#but in the end I lost the internal mapping I had for that version. now we have this one

[hg-deranged-edition]

My contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! @akichania YOU ARE NEXT.

(WARNING FOR SUICIDAL IDEATION)

———

He lay across from him, fast asleep at night. Eyes fluttering gently in his sleep, off in a dream Steve would never hear about. Chest rising steadily, breaths deep and even, with the lightest hint of a snore accompanying him. Steve couldn’t help himself, he extended his hand and lightly cupped his cheek, to feel it’s warmth. Hot, as Billy usually was during his slumber.

Ever the light sleeper, Billy’s eyes instantly snapped open, mind lagging behind. When recognition flashed across his face, his eyes softened and his lips curled into the slightest smile. Steve’s heart swelled at the love he found inside them, the vulnerability he found within both assuring and terrifying. Steve knew he couldn’t really help when Billy was in trouble.

Billy murmured a sound that was probably meant to be questioning, and Steve just hushed him, trying to coax him back to sleep. Maybe curl him up into his arms so that Billy couldn’t leave. Billy just grasped his hand and held onto it, terribly, terribly gentle. Affection Steve didn’t quite deserve or earn.

With great effort, Billy’s tired mind managed to collect enough coherence to ask “’Was wrong?” and Steve cursed himself for not being able to get himself together enough to save face in front of Billy.

He hadn’t been sleeping.

Couldn’t, really.

“I’m just,” he began, “I don’t. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just kinda upset.” Billy’s hand tightened ever so slightly, brow twitching together in worry. He was quiet for a moment before muttering “You’re not ‘just upset.’ You never are.” he paused, looking deeply into his eyes, and Steve found it horrible that Billy knew him so intimately when he didn’t deserve someone so… well, whatever Steven is.

Incapable. Is probably the word he’s looking for.

“You don’t gotta tell me,” Billy began anew, “but you have to know I care, right? So like, I can listen to you, even if it doesn’t make sense, and only you know what you’re talkin’ about. Gotta repay the favor and everything, right?” Steve nodded, not quite trusting himself to talk. He found the way Billy looked at him unbearable; so imploring and kind. Defenceless. It’s a beauty that suited his face, really. Billy laid their hands betwixt them on the mattress, and Steve felt a lump form in his throat.

He wanted to get closer so bad. He wasn’t quite sure he could do that without crumbling.

Despite himself, Steve felt himself speak.

“I. I’m just, I’m so sorry, fuck, Billy. I’m fuckin- dumb as shit, slow and I can’t even see what’s right in front of me, and I can’t even take care of myself.”

Billy’s face saddened, and he crawled closer to Steve. “Steven. Steve no, don’t say that, baby. You know you’re not stupid, we’ve talked about this before.” Steve hiccuped at that, and his first tear fell. “No, no I’m just. I can’t help but feel it. Dad’s right, I’m fuckin stupid as shit, I can’t do shit and I can’t even get college. I don’t understand things even if they’re repeated to me a thousand times and I- I can’t even-” at that, Billy just smushed Steve’s face into his chest, and held onto him tightly. “I don’t know what you’re on about. Your dads the dumbass, not you. It’s not your fault the man can’t explain things right and then gets mad at you for his own mistakes.” Billy pressed a kiss atop his head.

Steve just weeped at that, because Billy didn’t understand. Steve’s failure was Billy.

He completely, and utterly, failed him. Didn’t recognize that Billy needed help until it was far too late- his body having received permanent damage already and only awaiting it’s final blow. He should have noticed- should have realized that something was wrong, not clutched on so tightly to his and Nancy’s joke of a relationship. Should have gotten his head out of his ass and seen the reality in front him instead of being so damn hung up.

Because Billy was dead now. And Steve would never get him back, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he turned the past over in his mind.

Billy was still shushing him, arms crushing him as he only wailed harder. Couldn’t seem to be able to stop himself from crying, either, judging by the wetness seeping into Steve’s hair.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, “baby, why are you acting this way?” His hand was petting through Steve’s hair, a thousand gentle, repeated kisses gifted like they could ease the hurt away. Steve’s head hurt from crying, the sheer force of his sobs giving him vertigo. The last time he cried that hard was a week into the future, and for this past body, it was when he was 9 years old and begging his parents to stay back home.

Eventually, Steve managed to calm back down. Belatedly he noticed that Billy had been patting his back and murmuring a lullaby. One he realized was probably among the last few remnants of his mother’s love. “Thank you,” he muttered, “for everything.” His throat was hoarse. Billy just kept singing with a slightly pained look on his face. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

---

When Billy’s breaths evened out and his arms loosened, Steve opened his eyes again listlessly. And did nothing. For hours.

He was tired. So fucking tired. From crying, from watching but too afraid to really touch. He was promised an eternity with his love. He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

---

He felt himself begin to slip away, eyes unfocusing through their drought. He’d probably wake up again in a moment, beholding a sleeping Billy from the start all over again. Maybe he’d be too exhausted to keep up any facade of humanity, maybe Billy would curl into him and he’d shatter all over again. Maybe he’d just observe. Silent.

In the beginning, he’d really thought he only wanted this, this last moment with Billy, for all eternity. Now he understands that this stagnant memory was never what he truly wanted from Billy. Sure, he’d wanted one last embrace with the love of his life, not for closure, though. No, never for closure. The mere thought of it repulsed him.

No, he wanted to continue on with Billy. He’d only made a pathetic display of humility, a request born from fallacy. He wanted to wake up together, light streaming from the curtains, feel the warmth of morning. Wanted to get up and bake and make coffee and crack shitty jokes with the guy. Wanted to tangle his hand in his hair and feel disgust when it came back greasy. Wanted to live a life with the fucker.

This wasn’t a life shared together. It was anything but. It was a mockery of their love, the epitome of their shared fatal flaw. It was Billy desparate for Steve to open up, to tell him what’s wrong, and Steve’s throat closing up, locking down. It was Steve getting exhausted from asking where Billy got all his bruises from, only to be met with aggression. It was Billy being on the verge of crying when Steve still held onto the agony from his last relationship and couldn’t focus on Billy’s love.

And, a few days into the future, it would be Steve not recognizing that Billy was acting wrong. That his cold demeanor was caused by more than just a petty argument.

This, this situation, was sleeping with a cooling corpse. Getting lulled back into sleep every time panic ripped through his central nervous system. Being mocked with the face of his lover caring for him, when his own care wasn’t sufficient enough. By god, he should have picked Billy up long ago, thrown him onto the backseat and driven far, far away from here. To hell with everyone else.

But it was too late now, sin rooted too deep into his foundations. This was all he had left.

He sunk his fingers deeper into Billy’s, lashes fluttering lethargically. He should be grateful. Death doesn’t feel so permanent when the star of the funeral was right next to him. Most people yearned for this moment right here, no matter how grotesque.

Still, he couldn’t wait to be dead.

Feeling Billy’s pulse thudding against his skin, Steve sunk back into sleep, hoping to dream of tomorrow before he woke up again.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy x steve #drabble #harringrove relay race #once more imagine they are t4t and I simply did not elaborate #this was originally supposed to be part of a larger fic btw describing Steve looping through waking up at least 2 times before this and #slowly revealing the true circumstances he was in #and he was supposed to be super lovey doves in the first part start showing cracks in the second and break in the third #but in the end I lost the internal mapping I had for that version. now we have this one #this wasn’t what I was originally gonna post btw I was gonna post art but that one struggled with me too hard. ok bye!!! #suicidal thoughts tw

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

2023 Writing Roundup

I had to scroll back pretty far to find the tags for this, so if I missed someone who did this already and tagged me, I'm sorry if I double tag you at the end! But thanks to @kiwiana-writes and @inexplicablymine for tagging me in this roundup post!

As the post is going to reveal, I, uh, only just got back into writing a few months back, after taking almost ten years off due to, honestly, a lack of inspiration. I'd lost my voice, and I didn't suspect I'd ever love anything enough to write again, until this little pink book came barrelling into my life in June, followed swiftly by a little Amazon Prime movie in August, and both changed my life forever.

So without further ado, here's my writing roundup for 2023:

January

Nada

February

Zilch

March

Nothin'

April

Not a damn thing

May

Nope, nothing here either

June

Keep right on going, my friends

July

29th - The Lake House The night following the election, Alex has a surprise planned for Henry. A chance to make some new history.

August

8th - What If I Do? What was Henry thinking when he left Alex at the lake house? What were the days that followed like for him before Alex showed up at his door and forced him to face not only Alex, but himself?

18th - Gravity The first time that Henry enters Alex's orbit, at the Melbourne Climate Conference, and all of their subsequent meetings leading to their "violent altercation" at the royal wedding. Inspired by a post about how Henry very pointedly chose not to shake Alex's hand in the receiving line after the wedding and what that could have meant.

19th - The Rope Henry's reaction to Alex nearly telling him that he loves him at the lake house in Texas.

19th - A brief spark of a moment: A Red, White & Royal Blue drabble collection These drabbles are simply my personal challenge to contain myself to 100 words when I've always been…long-winded.

20th - Retaliation Alex and Henry, now dating, attend another state dinner, where they're unexpectedly seated directly next to each other.

21st - Every Version Alex does a magazine photoshoot, and the day that the magazine arrives, he wants Henry to look at it first.

23rd - On my heart just like a tattoo Alex and Henry are married, and on the day of the ceremony, they decide to do something special.

23rd - Ghosts After Henry leaves the lake house, Alex does not go after him. He doesn't storm Kensington in a fit of pique to call Henry an "obtuse fucking asshole." Instead, the pair spend nearly a year apart, both wrecked and miserable, until they find themselves on the list of speakers for an international conference.

27th - Darkest before the dawn The immediate aftermath of Henry discovering the email leak in the movie-verse.

28th - When I taste tequila Henry’s drunk. If the growing mountain of empty shot glasses, drained and discarded lime wedges, and gritty layer of salt on the table in front of him are any indication, he’s very drunk. Only, his brain is having a difficult time catching on to the fact that he’s drunk. And when his brain is this far behind the rest of him, Henry tends to find himself in precarious situations, with no real conscious thought as to how he got there or how he might have avoided them.

September

4th - The Maldives Inspired by a conversation about the zoomed-in and transcribed article about Henry in People Magazine from the movie and how the photos look like they could have been faked.

After their conversation with the king and greeting the crowd at Buckingham Palace, Alex and Henry ride back to Kensington. Alex mentions that his offer to fly to the Maldives is still valid, and Henry admits that he's never been, which sparks a discussion about some of the lengths the crown would go to in order to convince the world that Henry was straight. Alex considers what Henry must have gone through, and the two of them discuss their past and how it might have been different.

11th - Modification to the map of you Henry comes back from a month-long trip with his ear pierced, and Alex has no idea.

14th - Et Max Laryngitis Alex gets laryngitis, and Henry decides to have a bit of fun at his expense.

23rd - How bizarro is that Alex gets food poisoning, and Henry takes care of him…sort of.

27th - Royal Assent “If the boyfriend of a prince of England fails English Legal History, you’ll be the one to blame,” Alex murmurs as Henry sucks a bruise on his neck. Henry had arrived home from the shelter to find Alex buried under a mountain of books, his glasses askew and his hair wild, wearing the same bewildered expression Henry had seen as he walked out the door earlier that morning.

As he climbs into Alex’s lap, jumping a little as a particularly sharp corner of a hardcover book pokes him in the arse, he can feel the tension in Alex’s shoulders relax, ever so slightly.

“You aren’t going to fail. In fact, I’m going to help you,” Henry says, each word separated by a kiss to Alex’s chest, neck, cheek, and finally lips.

OR

Alex is trying really hard to study for a law school exam, and Henry takes it upon himself to...assist.

28th - 5 Times Henry Hated New Year's + 1 Time He Didn't “This is my curse,” Henry mutters, and Pez laughs across from him.

“You can hardly be responsible for the weather.”

“So the glaring fact that every single New Year’s Eve on record in my life has been an utter disaster means absolutely nothing to you?”

“We’re going to make it, so no, it means nothing to me,” Pez says with cheerful optimism despite the constant fluttering of white beyond the plane windows.

OR

5 times throughout his life that Henry's New Year's countdown has been ruined, and 1 time that it isn't.

29th - Stars in the sky are the stars in my eyes The ding of a notification sounds in the otherwise silent living room. As Henry’s eyes continue to scan the page of his book, ignoring his phone, Alex can’t help but glance down at the illuminated screen between them on the couch.

“Is that…a horoscope?” Alex asks, immediately retrieving the phone to confirm his suspicions at the exact moment Henry grabs for it a beat too late. He watches the bright shade of red crawl up Henry’s neck to burn just beneath the skin of his ears.

“Perhaps,” is all he supplies, his voice muffled as he buries his face far too close to the book’s pages to realistically read anything written there.

***

Henry gets his daily horoscope, and Alex is intrigued, so Henry shows him the constellations.

30th - What started in beautiful rooms Henry’s never taken any extra care in his appearance when playing polo. Certainly, he’s given an adequate amount of time and effort to ensure that he appears composed, but the sport itself lends to a bit of chaos, between the pounding of hooves and the whipping of the wind in a frantic rush. It’s all incredibly…well, wild.

No, Henry’s never taken any extra care in his appearance when playing polo…except today.

OR

Henry's point of view during the charity polo match.

October

1st - Do we still have forever? Alex has a sudden, serious allergic reaction, and Henry can't help but think about losing him.

2nd - Dear Dad I should start from the beginning, or rather, I should start by telling you how I got here, to this moment, writing you this letter.

OR

Henry writes a letter to his father on his wedding day.

3rd - Liquor was the only love I'd known June finds them at some point and steals Henry away to gab at the bar. Alex watches them from afar, wondering what they could possibly be talking about that has June nearly falling off her barstool laughing, until the crowd overtakes him again.

3rd - Then came a baby boy with long eyelashes Following their initial spirited entrance into Alex's hotel room following the DNC, Henry asks Alex about his encounter with Miguel in the bar.

13th - Volume Control Prompt Fulfillment: I need someone to write a FirstPrince fic where Henry overhears Alex saying "Henry is so annoying I can't stand him" so Henry says "kneel then" and it short circuits Alex's brain.

20th - 5 Times Alex Made a Disney Movie Reference + 1 Time Henry Did Alex and Henry have watched a significant amount of Disney movies, and well, Alex tends to have questions.

20th - You can't escape this drying ink “There’s…a matter…that requires your attention, in the Red Room. I’d be happy to escort you there.” She glances sideways at Henry’s PPOs, who shift in place, readying themselves to follow where she leads. Henry nods again, uncertain what other options lie open to him even if he wished to take one.

OR

Henry's thoughts at the state dinner as Amy leads him to the Red Room.

31st - Save a horse Alex convinces Henry to dress up as cowboys for Halloween and quickly realizes that Henry dressed as a cowboy was not something he was entirely prepared for.

31st - I'm not a robot without emotions, I'm not what you see At the royal wedding, Alex drinks and dances and contemplates both of the princes.

November

1st - The Candy Tax Ten-year-old Alex has invited his new friend Henry, who just moved to Texas from England with his family so that his movie star dad can be based in the US to shoot more movies, over for a sleepover the night before Halloween.

1st - Through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all The mountains are on fire. Red, orange, and yellow leaves cover thousands of acres of land, and the peeking of the sun over the distant horizon illuminates the hovering fog, creating the illusion of a persistent fire burning brightly without causing any damage. Instead, it paints a masterful landscape for an early morning riser to gaze at as he sips at a cup of Earl Grey and marvels at the fact that this beauty is a sight he has somehow been blessed to see.

2nd - Heart enough "...there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement."

Instead of Alex flying to London, Henry is sent to D.C. to do the post Cakegate damage control just in time for Alex and June's annual Halloween party.

2nd - Life is a maze, and love is a riddle Alex, June, and Nora take Henry to his first haunted corn maze.

3rd - All at once, everything is different, now that I see you Alex throws out some possible suggestions for his and Henry's first ever couples Halloween costume, but Henry has something else in mind.

3rd - Halloween at Kensington The Fox-Mountchristen-Windsors may not be able to go out trick-or-treating like a normal family, but they can still celebrate Halloween in their own special way.

4th - No fear, no fences, nobody - no reins Henry takes Alex to a nearby farm outside Austin to teach him how to ride a horse. Eventually, they stop at a log cabin in the words for the night, and they decide to try another form of riding.

4th - I don't know why all the trees change in the fall Alex has had a terrible day. It's raining, it's cold, and he's absolutely miserable. All he wants to do is dry off and collapse in bed. But when he walks through the door, Henry is ready and waiting to take care of him. He even has a surprise that he's cooking up in the kitchen. And Alex gets to take a trip down memory lane.

5th - A-gourd-able “Oh, so that’s the reason you wanted a child so badly. Not for the opportunity to nurture and guide and love another human being that you helped to create, but for the perks of walking around to strangers’ homes asking for candy that our baby can’t even eat.”

OR

Alex and Henry take their daughter trick or treating for the first time, and it's Henry's first time as well.

5th - I want to play a game Alex and Henry agree to watch all of the Saw movies to determine if one or both of them will end up too scared to continue. Do they make it through the series? Or does one of them give in and lose the wager that they've made?

5th - Barbecue Sauce "I want to see your mouth covered in barbecue sauce. And then, I want to lick it off."

6th - With magic soakin' my spine, can you read my mind? What happened after Alex, June, and Nora played their little HRH Prince Henry Fact Sheet drinking game? Well, in this version of events, Alex finds a mysterious bottle containing what appears to be a magic spell for "Clarity of Mind." As dumb as it seems, he does the ritual and reads the incantation and moves on, flying to London for damage control. But when he shakes Henry's hand, suddenly things change, and Alex realizes that maybe magic is real after all.

