#have very disastrous outcomes. i read this one person talking about how they had a sibling who they went to the same high school as and

[teddykaczynski]

i probably wont have kids even though i want them because the only two methods of reproduction im interested in are cloning myself and raising my clone as my daughter or my wife’s bone marrow and those arent currently options i could actually seek out

#yiva.txt #the only other option id consider is donor sperm of course but 1. the idea of sperm being inside me at all makes me so uncomfortable #and 2. i have heard that some men who donate sperm do so because a lot of lesbians use donor sperm and now #their sperm has been used to impregnate a lesbian. awful. horrible #also 3. i could have a baby by sperm donor and unless she had a dna test done like she wouldn’t know who was her half sibling which could #have very disastrous outcomes. i read this one person talking about how they had a sibling who they went to the same high school as and #they could have dated technically and wouldnt have known they were actually half siblings because they were both speem donor babies #also i want to carry the baby myself and that might not even be possible anyway so 🤷🏻‍♀️

[galadhremmin]

We have derived Caranthir liking the Dwarves (and vice versa) because apparently, Finrod succeeds in every field Caranthir fails, and at this point it's clear this derives from the in-universe writer of the Silm and his own biases. Think about it: "Dark Finwë" , a grumpy, prejudiced lordling, and "Hair Champion", most handsome, noble king, have met with the same people!! Yet the king of the first secret kingdom is everyone's friend, but the prince that trades with them regularly is not... seems sus.

Hence, Caranthir is friends with the Dwarves. (But that is just an interpretation, so you're free to think what you wish, I just have several opinions on in-universe prejudice and the almighty narrative.)

I think that 'we' might actually have been Dawn Felagund years ago. Maybe this reading existed even before that, but I doubt that-- she's been very influential in silm fandom and was long before tumblr was much of a thing. https://dawnfelagund.com/caranthir-the-slandered

I wouldn't say it's 'clear' that what amounts to Caranthir's entire documented personality derives from the bias of the in-universe narrator, though as you can see from Dawn's writing it's a reading you can argue for. There are a number of different approaches you can take to the Silm and its biases anyway. One of the few times when it's absolutely clear the text isn't telling the entire story is when it talks about the Easterlings. I've posted about this before but the recorded names are, uhh.... the ones to betray the elves are unlikely to actually have been named things like 'ugly lord' and 'ugly beard.' 'Dark Finwe' on the other hand is a documented reference to his haircolour being dark like Finwe's own; hardly a negative judgement!

I personally think Caranthir can be exactly as ill-tempered and prejudiced as the Silm paints him without becoming an unsympathetic character. If a writer cannot make a moody, deeply prejudiced man an interesting character that is a failure as a writer; there are after all enough books who manage exactly that. That is not to say choosing not to write him that way is a failure (obviously not), but it's not necessary in order to make a reader feel for him at all.

Just going by the text, I think it actually might make for a more interesting narrative to explore in fic to me. Because he does change his mind about something, and at a very specific moment; when he meets the Haladin. That is much less dramatic if he secretly been as nice and popular as Finrod, and got along with everyone all the time already. He's been raised by Fëanor, who said things like 'No other race shall oust us!' and rallied the Noldor not motivated enough by vengeance for Finwë alone by playing on their deep-seated fear of being replaced by the Secondborn. Very unlikely that had no impact. At best it has made him uninterested in humans in his area (while they're not much of a threat to ruling instead of the elves anyway). The text says they paid them no heed.

And yet! Caranthir sees how brave Haleth and her people are. He 'does her great honour.' He changes his mind and offers them lands. His tragedy to me is not that of a slandered figure, but of this deeply, deeply prejudiced person raised to distrust the motivations of human beings -- who overcomes those beliefs, offers friendship, is rejected! then extends that same trust to the Easterlings anyway... and it's those specific Easterlings, not the ones who ally with his brothers-- who betray them all. And cause the disastrous ending of the Nirnaeth. It's the 'to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well' part of the curse hitting him in the least fair way possible. Someone finally changes for the better, and the outcome is treason and destruction.

That is a very good character arc to me, actually. His aesthetics-based scorn for the Dwarves is reprehensible but strikes me as deeply Elvish, and part of his prejudices. Naugrim is too unflattering a name for them for it not to be common. His temper-- well why can't he have one? Sure there's only one recorded instance -- but that's imo because there are hardly any conversations in the Silm! Anyway I like some people with tempers well enough. Personally I think people are missing out on opiniated grouches.

Obviously the biased anti-Feanorian Pengolodh reading is a nice one, and I have enjoyed a lot of stories written based it. But it's not at all a reading that is necessary for me to read Caranthir as a flawed but sympathetic character. He can have serious faults and still, ultimately, be someone I feel for.

What I was asking though was if I overlooked any canon evidence of Caranthir being particularly, personally fond of the Dwarves; and it seems I did not. Also; there is room for Caranthir growing to like the Dwarves over centuries without an anti-Feanorian bias reading this strong, there is simply no evidence for friendship in the rather barebones narrative (I'm not interested atm because it's wildly overdone to me & I like variety).

That said, in my opinion making Caranthir the hidden, slandered Feanorian Finrod equivalent with a dash of Curufin's Dwarf affection is not as enjoyable as simply working with what little canon character is actually there. Because there is one (and it's not the greedy tax collector of some fanon depictions either imo)

1. To start with, wrt Caranthir as the anti-Finrod, I don't think it works that well. Sure sure dark/light, open/prejudiced, repressed/shouty, but different motivations, different locations, plus they meet very different peoples even if both are Edain-- besides, Caranthir's own older brothers do successfully ally with the Easterlings without betrayal, while Curufin (much more so than Finrod! no Khuzdul for Finrod!) is the Dwarves' Friend(tm). Also, a flawed Finrod already exists. That's just the regular edition. He has his own faults and (very different) tragic arc.

If Finrod never seems to have strong prejudices to overcome, and if he's not confrontational (which... look he's a diplomat. Make of that what you will. Pretty awkward there in Doriath, buddy!) he does have trouble facing his own complicity (he wanted to sail those ships despite the murders) until Sauron beats him to death with it. He leaves Valinor with the idea of ruling but he has to give up the crown. He's ambitious, he seems emotionally repressed, he's.. possibly paying the greater Dwarves to drive the Petty Dwarves out of their ancestral home to build a city? Oops. Depending on the version you go with in that case, of course; there's also ones where he's free of the blame of that one. Not of wanting to sail those ships and being uneasy with the guilt wrt wanting to do so despite their being stolen and murdered for though. No he doesn't kill; but he wants to use the result of it anyway, and to make it worse he is actually half Telerin.

There's also (to be fair, only for sure after the disaster of the Sudden Flame because that's the recorded instance) his guards killing random innocent trespassers to keep his kingdom hidden -- yes, that's right there in Silm, yes he's still King at the time. Beren has to wave that ring. People just seem to miss that he'd be killed without it somehow.

I think it's just too easy to reduce him to the golden perfect opposite of Caranthir. Yes he's described more positively; he's also just mentioned more because unlike Caranthir he rules an actual kingdom, the greatest and richest in Beleriand in fact; and does things that have a lot of very longterm effects, like helping B&L steal a Silmaril. They don't 'meet the same people' anyway -- the Haladin have a different culture from the Beorians which contributes to their reaction to Caranthir (and iirc their later fate).

