She turns her head up towards his neck. “Kind of takes all the fun out of it, doesn’t it? That’s the saddest way to look at it.” 

“Fate was supposed to be fun?” He laughs, lifting his head, caught off guard by her dismissal. 

“Yes,” They say, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “It's a prankster. It’s a silly little animal that can’t be caged or caught, like the roadrunner in looney tunes. Dancing around gunshots and delivering karma. The prideful spend a lifetime running after it only to realize they’ve walked right off a cliff. You be careful chasing that thing," she says. 

“Or one day you’ll look down and see there's nothing beneath your feet.”

#SIGHSSSDSSSS #do you get it #do you understand #>-)o #my writing #kokoro writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest

[indigovigilance]

How to Write Good Omens Meta

Someone left something in my ask box that intrigued me:

My Ask is for insight into the theory of clues and how S2 clues move and build S3. Is there a meta on this? (If not, would you consider it at some point?)

Well, I did consider it, and here’s my first shot at answering this really good question. It's more about the art of writing than of clue analysis, but I may do a second piece in this series, if it feels necessary. Anyway, here we go:

read on Ao3

Learn Something New

People want to read meta to learn something that they didn’t know before. This probably means you will have to learn something that you didn’t know before. Some meta-analysts arrive pre-loaded with a rich background in costuming, tarot, biblical canon, and the wide array of cultural references that appear in the show. We also seem to have a fair number of psychologists (formally trained or otherwise) representing. I (and others: see Chekhov's Contract by @ineffablyruined) happen to have a background in law and so I was able to make a unique contribution via my piece Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop. But for other topics, I have to self-educate.

In my personal opinion, the work on direct canon analysis (that is, watching the show and reporting what you see) has largely been done and I don’t think there will be many more breakthroughs until some people go away and come back with a freshly informed perspective. Personally, I’m waiting for someone to go learn everything there is to know about S.W. Erdnase and tell us what they found, because that is a very specific reference that I haven’t seen fleshed out yet (link it in the reblogs if it already exists!).

Don’t Be Afraid of Outside Sources

For example, quite a few times I’ve gone away to read outside source material before writing a new meta. Good examples are: Honolulu Roast, The Lament of the Metatron, and The Hornet in the Beehive. These are topics where I had no particular advantage over anyone else, I just had a question and decided to keep digging until I had something that looked like an answer.

On choosing a topic: in each of these cases I began with an in-show piece of information that seemed both unambiguous in its directness and yet unexplained. Why is there a mysteriously appearing sign in the coffeeshop that says Honolulu Roast? Who is the Metatron? Why is there so much attention drawn to bees when Crowley goes up to Heaven? If I start with a solid question and then follow an investigative pathway, usually beginning with the Bible given the nature of this show but not always, I’ll usually find something.

There are also some Clues that we’re basically told to investigate. The books on the shelves. The movie playing in the background in The Resurrectionist Pub. These are unambiguous breadcrumbs but they’re a lot of labor. I’m not going to read all those books and watch all those movies. So pick one (1) and go read it, or watch it, and then tell us what you found, so I can read your 1,500 word piece to learn what I need to know about it. 

Sometimes you get enough information for a meta just by hanging around long enough and absorbing information. That’s how I put together my pieces on Terry Pratchett’s Death and Crowley’s Dream. The trick in this case is to be able to synthesize it, and for that, the very best way to learn how to do that is read other people’s meta.

Specializing

The asker asked the most important question of all: what’s the balance between trying to manage all the Clues or ignoring them entirely? Well, think of it this way (I’m borrowing an XKCD comic for brevity):

The takeaway here is, when you get a PhD, you become a hyperfocused expert in a very narrow topic and you’re relying on lots and lots and lots of other PhD students becoming highly specialized experts in other topics so that together you are expanding the diameter of human knowledge.

We (meta-analysts) are all getting PhDs in Good Omens, one way or another. Some people are doing their theses in color theory. I am doing mine on the concept of memory and identity permanence (though frequently dabbling in law). Yet others have flung themselves body and soul into the topic of Crowley’s gender and God bless them. Heck, there’s a team of people on Discord who are on any given day ripping the Bentley down to its studs and building it back up again. Feel free to explore while you seek out your passionate topic but don’t feel the need to tackle all of them. You’ll find the one that you fit best in. 