6th - Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo (podfic included) Henry takes Alex on a trip to visit...a couple of old feathered friends.

6th - It's autumn in New York; it's good to live it again It's the first day of fall in New York, and Alex comes home from class with a special surprise for Henry.

6th - Reciting to the Waterloo Vase: Drabbles for the RWRDrabblePrompts Tumblr

13th - Wind me up, fill your cup like a river, drunk on watching me drown Henry sighs. "Is that the time you threatened to push me into the Thames?"

OR

That time Alex threatened to push Henry into the Thames.

23rd - The injury of finally knowing you (a birthday present for @ships-to-sail) Henry's thoughts just before and immediately after the countdown to midnight on New Year's Eve.

23rd - Smutsgiving 2023 Alex's heart rate monitor on his Apple Watch alerts him to some strenuous activity…at the worst possible time.

December

1st - We need a little Christmas The one where I let a random Christmas word generator choose a drabble prompt for a Christmas advent. Enjoy!

20th - Four Christmases From Washington to Austin, London to New York, Alex and Henry spend Christmas with different members of their families from 2020 - 2023. Funny couples' Christmas sweaters, festive swimsuits, statement-making ties, and family pajamas all bring lots of laughs, some tears, and a bit of fun to be had by all along the way.

25th - Oh what a laugh it would have been When Alex dresses as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, their five-year-old daughter makes an extra special, last-minute Christmas wish.

AND

Alex leaves his Santa suit on for a private evening with Henry while everyone else is snug in their beds.

Unpublished but Completed

December 30th - Take Your Time A New Year's Eve AU set in New York City (and that's all I'm willing to give away...for now)

January 1st - NYE Gift Exchange Fic

Tagging all of my lovelies who may or may not have already done this (please ignore this if you have!): @adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @daisymae-12 @duchessdepolignaca03 @gayrootvegetable @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indomitable-love @indestructibleheart @leaves-of-laurelin @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @ninzied @priincebutt @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @roseharpermaxwell @ships-to-sail @songliili @ssmtskw @statueinthestonetoo @stereopticons @suseagull04 @thinkof-england @tintagel-or-cockleshells @user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @wordsofhoneydew

#my fics #my writing #2023 writing roundup #2023 year in review #my posts #here's to filling the first 6 months of the year with fics in 2024

[barthel]

Radiohead, "Creep" (Live in Oxford, 2001)

As a band, Radiohead has always been legible. They tell you how to think about them: what their story is, what their music means. And if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you knew they hated their first hit, "Creep." You knew this because they told you, but also because they made a series of albums that were aggressively the opposite of "Creep"'s anglo-grunge angst; because tour documentary Meeting People is Easy made clear their disgust with the kind of mindless fame a song like "Creep" engendered. "I want to have control," Thom had sung in the song, and now they were taking control of their narrative. They wanted to be smart, and "Creep" was not smart.

The problem was, if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you yourself probably loved "Creep." When I first heard the song, I was just the kind of teen to feel that crunchy angst deep in my soul, and even as I went to college and wanted to seem smart and do smart things myself (OK Computer, Kid A, and Amnesiac are all very "I went to college" sort of albums), every moment of "Creep," from its chiming beginning to its jet-takeoff chorus to its transparent self-loathing, was a blast. My gross teenage soul felt seen. And anyway, wasn't Radiohead's rejection of the song exactly the kind of self-loathing that "Creep" itself had managed to capture so perfectly? I was a creep, I was a weirdo; what the hell were we doing there? Let's not do that again, guys. Come on.

After college, I spent a lot of time online arguing with past versions of myself. I was  embarrassed about the college-age Radiohead superfan who'd spent hours decoding the band's inscrutable website updates, convinced that they contained some galaxy-brain higher message, some greater masterpiece. When In Rainbows came out, given away at the band's website for whatever you wished to pay, the fan narrative became that Radiohead had boldly pioneered a new economic model that would save the music industry. But by that point, I'd become knowledgeable enough about both music and the music industry that I could smugly point out to you the many ways in which that was wrong. (And, even today, I can do a solid 7 minutes on how In Rainbows devalued digital music.) I didn't listen to the album for years, even though, when I did, I liked it well enough. Your old self can get in your head, can become a region on your internal map filled with sea dragons and smoke. Don't go here. 

When you're in your 40's, like I am now, you can't just react to your last identity; you have too many to choose from. It's easier to look back with regret on the many old selves you've lost than to boldly forge a new identity opposed to your last one. I was a writer for a couple decades, then got a professional job that didn't allow me to write. Since leaving it, I've been trying to put my writer-self back together, but in assembling my last bio, I noted that many of my publications were in outlets that no longer exist. It's easy to fall into regret; to feel illegible, your self-perception out of sync with how others see you. You can't afford these arguments with your past self anymore. You have to find a way to embrace them.

In 2001, after releasing Amnesiac, Radiohead played a triumphant homecoming gig in Oxford, where they'd all met at university. (Like I said: a very "I went to college" band.) At that point, they hadn't played "Creep" in four years, even as they'd put out two confirmed masterpieces, and all signs pointed to them never playing the song again. They weren't planning on playing it that day, either. At the end of their final encore, they began to play "Motion Picture Soundtrack," the bleak love song that closes "Kid A." It was written around the same time as "Creep," but where "Creep" is easily legible, guitars and lyrics united in message, "MPS" pushes against itself, a cozy organ contrasting harshly with Thom Yorke's declaration that he'll never be with the object of his desire, and will only "see you in the next life."  But the crowd wouldn't hear MPS that day. The band flubbed the intro, and instead of starting again, Thom says, "Okay, I've got a better idea. This is a slightly older song."

As the first note of "Creep" hits, a sound erupts from the crowd: not just a cheer, not just a scream, but the clearest expression of release I've ever heard. It is a true surprise, a fulfillment of their heart's desire; one diehard Radiohead fans never expected to happen, or at least not that day. They sing along to every word. And the band shows no signs of the embarrassment they'd felt so strongly for the song since releasing OK Computer. Jonny launches into the first roaring chord of the chorus audibly out of tune, and you can hear a moment of hesitancy, the old embarrassment threatening to creep in, before he gives in to the song's pull. Thom sings it with a gleeful lightness. It's a reunion, a band realizing, in a flash, that they've had enough distance from their past self to love them again. You need that distance, need to see your earlier selves were right, or at least not wrong; not smart, maybe, but maybe smart isn't what really matters. Maybe what really matters isn't being smart or right but that feeling, that release, the crowd and the band together, in perfect purpose, deciding to love the sound itself and its adored history rather than the barren meaning of the words. The explicit legibility slips away into something richer and more complex, and together, they find joy in having made it far enough from that angst to view it with affection.

#radiohead #creep #Youtube

[remusmainhoe]

sirius x reader shifting

so im not entirely sure what this is, I was just having some fun. I have never shifted, Its basically like the reader shifting/transporting to their world, and them knowing she's from another reality. kind of just an escape from whatever is going on in life right now. im still working on it but wanted to share.

The light leaking through the curtains of your bed shinning in your eyes, forcing them open. The red colors from the Gryffindor dorm welcome you. You can't believe you just shifted realities.

“Y/n, come on, we have to get ready for breakfast. We have the Hogsmeade trip today.” Lily said drawing the curtains of your bed. “I know you’re from another reality, but hopefully breakfast is still in the morning where ever you come from, come on.”

You sat up on your bed, still not believing you were there, but got dressed and started making your way down to the common room. When you reached the bottom of the stairs you met Sirius Black, James Potter, and Remus lupin, after a moment Peter hurried down the stairs from the boys' dormitory. 

“Hello love,” Sirius said approaching you, he grabbed your hand and lightly kissed your forehead.

The six of you started to make your way to the main hall, Sirius was still holding your hand. The castle was enormous, and just how you had imagined it. The main hall was packed with students eating their breakfast, you sat next to Sirius and the others, in awe of all of the food on the table. 

“I'm glad you’re finally here” Sirius whispered in your ear “I have a genius prank I wanna do later” a mischievous smile played on his face.

“I'd be glad to help” was the first word that you had spoken since you got there.” but first, I'm gonna need you to show me around or give me the map because this place is fucking huge,” you said causing them all to laugh slightly.

“You’ll get the hang of it” Sirius waved you off nonchalantly.

“And I don't think Sirius will want his precious y/n separated from his side, so I doubt you’ll have to worry about getting lost” James teased, causing you to flush a bit and smile. 

“Shove off mate, you’re just sour 'cause Evans won’t notice you” Sirius countered.

“Wait, James isn’t with lily ye-“ you stopped yourself before you finished your sentence, internally kicking yourself. James was too distracted to catch what you had said, however.

“Does it happen 7th year?” Remus whispered to you “I have a bet with the rest of the guys”

He smiled proudly when you nodded lightly.

You looked over at Peter, who was observing James trying to impress and catch Lily's attention, cheering him on every now and then.

You looked over to the Slytherin table, and you found regulus, sitting with Barty crouch jr, and Snape. At the teacher's table, you saw a younger version of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, sprout, and filch. Slughorn was sitting where Snape would later sit. It then occurred to you that you forgot to script some things.

“What year are we?” You asked the marauders who for a moment looked puzzled.

“6th” answered Sirius.

“Right,” you said, “what’s the date?”

“October 17, 1975” Remus said.

Then it hit you, Sirius would be disowned this year. The book had been very vague and only said he ran away when he was 16, but not the exact date he ran away. You knew his birthday is November 3rd. 

“So how old are you lot again?” You asked trying to sound casual, Sirius chuckled lightly. 

“Were all 15, of course as the eldest of the group, and wisest, I am to be turning 16 very soon” Sirius announced to you.

After breakfast ended, you and the rest of the group headed to the village.

“How far is Hogsmeade?” You asked.

“About a fifteen-minute ride give or take” James answered.

“Do you guys play quidditch?” You asked, Your curiosity for the world starting to get the best of you.

“Yeah, I play chaser”

“I'm a beater” Sirius informed you.

You looked around to see that you were not at any hearing distance from the other students and whispered to them, “so are you guys an animagus yet?”

“How did you know?” Sirius questioned you with a look of surprise.

“Oh please I’ve read the books” you answered

“they have books about us in your reality?” James asked.

“Weeeelll sort of, I've said too much” 

“What do you mean sort of?”

“Well I scripted out certain things when I shifted realities, so some of the information from the books I read, could be different than the events and future of this reality” you tried to explain.

“So I'm famous?” James asked.

“Not really,” you said, not wanting to tell him that he was going to have a child with the girl he has been in love with for 6 years and that the child will be famous but orphaned. Seemed like a lot for a bloke to take in all at once.

“What stuff did you script out?” Remus asked intrigued.

“Well mostly things that will happen in the future, like any deaths” 

“We die?” Peter asked.

“Well, in the book I read, yes, but this reality's future is different.

“Well, it would only be different apart from the point of when we died in the book” Remus reasoned.

“Yeah, there are just some key parts that I'm not sure how it will affect things.” You said.

“So you know everything that will happen up to when?” Sirius asked.

“Ummm, I know the important things that happen during your years at Hogwarts,” you said. 

“Does Evans go out with me?” James asked.

You tried your best at keeping a poker face “I cannot comment on whether lily Evans will go out with you, both outcomes will have a very big impact on the future.” You tried your best to not say too much.

“She'll come around,” James said at last.

“So you know about the animagus thing?” Sirius asked you.

“Yeah, and it's also pretty obvious ‘moony, worm tail, Padfoot, and prongs’. Not very subtle” you said with a grim.

“Oh come on, who could figure out something so crazy like us being animagus, with our nicknames” James countered.

“I don't know why you changed remus’ name, he already means wolf boy” you joked.

“Wait what?” Remus asked.

“Well, from what the author has said, your parents went to a naming seer, right? The name ‘lupin is derived from the Latin ‘lupines’, which means ‘of a wolf’, and ‘Remus is a figure from roman mythology who was raised by a wolf. Not to mention that your dad's name Lyall is the old Norse word for wolf.” He looked at you with disbelief.

“All hail Remus John lupin, the king of coincidences” James and Sirius exclaimed.

After a moment it hit you, and you started looking around checking your robes. Sirius stared at you confused.

“What are you looking for darling?” He asked.

“Do I have a wand” you kinda just said without much thought making Sirius bark out a laugh.

“You mean this one?” He said reaching to your inner pocket and taking out a stick.

You held it carefully, not wanting to accidentally hex someone. It was an odd feeling knowing how to use the wand, yet never having held a real one.

“You're adorable” Sirius whispered only for your ears, wrapping an arm around you to hold you closer to him. His scent warmed your heart, wanting to stay in his arms for the rest of your life.

After breakfast, the lot of you headed to Hogsmeade, Sirius holding your hand the whole way. You started to check your robes again, making Sirius laugh.

“Now what?” He asked with amusement.

“Do I even have money?” You said not being able to hold your laughter.

“Don't worry about that” Sirius said.

You were going to respond but before you could you had arrived at Hogsmeade, the town was more breathtaking than you could have pictured. You didn’t know where to start, you wanted to see everything.

“Where do you want to go first,” Sirius asked looking at you.

“I wanna go to zonkos, madam puddifut, and ooh what’s over there?” Your mind running 100mph.

“Ok, why don't we start with zonkos joke shop,” Sirius declared with amusement seeing you marvel at it all.

You went through all of the shops that you could see with Sirius, leaving the others back at zonkos. Snow started to fall lightly over the cotton-coated village, you couldn’t help but keep looking at Sirius. His hair, those eyes, his smile, that voice.

“Do I have something on my nose?” He joked lightly.

“Nope” you stated.

 “then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Because I'm here and I can,” you expressed.

You both slowed down, he cupped your face in his hands, and both of you remained like that for a while neither daring to look away. His lips graced yours kissing you lightly and thoughtfully, you had closed your eyes but could recognize him even just by his lips.

“You both better stop snagging or we’ll miss our ride back to the castle” James interrupted abruptly.

You both turned to him.

“I could kill him” Sirius sighed, crouching down to the snow and swiftly throwing a snowball at James who ducked and ran with the others laughing.

Sirius looked at his watch, “the git’s right though, we should start heading back”.

You all sat together on the way back, exhausted from the long day. You looked out the window, staring at the castle from afar, mesmerized by the view. You had imagined this place, seen it from behind a screen, but it was nothing compared to this. The structure was coated with a delicate coat of snow, glistening with the little light that shined from the sunset, the warm light being drowned by the night. 

The lot of you arrived and started toward the Gryffindor common room. You started to drag your feet subtly, not realizing how exhausted you were from the long day. Sirius suddenly paused in front of you crouching slightly.

“Climb up,” he said.

“Huh,” you asked.

Before you could do anything, he scooped you up and started walking, the others began conversing about the next prank.

“We’ll meet you guys at the tower later” Sirius announced to the group as he carried you.

The others chuckled but parted ways, leaving you and Sirius alone walking.

“Where we going?” You questioned.

“It's a surprise” he replied.

“That’s no fun” you teased, but you weren’t going to protest, you looked at the paintings on the walls. 

You found yourself after a couple minutes, standing in the astronomy tower, the stars shining above you. 

“I come here sometimes, to get away from it all, it's quiet up here,” he spoke.

The stars sparkled beautifully, but neither of you was looking, you just stood there staring at each other. You couldn’t help the smile that played on the corner of your lips, Sirius grabbed your hand, his other making its way to your face holding it gently. You wanted to remember everything, engrave in your mind the way his hands felt, memorizing each line on his palms. Your eyes shut, letting him guide your movements. You could never get tired of those lips, the way his scent engulfed you. 

#sirius x reader #sirius #harry potter #sirius black #padfoot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #james potter #harry potter marauders #remus #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #regulus #remus lupin #sirius being sirius #shifting #shiftinconsciousness #hogwarts

[familiarstale]

I just realized I never posted this guy. Just about everyone on the server has an Eclipse so I decided to make one as well. Because everyone has an Eclipse that's not so much his NAME as his Robot Type. Another character gave him a name in an rp. A friend's Lunar named him Phoenix which is pretty funny since that used to be another oc's name so the name is PULLING a Phoenix and rising again. nickname would be Nix which just sounds fitting for the Eclipse type too, like say em back-to-back. fits the reason for his existence is, back before their programmer was fired and still working with them, some of the higher ups started to think having TWO daycare attendants wasn't really needed, the nap-duties could be programmed into Sun and Moon could be one of their security bots. The programmer, Alex - because that's apparently my Go-To name when I got Nothin i have like 15 ocs named Alex - knew that much pressure on Sun would break him and be waaay too isolating for Moon so they decided to start programming in a baby brother for the two, a 3rd AI who would be security-guard focused and not mind isolation. and activate after closing, in emergency lighting (like fire or evacuation strobe-lighting) or when a threat was detected however then that refusing to wipe their memories to stop them from becoming sentient happened and Alex was fired before completing Eclipse or even getting to tell Sunrise and Moonrise about him, he was just dormant, unfinished code way way way back in their harddrives Now Eclipse wasn't finished, he's a learning AI so he's able to grow and adapt but his code was never finished so he will be a little buggy, and twitchy at times. might just zone the fuck out in the middle of something before remembering he was doing something Robot version of disabled, really Sun and Moon ended up eclipsing one day when someone was strobe-lighting the lights for fun and while Moon was talking to the person about NOT doing that, Sunny was noticing something Extra in their AI hard-drives and freaked the fuck out about their being a 3rd in there that had become find-able due to the lighting his first ever proper activation happened when a nearby robot was being attacked. because Alex knew how shit the robots are treated at the plex its not just threat for human life that would trigger the eclipse mode but also a robot in danger. so Eclipse activated to protect the other robot and he was So confused as to what was going on, it was pretty much his first time being alive, he was trying to de-escalate - pausing in the middle to check with everyone - both attacker and victim their preferred pronouns - the situation but ended up just, picking up the injured bot and Bolting from the room, getting lost because he was never given an internal map of the plex and turned off the injured bots pain sensors so they could direct him where to go for help. He completely forgot to introduce himself and after the threat was over peaced out clunking to the floor giving control back over to Sun since Sunny's the only AI in the body with repairing skills Eventually the three are separated since one body housing two AI was a bit cramped let alone three

#fnaf security breach #Fnaf Eclipse #Eclipse #sundrop #fnaf sun #sunnydrop #fnaf sunrise #mans got 800 names #fnaf Moon #moondrop #fnaf Moonrise #Daycare Attendant #art #security bot

[aminiatureworld]

Spotlight

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,707

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Modern AU in which the reader’s s/o is famous.