Sidenote: Dawn's essay attributes the Green Elves helping the Feanorians at Amon Ereb to Caranthir's diplomatic skills; but why not to those of Amras or Amrod? This is the quote; 'Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves' -- nothing here indicates it was Caranthir who got them that aid. In fact A&A are the hunters, i.e. more likely to have roamed in various forests where they would have encountered Green Elves, imo.

There's also the very desperate times to consider in which this aid takes place. This is just post Sudden Flame, and even if the Green Elves didn't like Caranthir they probably liked him better than Morgoth. Also, speaking of cosmopolitans, Maedhros allies with, yes, Dwarves (Azaghal), Grey elves, Easterlings (and you might say: Fingolfinians); even part of the remaining people of Dorthonion rally to Himring post sudden flame (that means Edain and Arafinwean followers in Himring, at least for a time), and he manages to be friendly with Felagund despite calling him a badger. ;)

Finrod is not the only other leader to forge diverse alliances, and though B&L ends happily his people mostly do not. Caranthir's not much like Finrod in any way. Not in motivations, temperament, tragic arc. That's fine. No hidden kingdom for a dragon to eat either. Finrod could probably do with being a little less like Finrod sometimes, though he's well-intentioned and likable. Caranthir loves to shout and isn't sneaky. Good for him.

2. Curufin also already exists. His love for Dwarves is one of his defining and redeeming characteristics and boy does he need them. He's daddy's favourite, a sneaky overambitious bitchy bastard who is also a talented smith and linguist, and truly considered a Dwarf friend, which is apparently exceptional. He's quite flawed; tries to help Celegorm force a political marriage, laughs with a bruised mouth, seeming to lose his mind while attempting and failing murder after first losing his own stronghold and then the city he tried to take from his cousin. He's just... a personality. Mostly a bad one! You can feel for him though, because he seems like an utter mess. Many 'i would love to study you' feelings on my part. Would hate for him to be real but also I'd pay to be his therapist.

3. And then finally there's Canon Caranthir. A difficult, prejudiced person who despite that (which doesn't at all have to mean there is no despite, the despite is what makes it juicy)

- seems to be responsible for re-establishing (large scale?) trade with the Dwarves, whatever he might think of them (and they of him) to their mutual benefit. I don't think he's greedy either. It seems like a mutually profitable situation. Access to Dwarvish goods seems pretty vital to Beleriand, and facilitating trade is a real service.

As someone pointed out in the replies, the Silm does mention Dwarvish companies travelling east to Nan Elmoth and menegroth various times, but quote wrt Caranthir says 'Caranthir’s people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand' and 'when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand.'

They stopped at some point and Caranthir's people made it happen again.

- which means he's practical. He seems like he's good at organising, and setting his own feelings aside if necessary despite his prejudice and temper (which is an achievement it wouldn't be without his, hm, everything). Also he and his people as well as the Dwarves work together well because ''either people loved skill and were eager to learn,' despite their (initial?) mutual dislike. Those aren't bad characteristics; seems like it was an exchange of skill as well as goods and possibly providing safe travel opportunities.

I don't like the 'greedy Caranthir' fanon and don't think it is even that easy support entirely with canon. 'They had of it great profit,' the text says-- both Caranthir and the Dwarves. They exchanged skills and knowledge and Caranthir seems to have helped them start trading in Beleriand again. That's hardly Scrooge Mcduck.

- Another thing we can say about canonthir (lol) is that he apparently attaches a lot of value to aesthetics (was he a visual artist? is a he a sculptor like Nerdanel? WORSE: AN ART CRITIC?! Feanorian art critic is truly nightmare fuel) and that's why he dislikes Dwarves (of all things...). Either way points to 'aesthetics' as something apparently important to Caranthir. Which makes sense given who his parents are. What is interesting to me is that this apparently DOESN'T matter to Curufin, who is a lot like Feanor in most things. That's interesting!

I've never, never seen this but I think it would be very funny to attribute his aesthetic prejudices to Nerdanel. I love her; but why should her opinions be perfect? I know she wasn't considered beautiful herself, but she's an artist. She's got to have had some strong opinions on aesthetics anyway. I doubt it's the beards; Mahtan had one as well. And 'stunted'...at least some of this comes down to the Elvish obsession with height yet again. Hm.

- eventually Caranthir overcomes what have to be some very deeply held beliefs about human beings and their place in the world, and offers what for all intents and purposes looks like real friendship, not the ruling over Men Feanor seems to have had in mind at best. He's capable of real change!

Anyway his character works just fine to me from canon, and what he achieves and the ways in which he fails are more interesting that way rather-- neither slandered Feanorian Finrod 2.0 nor Curufin 'Dwarf Fan' Feanorion without the sneakiness and murder attempts pack the same punch as a stupidly prejudiced grouchy man doing his best anyway for centuries in this stupid ugly cursed land, eventually changing for the better, opening up-- and being brutally punished for it by the Doom.

Dammit. I hope there's therapy in the Everlasting Darkness.

hm a bit long but that's what I get for trying to gather my thoughts wrt why after considering it a bit transferring Curufin's love for Dwarves to Caranthir is a bit boring to me personally. Though there are still stories that still do it very well.

#no one asked including me but there you go anyway #that's what you get when i wake up at nearly 3 in the morning and thnk. FUCK i can't sleep #caranthir

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 13

Thing promised, thing due ! It’s not your daily maana but chapter 13 of I am not your enemy which is available !

Happy reading 😉

(there's a joke that unfortunately doesn't work in English, don't be too mad on this handsome vampire please)

Chapter 13 : You always trusted him

Realizing immediately that something was wrong, the dragon eyed me worriedly, totally hypnotizing me with his icy gaze. My heart raced far more than it should at the feel of his fingers on my skin and his scent against me, the images from last night starting to loop in my head as the vampire's words still made my throat tight.

Feeling unable to answer for the moment, I quickly walked around his large stature that blocked me in order to enter the room, divided between several contradictory emotions.

That night I had let Lance see me fully and it terrified me. I wasn't just talking about my nudity. He had seen my wounds, my limits, my deepest fears, and despite the shame it caused in me, I let him do it, urging him to enter my head, my heart. Meeting him here made my hands sweaty, I didn't know how to react. I felt both euphoric and anxious to find myself in his presence. Besides, my exchange with Nevra had once again proved disastrous, which made my stomach bitter.

I definitely didn't know how to react.

Trying to ignore the footsteps that followed mine, I made my way with some haste to the back of the forge. Once in front of the weapon wall, I raised my hand to grab a sword haphazardly, except I didn't even have time to wrap my fingers around its pommel as a tanned hand grabbed mine. Like last time, I found myself trapped between Lance's body and the shelves in front of me.

- You know that it’s not because you are part of the Obsidian that you can take a weapon without authorization ? he said close to my ear.

The sudden hoarse tone of his voice made me shiver. I was aware of his every gesture, of his every breath that lifted his chest against my shoulders. He knew perfectly well where not to touch me on the level of the back so as not to hurt me and that troubled me.

- What's more, this one is way too dangerous for you.

His palm gently pulled mine away from the handle, slowly dropping our arms together along my side. He didn't let go of me though. I took a deep breath in an attempt to ignore his touch.

- Is there anything I can take here ? I tried then, injecting as much confidence and humor as possible into my intonation.