You do not have to solve the S3 plot puzzle by yourself. You have to find two pieces, put them together, and then go find a buddy that also has two pieces and see if your pair of pairs makes a quartet. Literally. That’s what we’re doing here guys. It’s a team effort or nothing at all.

Organize your ideas into digestible segments

Great, so you learned something new, you have a tantalizing hypothesis, and you’re ready to write! But what does a good meta look like?

Your abstract (which I recommend you write last) will go at the top, followed by evidence in a logically progressive order that finally culminates in your conclusion. If you’ve ever written a five paragraph essay, you have these tools in your toolbox. And yes, sometimes you will even need to rebut counterarguments (“but Neil said” is the bane of my existence) just like your teacher taught you. But it shouldn’t be formatted like a five-paragraph essay. This is not an 8.5”x11” sheet of paper with 1” margins: this is Tumblr.

Walls of text are great and all but reading handicaps come in all flavors and I for one benefit greatly from having section headers that help me navigate a meta. I’m much less likely to read it if all I have to find my place by is paragraph breaks.

Section headers should tell me what the next paragraph or two are about, and if I read just the section headers, I should have a pretty good idea of what evidence you’re pulling from where and what conclusion you’re going to support with that evidence.

Here’s my opinion on gifs: if I need to see Michael Sheen’s micro-expressions to really understand your point, include it. If I just need a reminder of where we are in the story, or what a costume looks like, a still is fine and less distracting. For a lot of things, though, images are unnecessary. You’ll find the right balance but don’t overburden your written work with images. I think there are quite a few people who only read my work on Ao3 because they simply don’t like the Tumblr, image-centric format.

Have a main takeaway

What does all your evidence point to? It may feel like stating the obvious, but state it anyway. Put a little ribbon on top of this gift you have given to the fandom. Label it. Tell them exactly what your conclusion is from all this information you gathered.

…but don’t feel a need to draw a firm conclusion

In my meta Continuity Errors, I conclude that Crowley stops time in order to move something that was hidden in the bookshop out of the bookshop. I do not speculate on what exactly that something is that he moved. I don’t need to. By leading others down this path, I am tapping the collective resources of the hive mind to think about what exactly was hidden with the bookshop’s protection. They may have some information I don’t because they’ve been looking other places. Not having a hypothesis for this shouldn’t (and didn’t) stop me from publishing my work.

Go back to the top and write your intro/abstract

Have you written your main takeaway? Did you support it with evidence? Good. Now take that and write a 20-30 word elevator pitch that you’re going to put at the top of the meta so that people know what it’s about before they commit to 1,000-2,000 words of being led down the garden path. I have a bad habit of burying the lead, and I’m trying to break it. For a moment people were worrying about putting big revelations below the cut so that we’re not interfering with Neil, but I don’t think Neil has ever seen my work and I doubt he ever will, and at this time my opinion is that playing “hide the lead” is more of a hindrance to the fandom than helpful to protecting the integrity of the IP. So be bold. Tell people exactly where you’re going with this and a short roadmap of how you’re going to get there. You don’t necessarily have to “give away the goods” but the theme should be obvious. An okay-ish example of an abstract is the intro to my first meta. My abstract for Continuity Errors is decidedly more tongue-in-cheek. You'll find your own style.

Cite and Tag

If you read someone’s post and it gave you a great idea, cite them as inspo! It’s a feel-good moment for them and it ties the fandom together. If you’re relying on your own prior work or someone else’s work to support a point, link the piece and tag the author. You will probably want to start copying links to metas that you like into a doc or spreadsheet to make this easier. Check out mine to get an idea of how you could organize a spreadsheet, or check out this doc to see an alternative approach to meta database management.

Speaking of which: @cobragardens, @aprilodite, @drconstellation, @vidavalor, and @irispurpurea, your work appears in this... whatever exactly this is idk.