Author’s Note: My first crack at a modern AU and I enjoyed it immensely! My personal media of choice definitely came through in this prompt. I would now kill for Albedo to read Shakespeare. Also streamer Kazuha is an inspired idea, thank you anon for that! Not to mention musician Xiao, truly chef’s kiss.

Albedo

Albedo was a stage actor, both by education and by trade. Starting in high school he began in local productions, before entering into the Mondstadt Theateracademie. After appearing as Estragon in a filmed version of Waiting for Godot, he began to be scouted for various television miniseries, eventually becoming a well-respected film actor.

You arrived somewhere in the middle of his career. Working as a costume assistant at the Academie you had quickly fallen for the inquisitive and deceptively intense soul that exuded every color of emotion onstage, from raging anger to soft sorrow, before stepping into the wings and resuming an aura of utter calm. He had captivated you, both as an actor and as a human being; and when you learned that he had also become slightly infatuated with you, well, it was hard not to feel like you had stepped into a wonderful play, or perhaps simply a wonderful play had been brought to life.

The switch from theatre to screen was certainly a jarring one for both of you. When the first film contract was offered Albedo had stared at it for a long time, rereading it over and over again as the coffee in front of him quickly turned cold.

“Is there something wrong with the contract?” You had asked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s only…”

“Only?”

“Only on stage there is a single audience. You can feel their reactions, can measure their response. There is nothing nebulous about the people around you. But on film you cannot do that. You cannot adjust for time of day, or whether it’s a weekend or a Friday performance. You must let your lines out and hope that they land without even being able to calculate it.”

“It’s not a science experiment my darling,” you had teased.

“Maybe not,” Albedo admitted. Still he continued to read and reread, and it was only until the next afternoon that he had told you his answer.

Still, you had to admit that he made a fantastic actor. The naturally inward part of your partner’s personality, the part that always seemed to jump out the moment he left the stage, worked well to balance with the camera’s need for subtlety, unlike the projection required for stage plays. It was little surprise then that he should grow so popular. Despite all the worries about measuring audience response, there was no doubting the success of Albedo’s acting career.

Being a naturally withdrawn person Albedo mostly stayed off of social media. He had one private Instagram for friends – he didn’t post anything; one private Facebook for family – the only picture was one of you two in the mountains next to a particularly weird looking rock; and WhatsApp – which could barely be counted. Thus when he started blowing up on Twitter – a platform you had a mostly unused account on – the reaction was mostly one of “why are they talking about me?”

Not that Albedo minded fan enthusiasm, indeed when people started showing up in droves at the stage door for him he was always careful to thank everyone collectively and talk to as many people as possible, it just sort of confused him that so many people should take a vested interest in the actor and not just the character.

“It’s because they want to show you how wonderful they think your performances are,” you’d explained.

“I don’t have Twitter,” Albedo deadpanned.

Despite his protests though you sometimes caught him scrolling on your account, face slightly red at all the positive attention. His habit of internal self-deprecation had never truly gone away. That fact became slightly unfortunate in the face of hate comments. It was hard for Albedo not to take things personally. If someone said his acting was shit then you would catch Albedo reading the same line over and over again, as if to achieve mathematical perfection. It was a difficult urge to fight, and you were always careful to give Albedo plenty of reassurance when these things popped up, as well as surreptitiously blocking the trolls that wandered their way onto your dash.

This habit to take things at face value did not apply when you entered the mix. As far as Albedo was concerned you were his partner and no amount of complaining online would make him second guess that or second guess your worth. Even if you thought that you had a better hold on social media assholerly than he did Albedo would still make sure that for every hate comment that floated your way there were at least three compliments on his part. Mentioning you off-handedly in press interviews, saying that he had to go home to his partner, leaving small sketches on post-it notes scattered throughout your apartment, there were no lengths that Albedo wouldn’t go to assure you. And, if you had to admit, these things truly did make you feel better on the days when the small part of your brain said that this wasn’t mindless social media harassment.

Being an actor Albedo had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of the way that people responded to emotions, as if he were performing some grand sort of scientific experiment to see how many people he could sway with his gift. As of such he was always careful that, regardless of his success, things between you were never upturned. You were with him before he was really famous, and you would be there during and after. Albedo loved you deeply; though he often said that he hated romance plays for how sappy they were in his mind your relationship was the one, glowing exception – regardless of the other happy couples in the world. Though it was slightly idealistic, it was the kind of intensity that comprised Albedo’s personality, was the thing that had garnered him so much success.

Albedo loved you deeply, and no amount of surprise movie contracts would change that.

 Kazuha

You had to admit that when you had met Kazuha you had no idea about his double life as a streamer. He was merely one of the many singers that came and went to the recording studios, all people eager to unleash their talent on the world. But unlike the rest of them, Kazuha could make you laugh.

Perhaps then it was unsurprising that Kazuha should be a popular streamer. Though his often florid talking style might seem on paper like it would be too grating for streaming, in reality his soft cadence combined with a dry sense of humor made him wildly popular. He rarely lost his temper, making him palatable to those who wanted to have a fun time without blowing their ears out, and when he did lose it his hyper-specific, often nonsensical insults were the stuff of memes. No, in retrospect it was not all that surprising that Kazuha was a beloved streamer.

At heart though, Kazuha had told you over coffee, the enthusiastic and earnest internet sensation was a poet.

“When you’ve had a life as dissonant as mine, how can you not be?” He’d joked. And indeed perhaps he was right, for Kazuha was as wonderful a poet as you had ever read. He was born to be a writer, you had told him.

You were also an aspiring singer, as well as a friend of the studio owner where you did your recordings. As such you had made it a habit to help around the studio when you weren’t also working or studying. As you and Kazuha were both students with intense side jobs, the good natured complaining of overworked students also made their way into you rapport, a friendship that grew day-by-day. Eventually it sprouted into love.

Though you knew that Kazuha was a streamer when your relationship started, in reality you hadn’t realized how truly popular he had become. The first time you watched one of his streams you were blown away by his popularity. Watching your first livestream only cemented that. It was hard to believe that your down-to-earth, slightly self-effacing, partner could have garnered such a large fanbase. Not that you didn’t think he deserved it. He absolutely did. However after seeing that you admitted you were a bit awestruck.

“Why? Am I not the same person on screen and off?”

“Of course you are! It’s just, well, my partner’s a celebrity!”

“I would go that far,” Kazuha laughed.

“Well you certainly are to me!”

Nevertheless your dynamic didn’t change much afterwards, besides the occasional teasing on both of your parts. Kazuha was after all Kazuha at the end of the day.

At the beginning Kazuha didn’t mention you much on stream, certainly not by name, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by the idea of being recognizable on the internet, even if it was just by name.

“This is also my partner’s favorite map.” Had been his first mention, during a game of Mario Kart.

Despite this offhanded remark however the chat had almost immediately exploded, followed by the rest of the fanbase. Though there was, of course, some disappointed buzz – isn’t there always – the reaction was immensely positive. Positive, and curious.

After a while Kazuha started mentioning you more often in streams, especially after the two fo you moved in. Sometimes you would hear him as you passed him room – Kazuha liked to keep the door open – other times you would watch it on stream yourself.

“My partner hates this character. Too bad you can’t throw evidence.”

“Nobody tell my partner that I’m afraid of basements. I don’t need them to know that when laundry day rolls around.”

“Hey if you’re watching this dear, I promise that it’s not that much money. You don’t need to look at the bank account. Who am I kidding, this is why we don’t share one.”

“Hey, darling I know you’re watching this. Can you check and make sure I left my keys on the coffee table, they aren’t on my desk. Also can you make tea?”

Despite fans knowing very little about you, you were surprised by the amount of positive comments that flooded the streams. You had to admit that your initial expectations had been “people are going to find me annoying”. Instead funny comics of your voice drifting in from the other room popped up, along with a lot of waving and “tell your partner not to trust you with the keys” after Kazuha fell off a cliff one too many times. It was an odd experience, to be so happy about the comments of faceless people, people to whom you were also faceless.

Eventually Kazuha’s hardwork in singing paid off and his first single was recorded and given a deal. On the evening of the release livestream Kazuha set up in the living room, angling the camera so that you could sit on the chair just out of frame. You had talked about the release for months now, and a few weeks ago Kazuha had brought up the idea of a pseudo-stream reveal.

“I was wondering if you’d like to say hello to the audience or wave when my song is released. I understand that you’re hesitant about those sort of things, and I would never ask of you something that would make you uncomfortable. This relationship is the most precious thing to me, and I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or exploited in any ways.”

“Thank you for being so considerate Kazuha. I’ll think about it.”

Now you sat in the chair, fidgeting slightly, waiting as the countdown on his laptop reached one. You excitement certainly seemed matched by that of the fans, who were typing wildly in the chat.

Eventually the screen faded to black and the chatting quieted down. The first few notes of a wooden flute emerged, combined with the strumming of a guitar. As the familiar words began to echo through the laptop speaker you found yourself washed away. Kazuha was always enthralling when he sang. At the end of the song was a dedication, and though Kazuha had already alluded to it, the sincerity still took your breath away.

To my dearest partner. My compass and my guiding star throughout this realization of my dream. You are my sun and my stars, and I’m forever devoted to you. Thank you for sharing in this project, and thank you for giving me such love.

Perhaps it was slightly saccharine. Regardless you felt the sudden, uninhibited urge to cry.

“So, what did everyone think?” Kazuha asked into the mic, face reappearing on screen. He was slightly giddy, and you watched as his hand tugged on the fabric of his linen belt.

Immediately the chat exploded, as waves of “that was amazing”, “I’m crying now”, and “the end was so sweet!” flooded the screen.

“Thank you all for the encouragement!” Kazuha let out a laugh, one that you could tell was one of utter euphoria, and no little relief. “There’s someone else I think who would like to thank you.”

Who knew that a small sentence could cause such a splash?

You barely had time to let out a tentative “Hello,” before an immediate wave of excited screaming covered the bottom left of Kazuha’s stream. “Thank you for supporting Kazuha’s song. And thank you for always being nice to me.” With a tentative wave of the hand you collapsed back on your chair, slightly hysterical laughter rising inside you out of the relief that flooded through you upon seeing the enthused fan reaction.

Afterwards your voice became the occasional guest on Kazuha’s streams, always greeted with enthusiasm. Kazuha continued to grow in popularity, and his music continued to capture a larger and larger audience.

All throughout this you never felt a snag in your relationship. Kazuha may have been a big streaming personality, but he was also a kind and considerate partner, the best that one could ask for in a significant other. Kazuha’s love was never in question. And neither was yours.

 Xiao

Sometimes you were a little self-conscious about the way that you met Xiao.

Though Xiao had definitely grown a following by the time you met – being the main pianist for a popular singer and a classical pseudo-prodigy in both piano and flute his own right certainly had roped him an enthusiastic fanbase – you had simply known him as “the guy who hogs the practice room”.

“I swear to the gods, how long can that bastard take to practice!” You texted angrily at your friend one day. Qixing Conservatory was the premiere music place in Liyue, but what should’ve been an amazing opportunity was being overshadowed by a practice room partner who appeared to not have a life, one who also had the obnoxious habit of playing the same damn thing over, and over, and over again.

“Playing the same piece as before?”

“Yes! Ugh I don’t even know what it’s called but I’ve heard it enough times to last a lifetime, maybe five!”

“Damn I’m sorry, what time does he usually end?”

“I don’t even know. Some time in the early evening. It’s obviously never gotten through to his brain that other people also need to practice. Or that hearing the same notes over and over while waiting makes me want to chuck my binder against a wall.”

“Lol. I kinda want to hear it now. Can you send a video, will the sound pick up?”

“I don’t know how it wouldn’t.”

“…”

“Holy shit! Okay, I need you to watch this video and tell me if you recognize the pianist.”

Safe to say you nearly fell out of your chair upon figuring out Xiao’s identity. Not that you weren’t already about to out of pure exasperation. Still, there was something much more intimidating about shaming a successful musician, and you no longer had the urge to glare at Xiao every time he left the practice room. Honestly, you would have been perfectly happy keeping your head down and never interacting with him at all.

Fate, however, has a sense of humor.

To be fair, some of it was your fault. You knew that Erlkonig was a massively difficult piece. You knew that you should’ve picked something else, knew that even Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata mvt. Three had to be less painful than the non-vocal arrangement you’d placed in front of your eyes. You were never trusting your music taste with your piece choices again. This was a terrible mistake.

“These stupid fucking running notes!” You let out, a groan of exasperation racing through you. Half slamming (you weren’t crazy) the piano cover down you swung the door of the practice room open. You didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Trying to ignore the embarrassment that rose up seeing Xiao waiting on a chair next to the door you went to walk down the hallway.

“You should work on it with a dotted sixteenth note pattern.”

It was the first time that Xiao had ever spoken to you.

Afterwards a rapport slowly grew between the two of you. Often Xiao said nothing as you passed, rarely you made a gesture of recognition when he finally reappeared from the practice room. However soon the occasional word or phrase of advice grew into longer sentences, later these sentences evolved into pieces of conversation. Soon enough you discovered, to your slight horror, that you found yourself yearning for Xiao’s company.

Almost as soon as you’d finally figured out your feelings you were hit with a wave of denial. You weren’t falling for Xiao? How could you fall for someone who got on your nerves so much? Sure he gave you advice, but what about it? You deserved it after having to hear him over and over again while waiting. Certainly Xiao didn’t seem interested in you, he barely talked to you! Yeah he was getting more talkative, but it’s easier to talk to people when you’re giving them advice. There’s no way you were in love with Xiao. And there was no way he was in love with you.

To say that Xiao’s career as a musician, never mind his genuine technical talent at two instruments, was a barrier would be an understatement. The moment you thought you were making some progress, finally admitting to yourself that this crush was, in fact, real, a wave of anxiety would pass over you. Xiao was too good for you, he was too important. Here was a man who had a successful musical career already up in the air while you banged frustratedly on the keys. Why would someone that successful be interested in you? Not to mention the fact that he didn’t seem interested.

Because, you had to admit, you did like Xiao’s music. Not just his classical repertoire, but his pop music as well. It was slightly jazzy, mellow and playful and utterly unlike the scowling musician behind it – something you secretly thought extremely cute and surprisingly charming. To him you were just a practice roommate, and you were sure he’d find the idea of dating someone who was more familiar with his public persona irritating.

So you buried your feelings, or tried to. Unfortunately like sometimes attracts like, and just as Xiao secretly had the emotional understanding of a teaspoon, you weren’t nearly as clever about things as you would like.

“Is there something on my face?” Xiao asked, his voice gruff and slightly reluctant.

“No, why would there be?”

“Because you’re staring at it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You let your head drop, looking intently at the ivories in front of you. Eventually there was a sigh.

“You don’t have to do that. I… I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! You staring down is weird too. Let’s, let’s just hurry up and do this passage.”

After that you became more aware of your staring habit. You also became more aware of Xiao’s own habit, leaning towards you. Sometimes you swore that you could feel the tips of his hair tickling your neck, light and feathery and stealing all your attention.

“Hey, Xiao, do you need glasses?”

“Why would you asked that!” Xiao flared up, face reddening. By this time you’d become more accustomed to these flareups of grumpiness, and ignoring it you pressed on.

“It’s just, you seem to be leaning forward.”

“I’m not!” Immediately Xiao shifted back, almost stepping away. Without thinking about it you reached to grab his hand.

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing!” You got out, before becoming aware of your hand grasping Xiao’s. The touch felt electric, and you were suddenly so very aware of everything, yet unable to focus at all.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Xiao grumbled.

Slowly the musician leaned closer to you once more. You had already half stood up and now you found yourself stepping closer to Xiao. The world continued to shrink until you were almost pressed together. Xiao was leaning forward, as were you, and the longer tufts of his hair were tickling your cheek, helped by the fan whirring away in the corner. Your hand was still in his, but all your thoughts appeared to have died away.

“Xiao?”

“Is this, too close?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Xiao?”

“What?”

“I like your music. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Why would it?”

“I don’t know. I just, I also like you, not just your music. But I also like your music.”

“I also like yours too.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most romantic of confessions, but at that point you were far too carried away by the moment, or maybe by the fact that was the most sentences Xiao had strung together that weren’t about triplets. Regardless of the fact, you were suddenly seized by incredible happiness, as all appeared to right itself.

Afterwards initially little changed, Xiao was a gruff as ever, you were still itching to play in the practice room more. Nevertheless when you went to a concert of his for the first time and he let out a small, almost imperceptible, smile your way you knew things had changed. They would keep changing perhaps, or maybe they wouldn’t. After all, this moment was beautiful.

So much that you didn’t even mind the hours spent waiting for the practice room.

#genshin impact #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #genshin albedo #genshin kazuha #genshin xiao #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #my writing #scenarios

[skekheck]

Theory: UrVa’s Arrows Were Originally Meant To Incapacitate, Not Kill, skekMal

Maybe this is common consensus, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. On the surface, it seemed like urVa had wanted to put an end to skekMal at the Circle of the Suns and the Hunter escaped before he could finish the job. But then there was this line in episode 10 that always felt odd to me:

urVa: I had a dream that I was one that became two that became one again. I looked through my dark half’s eyes and knew Aughra was right. [...] ...The Hunt must end. 