- So, you plan to train on your own and with a real blade ?

His tone, bordering on condescending, irritated me instantly. Damn, I needed to externalize everything that was swarming inside me, what the hell was he not getting in there ?

- I especially need to let off steam for a moment, do I still have the right or you will also prevent me ?

Anger, which began to grip my heart again like a vice, suddenly made a source of heat rise in the palm of my hands. It didn't take long for the dragon to realize this and suddenly squeezed me much tighter, locking my fingers against each other.

- Andraste, calm down. Now is not the time to do that here and you know it just as well as I do.

- If you let me get out of here with what I came to get, I will indeed have plenty of time to go and calm down elsewhere. Except that in the meantime, you're hurting me, Lance.

Visibly surprised by my last words, he eased the pressure on my knuckles, relieving me somewhat even though he still hugged me tightly.

- Make your light disappear and I'll let go, he chided me.

More annoyed than before crossing him, I clenched and clenched my fists to order my powers to dissipate, which didn't work as much as I wanted. Several pairs of eyes began to rest on us without discretion.

- I would like, but I must say that your touch doesn’t help me, I say defensively.

My Chief of Guard slowly unrolled his fingers from my skin, finally letting me move my wrist as I heard it. Closing my eyes for a moment, I instinctively visualized the path of my energy along my flesh, causing it to flow back to my epicenter, level with my stomach. With amazement, I discovered as I opened my eyelids that no trace of magic left my palms.

Lance pulled away from me to give me a questioning look.

- Since when do you know how to do that ? he asked me, an eyebrow raised.

- It was a first, I said with a shrug, as I myself was shocked at the outcome of my attempt. You see, I am good. So I’ve the right to train a little.

- You are incorrigible... but you’ll have to show me that in more detail.

A proud smile dawned on my lips as he blew loudly, letting out air so cold that I saw ice crystals crystallize on a blade close to him.

- Well, I think we both know how it ends when I show you things "in more detail"... is that really a good idea ? I asked him lower, almost timidly.

He looked at me for a long time, much calmer and more serene than a moment earlier. The atmosphere had changed. More intimate, more personal. As if, in this noisy and bustling room, we were suddenly alone.

- If you want us to stop our private interviews, I will comply without objection. This is your choice, not mine. But we know very well that what happened that night has nothing to do with it and that it would have ended up happening at one point or another.

The dragon approached me dangerously, a smirk so similar to that of the Ashkore era that it disturbed me.

- Know that it wasn’t the first time that I wanted to kiss your cute little mouth, he confided to me with a certain childish malice. And then, as you have already said so well, it is you who threw yourself on me. If you don't want this to happen again, just say it and for my part, I'll be able to stay perfectly docile.

I was obsessed with his words, with what they implied. Any relationship between us could only be unhealthy, totally abject. But then, why did I no longer know what I wanted or not ? Logic would have wanted us to stick to what was decently expected of us. Anger, contempt, that should have been our only fuel.

- What if that's not what I want ? I whispered so low that I was afraid he hadn't heard it. What if, for once, I had the right to listen to myself and not give a damn about the convenience of our relationships ?

Lance had never looked at me so deeply, which made me blush with stress at what I argued. Deep down, I knew the young man had fully understood what I was talking about.

- That night, when I dreamed that I was falling from the cliff... it wasn’t the first time that I had this dream. Before I fell, I still see the draflayels flying around me, but not only. I have the impression of constantly remembering that moment in Memoria, that moment when it was just you and me, I concluded hesitantly.

Never did he cut my tirade, realizing every piece of information I offered him.

- So, is that a good idea ? Probably not, no, I answered my own question a moment earlier. But I want to and for once, I want to have the right to listen to myself.

A new smile, this time much sweeter, appeared on his face before he spoke again.

- Your wishes are orders, my angel. On the other hand, only these, so do me the pleasure of getting you away from this wall of swords once and for all. Don't forget who's in charge here, he winked at me.

Lance pushed me towards the exit, I had obviously lost the battle for my weapon for a long time. Stopping in front of the exit door, the dragon seemed to hesitate for a moment, pulling one of its locks of hair back.

- I have obligations tonight, but I'll come see you tomorrow night in your room, if you want.

Without another ounce of ceremony, he turned on his heel and left me on the doorstep.

*

After literally being kicked out of the forge, I wandered aimlessly through the HQ gardens. I realized a little more every day that besides Lance, I didn't really have any relationships that I felt like myself anymore. When he wasn't there, I often walked in circles, desperately trying to find a way to make myself useful despite my poor physical condition.

No longer able to bear to see the same landscape, I decided to leave the enclosure of these walls that I knew only too well.

My steps guided me in the direction of the burrow, a place that had definitely changed in recent years. A tree with a bent shape had grown just above the crevice, which provided a corner of considerable shade in the great plain. I decided to lie there for a moment, enjoying the calm that reigned around me. Surprisingly, my back was not as painful as I would have thought, the cream of Eweleïn probably having something to do with it.

Stretched out at full length, I watched the clouds move with the light wind blowing between the branches above me. Raising a hand above my face, I lazily imagined my energy flowing through my veins to the muscles of my palm, my fingers. Several fine and luminous lines then began to run over my skin, creating a labyrinthine path on every inch that covered me. I felt good. Soothed, even.

Looking up at the blue sky, I thought I felt something brush against my whole when my eyes rested on a cloud of singular shape. My heart warmed when, in that white and vaporous cotton, I recognized the features of a fire dragon. I might not have been as lonely as I thought. A weary smile appeared on my lips, it was as if his aura had wrapped around my heart.

I knew now that he was watching over me.

- You always trusted him... I whispered. Valkyon, are you relieved of what you find in my heart ?

A new breeze lifted my hair, as if to answer my question. Savoring this moment, I closed my eyelids for a few minutes.

A hand was shaking my shoulder more and more vigorously when I finally came to reality. Slowly opening my eyelids, it took me a while to emerge from my heavy sleep. A scarred gaze plunged into mine.

But what was he doing there ?

- Did you sleep well, Steeping Beauty ?

I couldn't help but giggle at my interlocutor's attempt to quote a tale from my world.

- It's Sleeping Beauty, Nevra.

A wonderfully soft smile appeared on his usually closed face.

- You really have some odd-named stories, that's all I can remember, he said with a weak laugh.

I awkwardly straightened up to sit facing him, when a grimace of surprise and pain distorted my features as my back skin suddenly burned. The vampire immediately leaned over me in concern, one hand holding my shoulder to keep me from rocking.

- Andraste, is everything okay ?

Seriously, I've been asked this question too much lately.

(Chapter 14)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #i am not your enemy #eldarya lance #eldarya ane #beemoov #lance eldarya #lance #ashkore #eldarya fanfiction #eldarya fanfic #eldarya writing

[steves-strapcollection]

On Tragedy vs. Bad Endings

[Image ID: user @frostyfrogz​ replied to your post “my mag171 #thots: I fully agree with. I love jonmartin I want nothing but the best for them. I know my answer today was an obvious twisting of dialogue but its just frustrating sometimes because it seems like people dont understand some sort of tragedy will indeed happen. I have never and will never suggest that something will happen to Jon and Martin’s relationship I’ve just been saying the shows not going to end well no matter what.]