Recruit a Mentor/beta

Various Tumblrites have published comments or posts that they are willing to beta other people’s work. Reach out to those people before you need them and ask if, whenever you’ve written your next piece, if they wouldn’t mind taking a look at it? Have an upfront discussion about turnaround time. Most of us work, and have other obligations, so it’s unlikely we can look at a thing the minute you send it to us, even if we’re active on Tumblr at that moment. Some people have set days off that they know they’ll have time to curl up with a cup of tea and read the first draft of your meta; you may find that having a weekly schedule with someone pushes you to produce and improve at a pace you wouldn’t achieve under your own steam. Writing is a skill; you get better by practicing and getting constructive feedback.

Anyways, I hope someone finds this helpful: maybe meta-analysis seems like an intimidating thing to get into, but it shouldn’t be! This is a welcoming community with room for all shapes, sizes and flavors of contributions. If you have any follow-up questions about this piece, please feel free to drop them in my ask box!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable fandom #writing #on writing #meta on meta

[fenny-self-ships]

Hiiiiiiiii

Idk if you’re comfortable with hurt/comfort, but if you are I got a request for you! Lol

Basically, the idea is headcanons (or writing) of Jafar with an S/O that suffered SEVERE narcissistic abuse, and him quickly dealing just how much damage behaviors like his can cause. Like, he has to calm them down from a ptsd flashback, and they end up saying something about the “mind games” they were always playing, and how they were always on eggshells, and he’s basically over here like “ohhhh fuk…I do that kind of thing to people…”

Ooh some hurt comfort?? Coming right up 👀

I'm by no means an expert on this topic, so I'll stick with headcannons for now, but if you like 'em I'm more than open to writing a full imagine in future!!

Cracks my knuckles

Jafar with an abused S/O~!

Given the way he speaks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something he said that triggered the unfortunate episode

A nasty, condescending comment about a hobby of yours, a hissing remark correcting your behaviour, or even deliberately misconstruing something you've said -- Incredibly self-serving, of course, but he's a master manipulator, and can very easily play the victim in even the tiniest arguments

Nothing could prepare him, however, for the sudden fit of anxiety and terror his words would induce

He is WOEFULLY uneducated on such things, and would regrettably have absolutely zero clue how to approach the situation -- He'd more than likely just freeze, simply staring down at you as you crumble

Once he's snapped out of his stupor, his first instinct would be to remove himself from the situation

He's clearly upset you, and he'd rather die than debase himself by admitting to his own wrongs. What a PATHETIC move that would be, huh?? (/sar)

Perhaps not the greatest instinct, but he'd give you time to cool off, to return to yourself, before slinking back in to discuss what caused your 'hysteria' (🙄🙄)

Likely with some warm tea to show in the smallest sense that he does actually CARE about you. It's not much, but it might be enough to get you talking

He would have fully intended to make a half-assed attempt at listening, followed by an empty promise to 'do better' and some kisses to top it off, but, in true Jafar fashion, his interest is piqued when you start describing the shit that he is oh so good at

The insufferable superiority complex, the 'do-no-wrong' mentality, the near constant mind games, manipulation and victimisation -- every single experience you describe he resonates with far too much

He hasn't had much experience with guilt, but you're his beloved. He cares about you. The sickly feeling creeps, resting heavier and heavier on his shoulders the more you manage to tell him

Truly an 'ohhhh fuck... I do that shit' moment if there ever was one

It's become second nature to him, almost a survival tactic -- not any excuse for his behaviour, of course, but he rarely gives a second thought to how awful the effects can be

He hates that it was you who had to tell him. He's supposed to be your biggest supporter, not your worst enemy

His illusion of perfection is shattered -- You aren't lucky to be with him, HE'S lucky you've put up with his disposition for as long as you have. He feels terrible.

All at once, you're wrapped up in a hug. Physical touch isn't his forte, but when you're as bad at apologies as he is, sometimes you have to compromise

This may be the first time you've ever heard a genuine 'sorry' from him

He will make an effort. Not to better himself as a whole, hell no, but to be better for you. The last thing he'd want to do is hurt you the way you've been hurt before. That'd be the WORST thing for his overinflated ego.

He's trying <3

#I GOT RLLY CARRIED AWAY W THIS ONE OH MY GOD #sorry it took so long to get around to 😭 #my exams are over!! asks are being answered <3 #I popped this one under the cut for mentions of abuse/trauma #but nothing too serious #enjoy!! #fenris asks #jafar #self ship #headcannons #x reader #cw: abuse