It’s just “but urVa, weren’t you doing just that a day or so prior?”. But then after rewatching their standoff again it hit me: maybe urVa’s intentions were not to kill skekMal but to incapacitate him.

Let’s look at the scene again

SkekMal was shot a total of three times: the first one through his upper arm, the second around the bottom right of his torso, and the last through his upper leg (possibly thigh?). 

(Sorry couldn’t find a better pic of his leg shot)

Weird places to aim for if urVa had wanted to kill him, right? Wouldn’t he have gone for targets that would more likely result in death, like the throat or through the eye sockets? It’s not like he would miss: urVa’s a master marksman. Instead, all three shots prevented (or at least was an attempt to stop) skekMal without taking his life.

The first shot prevented skekMal from harming Rian. The second was retaliation for ignoring the Archer’s warning. UrVa flat out told him to not approach the Gelfling but you see the Hunter take a step forward anyway, prompting him to release the second arrow. The final one was an attempt to stop skekMal from escaping with Brea. Seeing as how urVa immediately collapsed after firing that arrow, it would have worked. However, he underestimated how committed skekMal was to the Hunt, considering he pushed through the pain to get what he needed done.

Those arm and leg wounds aren’t inherently life-threatening. The arrow in his torso, though, is more concerning. It’s possible it could have had or at least be at risk of damaging his organs. Now, the Skeksis have weird-as-fuck anatomy (that goes without saying) so we have no real way of knowing if it was endangering him or not. But considering the nature of his other two wounds, I don’t think it was a kill shot. A more serious wound, but not deadly if tended to. And that’s probably what urVa intended: he aimed for that spot in the hopes skekMal would stop to take care of his wounds. 

But Weren’t Both skekMal and urVa In Critical Condition?

Oh yeah, they still were and skekMal’s partially to blame for it. It’s not a great idea to move around too much with arrows lodged in you. The arrow heads and shaft could move around and cause more internal damage. SkekMal moving made what would have been minor to moderate wounds way more serious. Not to mention, he never stopped to pull them out and heal himself: he kept those things in. 

And let’s not forget how far of a distance between the Circle of the Suns and the Castle is. There are multiple versions of maps of Thra that have some siginifcant differences, but the main point is those two locations are pretty far from each other. Even if he used Bennu to fly all the way over to the Castle, skekMal would still have to deal with Brea thrashing around on his back. And it looks like he took a detour to grab a cage for her, which he then dragged through the Castle’s corridors. Baiting Rian and his friends just so he can fulfill his Hunt was apparently more important to him than his well-being (which is ironic if you believe skekMal’s philosophy surrounding the Hunt is his own way of self-preservation).

EDIT: Wanted to add that skekMal was in a difficult position in terms of what he wanted. He would know that if he’d pull those arrows out he would have to treat them right away otherwise he’d bleed to death. At the same time, he would also had to keep Brea from escaping. I think he weighed his options and found that he’d had more success just pushing through it and keeping them in then treat them later. SkekMal might had also thought the other Skeksis would be able to treat him if it was serious enough? 

And SkekTek Made It Worse

SkekTek is no doctor. He can cut up and research on animals all he wants, but that doesn’t count as medical knowledge. It’s painfully obvious he has no idea what he’s doing: his diagnosis and treatment of skekMal’s condition is enough proof of that. And speaking of which, skekTek’s diagnosis is full of nonsense:

Skektek: Subject suffers severe exsanguination. Extreme distress to the humus. [...] Imbalance of intrinsic fluids. Manifold ruptures in corporeal morphology. [Checks for a heart beat] Ah. Ah... . Expiration... is... [dramatic pause] inevitable.

Literally he’s saying skekMal has multiple holes in his body and he’s bleeding out. You know, pointing out the obvious. Also, I tried finding out if “humus” related to anything biologically, but all I could find was it’s a term for... soil made of organic matter. I’m not sure what he was trying to refer to, I think he was just misusing it to make himself sound smart.

EDIT: I have been told by a few people that skekTek might be referring the humerus, which is a bone found in the upperarm that’s forms joints at the elbow and shoulder. This would make more sense and would mean skekTek made a proper diagnosis. However, at least to me, it still sounds like he’s saying humus. Another skeksis repeats him and they also say humus, not humerus. Turning on the captions also has it as humus. This could either be a typo or skekTek did mean humerus, but said humus instead. 

And how he actually treats skekMal is atrocious. 

He pulls the arrows out without making any attempts to stop the bleeding, clean the wounds, or apply stitches. He’s letting him bleed out and he should at least know they need blood to live. Do you know what happens when someone loses too much blood? Among other side effects, organ failure and falling into a coma. SkekTek did eventually made an effort to heal skekMal by giving him essence, but it was too little too late. SkekMal’s condition was so far gone at that point he really needed Aughra’s essence to survive.

UrVa’s Intentions

And now we’re going right back to urVa. While thinking over on urVa’s actions, I started wondering if he anticipated skekMal wouldn’t stay put and that the Hunter would do his own self in by moving around with the arrows lodged in him. I mean, urVa is a mystic, an indirect kill would make sense. But giving it more thought, I don’t think that’s the case. A lot of his actions during the series suggests otherwise. 

UrVa was very contemplative, even saddened, about having to end the Hunt for skekMal. He is not like his other half: he respected and appreciated all life on Thra. He also sees the cycle of life as well as the wilderness as something untamable. This is implied while he was talking with Aughra in episode 4:

urVa: We do not get to decide when our part in the song is finished.

While urVa is one of the more proactive Mystics, he still is... a Mystic. He doesn’t believe he should manipulate or control what goes on around him and let things be. The Bestiary book points to the fact that while urVa did keep tabs on skekMal, he never interfered with his hunts. So it was a big deal when Aughra quested him with the task of stopping skekMal. 

Also I’d like to point out urVa and Aughra’s final conversation because it’s also important for this discussion:

urVa; And where does my path lead? Aughra: Into the sands to face the Hunter. urVa: [sighing and looks away from Aughra for a moment] I cannot defeat my dark half. Aughra: You will find a way. But not without sacrifice.  urVa: And if I fail? Aughra: The heroes of Thra will be lost. urVa: Mm... [pauses and takes a deep breath] I will end the hunt. Aughra: Good. Get a move on. You Mystics are not known for your swift speed. We have much to do. [...] urVa: [pauses and looks at Aughra] Will we meet again, Aughra? Aughra: [stops walking, saddened] Hm... [faces him] Some things... even Aughra cannot see, old friend.  [urVa pauses and then groans, walks away from Aughra as they both parted ways for the final time]

He shows a lot of hesitance in completing this task. I’m sure he knew what Aughra was implying: that he may have to take skekMal’s life away but he still went and asked if they would meet each other again anyway. I think he was hoping for a positive answer, that it wouldn’t have to come to that, and seemed disheartened by her answer. But he still tried. He tried to stop skekMal in a way that, while not exactly peaceful, was not meant to be life-threatening. UrVa even pleads for him to stop... twice! The first time as skekMal was making his get-away and the second time while urVa helplessly watched him go after Rian again through the Hunter’s eyes. 

These two only had one scene together so we don’t really know the extent of their relationship. But if there’s one thing that’s clear was the conflict between them. I mean, during their whole duel, the characters were purposely placed on opposite sides of the room while making sure to show that skekGra and urGoh, a pair who were able to find harmony, were always side by side. It’s also in the way they address each other: while urVa does refer to him as his dark half, he also called him by his name. SkekMal, meanwhile, only ever referred to urVa as his title and nothing more. 

But I don’t think urVa had any ill-will towards his Skeksis. He seemed understanding of him and valued his life as much as he valued all living beings on Thra. I think if they both didn’t end up in a near-death situation, he’d try incapacitating skekMal again. However he understood and accepted his situation towards the end: with skekMal on an essence high, incapacitation method was no longer possible. If he allowed it to go on, all of Thra would be at risk. It was a desperate situation, but he knew Aughra was right. She gave up her life for the preservation of the world and urVa knew he had to do the same: for her and for Thra. The Hunt had to end and in order to protect the world he cherished he had to make the ultimate sacrifice. 

#the dark crystal #skekmal #urva #I might go back into this and edit/add things but HERE YOU GO

[liddolwhynot2000]

Chains: Part 3

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Summary:

Levi didn't need to tell to him how much of a fool he was. Because Erwin already knew it.

Only a fool would let go of a chance with a woman like you.

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Pairings: Erwin/Reader, Levi/Reader

Genre: Angst, one sided love, regrets

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ChainsPt1. ChainsPt2. ChainsPt4

Drabble#1

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'You're pretty shitty at noticing what's right infront of you.'

Erwin wanted to scoff at that statement. One of the reasons he made such a good commander was because he had a very keen eye for details. He could take one look at a document and pin point all the errors in it within a moments notice. His sharp observation skills had been what had significantly reduced the Survey Corps death rate.

He prided himself on his ability to notice things--alas none of that extended to his personal life.

And Levi was the one to point it out to him.

Not to say that he didn't know it already, it was just that he often prefered to pretend he didn't. The rational part of him often insisted how dwelling on his own shortcomings was pointless. After all, he was doing just fine as the commander wasn't he?

Reminding himself of that, he turned his attention back to Levi. His response was cool and crisp, not giving away his internal struggle.

'Is there a problem with the mission plan?'

'Tch- don't beat around the bush commander. We both know what I'm talking about.'

Ah typical, straightforward Levi. Even though he was mostly used to it, even he got thrown off at times by how the man refused to sneak around a topic.

'Apologies-but I really don't know--'

Erwin turned back to the map on his desk, dismissing Levi

'-And frankly, I don't have the time for this. If its not related to the mission, please leave.'

There was moment of silence, before Levi turned to leave. Just as he was about to shut the door, he spoke up again.

'You're a fool Erwin. And I have no intention of following in your footsteps.'

With that, he shut the door.

Erwin let out a dry, humourless chuckle

Levi didn't need to tell to him how much of a fool he was. Because Erwin already knew it.

Only a fool would let go of a chance with a woman like you.

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When Erwin had been young, back in his cadet days, he and his friends had often frequented a bar nearby. It was a good time for them, drinking, laughing, talking about girls. They enjoyed a nice, hot meal, with no sergeant screaming at them. It was one of the few times they could relax.

It was also when he had met Marie.

Beautiful, sassy Marie, who had captivated him at first sight. Her pretty smile and snark had easily wormed their way into his heart--and like any other hot blooded man, he had immediately tried to court her.

He had been very well aware of his own charms back then, knowing most women considered him attractive. He could be smooth when needed and for Marie, he had gone out of his way to win her over with everything he had.

Even going as far to chat up the other barmaids, so that they would harbour good opinions of him. You, in specific, had been a target. He had been able to tell that you and Marie were good enough friends that your word would matter.

Erwin doubted you had realized it at the time, that he had been playing you. He hadn't been blind to your feelings for him, he recalled your slight blush and the way you wouldn't fully make eye contact with him. He had even thought of you as attractive--but that was just about it.

You were attractive, sure, but to him, especially back then, Marie had been absolutely breathtaking. So he had strung you along a little, knowing that the higher opinion you had of him, the more you would tell Marie positive things about him. His courting efforts had paid off and before long, he was finally turning his entire attention to a very receptive Marie. You clearly hadn't noticed how he had used you, but you had kept your head down and taken the hint.

To this day, he was still ashamed of himself for that.

Even back then, he had felt a little awful about his behaviour. But that feeling had been easily overwhelmed by the blossoming of his new relationship-- first kisses, first dates. All his time outside of the training corps had been devoted to Marie. He had fallen hard for her, and had envisioned their future together.

He would meet her parents after he graduated and get her father's blessing. The two of them would get married in a modest ceremony, and move into a decent house. He would climb the ranks and the two of you would start a family soon enough. He would be welcomed home by her, and their children causing a ruckus and running around. It was the picture perfect family.

Until it wasn't.

In his vision of a life with Marie, Erwin had lost himself. Those soft, fleeting touches left him intoxicated, dreaming of a life that he wasn't sure he could ever want. And as graduation loomed closer, he had begun to sober up.

He had convinced himself that Marie's dreams for life were his own, but had forgotten about his own dreams.

The reason he had joined the Cadet Corps was so he could join the Survey Corps and explore the outside world. He wanted to figure out the titans, their history and most importantly, prove his father's theory.

It wasn't about sating his own curiosity-- no, it was about proving his father had been right. That his idiotic son hadn't gotten him killed over nothing.

Once he had snapped out of the honeymoon phase of their relationship, he had begun to recall his priorities. As much as he had loved Marie back then, he knew he wouldn't have been able to turn his back on his father. Otherwise, he would have spent the rest of his life drowning in unresolved guilt.

Erwin's choice had been clear, but by then he and Marie had been so deep into their relationship, that he had to contemplate what to do. He wasn't dumb- he knew it would be a choice. There was no way he could join the Survey Corps and still be with Marie. She had always made it clear that she wanted a husband who she could see everyday. Who would be safe in the walls with her, and could give her a comfortable life.

It had been a choice. And as much as it had pained him to do so, he had let Marie go.

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Erwin sat at the bar later that night, downing his second beer bottle. He had ordered another one to the go, with the bartender eyeing him with something akin to pity.

'Ya got your heart broken or something?'

Erwin chuckled bitterly

'No. I was just a little blind.'

The bartender nodded in understanding, giving him his beer and a sympathetic smile.

Erwin paid his dues, took his drink, and left the bar. He lazily walked along the side walk, heading back the barracks. The air was chilly, but he was too lost in thought to care.

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Meeting you again had been weird to say the least. For one, it brought back a ton of shame he had been holding back all these years.

He remembered how insensitive he had been, using you and your feelings to get the girl he had wanted. Fate had dealt him quite the hand, probably as punishment for treating you like that, and had made sure hadn't ended up with Marie.

You had gotten significantly more attractive, Erwin had admitted to himself. You had certainly blossomed into a much more sure version of yourself, holding your head high, evenly making eye contact with everyone. You still retained some quietness, which he had to admit wasn't off putting at all.

He found himself approaching you, at first wanting to make up for how he had behaved. He had planned to tell you the truth, and get the slap he deserved. But somehow, one enjoyable conversation had turned into two, two into six and before he had been able to stop it, he had become good friends with you.

The two of you would meet up and chat about books, or sometimes share a meal together. It had become a routine of some sort--a safe haven from all his troubles.

A moral man would tell you the truth, and take his punishment. But he had grown too fond of you. Your laughter, and soothing presence had grown on him. He couldn't let go. So he hid his misdeeds and shoved it into the back of his mind, selfishly wanting to keep being with you.

Erwin wasn't dumb, he knew himself better then anyone. It hadn't taken him long to understand his reasons being around you went beyond friendship.

It wasn't friendship that had him imagining what it would be like to slip his hands around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder as you cooked.

It wasn't friendship that made him sorely miss you at military balls--made him wish it was you he was slow dancing with.

It wasn't friendship that made him look at the empty side of his bed and long for another person to be there. For you to be there.

He wasn't hopelessly in love with you- or at least he didn't think so. But he had certainly felt strongly about you. Looking back on it, if he had played his cards right, he would have gotten you.

He had thought that he would confess to you, and be met with a positive response. He would throw the secret he was keeping from you to the darkest pits of his mind, and embrace a new life with you, even with his suicidal profession.

It hadn't worked out that way.

Just a day before the expedition, Erwin had suffered through a bad day. He had recieved news of Marie and her husband Nile welcoming their first child. And it had hurt.

As much as he had fallen for you, Marie had held a significant part of his heart. Letting her go had been extremely difficult for him, but he had thought that he would have made peace with it by now. While he wouldn't say he was heart broken, he certainly hadn't been able to stop himself from feeling bitter.

His first love had moved on from him so easily.

His mood had only gotten worse after the expedition, another senseless loss of life had been incurred--and it could have been prevented if the Commander had bothered hearing out Erwin's plan.

He had been so frustrated, so done with it all. His only outlet had been drinking, and he had ended up going to you.

In hindsight, it had been a bad decision from the start. Going to the woman he hoped to make his one day, while feeling bitter over the woman he had loved in the past and being drunk at the same time was a bad combination.

And it had ended up becoming a night he would regret.

'M.. Marie?'

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Erwin let himself into his room, glad that captain's got their own room. It had taken him some effort to open the door, feeling a little hazy from his drinking.

Kicking off his shoes, he sunk into his chair, head pounding from the alcohol he had consumed and heart hurting from his own failures.

It had been so stupid of him, going to you at that time. It had messed up any chance he had with you.

You're demeanour towards him had changed after that, no longer giving flashes of anything beyond friendship. You had built up a wall against him, unwilling to let him in like before. It had left him feeling unsure of what to do, of how to talk to you.

You never once brought up that night, or Marie, simply carrying on as though nothing had happened. A part of him had wanted to talk to you immediately, to tell you it wasn't what you thought it was, but he had held himself back.

He figured if he gave you some time, you would be more receptive to hearing him out. At that point, you might not have taken his confession well. So he allowed the distance you were putting between them to grow, convincing himself that when the time was right, he would confess to you.

Too bad he had made the mistake of introducing you to Levi.

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Erwin clearly recalled the first time you had met Levi, for he had been the one who had brought him to the resteraunt you worked at.

He had noticed the short man's attraction to you immediately, watching from the corner of his eye as the man eyed you with interest. His expert self-control had been the only thing keeping the ugly, seething jealousy he had felt at that moment from showing on his face.

It had taken everything in him to leave at that moment.

And there wasn't a moment after that he stopped regretting leaving.

Before, he had been watching you pull away from him. And now? He was watching you go into someone else's arms.