So I have a lot of thoughts about this very subject, and too much for the replies on my post, so allow me to try to articulate what I mean, and what a lot of us mean when we say “it does not make sense for either Jon or Martin to turn evil in the end,” even in a show that has been advertised from day one as a tragedy.

First of all, no one thinks this is going to end happy. The few who do are usually unaware that this show is billed as a tragedy, and are quick to be corrected. I didn’t know it was a tragedy until I was on season 3 and someone told me. It’s overall just best to assume that the OP knows it’s not going to be a happy ending, because “reminding” people or “explaining” to people that the ending is going to be sad is a fast way from people to get annoyed and defensive.

Anyway! It appears, above all, that people have either fundamentally different ideas of what a tragedy is or accomplishes, or that people have a fundamentally flawed understanding of tragedy and it’s place as a narrative device/theme.

My thoughts are that tragedies hurt, and tragedies can be devastating, but they have to have a message and they should not be cruel to the audience.

A cruel ending would involve leading the audience to believe one thing for the entire book, show, movie, podcast, what have you, just to rip it away at the last minute like a big “fuck you” to the audience. Those sorts of endings are inherently mocking of the audience, and ultimately disrespectful. The only people in the audience that “benefit” from this sort of writing are the cynics who spent the entire show talking down to everyone for seeing the silver lining in the impending tragedy, even if, up until the finale, the silver lining was always part of the narrative. Like it took actual twisting and outright ignoring of the narrative as it’s written to be cynical and sceptical all the way until the end.

That is, plain and simple, bad writing. Jonny Sims is not a bad writer.

Now tragedies often have “happy endings,” they just also have an element of sadness colouring that ending. A good, tragic ending should, in my opinion, feel bittersweet. We should see it coming, we should know it will hurt, but it should be for the greater good and should further the narrative that has been told from the beginning.

I said a few weeks ago that a tragic ending without a silver lining is just torture porn, and I stand by it.

Now, if Jon or Martin are revealed to be Actually Evil in the end, where is the silver lining in that? What narrative has even possibly hinted at this outcome, without putting on cynic glasses?

Every single plot point and plot “twist” in TMA has been clearly detailed, never relegated to pure subtext that you would have to comb through a single interraction and analyzing the tone in which it was said (which could easily be actor shortcomings or error). They have always been obvious, at least in hindsight. This is why, for a while, I subscribed to the Web!Martin theory, but due to recent episodes I’m more inclined to believe those “obvious things” were red herrings.

Throughout The Magnus Archives, the common theme in every. Single. Season finale is that “we are stronger together.” What do I mean by that? Well, here’s the general idea:

Season 1: The one time someone gets separated by the group for any significant length of time, like I mean the main group, she gets killed by the NotThem and replaced.

Season 2: Jon is alone, due to his intense paranoia and his reluctance to reach out for help. This leads to a disastrous series of events that leaves him a suspect of murder, and his friends even more doubtful of his character.

Season 3: In the episode just before they deal with the Unknowing, Jon literally says that isolation was his downfall, and he was going to work on trusting his friends more. When they got separated during the Unknowing, things went to shit. When they found each other again, they were able to rally and they “succeeded.” Conversely, they are also teamed up with Melanie and Martin who hung back to bring down Elias. They were successful, working as teams on separate objectives, etc.

Season 4: This is, by far, their most “successful” feats while simultaneously their least. The whole season was again showing the downfalls of isolation. In the season finale, Jon has Basira and Daisy’s help, and while bolstering himself with their strength, and the strength in his conviction to save Martin to be with Martin, Jon was successful in stopping Peter Lukas and saving Martin. Conversely, Martin and Jon’s isolation in Scotland could be, theoretically, implicated in how Jonah Magnus was able to succeed in the end like that.

Now evidence of this same train of thought in season 5? Jon literally says it: Gertrude would not have done well in this post-apocalyptic world, because she had no friendships, no anchors, no reason to stay human. And then Jon says “you are my reason” to Martin.

It is in the text of the story that the only way to succeed, or win, or survive, is through trust, friendship, and love. One of the main factors in so many of the statements, on why the statement givers succumbed to the fear in their story, for even a moment, had to do with very little personal ties to anyone else. Many of the statements feature isolation and, as Jon put it, “lack of corroboration.” On the flipside, many of the statements that ended with the statement giver escaping successfully, and surviving long enough to be reached out to for follow-up questions, involved them having close personal ties to someone else that kept them safe, somehow. Like the girl from Italy; remembering her mom saved her from the Lonely. Or, more ridiculously, the guy and his dog that escaped the spiral because he was so distracted by his dog and had to be home for dinner. In MAG170, it was Martin’s love for Jon, and his trust in the love from Jon and his friends, that saved him from the Lonely again. Jon’s incredible amount of love, and respect, and trust in his friends is what’s kept him from becoming another Jared Hopworth or Jude Perry. In MAG155, Cost of Living, he expresses open disgust in how that particular avatar of The End justified her actions, killing and killing and killing again because she viewed herself as more worthy of life than that person. In that same episode, he talks of not blinding himself because he hopes to use his powers to protect his friends, that without them they’re too vulnerable. Honestly, this is the same reason Peter Lukas is unsuccessful, because Martin only helped him at all to protect his friends. The fact that he didn’t see his failure coming was hilarious.

Gerry said in Family Business that there is no “entities of love”, and that might be true, but love and trust is literally what saves you from fear. How many of us deal with things that are scary in our lives, if only because we have some level of trust in the people or things around us. How many of us have been brought out of a panic attack by someone we love and trust?

So all of this has been presented to us, over and over and over again, which is what I, and others, mean when we say “it does not make sense for one of them to be evil.” That’s what we mean when we say “it would be Bad Writing to make one of them evil in the end.” The entire show has driven home the message that we need love, we need personal connections to survive fear. To rip that away from the main characters at the last minute and call it “tragedy” would be a spit in the face of every single listener who took the story at face value, without picking it apart and reading lines out of context. And Jonny Sims and Alex J. Newall have both said they hate lazy writing.

Now, none of the JonMartin fans I follow are deluding themselves to think this show will have a happy ending outside of very self-indulgent fix-it au fanfics.

The way I see this going down is that Jon and Martin will figure out how to put the world back to the way it was, but Jon will not be able to be part of the new world with Martin. That’s the tragedy; that the world gets saved, and Jon helps save it, but he doesn’t get to benefit from his efforts in any way. The tragedy is Jon loves Martin so much, and they deserve their happy ending, but they don’t get it. But, they still saved the world so others can have their happy endings.

Idk about you, but between the “Jon turns evil in the end” and “Jon stays good and sacrifices himself to save the world” endings, only one of them has me in tears right now as I type this out, and it’s not the former.

I’m not against sad endings,I’m against bad endings that punish the audience for having even a bittersweet hope. I’m against sad endings that are just sad for the sake of being sad, with zero pay-off or reason to happen, especially when those endings throw out 5 years of hard work.

And hey, I might just be forced to eat my words in the end, but not before I fly all the way to England and make Jonny Sims eat a knuckle sandwich.

This was a lot longer than I meant for it to be, but I just have a lot of feelings.

#jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #THE POWER OF LOVE AND TRUST WILL SAVE THE WORLD #also idk the proper format of like image id's but i didn't want to NOT type out the reply #my mag thots #500 notes

[wonda-cat]

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind. 

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc. 

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken. 

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable. 

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions. 

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future. 

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way. 

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating. 

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile. 

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development. 

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be. 

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.) 

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.) 

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed. 

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun. 

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance. 

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy. 

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them. 

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side. 

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable. 

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic. 

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy. 

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric. 

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless. 

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment. 

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator. 

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology. 

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.) 

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser. 

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him. 

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice. 

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch. 

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen. 

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate. 

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach. 

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial. 

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault. 

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened? 

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed. 

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly. 

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return. 

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished. 

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self. 

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime. 

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever. 

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans. 

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess. 

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption. 

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously? 

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers. 

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time. 

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.) 

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long. 

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others. 

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary. 

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications. 

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that. 

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another. 

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future. 

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction. 

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story. 

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring. 

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch. 

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.) 

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith. 

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway? 

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place. 

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue. 

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.

#answered asks #long post #tommyinnit #dream smp meta #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #this is slightly outdated still but whatever #hope this was helpful anon #tw abuse #tw suicide

[niuniente]

As the New Year 2021 is finally here, following the demanding year of 2020, I decided to make a global reading to check energies of 2021. You might want to read this as global energies affect every one of us in a way or another.

We’ve reached the top of 2020, The Sacred Mountain. The climb has been demanding – more for some than others – and we have needed to overcome obstacles. Notice also how Sacred Mountain as a symbol is related to hermits, who isolate themselves from others to be on top of the mountain. Year 2020 was a year of isolation and distance, which was part of the hard climb we all had to go up in a way or another. While it doesn’t look like it, year 2020 served its spiritual higher purpose and thus it was a sacred year. Usually the most demanding years are the best in a long run for us all. We might be here anymore to see the events which evolve in the future – like in 100 years – but people in 2121 will be able to track things from their time to 2020 and its events.

As we leave 2020 behind, we emerge more wiser than in the beginning of 2020 with the Elder card. This is the most important key for the next year. All the knowledge, wisdom and experience we have gathered in 2020 will serve us in 2021 (and for many for a lot longer). Many people emerge from the old to this new year with new understanding. We have seen globally how different old masks and facades fall, how peoples’ truest wants and desires come out, how governments truly are etc. That was also part of the 2020’s lessons so that we’d learn to turn within and trust our own guidance. This is also the message of the Elder. The humanity will continue turning more within and accept less from the outside sources in 2021. This is the time of a major energy shift, when people are awakening to their own powers, to their own wants. No more walking with closed eyes while forgetting ourselves. We have gained understanding of how things can be done differently (for example remote work, online purchases, better communal operations) and there’s no return to the old with the wisdom of Elder. Surely, government and the status quo that’s “dying” will try to keep up with it (good example is Trump refusing to leave his post. He’s an embodiment of the old times which won’t work anymore but which refuse to let go of their benefits and what they have gained without a futile fight).

Year 2021 will be the element of Air. Air is wonderful because it represents dreams, ideas, thought and freedom. We will feel a sense of lightness this year when the year changes and we have big hopes that things will turn better in 2021. People will be keener on trying new things, developing new things, having better innovations and this will affect also marketing and business. While the business world is all about money, they are very adaptable now and willing to try new things because how people behave and think and live has changed in 2020 for good. Air is also the second most spiritual element right after water, so changes in old religions can happen (like them being more open minded and really going there to genuinely help people). People are awakening more for the spirituality and will want to find their own ways. Revival of old religions and traditions can also arise more in 2021.

Air’s negative side is that it’s fickle and can’t make decisions. It’s hasty, unreliable, hard to grasp, too high to understand. While ideas appear, they might not be able to put in use yet. We can take a breather but obstacles of 2020 aren’t yet over. For that, there’s Narrow Pathway. It means that the path that opens in 2021 after the struggles of 2020 is narrow and we might need to squeeze through it with our last strength, without knowing what’s on the other end (because of the fickle air). The world isn’t free from obstacles yet and this is understandable. Themes of 2020 will continue appear in 2021 too with the card of Overcoming Obstacles, but they won’t be so disastrous or demanding anymore. In 2021, we’re mending things and overcoming them. The worst is behind. It is the last sprint.

What these obstacles are globally are related to government, work life, employment, social security, social structures etc. a bit depending what country it is we’re talking about. That’s why Discovering Truth is present in this reading. Like said, 2020 shook people up; “Wake up! Listen! Are you following your own truth or someone else’s? Who are you? What do you want? Are you happy in your life? If not what needs to change?”

People will be less willing to just suck it up and follow blindly authorities with their demands. Together with the Spirit of Air, the innovative governments, companies, organizations and people, who operate together with others giving them freedom to choose and live from their truth, will succeed the best in 2021.  This unwillingness to give your own power back can appear as clashes against old authorities refusing to let go of their old glory. People are closing the moment when they have had enough of all bullshit. It is important that everyone finds their own truth and lives from it. The obstacles appearing in front of every person this year will ask them “Who are you? What do you truly want?” It might not be a time for taking action yet for everyone as the Air represents thinking and thoughts. It is definitely good year for some mental work and figuring out who we are. I think everyone will have more or less work on that this year.

Voyage of the Heart is very soothing and warming. It says that this all happens so that people would dare to go towards their dreams. That they would learn to listen to their hearts instead of listening others, following authorities and traditions blindly, and operating from the space outside heart (fear, gluttony, greed etc.) There’s NOTHING wrong with following any authority if it makes the person happier, more fulfilled, more in tune with who they are. Some people will find different guides, authorities etc. for this new journey they want to follow. That’s okay.

Matters of heart will be important. Compassion, wanting to be together and unite again are strongly present in 2021. The year 2020 stopped everyone on their track, forced them to climb up the Sacred Mountain without much any help and leisure, isolated everyone from one another and did this so that we would see what is TRULY important to us. What truly makes people happy and healthy. Connection to others. Compassion. Kindness. Free will. Freedom. Laughter. Socializing. Hobbies. Friends. Family. Loved ones. Nature. Working together for a better goal. All these are high qualities which are natural to us. These qualities will get more important role in 2021 and we will appreciate these a lot. I just saw the movie Soul and laughed how such a movie with a motto “Enjoy your life & See what’s truly important in it” appears in the year 2020 which forces people to stop and do those things. The reward of all these wonderful things will taste even better in 2021.

Voyage of the Heart can mean for some people that they will find a new home somewhere else. They will move and start anew. Relocating is typical for awakening of one’s heart and own truth.  This is also feminine card and feminine energy will heal more in 2021. This has been already happening (see Me Too-movement and Black Lives Matter) and it continues in 2021. Many can figure out this year that it is OK to be feminine and have gentle qualities. This includes companies and authorities with gentler, nurturing, more accepting and creative approaches and values. Green values are part of the uprise of feminine energy.

The 2021 will have a Favorable Outcome. It also says that all this bullshit we’ve gone through will have a Favorable Outcome for the whole world in a long run (but like I said, we might not be here to witness all those good things). New innovations, people rising up to fight for their right for happy and meaningful life, fighting against oppression so that all would be treated equal, quitting the old bullshit spewed on us by the authorities, and all personal discoveries will benefit everyone. As we’re all connected to one another, your personal happiness will spread through this network of souls to others and uplift not only you but the whole global energy.