It had started out small, accidentally overhearing Levi's friends teasing him about you. Telling him to ask you out. He had ignored it back then.

After his friends had died, Levi had begun to dissappear in his his free time. Erwin had been suspicious about it, and had tracked him down one day, only to find the man sharing tea with you. The sight of you giggling as Levi looked at you so softly had made him want to throw up.

He hadn't confronted the two of you and just walked away, each step away from you feeling heavier then the last.

The two of you begun to talk less and less, and Erwin could tell it wasn't affecting you as much as it was affecting him. His one fuck up had made you give up on him and move on-for good.

Now, he was forced to watch you and Levi go in circles around each other. You would bring him meals to headquarters, he would buy you little trinkets from the village. Erwin would see it all unfold- Levi eating his own home cooked meals that smelled so familiar. You wearing jewellery he had seen Levi looking at.

It was the start of a picture perfect romance. Any other person would be ignored by humanity's strongest solider if they tripped to the ground, but Levi would always firmly grab you before you even fell halfway.

Levi smiled at you when he thought no one was looking, he looked at you as though you were the single most important person in his life--and honestly? Erwin couldn't blame him.

You were perfect really. Especially for someone who was in the Survey Corps. So understanding, always near by becuase of your job, a great listener, funny, smart.. And not meant to be his.

Had he not been blind to you all those years ago, had seen the traits you had, the ones that Marie didn't, he could have been happy right now. Without a doubt, he could tell, you would have supported his dreams to join the Survey Corps. Had he not been so star struck by Marie back then, he wouldn't have spent the past years stowing in heartbreak. Now, he had lost you, and the only way to get you back would never let him sleep at night again.

He had, yet again, made a choice. If he wanted to, with little effort, he could send Levi back to the underground and away from you. In his lowest moments, he envisioned being petty enough to actually go through with it. You would get over it, and he could comfort you in that time of heartbreak. But he couldn't. Because he needed Levi's strength.

Levi had begun to carry expeditions on his back, to the point that he had single handedly lowered their death rate by 8%. Without him, the corps would be doomed and disbanded.

And Erwin had already sent too many soldiers to their death for that to happen.

So, with a heavy heart, he chose the military over the person he wanted to be with. Again. He resolved himself to watching you and Levi get together. To have the relationship his heart screamed at him to have with you.

What he hadn't expected was that he would walk in on the moment the two of you would be confessing to each other.

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Erwin sat in his office, working on filling his tax forms. He had woken up hungover, and forced himself to freshen up so that he could work with a clear mind.

His hand worked on auto pilot, with his mind distracted. A part of him, a bitter, cruel part of him, wanted it to not work out for you and Levi. But his head was much more sensible.

He had seen the way the two of you looked at each other--people who looked so lovingly at each other could only be seperated by the tragedy of death. And considering Levi's inhumane strength and battle expertise, he doubted it would happen anytime soon.

Frustrated, he shook his head and counselled himself. He had mourned losing you last night-but no more. He would focus on his work and self assigned mission. That's all. Like everything else in his life, he would make peace with this situation.

With that thought, he shifted his entire attention to his work.

Maybe Erwin would have mourned a little more back then, had he known that, a year from now, he would have to watch you and Levi makes vows to each other.

Till Death do us apart~

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A/N: Heyooo. So this was highly requested and I hope it served y'all well! Do tell if you enjoyed it. My asks are open, so ask away people. I feel tempted to branch out and write about the Levi and Reader in this fic some more. I already wrote about how they met and fell for each other in Chains Part 2. But maybe I could write of their life together? I dunno if y'all would even want that.

I have a big exam result in 15 hours and I'm honestly terrified. I wrote this completely hyper and ready to be distracted.

Also we're about to hit 100 followers omg fhfjfjf y'all make me smile in times of stress.

#AOT #Snk #aot #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #Levi x reader #Erwin X reader #Angst

[ananapanini]

Country personifications?

Okay so one of my irl's was asking me what I think about whether countries are personified or not, this is gonna be my theories on how this all works.

We got confirmation from Ben that none of the states are related in a reply to an Instagram comment so we already know there isn't any family stuff past some states having a sibling-like relationship, such as the Carolinas acting and referring to each other as siblings, the rival twins thing going on with the Dakotas, and probably more.

We already know that each state has a personification, along with major organizations like the government (DC), the army, and the CDC. But what we don't know is if full countries are personified.

So how do we figure this out?

Surprisingly, International DC

DC and IDC are both personifications of the US government but while DC is the domestic government, IDC is specifically the part that interacts with other countries and is essentially the face of the United States. She goes to the international meetings as a sort of representative, and to other countries is "America"

The same most likely goes for the other countries, for example: Canada

In Canada's case the providences are probably personified along with their respective organizations and their representative government, FAC or Foreign Affairs Canada would go to the international meetings as "Canada"

(A smaller but still present but of evidence is in Weekly News Recap 6/30 pt.2 Florida refers to Iran as "they" which could mean multiple people/personifications)

So in short: countries do not have personifications

"But what about when Florida calls Spain dad?"

Well, we've already established that country's don't have personifications and for the closest thing there is to one (the international representatives) to be a parental figure in all cases would be odd to say the least. Though it depends on the country, America's international government is busy managing foreign affairs and I couldn't see IDC acting motherly in any way. That aside there still has to be someone that deals with those things and to figure out who that is we have to look at how colonies, territories, and viceroyalties are managed.

To talk about La Florida we have to talk about New Spain and to do that we have to talk about the Spanish Empire so this is gonna be a quick history lesson.

~~~History review begins here, skip if you want but I wouldn't recommend it~~~

Located in what is now Mexico was the Aztec Empire. Hernando Cortez found them and that led to a war between the Aztecs and the Spanish, one that the Spanish evidently won. After the resulting fall of the Aztec Empire, Spain took over the land and expanded the area. The map below shows the peak amount of land they controlled, in 1794.

The yellow on the map is the Viceroyalty of New Spain, though it didn't cover this much land for long. In 1819, a treaty reduced the viceroyalty to the second map.

Because Spain lost the Midwest so quickly (only having gained it around 1755) the 64 years there didn't give much time to incredibly influence the region.

La Florida however, was founded by the Spanish in 1565, it was also the first state to be part of the viceroyalty. (Florida was founded 100 years before Jamestown making it the oldest state if you count colonial days)

New Spain was a viceroyalty of The Spanish Empire, and to quote Wikipedia, "The viceroyalty was a local, political, social, and administrative institution, created by the Spanish monarchy in the 15th century, for ruling in its overseas territories. The administration over the vast territories of the Spanish Empire was carried out by viceroys, who became governors of an area, which was considered not as a colony but as a province of the empire, with the same rights as any other province in Peninsular Spain."

~~~History lesson ends here~~~

In other words, the viceroyalty was just an extension of Spain that wasn't attached and therefore had its own governors rather than them trying to rule the providences remotely.

Before La Florida was traded over to the British at the end of the 7 years war it was considered a providence and (rather than how it would be for the English colonies where they would've been managed by FCO -Foreign and Commonwealth Office- the UK's version of the IDC) ruled by Spain's government.

Who is Spain's government? Well, if we follow that DC represents the US government because DC is the capital then MD (Madrid) would be Spain's government personification.

(The whiplash of being part of the Spanish Empire and being treated as an actual providence then becoming a British colony where you were ruled remotely and didn't get close to the same treatment probably did Not help Florida's thing with missing his dad)

So MD (Spain’s DC) would be Florida and the other Spanish states' “dad”, FCO (Britain’s IDC) would be the glorified absent babysitter parental figure of the British states, and I'm too tired to work out who the parent of the French states would be

So both international and domestic government personifications can act as parents depending on how the country manages itself.

Yes, this does mean DC is the parental figure out of the two (to the younger states, some of them are older than both the gov siblings), as in The US our domestic government is strictly domestic, and our international only international.

Notice how I say parental figure and not just "parent"

I think depending how much freedom the states/providences/territories of a country have the looser the role probably is, in this case DC is more of a mom friend than an actual dad.

In summary: Are there country personifications? No. Are there parental figures? Yes but it depends.

#panini’s posts #ben brainard #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #the statehouse #wttsh #wttt #IDC #DC #Countries? #theories

[deimcs]

omggg congrats on your dad getting his vaccine!!

hmmm THOUGHTS ON THE COLONIAL ASSASSINS?

send me “thoughts on __”

for the kenway fest head here ♡

Roll Call time, in this particular group we have: Adéwalé, Mary, Achilles, Shay and Aveline!

When it comes to my man Adéwalé I’ll admit it’s been a hot minute since I replayed Freedom Cry (I plan too, as soon as I’m done with Valhalla dlc and Black Flag) but I’ll say that I love him, as I love every single protagonist in this saga. When I was younger this whole time period wasn’t my favorite, I think I was still mourning Ezio pretty deeply and the shift in the scenario was particularly tough for me ‘cause I obviously associate Italy with home and now I was being thrown in new game mechanics that didn’t make much sense and maps with english and american npcs everywhere. It sounded boring and I kept getting confused so I resented them for a time. But now that I’m older I can recognize that while other settings and games in general are more my taste, the character dynamics in this particular era were all incredible, so intertwined! 

Loved how Adéwalé acted as a very three dimensional character even while he was by Edward’s side, I still think his friendship was fundamental for him. Adéwalé often acts like the voice of conscience but he also deeply respected Edward, even when he was making a total fool of himself. That’s friendship babey. ♥ His own experience with slavery and liberation is powerful and inspiring. I’m just sad he ultimately had to fall by Shay’s blade. Again, loved how everything is connected but the thought still makes me sad.

Mary is just iconic. She’s the moment. She’s the legend. One of the most interesting historical figures we have seen so far. I absolutely love her interactions with Edward. I never shipped them honestly, they work so much better off as friends, the teasing, the cameradie, the genuine concern and frustration made them both so human! How she subtlety swerved him into giving the Assassin’s a chance. And advocated for them to give him one too. At one specific point in time she was literally the only person to believe in him when he was hitting rock bottom and that’s so important. Her whole story is cool  but that’s just who she was, a tragic ending for an incredibly bright character.

I have conflicting feelings towards Achilles. Didn’t know really what to think during AC3, kinda hated him during Rogue but that was the point right? To show a broken man, what kind of beast grief is, how it poison both the heart and the mind. It was clever of them to show someone like him among the Assassin’s ranks. Reminded us all that we’re not talking about good or evil, black or white. Everyone walks in between those grey lines and sometimes they fall. By the time he takes Connor in, he’s old and he’s burdened with too many regrets. I do believe he loved him and I hope he found peace in trying to atone what he did to Shay.

Shay was an enigma. Before playing Rogue for the first time I didn’t know what to expect. This game punches you in the gut and throws you face first in the mud. I can bet anything, no one would ever expect to like this man the way you end up liking him in the end. I need to replay Rogue too, to refresh my memory properly but holy shit, I’m so fond of him. You can actually feel what he feels during this entire ordeal and I can’t actually blame him for anything? His actions were more than justified, his whole world crumbled beneath his feet and he had to live with the knowledge all of this could have been prevented if not for the secrets his mentor and his friends purposefully kept from him. It’s a betrayal that goes deeper than factions, he was literally stripped of his identity and had to start anew. That took courage and that took strength. It pains me to remember he was the one to kill both Adéwalé and Arno’s father but at the same time, they really make it so impossible to hate him. What the Templars showed him was a distilled version of what he lost and was desperately trying to find again: belonging.

Aveline. Aveline my girl, my actual daughter, wonderful angel. I love her, pure and simple. She’s funny, she’s witty, she’s dedicated, she’s strong. I want 3 games with just her and Connor making the States an actual better place. She’s so independent and it’s sad to think that is because she lost her mother so young and her mentor seemed more bent to antagonize her than anything else. I love how resourceful she is, if one pays attention it’s easy to notice she’s almost always the one to come up with plans and strategies, that’s not an easy skill. The doubts she had towards the Brotherhood were just the result of something she couldn’t control, she deserved better than to be treated like a novice just because she refused to take anyone else’s word as a dogma. Her dedication to the slaves is commendable and she too, like Connor, like Adéwalé she is more than just a character. Their struggles will never be “just” personal. Finally, I’m obsessed with the last plot twist she pulls on Madelaine. When the credits first rolled my jaw dropped but then BAM, the power that she has, the intelligence, the international implication. Absolute legend. 

#ask games #replies #many thoughts! many! these are just snippets cause i don't want to bore you all too much #but this is really the most interactive part of the saga if you really thing about it #everyone knew everyone at some point #how cool is that #i hope we can see it again sometime #shay cormac #aveline de grandpré #alethiometry #thoughts on

[magiaordinaria]

In Defense of Frida Kahlo

◊please see my note on these images at the end of the post, because yes, this is a form of imitation for the sake of expressing desire to belong.

Frida Kahlo has become a difficult subject, some would argue an easy target- which to me is tragic because she was a person with a life and with struggles and today she can no longer defend herself.  I personally think she doesn’t have to. I understand her as a historical figure that shaped Mexican history and the Mexican image. Lately I found myself understanding her on a different, more personal level when in October 2020 I came across an episode of the Nerdy Latinas Podcast, who were responding to a Tweet by an Indigenous Mexican woman accusing Frida of cultural appropriation.  My interest was piqued.  

“Frida was Mexican. How is it appropriation?” I thought.  

In the episode, Chismeando About Frida Kahlo, the hosts explore Frida’s background and a bit of her social context. I listened and I recommend you do too.  I gave a few comments to one of the hosts and was later invited to share my thoughts on the episode.*  Below is bit of background and my response to the episode follows after that.     

Prologue

When I initially listened to the episode my gut reaction was to become defensive, protective of Frida, despite not having had a single artifact of hers (my stance on purchasing her work or her image is a different story).  I began to explore those feelings, and once I talked myself through this gut reaction, I realized this is actually very much worth exploring.  It’s important to take into account the complexity of the social, personal, and historical context that Frida was experiencing and a part of.  

One of the things the Nerdy Latinas brought up was the fact that Mexican schools during Frida’s childhood emphasized that the indigenous cultures of Mexico were the true cultures of Mexico.  Frida, it is well-known, is half german and half Mexican. This conflict in identity was something that I deeply related to as a Mexican woman born in the US.  

They pointed out that there were indigenous women who spoke out about Frida’s use of their clothing at the time, but were ignored. In the same episode, they talk about how indigenous women who make these clothes live off the sale of their indigenous clothing- Which makes me think,  who is allowed to buy or not buy these clothes?  It reassured me that there is more to cultural appropriation than simply wearing or using things “not intended for you”.  Does intent matter? How are we verifying a person’s, in this case Frida Kahlo’s, intent? Short answer is, we can’t really.

 Later in the episode, they ask the question, why aren’t other dark-skinned Mexican women artists spoken about?  There are many indigenous artists that were overshadowed by Frida.  An important example they bring up is Maria Izquierdo (ees-kee-ehr-doh). She was a contemporary of Frida’s and a student of Diego Rivera.  She was doing well in her time and “showing promise” according to Diego himself. But when she spoke out against Frida’s feminist group Izquierdo lost a prestigious art commission to Diego Rivera and his male artist friends.  I consider this claim of overshadowing pretty unfair, because it’s not entirely up to Frida who gets seen or not. And if we’re being perfectly honest, Diego and his friends probably jumped at the opportunity to take it for themselves.

She is still, after the paint dries, a woman in a white man’s world.  

In my response, I come from a personal perspective with a lifetime of identity crises to fuel it.  I focus in on the question of whether Frida can be accused of appropriation as well the concept of appropriation itself.  

Is it fair to say that Frida had all the cards in her hands?

Is it productive to be upset over her perceived appropriation when there is so much today that is so blatantly grossly appropriated and mocked from my culture? 

My Response:

“I definitely think it’s worth exploring Frida’s Use of clothing. I think, understandably, it brought up a lot of personal feelings because it’s something that I personally grapple with; this idea that my appearance could constitute  grounds for appropriation.

...I think when Hispanic*** Americans learn about negative criticisms of Frida Kahlo they take the criticisms personally because that’s what they and myself included..., understood it looked like to be Mexican. 

And if she’s wrong about her use fo clothing, it can’t easily be understood as an homage or as uplifting or as an act of rebellion against the whitewashing of the Mexican culture, which i think is something that is important when you live outside of Mexico.  I think hispanic people--we just want to take care that our culture and our identity doesn’t get erased. so without the clothing that Frida wore the rest of us have only what we are calling the colonizer’s version of how to present ourselves as Mexicans. 

Additionally, I didn’t really find her mixed ethnicity all that significant because since Mexico’s inception as a hispanic country most if not all non indigenous Mexicans are mixed.  

our DNA is a map of people having been invaded, transcontinental travel in Europe, and slavery, 

so i never really understood Frida as a white woman, even though her father was german. I’m 48% indigenous, the rest is North African, European--and on top of that I’m born in the US. That’s all to say that Mexican is a complex ethnicity but it’s Mexican all the same.  I do see Frida as separate from indigenous and I’m also understanding that the way a person lives the culture is important.  Personally, I feel sometimes I can’t consider myself Mexican if I’m not living the cultural practices. I find it hard to justify, for example, celebrating Day of the Dead. In contrast, I feel a responsibility to connect with those aspects of my culture in order to feel like I belong somewhere, or I know who I am, what my point of view is, and what I could do in order to impart a positive view of my culture to the Americans watching me now.  

My thoughts are maybe Frida [thought so] too.  In a way, maybe that was her intention. This episode brings up the idea of a crisis of identity for Frida and I think because she was born in a time when Europeanism** was being criticized heavily her schooling was perhaps in reaction to that.  To give you a very popular example, the poem La Calavera Garbancera° most commonly known as La Calavera Catrina was written by Jose Guadalupe Posada around when Frida was born.  That icon we have today (La Catrina) was actually a symbol of derision for Mexicans adopting European values.  And I think when you’re taught certain ideals in the wider space in which you’re meant to integrate, it’s going to create a conflict between the way you’re raised and how you would like to see yourself in order to fell like you belong.  So a personal example would be me growing up in the US.  Saying the word Mexican was like saying a dirty word. For a very long time I was convinced that I should be ashamed of saying that.  I tried more and more to become what was considered American- which was synonymous with being “correct” and for that I have been called a coconut or whitewashed by the same people who would deride me for being so Hispanic. 

Today I want to undo all of that, 

and i find myself [thinking] if I buy from indigenous craftswomen a handwoven dress to wear and to show to my wider audience that “this is Mexico, this is what indigenous women can do and it’s beautiful,” I fear I’ll face the same criticisms as Frida when I genuinely find [the dresses/clothing] lovely to wear and I only want to support the craftswomen of Mexico.  So I don’t think appropriation happens when you buy indigenous crafts directly from indigenous men and women.  As an artist myself, I would think they’d want to sell as much as they could, sharing their pride in their work.  I think appropriation is buying from American corporations that are making money off of a diluted form of culture from oppressed people, stealing those complex designs expertly executed by thousands of years of knowledge and skill.  To buy these goods from white companies, from huge manufacturers is to really whitewash culture.  And on the flip side, I think it would be way worse for me to say, 

oh no I’m not buying from indigenous people because I’m not indigenous.  

But then turn around and buy something cheap from a huge manufacturer instead.  

I think there’s room in this conversation to believe that Frida felt some kind of genuine desire and made a genuine attempt to connect to the Mexican identity she was taught in school. 

 I think she made a choice to embody what she felt was fundamentally Mexican but to what end, I honestly can’t say.  Was it to bring awareness? was it to feel like she belonged? was it a statement? And that’s the thing we just can’t be sure.  

All of this is not to say she didn’t offend people, and in the process took the light away from indigenous women.  Or that this topic isn’t worth confronting.  I was confronted with the question, though, of how much of that is or was  her fault or her intention and how much of that is the time she lived in and her society’s discrimination.  I’m glad you guys brought up her social milieu because 

it matters a lot who were and are the voices speaking of her and approving her for public consumption. 

 I think Frida’s international travels and being on the cover of Paris’s vogue at the time, and the mystique she built around herself coupled with the fact that her skin color was internationally acceptable made her the icon that she is today around the world.  That much is true, but can it also be true she made an honest attempt to honor Mexican heritage in defiance of those popular racist attitudes? I think there’s room for that. 

 I don’t think it’s entirely fair to say Frida is guilty of appropriation not really today, especially because we have much more blatant and grossly offensive forms of appropriation happening in our time.  I’m sure I don’t need to go into that if you do a simple google search of “Mexican Costume” you can actually find white people dressing up as caricatured versions of Mexicans.  

So I think a more productive conversation regarding appropriation in our world and in our culture today would be how to teach our diaspora across the globe to value handmade crafts. sure it can be more expensive, but you’re not buying a single object, you’re buying hundreds of years of knowledge and tradition.  I would even argue that homemade is preferable to buying cheap, ready made stuff from corporations that have no regard for tradition or quality and who are actually drawing attention away from indigenous communities and diluting our cultures.”

Further Musings/Conclusion

I think that we are learning a valuable lesson in what is done is done, but what do we do now?  My main concern is that there is outrage over the women that Frida Kahlo “overshadowed”,

 but the simplest solution is to stop talking about these indigenous artists within the context–in the shadow– of Frida Kahlo.  

They should be spoken about in their own right.  If the dialogue about these women doesn’t revolve around or rely on Frida and her history, it would do these women justice.  They are out there and they can exist.  The problem is, how to talk about them without drawing comparisons to Frida? Should we avoid placing them in the same context? Questions for which I personally lack the answers right now.  

What I do know is that I think we should avoid turning this into a situation where we tear down one woman- 

who in the grand scheme of things accomplished a lot- in order to raise another.  No, no mijita, as my mom would say.  Eso no se hace, that’s not something we should do.  

This feels too much like a situation in which someone like Frida becomes the target of appropriation because it’s easier than confronting really tough situations like white companies selling “ceremonial grade” chocolate.  

Let’s tackle that sometime.

Personally, as you may have been able to tell,  I understand Frida from the perspective of a person caught in the middle of two worlds.  I don’t exactly feel like I belong in my American homeland nor in my familial, ancestral home of Mexico.  I am part of a community that feels a sense of disconnection from our roots and therefore, lack meaning; we lack a true sense of self.  But the more I interact with others like me, the more I create a community for myself, the more I understand that my place is where I want to be seen.  I think it’s possible that that’s what Frida chose.  

notes

◊This set of pictures is a type of homage centered around a very conscious  imitation.  I created these images back in September 2020 about a month before I learned of the Frida Kahlo tweet or the podcast episode.  They were created in an attempt to portray a desire to belong to the culture I come from.  Everything worn is a symbolic imitation in search of identity.  In contrast to the last set of images where I wear the braid headband again.  Here it is inspired by, rather than imitation; a carrying forward of traditions (like those seen here) into a more understandable form for myself.  The evolution of the outfit is taking me one step closer to figuring out what my place is and what my voice is within the greater scope of my Mexican heritage. 

*I recorded a few thoughts in audio format, sent it off to Short Latina and that was that.  To what extent my comments were included, I’m not sure, I haven’t had the chance to listen to their follow up episode.  Perhaps I was proven completely wrong! 

**Europeanism- I know it’s not a real word, but It felt right :P

***I imagine Frida is important to a lot of Latinx, but for the purposes of this argument, I specifically mean Mexicans and Mexican-Americans because of the specific ties to cultural attire.

°It’s actually called: Remate De Calaveras Alegres y Sandungueras; Las que hoy son empolvadas Garbanceras pararan en deforme calaveras

#frida kahlo #frida #kahlo #khalo #frida khalo #appropriation #cultural appropriation #chicana #middle child #xicana #chicanx #born in the USA #whitewashed #mexican #mexican heritage #you are allowed to disagree

[cat--ann]

.flow

I just finished playing through .flow, so I think I’ll try to give my full thoughts and interpretations on a lot of I found and experienced in the game (in the form of a series of points, because my thoughts are scattered even at the best of times).

for now I will be just be tackling characters roughly in order of how relevant I believe them to be to Sabitsuki’s life and experiences, while I will talk about Sabitsuki (and, by extension, Rust) at a later time.

CHARACTERS: 

Black-Haired Girl / Onigo: Sabitsuki’s life began with a death. Specifically, the death of her mother. Onigo represents the very few things Sabitsuki both remembers about her mother (her distinctive long black hair and blue dress) and what she was told by the hospital staff (the fact that she died giving birth to Sabitsuki). The reason why she dies so often in the game itself (childbirth event, every time you encounter her as Rust) is because thats all Sabitsuki can relate her with. Sabitsuki also likely feels guilt in relation to "causing” her mother’s death, as she manifests the idea in the form of the incredibly visceral Childbirth Event. 

Oreko: Sabitsuki’s childhood friend, another child who either “lived” in the hospital like Sabitsuki or simply another kid who met Sabitsuki during a time she was in the hospital. Oreko would grow interested in technology and machines as she grew older, eventually becoming something of a mechanic/scientist (though Sabitsuki likely never exactly understood what Oreko’s machines were, which is probably was she internalized them as looking quite bizarre and scary). She also likely had a very big interest in the seas, explaining why she wears the divers helmet and why Sabitsuki associates her with the ocean. Oreko was Sabitsuki’s only companion in any sense throughout the majority of her life, someone who was there for Sabitsuki no matter how much abuse Sabi sustained from society or no matter how bad Sabi’s illness got. Unfortunately, Oreko’s life would eventually be cut short. Sabitsuki most likely never figured out how her best friend perished and was likely in denial about it for some time before making peace with it (Finding Oreko’s ghost requires interacting with her “alive” self a decent amount, and the area her specter is found in is relatively calm compared to most other areas containing significant characters). Oreko’s final appearance to Rust in deadhole could be the last remaining shred of “normal” Sabitsuki having one last memory of her best friend, before she disappears and only Rust remains.

School Girl/Kaibutsu Sabitsuki: Sabitsuki’s manifestation of what she once was/fears she could become again, the one who was harmed by and later took revenge on Smile and the one Sabitsuki is always running from to some extent. School was likely a very, very bad time for Sabitsuki on a personal level, possibly due to Oreko’s death (though there isn’t anything that really indicates when Oreko’s death happened in relation to Sabitsuki’s life so it could be for any currently unknown reason). Kaibutsu Sabitsuki is what Sabitsuki remembers herself as during that time: a violent monster who hurt the only person Sabitsuki was even remotely close to at the time.

Smile: Though Smile is obviously a very significant person in Sabitsuki’s life, exactly what their relationship was and Smile’s history in general is very vague. His appearance in Disposal is likely a representation of his first meeting with Sabitsuki, as he isn’t wearing his usual outfit and lacks his tattoos (their appearance while as Rust may just be because Rust always sees Smile as his “true” self) and seems to react to Sabitsuki’s presence with mild confusion more then anything else. They later met properly during school, where by this point Smile had gained his tattoos and they obviously had formed a relationship of some sort (whether it was just an acquaintanceship, a friendship, or something more significant isn’t exactly clear but Smile was at least comfortable enough around Sabitsuki to have her visit his house and meet his sister). Unfortunately, their ambiguous relationship didn’t last. Sabitsuki’s corrupted school event shows what I believe is likely the end of their relationship and the last time they ever interacted with eachother. For one reason or another, and I suspect the cause was likely Sabitsuki herself, Smile attacked Sabi in the basement of the school. On a personal level, Sabitsuki likely viewed this as an injustice against herself (even if Smile was likely only doing what had to be done) which is why Rust later imagines herself getting revenge against the boy.

The Cleaners: The Cleaners are people who “clean up” (i.e. kill) those with the illness Sabitsuki suffers from. At some point in the past, they massacred the residents of the hospital Sabitsuki was staying in (as seen in 0.16) but left her alive for whatever reason, taking her away to live an actual life beyond the hospital walls. Why they spared Sabitsuki specifically isn’t something I can explain really, but its possible she was simply much less far along in her illness compared to the others and had the potential to be “saved”. Sabitsuki likely doesn’t view the Cleaners as a threat or “enemies” as it were and rather seems fairly neutral about them despite understanding what they do on some level (as seen by obtaining the limbless effect from one’s chainsaw). The Cleaners also had a second purpose asides from their main directive: working at the Sugar Hole (or whatever its “real” equivalent may be). Given Sabitsuki’s fondness of the place (it being one of very few areas in .flow that aren’t directly threatening or foreboding in some way), its possible The Cleaners brought her to the Sugar Hole shortly after leaving the Hospital with Sabi.

The Girl In The Yellow Dress: Buried far in Sabitsuki’s subconscious are the few memories focused on a mysterious girl known only for her faded, dirty yellow dress. Though not strictly always buried far beneath (being seen in Deterioration very easily while smoking in the hall) and never reacting to Sabi’s presence, she is clearly someone Sabitsuki lost tragically and has done her best to bury all the remaining memories of. So, who is this girl? Though my theory is abit shakier thanks to just how vague a character she is, I believe the Yellow Dress Girl to have been a sex worker who briefly acted as Sabitsuki’s caretaker before she somehow met her end. Maybe through knowing the Cleaners somehow or just being in the right place at the right time, this girl ended up as the guardian to a young Sabitsuki. Working as a prostitute (either already her job or something she took up to support Sabitsuki), the young Sabitsuki grew to genuinely appreciate this girl as a motherly figure and they briefly shared a legitimately nice life together (as seen in the “sugar float days” event). However, it didn’t last, and thanks to the darker side of her job creeping up and taking over her life, the Yellow Dress Girl ended up separated from Sabitsuki and possibly even dead. Sabitsuki, unable to properly deal with the trauma of losing someone who did so much for her and she held so dearly, repressed the memories of her and pushed the Yellow Dress Girl into the furthest points of her mind, where memories of the good times were fleeting and brief while memories of the end lingered unchanging.

Little Sabitsuki: Little Sabitsuki is fairly self-explanatory: she represents how Sabitsuki remembers herself as a child, either weak and bedridden (hospital), or lost and forgotten (snow world). Little Sabi’s condition worsening as regular Sabitsuki’s does could represent just how sick Sabi truly believes she is, unable to see even her past self as anything but diseased and broken. Sabitsuki never got to experience a “proper” childhood, she has no memories beyond the hospital, the overgrown halls, and the cold.

The Inner Demon: Underneath it all, this is how Sabitsuki truly sees herself. A bloody, diseased demon who exists only to cause suffering to both the world and people around her, aswell as her self. A manifestation of all of Sabitsuki’s sins and wrongdoings in the form of a dark mirror, buried so far deep within Sabitsuki’s subconscious the idea of confronting it leads Sabi to vomit her own blood in anxiety and terror. Only once Sabitsuki sheds her sense of self and becomes Rust can she properly confront her demon. The years and years of self-loathing building up from her birth, to her disease, to the loss of her friends, to the loss of control, to the loss of her self, leads Rust to perform a metaphorical suicide as she beats the demon to death as the final action taken in her own subconscious.

Kaibutsu: What Sabitsuki fears she will become should her illness completely take over. They take the form of grown-up versions of her fellow children at the hospital, possibly meaning that she believes all of them would be doomed to become a Kaibutsu, or perhaps that she saw multiple children become Kaibutsu at the hospital.

Fetuses: Sabitsuki’s physical manifestation of her illness, only appearing by the time Rust takes over (as while Sabitsuki rejects and is terrified of the illness, Rust embraces it).

Takibi-san: A homeless girl Sabitsuki spent a small amount of time around after leaving the hospital. Sabi mostly remembers her thanks to Takibi’s distinctive pink hair, a very uncommon trait in .flow’s world.

While this is all for now, I do plan to do a similar analysis for Sabitsuki and Rust. If that goes well enough and I still feel up to it afterwards, I will do another two analysises for the maps and the effects.

#.flow #smile #oreko #smile (.flow) #analysis #.flow (game) #sabitsuki #rust #.flow spoilers #spoilers #theory

[englandsgray]

Sherlolly Self-Interviews 2020

Well hi 👋

Ignoring the internal image of Gilderoy Lockheart smiling smugly while flashbulbs pop and saying ‘In my autobiography, Magical Me...’ 🙈😆 I shall take the opportunity of this lovely event to introduce myself as a writer of Sherlolly fanfiction on AO3...

I am English and somewhere over 30.  I watched the show as it aired, and lost my heart as quickly to Molly Hooper as to Sherlock Holmes.  The kiss is British television history.  Series 4 is my favourite.  Moriarty on the beach is life.  The Holmes brothers break my heart every time.

I am extremely lucky to have been provided some questions to answer here by @ohaine and @mybrainrots - huge, huge love and thanks to these two lovelies, and not just for this.  I admire you both so much as writers, and your support means the world to me ❤️ Thanks too, to @sherlollyappreciationweek!

Where did you begin to write, and have you written for other fandoms?  I wrote my first fanfic when I was eleven years old - a 100 page ramble about The Monkees.  Oh yes.  Then in 2018, I fell for the characters of the Disney Pixar film Cars and began writing and publishing.  So far so random!  Writing in this fandom sprang from binge-watching all four series of Sherlock during lockdown.  I remembered reading Louise Brealey talking about being disappointed Molly didn’t get chance to ‘roundly kick Sherlock’s arse’ and agreeing with her wholeheartedly.  That, over a few weeks, turned into my first fic - Who You Really Are.  

You’re a recent (and welcome!) arrival to the Sherlolly ship, and I was wondering if writing in an established, less active than it used to be fandom has been a challenge?   Thank you, firstly.  My experience of this fandom has been incredibly positive - the sense of welcome has been wonderful.  I will admit I was terrified posting the first fic - there are hundreds of times more stories posted daily in the Sherlock fandom as in the one I had some experience of.  But I needn’t have worried, it’s been a blast.  I will also admit, that it’s no small thing to be surrounded by such brilliant writing and the long-standing passion which goes with it.  But I find that inspiring in itself, and I’m very glad to be here - how supportive the fandom are makes me feel like I always have been!       

What’s your favourite place and way to write?  My aesthetic is Lin-Manuel Miranda in his in-law’s laundry room 🤣 I wrote my first ten-thousand words on the notes app on my phone before my other half told me to stop being ridiculous!  I switch between the laptop, my phone and longhand (I’m a sucker for a nice notepad and a Uni-Ball Eye) and, more often than not, not sat up properly at a table.   

Since you’ve (done something I’ve never managed successfully and) written a novella length fic... how did you organise/keep track of all the details and where you wanted the story to go?  Did you outline/plot in advance?  First of all - I would love to see a novella length fic from you @mybrainrots!  The final scene of Who You Really Are came to me very early on and I knew I wanted the fic to fit within TFP - a lot of it takes place in the timeframe of the final montage.  At first, it was going to be much more about Sherlock’s relationship with the ideas of sentiment and love (the phrase ‘I’m not sentimental about you, I love you,’ haunted me for a while) and I spent some time researching the psychology and playing with scenes from throughout the series - one of my favourites I didn’t go on to use was inspired by the final scene of THoB.  Using scenes from the canon gave an automatic structure, and I was always aiming for the final one I wrote early on - the two of them on the beach (everything is about the beach, with me!)  As I went along and started, inevitably, to slow down, I mapped out the chapters with a short note of what I wanted to be in each, then would add notes or phrases as they came to me - often emailed from my phone!  I had to force myself through a tricky section set in Baker Street at one point, but it came together in the end.  I did plot The Pathologist’s Skeletons on paper first, as I found with a casefic which remains a WIP, that I can get confused and lose focus when it comes to details and how to reveal them in a way which stays paced and interesting.  I’ll certainly do that from now on with longer stories and cases.  How did you keep up enthusiasm for the work?  I want to write an original novel, so I am forcing myself to work through the knotty bits and blocks as a learning experience.  Not everything is destined to be finished or finessed, of course, but I’m finding this process is building my confidence that I can overcome problems and slow periods.  I also find I know when I need some external inspiration - some of my favourite scenes have come to me while out walking the dog or sitting on the beach.  I’ve also been inspired by books or other series or things going on in the world, as we all are, and sometimes that’s pushed me on.  Plus, of course, I’m a newbie - I’m very much in the honeymoon period of my writing, even though I’ve loved Sherlock for ten years! (Ten years! Bonkers.) 