This Is Your Life’s Purpose says that we all came here on this time intentionally. It’s not a coincidence. We are all gaining something of this energy shift which will support us in our daily lives, in our bodies, in our purpose. Remember what I said about the movie Soul? Yeah. That’s the thing happening now! The harder the obstacles hit the farther you have accidentally wandered from your truth and yourself. It can be hard, but you can do it! No matter where you are now, it is OK.

Focus Upon Divine And Perfect Health is a wonderful thing to see for 2021! Covid will loose its grip on us and we would do well if we concentrated more on thinking health and healthy thoughts and mongering in fear. This DOESN’T mean that people should dismiss the pandemic. No. It means “Keep Calm and Carry On”. Wash your hands. Keep your distance to others. Wear a mask. Look after yourself and others. Don’t take stupid risks. And, while doing that, concentrate on health, healthy thoughts and the promise that this pandemic shall pass. We’re almost at the end of it. The scientific discoveries as well as the economical and social discoveries and changes will promote better health for people in the future, too, and hopefully change for example work life to healthier with remote works and such (of course, it is not possible to change ALL working environments to healthier in a zap, but any progress is better than no progress). Also, as people respect their truth and themselves, and allow the feminine energies flow with nurturing, creativity, equality, girl power etc. it will benefit peoples’ health too. This includes everyone no matter how their identify themselves. Energies don’t have genders or identities. They just are, just like colors.

The last card is Let Go Of Fear…Now. This is for the end of the year. Things will be better then but everyone will benefit if they can calm down as much as possible and fear as little as possible. Suppressing emotions and feelings is not healthy, so if you feel something, you feel it. Getting stuck in there is the problem. As the previous cards said, the new changes will let people and businesses let go of some fears, which will benefit people in a long run (like “if I let my employees have remote work days, they will be lazy”).  The fear of the pandemic should also ease up the deeper we get into 2021. Notice also how the character is a man and in the sword, there’s a reflection of another man. This is a symbol of masculine energy also healing. Masculine energy is toxic when it has lost its connection to feminine energy (and feminine energy is toxic when it has lost its connection to masculine energy). As the feminine energy cleans up and gets stronger, it will benefit masculine energy and men/those who identify themselves as men or masculine. Men are healing, too, and a health masculinity is protective, loving, supportive, gentle and warm.

This is a promise that there’s nothing to be afraid in 2021. Everything is panning out in the big picture exactly as it should, even if it didn’t feel like it from our limited perspective. All is well and all will be even better.

#new year 2021 #oracle stuff #tarot #spiritual #niu's prediction for 2021

[z-rayed]

Anxiety - AxelxJemma

Hey there! As I see, my first drabble was pretty much of success, so I decided to write one more, now with Axel. Attention! There’s a topic which can influence your mental condition! If you are mentally unstable, please either be careful or don’t read it! Word count: 1913

The school day was finally over. A lot of students gathered in small groups, chatting happily about interesting things they saw or heard during the day. But for Axel there was no place to have fun in his heart. 

'Where are you? Why didn't you tell anybody what happened to you?'

The worst thoughts came into his mind, and no matter how he tried to not to think about anything bad, the thoughts kept popping out. And there was the reason for that. For the first time in 2.5 months Jemma didn't come to classes. At all. 

The first class was math. Usually she came at least 10 minutes before the lesson started, but not that day. The bell rang, and still there was no sign of the blonde girl. Soon after came Ms. Rodrigues and looked around the classroom.

'I don't see Jemma, does anyone know what happened to her?' She asked.

There was an unearthly silence in the class. Everyone looked at each other, waiting for an answer, but nothing was said. 

'Strange, even when she feels bad, she comes to classes.' She signed. 'Anyway, let us begin the lesson.'

Axel skipped math class as usual and didn't know about the situation. But before the next class Raquel found him playing the guitar in the garden. 

'Hey bro, do you know anything about Jay?'

This was the first thing she said. Not 'hello', 'how are you' and so on. That confused Axel.

'What do you mean?'

'She wasn't in math class and no one knows where she is!'

At that moment Axel felt like the world began to ruin inside of him. He jumped up abruptly and headed for the infirmary. Maybe he could get information there. Unfortunately, the nurse didn't know anything.

'I'm sorry, Axel, but she didn't come here and no one told me what happened to Jemma.'

He started to shake a little, his legs buckled, but he still managed to thank the nurse and dash out of the infirmary. So many questions were in his head; where she was, what she was doing, whether she was okay or not and many others. The only thing he knew was the fact he needed to find her. He didn’t give a damn about classes, who even cared about those classes at the moments like this? As Axel approached the exit a strong hand gripped his shoulder. So many negative emotions hit him at that moment: anger, even fury, resentment, bitterness and pain. He turned around only to see the last person he wanted to see now.

‘Tadashit.’ There was a clear threat in his voice, but Tadashi was unwavering. Axel tried to let go of his grip but it was very strong and his strength seemed to leave him. ‘Leave me alone.’

‘Listen, Axel.’ Tadashi began to speak, choosing his words as carefully as he could. ‘I know you worry about Jemma. Me too. But you shouldn’t-’

‘Leave me freaking ALONE!’ The last word was so loud everyone in the main hallway looked in his direction. ‘I don’t give a damn what you think and what you say. Just stay out of my way.’

‘And do you really think your skipping classes would help Jemma? And if you find her, what good will it do you?’

‘I don’t care what it would cost me! Just move your ass already!’ With his hands clenched into fists, it was as if he was killing anyone who stood in his way with his gaze.

‘Well, let's say you find her after spending a lot of time, but you will be expelled, and you will not be able to be together. Is that what you want? To make her feel alone?’ Tadashi’s voice was quiet, deep and quite angry, but he tried to stay calm as much as possible. He knew Axel was in pain, he didn’t think clearly. For the first time he felt sorry for someone like him. That was why Tadashi tried to put him on the right track, not to do the mistake that would cost him a lot.

Axel said nothing. He just couldn’t. It was like something hit him so hard he couldn’t do anything. He shivered all over. The only thing he managed to do was to cover his face with hands. Tadashi finally let go of his shoulder. Having no strength to stand, Axel squatted down, and tears began to fall on his palms. Unable to look at him, Tadashi turned away.

‘You can skip the next class but not the others.Calm down and after that come to classes. I'll figure something out.’

Axel nodded, stood up, wiping tears, and went to the direction of the cafetery. He had a long day ahead of him so he needed some energy. 

After a really hard day, he still had a mission to accomplish. He had to find Jay. 

‘Jelly. I will search for you no matter what. I have so much to tell you and to show you. Just wait a little bit longer.’ He was so desperate he even began to talk to himself. His hands were still trembling but he tried to stay calm. And, to be honest, he did it pretty well despite the situation he was in.

Taking a deep breath, Axel headed out to the dorms. He looked around carefully while he was between the academy and the dorms, having a little hope he could find her there. No luck. He reached the door to her room and was ready to knock but then he noticed that it was slightly open. Taking a deep breath again, he came in. But he didn’t expect to see what happened here.

An almost pitch darkness met him. There was no light except for the one that came from a corridor but it was so not enough to light up the room but enough to see what was on the floor. A lot of pills and the person he worried about as hell in the middle of this circle of drugs. Jemma was sitting there but she didn’t even turn to the source of the sound and the light. Axel rushed to her, moving all that medicine away and looked at Jay’s eyes but once he studied her glance he was horrified. It was empty, almost lifeless. Axel put hands on her shoulders and began to shake her a little.

‘Jelly, can you hear me? What happened to you?’ Nothing changed. She still looked like she didn’t notice him at all. He began to panic and hugged her desperately.

‘I’m here, sunshine! I’m here for you! Please, come to me!!!’ With the last sentence he began to cry again. ‘Please… I have so much to tell you, just come to me…’

‘Uh…’ Suddenly Jemma moved a little. Trying to calm himself down, Axel carefully moved away from her, his hands were still at her shoulders. She glanced at him and smiled faintly, her eyes began to glitter a little.

‘I’m… so… sorry… I…’ Not finishing the sentence, she fell right on Axel. He felt so frightened he barely could think. But he knew one thing: he needed to take Jay to the infirmary. Taking her into his arms, he rushed out of her room, hoping she would be alright.

***

‘Thanks for bringing her here, if you have done it a bit later, that would have been a disastrous outcome for her.’ The doctor came to Axel after taking some blood tests and examinations. ‘Sorry for not giving you the option to stay with her.’

‘I understand, sir. How is she?’ Axel was nervous, very nervous.

‘Actually, you’re right on time. She woke up a few minutes a-’ Without listening to the end of the sentence, he hastily opened the door and dashed to infirmary beds, finding Jay immediately and hugging her tight.

‘I’m so glad you’re awake! I was so worried about you and-’ Jemma groaned a bit and Axel moved away a little, looking frightened ah hell.

‘I’m happy for such a greeting, but it hurts…’ He was ready to put a hand on her head and stroke her hair but was interrupted by the doctor cleaning his throat.

‘Young man, please don’t do this again, you could interfere with patients’ rest. Anyway, here are the results of your tests and according to them you had-’

‘Overdose. That was my conscious decision.’ To say it was strange for Axel to hear that saying so casually was to say nothing. He felt as if the ground was slipping away from under his feet. He was shaking a lot and was ready to cry again, but he managed to place his hands on Jemma’s.

‘Why did you do that?’ His voice cracked a bit but he tried to stay as calm as he could and not to worry Jay. She took one of his hands and put it in her cheek.

‘I’m sorry I’ve worried you so much. But… how should I start?.. Okay, I’m going to tell this straight. My mom’s condition got worse. Much worse. Dad called me yesterday in the morning. He was crying. You know, he’s a captain of British Navy yet he cried so bitterly… It was awful but the most awful was that I couldn’t do anything to help my mother. I felt so useless I began to have a breakdown. The pain was so big I wanted to numb it. And then… well, you saw me, Axel. I’m sorry. I am truly.’ Jay started to cry and Axel hugged her carefully this time, letting her cry into his shoulder. The doctor looked at them with a bit of sorrow.

‘I looked through your medical file and I have one question for you. Have you had the overdose before?’ Jemma hesitated for a few seconds but lying to a doctor couldn’t make her any good.

‘Yes. It was about two years ago.’ Axel hugged her tighter.

‘And what was the treatment?’

‘That overdose affected me stronger so I had to lie in the hospital for some time.’

‘I see. You can rest now. I’ll give you some privacy so you two can talk and then I’ll prescribe a diet to you.’ The doctor was ready to leave but Jemma stopped him.

‘Can you… not tell my family about it? I don’t want them to know I’m in such condition.’ The doctor thought for a bit then nodded.

‘Usually I don’t agree not to inform parents in case of students being minors, but I understand your decision. I won’t call them.’ And with that he left.

Now there were only two of them. A comfortable silence surrounded them and they tried to enjoy it. Still, there were words to say and things to do. Axel let go of Jay for a bit, not taking his arms away from her, and began to talk.

‘Jelly… Please, don’t do that again. At least for my sake. I was so-’

‘Shh.’ She touched his lips with her finger and then lightly kissed him on the lips, shaking her head. ‘There’s no need in words, darling. I know.’

Axel nodded, smiling, and kissed her again. That was a kiss full of hope to be with a person they loved as much as he could. Sitting quietly in the infirmary and being in each other's hands, they were in their own world where no one put life into danger and just expressed their feelings.

#sweet elite #se axel #se scholar #drabble

[memoirsofabasicbitch]

The thing is, I’m not entirely sure I remember how to dream. How to write. How to imagine anything independently of a world created by someone else, in their mind.

I’ve grown so used to hanging my dreams on what other people have created for me that I don’t know if that person is still in there.

That weird little girl, who peeled acorns for squirrels, and walked in circles over and over and over again on the roots of the big oak tree. She had a big imagination. She told herself all sorts of stories.

Was it just because I couldn’t play the other games? Too slow - reflexes and running. Too weak - climbing, throwing, running, playing.

(Or was it because I wasn’t allowed to — couldn’t — play those games? I have a few dim memories of trying to play and being sent away. They’re dim though. I stopped asking.)

Or was it simply that I was filling time? Waiting until I could go back into a world I could navigate a little better than the playground?

Sometimes, though, I was waiting. Hoping, really.

More than a few times.

A lot.

I hoped, I thought, maybe - maybe if I walk in the right way, I’ll hear the trees laughing, like Anne told Diana about. Maybe they’ll talk to me. Maybe a faerie will come creeping out from a little crevice and wave, winking. Maybe a squirrel will come crawling down the wrinkled bark while I watch, and take the little heap of acorn meat I’d left for him. Maybe there’s a tiny scrap of magic somewhere in the world that I just haven’t found yet.

I haven’t had dreams for a long time. That’s what happens when your dreams have expiration dates. I’ve already missed most of mine.

Never really even came close.

I had a “schedule” that makes me want to cry to think of it. Meet someone in college or shortly after. Get married by 25, so we would have a few years together after college. Have our first child by 27, because mom always said I should start having babies by 30 if I really wanted to have more than one and space them out.

I’m 28. I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone, romantic or platonic. I’ve never had a best friend who would place me on the same importance as I would them.

I have borderline personality disorder. I have adhd. I am on the autism spectrum. I have depression and anxiety so severe they cripple me. More than one of these things may be false. The symptoms are nearly indistinguishable once you have more than 2. No one will give me a straight answer, and no two doctors can agree.

Added onto years of emotional and mental abuse - which is what it was, wasn’t it. Maybe because I’m autistic, maybe it really was that bad. Neglect, sure. Public humiliation, that happened too, I’m pretty sure. Being told flat out that I was stupid and fat and ugly and I was lucky to have any friends at all so maybe I should just shut up and sit down before I ended up with none.

I’m pretty sure that happened. I don’t really remember it though. I don’t really have any memories at all.

Supposedly that’s something that happens with “complex post traumatic stress disorder,” which generally crops up when a person is systematically ground down for a long time until there is nothing left but the stories they told themselves when they tried to explain to the fake audience in their head who they were. How they got that way.

I don’t know who I was, who I could have been if I hadn’t had the life I did. Maybe my memories are skewed.

My therapist didn’t seem to think so, but she also sometimes seemed to think I was full of shit. That’s probably me reading too much into things again. That’s what I do.

Was it really that bad? I remember a lot of screaming, and crying, and hiding, and wishing I was dead or that someone would just hit me already so I would have something to say, to tell people other than “they yell at me and make me cry and sometimes they grab my arms and shake me and sometimes they tell me they’ll throw me out onto the street to fend for myself and sometimes they tell me they love me so much they’re so sorry and then sometimes they cry”.