You’ve got a knack for writing Sherlock’s thoughts and capturing his voice.  That said, which character do you find easiest to write?  Which is the hardest?  Thank you so much.  I absolutely love writing Sherlock and Mycroft, and I’m sure that’s because they suit my somewhat over-the-top writing style!  I find Molly and her POV really difficult.  I want the scenes I write from her perspective to sound completely different to Sherlock, but that means writing in a style which doesn’t come as naturally to me.  I’m a long way off happy with that at the moment, but I’m enjoying the challenge.

Is there a scene or character that specifically inspired you to start writing Sherlolly?  The whole of TFP, but especially from the moment Sherlock arrives at Musgrave onwards.  I am desperate to see what a Sherlock Holmes who has been reacquainted with his own heart would look like.  I find his emotionality in those final scenes hugely compelling (Mycroft’s office is one of my favourite moments from across all four series) and, as I have always believed in him and Molly, I practically jumped up back in May after watching it and said ‘right, where’s my notebook?!’.

There’s a lovely peaceful, quiet feeling to your fic ‘We’re All Right At The Moment’.  Can you tell us what inspired it and if you’ve thought of doing the backstory that goes with it?  Thank you!  Like everyone, I would go back to January of this year and start again in a heartbeat, but I am hugely fortunate to be able to say that I have a lot to be grateful to the UK lockdowns for.  I might never have begun writing in this fandom otherwise, for one, and I have had a brilliant time so far and met some lovely people. Honestly, I don’t feel able to do any sort of justice in my writing to what has happened in the world in any broader sense than drawing on my own experiences of staying at home and enjoying my family.  This particular super-short fic sees Molly cutting Sherlock’s hair at home in Baker Street.  I wrote it in the evening after I had cut my other half’s hair and had been reminding myself that despite how horribly worried I was - and still am - about everything, we were all right in that moment, and to focus on that as much as possible.  I wanted to try to capture that, if for no reason other than to look back on this entire experience and remember something lovely, so I am so pleased to hear you felt the fic did that.  It was only after I finished it and reread it, that I realised it is ambiguous as to whether Molly is worried about Sherlock contracting the virus, or whether she is remembering him being treated for it... As I say, I don’t think I could write more about these extraordinary circumstances - perhaps it’s just too close at the moment - so I don’t plan on extending it.  But you know how it is, the plot bunnies hop where they will... 

Do you have a Sherlolly music playlist?  What are your top five favs from the list? Here’s a run down of (6 🙊) songs I have been getting emotional over in the last little while, leading my brain to assign their significance to my favourite couple...

Kissing You - Des’Ree - It’s so 90′s, it’s a bit cheesy, it’s oddly disturbing.  It helped me write A Request, Made Properly, and that gave me an excuse to have Sherlock kiss Molly in the snow.

How Long Will I Love You? - Ellie Goulding - part of the playlist, but also in remembrance of a friend who passed away recently.  Life is very short, love is forever.

High and Dry - Jamie Cullum - It’s made me emotional for a very long time.  The original is my partner’s version of choice, this is mine.  

Think About You - Delta Goodrem - Okay, this one isn’t emotional, and it’s not my usual vibe!  Blame the zoom exercise class I do!  But oh my goodness, it’s Molly.  Bless her.

Blinded By Your Grace (P.T.2. F.T. MNEK) - Stormzy - One of the best ever, I reckon.  Spent an awful lot of time thinking about angels and demons, grace and what it takes to save someone, while writing my latest - The Pathologist’s Skeletons.  This has been in my head most of the (blimmin’) time!

Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding - I didn’t know I was a fan of Ellie until I wrote this list... I don’t subscribe to the theory that the love Molly wants or that which Sherlock has to offer is any lesser because it isn’t ‘normal’ or expected. I don’t think romantic entanglement would come easy to either of them. But it’s still love and it would be beautiful.

Thank you so much for reading.  Thanks and love to @ohaine and @mybrainrots. And thank you @sherlollyappreciationweek for the event and for everything you do ❤️

Feel like I should sign off with a quote from the show...

“You’re not a puzzle-solver, you never have been. You’re a drama queen!” Dr John Watson (Moffat & Gatiss) 2014 😜

X

A fav fic of mine by @mybrainrots

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563193

A fav fic of mine by @ohaine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562904

My stuff:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/works

#sherlolly #sherlollyselfinterview20 #sherlock #sherlockbbc #writing #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 author #read on ao3

[strivingscribe]

ILIC ~ CH 31

It’s Lost Its Charm by  MsMoon

Chapter 31 ~ A Multi-Pronged Attack Plan

Chapters: 31/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: Now that Amy's awake, it's time to hammer out some plans...

Magpie had left Siheta and Bull in the Chantry, sprinting towards Amy's new room. She was relieved to see Tunan and Tunen more presentable than they had been... Not that Tunan was much of a chore in the mornings. He was mostly quiet, needing time to wake up fully before being ready to converse with anyone... Tunen on the other hand. She was a feral cat and needed expert care after waking otherwise you'd get swiped.

“Hey! Good. You're both up. Uh...” she stuttered in place, trying to think of what to say next exactly. “There's a council meeting right now, but if you guys wanted to wait in the tavern—”

“Council meeting?” Tunan asked, his voice conveying a sense of puzzling concern.

“Yes. With Amy being...well, back. Mostly. Everyone's gathering to discuss...things.” she shrugged.

“When are we leaving?” Tunen interrupted.

“What?” Magpie felt as cold as everything in her seeped into a deep dread. Leaving?

“Yes, leaving, as in returning home.” Tunen clarified. Had she asked out loud? She must've.

“I'm... not leaving.” Magpie announced, incredulous.

The twins did that thing that they do from time to time where they exchanged a glance that held layers of communication. Magpie could read Tunen's frustration along with Tunan's (strangely smug?) acceptance. It was endearing because she was able to read it...it was also irritating.

One of Tunan's fingers twitched towards his sister. “Um. Why not?” he asked haltingly. “I mean...”

“We came here to find you.” Tunen follows, her manner abrupt. Clearly, it's still too early for her to stray away from that hissing cat inside of her.

“And I appreciate that.” Magpie said.

“Can I just..” Tunan was now actually holding his hand up towards Tunen, attempting to cage the beast. “Can I ask...why you want to stay?”

Magpie blinked at him. “I mean.. you did. Just now.” His expression fell, as if to say, ‘really? now? you're doing this now?’. If she was being honest, she'd have to admit that she was stalling, because...

Because this was an out. She could leave. But she didn't want to... and now she needed to ask herself why.

“I mean... the Inquisition is in a position to actually fix the problem.” The typical excuse was the easiest to fall back to.

“What problem?” Tunen asked.

“Uhhh! The breach? All the breaches?”

“OK, so...” Tunan stepped in again, apparently taking on the role as mediator. “You think the Inquisition can help, and you want to be a part of that?” he asked, and Magpie at least felt like he was genuinely interested in her response.

She took a deep breath and tried to settle herself. “I think... I think...yeah.”

Great work there. So eloquent.

“Look, I just feel like... I need to be here.”

Tunen had been staring at her in complete befuddlement. Her eyes twitched towards her brother, and she deflated with a sigh at the look of obvious reproach on his face.

“Just... tell me you're not doing this for the shems.” Tunen grumbled.

Magpie felt her back teeth grind. Something about that statement rankled her, but she's fighting to keep that from showing.

“I am in a position to help. And I want to stay for me.”

“What makes you think they'd allow you to do anything worth doing anyway?” Tunen countered. “And even if you did do anything worth doing, what makes you think they’d let you own it?”

“Look, I'm technically working for Amy, here.” Magpie argued, dismissively. “That carries a lot of weight.” And that much was true. Even though Magpie wasn’t really working for Amy, she’d managed to convince others that she was… and when people heard that, they kind of fell in line.

“Yeah, and who's she anyway?” Tunen continued, not at all impressed. “Until I got here and you started talking about her, I had never heard of her.”

"Well, she's a big deal right now to everyone.” Magpie snapped.

She couldn't help but notice that Tunan kept turning between the two of them, a single hand stretched in both directions, though his focus shifted as each of them spoke.

“According to who? And for how long? I swear, these shems just give out shit and then take it away. That’s what they do. What assurances do you have that any progress you've made is safe or will last?”

“Alright.” Tunan's voice was very deep, and he typically kept his tone low. Now was one of those rare times his voice felt as though it boomed simply because he wasn't trying to sound docile anymore. The boom of his unfiltered voice shocked even him. He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice again. “Let's take a breath... and remember that we are all here for each other.” he reminded, as though he were attempting to sooth a pair of caged beasts.

“I... want to stay.” Magpie announced, feeling the truth of that and the weight behind it even if she wasn’t certain the motivations in the statement yet. “This has become important to me, and I feel like I am not done here. I appreciate that you came all this way; and I am sorry that I'm the only one that was here, and I'm not being as cooperative as you'd like.”

“That's not—” Tunen began, but couldn’t really finish her thought.

“But!... It all boils down to me not wanting to leave yet.”

At that Tunan nodded, giving his sister a placating look. His head tilting, his brow peaking in his version of puppy dog eyes. She sighed at that, the fight mostly taken out of her.

Tunen shrugged, reluctantly. “Well... at least it's interesting here.”

Tunan continued nodding as well, seemingly relieved.

“But we aren't going to keep sleeping on the floor, are we?” Tunen pleaded.

Magpie chuckled, shaking her head. “Doubtful.”

“Well, that's a relief.” Tunan murmured, preaching against the wall now that he didn't feel the need to dive between the two of them as a negotiator. “And your Amy is pleasant enough.”

‘for a shem.’ Went unsaid, but Magpie had a feeling that was very much felt. Even if Tunan didn’t voice it as much as Tunen, he had never been overly fond of operating near or with humans.

But that was a discussion for another day.

“Great.” Magpie said. “Good talk. Now...if you'll excuse me. I have a meeting to get to.”

“Oooh. Fancy.” Tunen cooed, her tension seemingly defused now that they’d talked.

With a soft snort Magpie left them, making her way to the council chamber. She was relieved that the map room was enormous (at least in comparison to Josie's office) and that she wasn't the last one here.

Seeing Amy was a bit of a shock. She was between Josephine and Leliana — odd because they usually flanked the table at opposite ends. Cullen was glaring down at the map. Madame de Fer was there as well, near Leliana's usual spot.

Magpie was a little shocked to find Amy in...well...nice clothes. Amy always had to make do with whatever she could find. Seeing her in something fitted was...strange.

She was wearing a very delicate looking white tunic with long sleeves that billowed, but over that was a tightly fitted dark leather vest, very tailored breeches, and knee-high boots. There were various straps and belts, both to keep things in place and to string sheaths onto.... Her hair was mostly down. The braid had been undone, a thick ponytail hanging low on the nape of her neck while errant curls leaked out to frame her face....

She looked good. Even better, she looked…healthy. Not leaning or waning as Magpie had seen after her previous episodes.

Thankfully, Magpie noticed Sehita in the shadows behind Amy. The towering woman caught Magpie's eye and nodded for her to join them. That put a halt on her next internal crisis, as she had no idea where to really put herself. She trotted over, relieved when Amy's eyes lighted on her and she smiled.

Amy reached for her hand once she was in range, the gesture instantly assuaging her tension. The fact that it was easy for Amy to turn away from the others to greet her was…comforting. She could deal with the questions of why she didn't want to go home, and if she had a proper place that would affect any change later. Right now, she was needed and wanted and that counted for something.

“Well damn.” Varric said, entering with Sam right behind him. “Would you look at this.” he said, motioning to Amy.

“Yeah, they can't keep me down, and honestly that's what matters most.” Amy said with a conspirator’s grin and a stubborn gleam in her eyes.

Again, Varric seemed to come up short, blinking rapidly and holding his hands up. “And with complete sentences this time.”

“Every time I go down, I come back with upgrades.” Amy warned. “One day I'll be invulnerable.”

Cullen half scoffed half laughed at that.

“I said 'one day'.” Amy defended.

Sara and Blackwall were the last to show up, and Sara couldn't just show up without making a fuss.

“Ooiii! Lookatchu! All gussied up!” Sara crowed with a leer.

“I mean, I don't know what you've been doing, but I—” Amy reached down, griping, and pushing up her own breasts as though she were situating them properly. “was getting fancy.” It seemed to be the right response, as Sera giggled, and Blackwall looked elsewhere with a grin.

The room filled up soon after. Solas, Cassandra, and Bull finally making their way into the chamber. Even this big room seemed a little crowded.

“So, we have our Charmer back and better than ever.” Varric noticed as a way of kicking off the meeting.

“Indeed.” Leliana confirmed. “And considering that the information she has shared with us has been verified, I believe we are ready to move.” Gazes sharpened as that was dropped in front of them.

Not that Magpie ever had any real doubts about the things that Amy was saying. With everything going on, a human touched enough to predict the future wasn’t that crazy. She’d seen Sam use a glowing hole in his hand to close rifts, after all.

“Verified? Then…?” Cassandra’s questions went unspoken as she couldn’t find the proper words or the paths for those words to take.

“Our two-pronged plan will begin tomorrow.” Cullen stated with the certainty of steel. “Cassandra will disguise herself as a Lieutenant with a regiment under her to reinforce our position on the Storm Coast. Simultaneously, Sam will make his way to initiate contact with the mages at Redcliff. According to Amy, after the initial contact, Sam will be invited back to Redcliff formally. This will give Cassandra and her team time to deal with whatever is going on at Caer Oswin.”

“Our scouts have confirmed that while Caer Oswin is inhabited, there is very little in the way of noticeable traffic.” Lelianna informed. “It should be easy for a regiment and a team to secure the grounds.”

“Considering the time it will take for Sam to initiate the plan with the mages, Cassandra’s team could potentially be finished and on their way to Therinfall before Sam is finished with Redcliff.” Cullen estimated, though whether this is his opinion on the time it would take traveling back and forth between Redcliff, or his high estimations of Cassandra, it was difficult to say.

“It is not the entourage that I had hoped for,” Josephine began. “however, I was able to secure a few prominent Orlesian nobles to accompany our concerned party to Therinfall.”

“Abernache?” Amy cut in to ask.

Josephine eyed her first, eyes drifting to the ever-present paperwork in front of her before saying, “Yes…Lord Abernache is among those who are interested in confronting the Templar order.” She seemed only slightly put off by Amy’s insight.

“A prominent figure?” Madame Vivienne asked, though by her tone one may think she were inquiring about the weather.

Amy shrugged. “No more or less than anyone else. He has his part to play, and that is enough to note his significance. That should be enough on its own.”

Perhaps Amy didn’t see it as she wasn’t really meeting anyone’s eye, but Magpie couldn’t help but notice the slightest arch in Vivienne’s brow. As though Amy had said something she had not anticipated… What that meant, Magpie wasn’t sure, but she did know look of reappraisal when she saw one.

“How far is Caer Oswin from Therinfal as far as traveling time?” Amy asked.

“It would take a well-armed troop of men moving with purpose less than a full day’s travel, given the terrain…and the need for secrecy.” Cullen shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps a few hours more, but not by much.”

“After the hubbub at Redcliff, I intend to take my team and hustle towards Therinfal Redoubt.” Sam announced.

“That might be unsafe…” Amy murmured, concerned. “Mostly because you will have already undergone so much.”

Sam smirked at her. “Ease up, mum. We’re all grown, and we can take care of ourselves.”

Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she glared at him, but it was more for being called ‘mum’ than anything.

“Bull, Solas, and Varric will be accompanying me during my tour of Redcliff.” Sam announced. The three people he had called out nodded their assent. “We’ll have another team waiting in the wings to help Cassandra. Madame Vivienne, Sera, Blackwall, that’ll be you. Don’t imagine any of you will have a problem handling rogue templars.”

“Not at all.” Madame Vivienne replied coolly.

“Cullen will move some troops into the Hinterlands after the initial contact, under the guise of reinforcing the camps we’ve established and surveying the damage that the Mages and Templars have reeked. In truth, he will be in place should anything happen that requires us to take Redcliff from the mages and the magister.”

Sam paused and surveyed Amy. “We don’t have much time, but while this is all happening, at least in the day and a half it’ll take us to travel there, make contact, and return, we would like it if you met with a few tutors that could assist you with your magic.”

Amy gave a single, decisive nod. “I would like to begin that as immediately as I can, actually.”

“I don’t see why not.” Sam murmured with a shrug. Everyone was already on standby as it was. “It shouldn’t be too difficult wrangle everyone together after the noon meal.”

“Tutors?” Solas asked, his eyes darting back and forth. “What tutors are those?”

“Madame Vivienne has brought a magic user with her. One who relies on his music to work his magic.” Lelianna announced.

“Zither??” Amy asked, half laughing already. “Oh, this’ll be a wild ride.”

Again, while Madame Vivienne’s face revealed nothing, Magpie noted her eyes darting to a very smug looking Lelianna. Lelianna hadn’t told Amy anything about anyone named Zither, that much Magpie was certain of… whether or not the mage recognized this wasn’t entirely clear, considering her consummate poker face.

“From what I understand,” Josephine began, flipping through some of the pages on her clipboard. “we have several mages that are more than willing to weigh in their opinions as well. Norton, Baxtien, Elossa, even Siheta will all be present and capable of aiding Amy if their expertise should be needed.”

“Oh good. Always better to perform for a crowd.” Amy half grumbled with a taxed smile.

“If you can perform at all.” Bull grunted with a smirk. Amy flicked her middle finger up at him with a dazzling smile. “Seriously, Charmer, maybe you’ve got everyone else convinced you’re almighty, but I’m still on the fence here. You haven’t really given me anything that’s impressed me.”

It was a bluff, but the tension that spiked through the room at Bull’s words was very real. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see how Amy would handle this.

She smirked. “I can give you eleven reasons.” She said with honey-sweet words, and her grin only depend when Bull’s attention snapped away, obviously trying to pair the number 11 with anything significant to him. He didn’t have 11 chargers… so… She held a finger to her lips as though she were telling a secret. “The first hit’s free.” She used the same finger tracing the secret on her lips to point to the hinterlands. “She’s right here… and she’s so pretty.” She said, leaning over the map almost suggestively, her eyes never leaving Bull’s. “All orange and yellow with such majestic curling horns and livid fire. I know you’d love to take her.” He smile was positively feline.

Bull blinked hard before taking in a deep breath through his nose and letting it out.

“Wait…” Sam’s face went slack. “Are you ….talking about a dragon?”

“A Ferelden Frostback, right under your noses. Weak to cold but resistant to fire damage. She cannot be slowed or disabled, and she’s got a whole mess of drakes to protect her and her dragonlings.” She straightened before looking to Sam with a more serious air. “There’s a pass leading to Redcliff that’s being guarded by bandits that aren’t bandits.” She waved off his look of confusion. “One mystery at a time, Sam. I can explain later. One of your scouts will warn you of this when you try to take the road, that is if they haven’t already.”

“They…haven’t. We’ve been focusing on the people and the cult, and you know, that whole mage/templar fight thing that’s going on.” Sam grumbled.

Amy ignored Sam’s cross tone to continue explaining. “The bandits are set up in a nice little nook. Beyond that nook is a natural stone archway that leads to her lair.” Her eyes bore into Bull. “I wouldn’t advise entering that archway and her lair until you’re completely ready to take on a high dragon.”

“I’m always ready to take on a high dragon.” Bull practically growled; his enthusiasm high.

“Bull.” Sam murmured, attempting to regain control.

“Boss.” He whined.

“Priorities.” Sam reminded. “Take out the bandits, set up a camp there to fall back to if things go south with the mages, take on the mages. Then, once we’ve gotten the mages taken care of…maybe after we’ve sealed the breach, we’ll go after the dragon. It isn’t as if we’ll never be in the Hinterlands again.”

Bull seemed mollified even if slightly petulant.

“There were some names that you mentioned that I’d like to revisit.” Lelianna noted. “Names of some mages that you said Sam should talk to.”

“Yes!” Amy said, snapping right back into the gravity of the situation before them. She righted herself, and her attention was now back on Sam. “Clemence will be the easiest to find. You’ll be asked to meet in the tavern, and he’s there. He’s a tranquil alchemist, but Alexius doesn’t want the tranquil around. So, he’ll volunteer to go with you and join the inquisition.”

“Lucky.”

“Talwyn is at the bar in the tavern. You can speak to him after Clemence. But you should keep these interactions subtle.” She scowled, sounding disgruntled as she continued. “I’m sure Linnea will be watching you, and she could be a problem.”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Next is either Lysas or Hanley. Hanley’s a human mage standing near the statue to the hero of Ferelden, and he’ll be very happy to see you. He hates the involvement of the mages with Tevinter. I don’t think it would be hard to convince him to go to the crossroads to wait for you. Lysas is an elf mage who you’ll find against one of the stone archways that lead to the chantry. He voted to abandon the chantry, but the alliance with Tevinter has him shaken. He’s another one that I might be persuaded to leave if promised some protections.”

“Considering that all rouge mage and templar activity has been thoroughly halted, none of them should have a reason to stay.”

“They might not have the choice, considering that they’re Tevinter chattel.” She growled. “I don’t know if they realize it yet, but Alexius will confirm that when you meet him.”

“asshole.” Sera spat.

Amy’s face pulled into a complicated frown. There was disapproval there, but her expression seemed… almost sorrowful as well. It made Magpie wonder if perhaps there wasn’t more to this story…

“We all have our missions.” Cullen said, with what felt like finality. “If there’s nothing more, be ready to move out a dawn.”

Magpie watched as everyone began to filter out of the room, and Amy zoned in on one person… She made a beeline for Solas.

#ILIC #It's Lost Its Charm #Dragon Age #Dragon Age Fan Fiction #DAFF #DAFF It's Lost Its Charm #Amy McManus #Magpie

[gofancyninjaworld]

Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now.  I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests.   It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front.   Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story.  The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map.  Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident. 

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)?  Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM.  Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

 Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information!  On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him.  We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now.  It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions,  replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces.  The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money.  They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL,  I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that.  Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body.  The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point.   He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power.  It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark.  Jet Nice Guy comes to mind.  He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.<  Sorry, dude. 

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing.  Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on.  Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg.  And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.]  Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg.   What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for?  What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags  but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time. 

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character.  He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it.  Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings,  he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does.   Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake.  His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...”  (Viz)  “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health.  Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there.  I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree?  Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does.   Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal.  It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw.    But that’s not all there is.   As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it.  Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated  (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams).   But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate.  That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too.   It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two!  Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple.  If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost.  (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM.  Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now.  Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association.   When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human.   It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too.   With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy.  From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh!  If I was worried for his prospects then,  in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is.   And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack.   They’re very real.  They’re not mad.  And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to  -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago.  It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed  approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

 The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable.  The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs).  What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system.  Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men.  The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply.  Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system.  It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed?  I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.  

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy.   Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short).  People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do.  And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees.  While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly?  Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter?  Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time.  Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation.  Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed.  His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.

#OPM #cyborg #Genos #meta #ONE hides things in plain sight #because they don't make sense until they do

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

My laptop is currently updating, so while I have that working in the background, I wanted to share a series of six short, mostly-opera-inspired autobiographical narratives/prose poems I wrote last April and May:

I would kill to have some wine right now.

There is a bottle of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter. My father bought it when he went to the store the other day─ don’t ask me what day it was, I don’t remember, the days already blend together as is─ and I have considered pouring even just a little bit into a glass and downing it.

And then proceeding to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it.

I’ve been contemplating doing that a lot lately.

True, I would kill to have some wine, but if I did go ahead and pour even just a little bit into a glass, and down it, and possibly then proceed to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it, I would most likely be killed before I had the chance to kill.

Kill or be killed. We are all trying our very best to do neither these days, but it happens anyway.

I am sixteen years old. As I start writing this, I am nine days away from turning seventeen. For me, alcohol consumption is thus not only not approved by the Parents, but also illegal. But then again, so is voting blue in the 2020 US Presidential election. That is also something neither approved by the Parents nor legal for me. But I digress.

Thirty-one, twenty-nine, thirty-one again, sixteen now, that makes sixty, ninety-one, one hundred and seven days since I watched one of my classmates get drunk at a New Year’s Eve party. She downed a whole bottle of peach wine (I didn’t even know that was a thing) and looked at me with her red eyes and silver-sequined halter top and curly dark brown hair in a high ponytail. You’re more beautiful than Jesus she told me and you’ll go to the moon on a rocketship. I laughed.

I laugh when something’s so unexpected I can’t do anything else. I laughed when I first heard Notre Dame Cathedral had caught fire because it seemed so ludicrous that I couldn’t do anything else. Notre Dame on fire? You can’t be serious, it can’t be serious.

It was serious.

I’m not sure if she was.

A little part of me wishes she were.

When I was in sixth grade, I told the same girl I thought her hair was luscious. Sixth-grade me didn’t know the word had a sexual connotation; the girl did and was offended.

Maybe a little part of me did know, somehow.

***

As I write this next part, I am working on a paper about state-sponsored censorship. I have picked this topic because it is a fascinating topic, it fits the requirements for the paper─ write about a major global problem─, and because I feel censored myself.

Expressing anything that conflicts with the Parents’ thoughts and opinions is strictly forbidden. If you are different, you are ostracized. I am different, so I am ostracized.

I am too proud, too strong to succumb. But it still hurts.

As I write this, I am listening to Act IV of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell, an opera about liberation, appropriate for both me and my paper. At this moment, Hedwige is calling on God, ‘the hope of the hopeless’, to save her husband and break the yoke of oppression that binds Switzerland.

It’s very nice, and the sentiment is good and true, and it works for her and Mathilde and Jemmy and the Swiss women, but it does not work for me. I lost my faith a long time ago. Ironically, it is French grand opéra, the genre to which Guillaume Tell belongs, that is partially responsible for my loss of faith.

It was impossible for me to watch Verdi’s Don Carlos for the first time in eighth grade and Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots in tenth and not be horrified by the things people do in the name of religion, to kill people senselessly just because they believe slightly differently than them─ even their own daughters (as is the finale of Les Huguenots).

How can a good God allow such things?

Do I realize these works are fictional? Yes. But do I know they are based on history, on real events? Yes.

“These things are meant to happen; they are all in God’s plan.” Well, can God just not find another way to make what’s meant to happen happen? I cannot believe in a God that allows these things to happen. To say that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God who can allow such things exists is a lie.

***

Now that Guillaume Tell is over, I am listening to another grand opéra, Les vepres siciliennes, albeit in its Italian version, I vespri siciliani. Another opera about occupation and liberation, but a liberation that comes at a horrible cost: the entire French ruling class is massacred by the Sicilians at the end of the opera.

If I didn’t care, I would stage my own personal ‘massacre’: I would turn my back, walk out the front door with the possessions I most needed to survive on my own, and never come back.

But I do care. They may not care, but I do.

One of my greatest curses is that I care about what I care about too much. My heart is too deep to not care.

There are some battles that are not worth being fought.

If a massacre is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing. Or, at least try to find another way.

Right now, I am at the beginning of Act III, at Monforte’s aria “In braccio alle dovizie”. In the original French, it’s called “Au sein de la puissance”. At the breast of power.

Monforte is the hated French governor of Sicily, the revolutionaries’ primary target. When he sings this, he has just learned that one of the main revolutionaries, Arrigo, is his long-lost illegitimate son.

By rape.

‘The breast of power’ indeed.

Just like with a massacre, if rape is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing either.

Just a thought.

I’m a woman. What do I know, in the eyes of many out there?

One of my friends said that Verdi gave Monforte his just deserts, but also overly beautiful music. “He couldn’t help it, though, not when his Dad Music Instincts were activated.”

I feel guilty listening to the aria, even though it is truly a beautiful piece and the recording I’m listening to─ a 1989 recording from the Teatro alla Scala, with Giorgio Zancanaro as Monforte─ is absolutely gorgeous.

Can we separate the music from the character, the art from the artist? I do not know. Everyone has something utterly heinous to someone else. Once we stop separating the art from the artist, where do we begin again? And yet, I do not want to support people who do horrible things to others.

Perhaps it is all relative.

Perhaps everything is.

Perhaps nothing is absolute at all.

That frightens me.

***

Today is Rome’s 2,773rd birthday. As a six-year Latin student and future classics and history double-major, this is cause for celebration.

If things were normal and I were at school, my Latin teacher would bring birthday cake for all the Latin students, and we’d eat it and sing “Felix dies natalis, Roma”. Happy Birthday, Rome.

But things are not normal, and I’m at home multitasking between this and a presentation script for that paper, and still listening to I vespri siciliani.

Now I’m at the end of Act IV. Everyone is celebrating the impending marriage of Arrigo to Duchess Elena, one of the Sicilian revolutionary leaders. Sicilian and French, united at last. Everything is set to work out.

But there’s still Giovanni da Procida, the other major revolutionary leader, who is hellbent on revenge. He sees this wedding as the perfect opportunity to strike down the French once and for all.

And thus, the massacre.

Everything can be set to work out, but there is always something that comes up. A massacre, a pandemic, a set of internal troubles that bring a proud empire to its ruin.

Now I’m in Act V, at Elena’s bolero ‘Merce, dilette amiche’. She has no idea about Procida’s plans; she’s just excited to marry Arrigo and bring peace to her beloved Sicily at last. I think I’m going to change operas again after this is over; the act is rather uneven (though I still very much like it) and I would prefer not to listen to everything falling apart today.

I debate listening to Berlioz’s Les Troyens, the closest thing to an opera about the founding of Rome and a masterpiece itself. But there is still too much about collateral damage for my tastes today: one kingdom falls and another loses its benevolent queen, all in the name of a supposedly greater destiny. And that’s just based on the first third of the Aeneid. I wrote an essay about that first third once for English class, using that thesis; my English teacher said it was one of the best essays he’d ever read. But I digress.

After a quick refresher on the synopsis, I decide to change styles and go with a story from the heyday of the Roman Empire: Handel’s Agrippina. Lots of plotting, but everyone gets what they want in the end and it ends happily for all. No collateral damage here. I am weary of that.

Sometimes I feel like collateral damage.

It’s tough to remember that you’re the master of your own story, not just a side character or a scapegoat in so many others’.

Everyone in this opera knows they’re the masters. That’s the problem. But it ultimately works out.

I want nothing more than for it to work out for me. It hasn’t yet.

But I have a feeling it will.

***

I got maybe halfway through the first act of Agrippina yesterday. I love Baroque opera, but I guess only in small doses.

No matter.

Today I’m listening to the beginning of Act II of Verdi’s Don Carlo. This is the fourth time in a row I’ve listened to it.

I read John Green’s Turtles All The Way Down recently. The main character frequently finds herself stuck in ‘thought spirals’, where she keeps thinking more and more about the same thing. I have those too, although I tend to picture my mind more as a bullet train: it always moves hundreds of miles an hour, faster than I can control, from one thought to the next. I constantly find myself retracing the figurative map of my mind to figure out what I was thinking about, what I need to remember but simply cannot. And it’s like my mind keeps returning to the same stations a lot; these are my equivalent to the spirals.

This opera, this moment, is one of my frequent stations.

Make that five times in a row now. This will be the last, I promise myself.

In this scene, a group of monks chant, praying for the rest of the dead Emperor Charles V, whom, I note with a smile, was himself a character in one of Verdi’s earliest operas, Ernani. In that opera, he sings an aria where he confronts his destiny as the next Holy Roman Emperor. My legacy will live throughout the ages, he sings.

Including in two different Verdi operas.

But there I go again on another bullet-train route.

The monks are singing now, their stark minor-major shifts making me feel as if I am there, in the cloister of San Yuste or in any of the great cathedrals of Spain, looking up into the vaults of the ceiling, of heaven itself, seemingly. The only lights come from candles in my mental picture, and I gaze up, my head uncovered, my mind only partially spellbound, more by the visual beauty and the history than by any religious feeling.

I am a heathen.

I have only been inside a Catholic church once, when I was fourteen; it was an impromptu side trip during a school-sponsored tour of colleges in St. Louis. One of the chaperones said the Cathedral Basilica had can’t-miss art, and thus managed to get a large section of the attendees to come with her.

She was right. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. And that was all I thought.

Okay, that’s a lie. I did wonder what it would be like to be able to have faith again, to be able to kneel in one of the pews, and pray, and believe, as my ancestors have done before me; after all, if religion were something you inherited in your blood, then I would be half-Catholic.

But I cannot kneel and pray and believe.

In this scene, one of the monks claims that Charles V fell because he was too proud, because he believed that he was greater than God. If a god exists, I do not claim to be greater than them. I am not perfect, not by a long shot.

He did not die because he did not believe in God. He died because everyone dies, even those who are supposedly the greatest of us.

God alone is great, the monk proclaims. I do not, cannot believe that. We are all great to begin with, but some of us are led to believe we are not.

We are the masters. I must remember that.

And I realize that I have let it play a sixth time.

Sometimes I am not the master of my own mind.

***

The sixth time was the last.

Now I am at the end of the act, listening to the showdown between Filippo II, King of Spain, and Rodrigo, Marquis di Posa. Filippo is the guardian of the way things are; Verdi called Rodrigo an anachronism, and indeed, he was the only principal character who never existed.

Rodrigo, he said, was at least two centuries ahead of his time.

I don’t know what exactly Verdi’s feelings were about this, but personally, I do not think this is a bad thing. Progressivism is often progressivism in any age.

At any rate, Rodrigo, who has recently returned from Spanish-held Flanders, has taken his chance─ a rare private meeting with the King, who is confused as to why Rodrigo has never approached him for favors like all the other courtiers─ to confront him about the horrific conditions of Flanders and its people. Give them liberty, he pleads.

No. I have given them the same peace I have given Spain.

A horrible peace!, Rodrigo fires back. The peace of the tomb!

We should not have to suffer until death.

Let history not say of you, “He was a Nero.” A murderer of innocents, a torturer of the defenseless, an occupier, a denier of liberty─ perhaps the greatest torture of all.

I once watched a video in which a director said, “To live in an occupied country is to live only half a life.” I would say that to live in an occupied country, or even any place where you cannot be free, cannot live fully as yourself, is not even that. It is to barely live at all. It is to merely have a beating heart and breath.

To live in spite of this, to simply be as you wish, is the ultimate act of defiance.

#notyouraveragejulie writes #(or rather reads old writing) #writing #poetry #poems #prose poems #autobiographical narratives #life in the time of COVID #opera #opera tag #censorship #freedom #also the author would like to note that this was written *before* she saw Agrippina and loved it so those comments aren't 100% accurate now