But how much of that was me? How much was that my perception of things? Am I really that crazy, or have I really been gaslit that much? Is it gaslighting if they didn’t even realize how much pain they caused you, which is why they say “it wasn’t that bad stop exaggerating”?

Did I imagine all of it?

If I did, if I didn’t, what was real? What had the weight I felt it carry? What should have been a minor blip in my life but instead metastasized into a catastrophe?

I don’t know. Maybe I never knew. Reality hasn’t ever been my friend.

Fantasy is so much better.

It’s painful now, though. To read some of these stories, these books I used to adore.

Stories about Mature Adult Women of 25! Whole! Years! Going on adventures and meeting their soulmates and having wonderful happy lives.

I’m spiraling. It’s late. I’m tired and a little high, wishing I was higher and maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.

Bilbo was middle aged, wasn’t he? When he went on his adventure? He had an adventure, and then he came home and had a long, rich, happy, lonely, bitter life. Hmm. Perhaps the one ring is not the best foundation for a guiding principle.

I went to law school because I’d come to the end of every plan I actually had. (You don’t really plan for a future when you’ve been suicidal since before puberty.) I figured I’d get to read and write at least reasonably interesting things, make good money, maybe even make a difference.

I’ve been a paralegal for the same law firm I worked for right out of college for two years now and I have never felt more like a shambling corpse.

When I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a job. Could I have tried harder? Sure. Is executive dysfunction a bitch? You bet.

So I worked for a family friend’s law firm. Personal injury and medical malpractice. She’s the mother of my older sister’s oldest best friend and has employed all of my mother’s three daughters.

She’s also a heinous bitch and a terrible boss. Her employees have a shelf life of about 2 years. I’ve hit my expiration date. Once you’ve audibly cried during a phone conference, you’re really near the bottom. Once she decides you suck at your job, there’s no coming back. Either you quit or you get fired. She prefers when people quit so she can blame them and not feel guilty. So she just increasingly treats people worse and worse until they quit in self defense.

I worked for her for a year. It was awful. I became an alcoholic and gained 25+ lbs.

I decided to go to law school.

I moved to New Orleans.

I made friends. I had an apartment all to myself. I had a life I actually enjoyed.

Then I graduated.

And I couldn’t get a job again.

(Of course, all of this is underpinned with my cyclical periods of intense illness, often accompanied by being hospitalized and missing long periods of school. In college and in law school, actually.)

(All the cocaine and drinking didn’t help either.)

(Ah, New Orleans. How I miss thee.)

So I ended up at the same firm again. Living with my parents. Again.

Then I passed the bar.

Now I’m doing the same work as my younger sister, for the same amount of money. (When she graduated from her masters program and was unemployed for 6 months, I convinced my boss to hire my younger sister again, and my sister to work for my boss again after a semi-disastrous summer job.)

(To be fair, while I’m technically a licensed attorney, she has a masters in education, so it’s not like there’s a massive education disparity here.)

(It doesn’t help that I’m barred in a different jurisdiction than the one my firm typically works in, so there aren’t any cases I can really work on as an attorney, and then on top of that my bosses don’t want to pay for malpractice insurance for me so I’m not allowed to practice as an attorney or put that I’m an attorney or call myself an attorney or even put in my letterhead that I’m licensed in the District of Columbia.)

Then there was a pandemic, and I decided I probably shouldn’t try to make a huge life change during a pandemic.

The pandemic is still fucking here. Nearly. Two. Years. Later.

So I guess I have to make a new plan.

Can I be a lawyer? I guess we’ll see.

I don’t really want to, though. I’m burned out and I wasn’t even practicing.

I want to move to a beach and write a novel and actually have a life I enjoy.

The problems with this plan are numerous. Not only is inertia an incredibly powerful enemy of mine, but I’ve lost all imagination.

I cannot imagine a future in which I am happy. Will I kill myself? Probably not, at least not for a long while. I’ve thought too long and hard about the long-lasting, far-reaching repercussions it would have. (Say what I will about my family, at least it’s always been clear that my death is NOT an acceptable outcome.)

I want to find my imagination again. I want to be able to imagine not only a future in which I am happy, but other futures, other worlds. I want to be able to dream, not only for me, not only for reality, but for unreality. I want to create worlds in my mind again, and allow them to take whatever shapes they wish.

I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if all those horrible teachers, all those “peer editors” in fucking elementary school were right, and my story ideas are hackneyed and overwrought.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if they were wrong. Wouldn’t it be nice, to start writing, and to find that my imagination didn’t go so very far.

It’s been hiding in the intertwined branches of a birch grove, slim and tall and ringing with laughter. In the space between stars. Down the path shaded with wisteria and jasmine and honeysuckle, where the scent and the heat and the humidity are so thick you can feel the heavy perfume coating your lungs. Tucked away, safe, waiting to peek out. Waiting to creep down the wrinkled bark of a huge old oak and wink at the little girl playing among its roots.

I hope it is there. I hope I can find it.

I’ll keep you posted.

This is my own personal void to yell into, after all.

#on writing #my life #a memoir lol

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I enjoyed reading your answer about your very British Conservatism being influenced by the ideas Edmund Burke and of course Burke became famous for his opposition to the French Revolution and the ideas therein. Given that you are a British conservative living in Paris and Bastille Day is soon upon France (July 14) was the French Revolution really a revolution or just a changing of the guard ie removing one elite (the nobility) to make room for another elite (the bourgeois)? Was it just Burke who thought that or other prominent philosophers?

I will have to say more about the conservative beliefs I hold at another time because it’s more than just following the ideas of Edmund Burke, great though he was. Because while certainly he is good bench mark to understand Conservative ideas and he has become a standard bearer for modern political conservatism, his ideas and legacy remains fiercely debated and the question of whether he was a philosopher at all in the traditional sense of the term is also hotly discussed by scholars.

What we can say with somewhat more certainty is that he was arguably the first one who was ‘forced’ to articulate Conservative principles and ideas on paper. But Conservatism didn’t begin with Burke because he was articulating what was already known to past generations and to his contemporary peers. There was no need to systemise a way of thinking and get it down onto paper. So at heart conservatism isn’t a rigid set of ideological beliefs but a state of being rooted in experience, common wisdom, custom, and what Burke called ‘the nature of things’. For Burke the so-called French Revolution went against the nature of things.

According to the standard narrative, the French celebrate their National Day each year on July 14 by remembering the storming of the Bastille, the hated symbol of the antiquated ancien regime. It was at this key point that the united people took the law in its own hands and gave birth to modern France in a heroic revolution.

But was it a revolution?

In Burke’s time opinion was divided all across Europe to interpret the seismic upheaval in France. It really depended on where you were living and under what particular regime.

I can’t go into a whole survey of thinkers and their thought and opinions they held but let me settle on one interesting one figure only because he’s such a fascinating thinker whose ideas continue to influence our moral and political philosophy. I’m talking about Immanuel Kant (1724-1804), the famous German philosopher and prominent thinker of his time.

In the view of Immanuel Kant there was no real revolution. He understood it as an unlawful and violent toppling of the old regime. Writing in the wake of the events, he concluded that the King, by a very serious error in judgment had unintentionally abdicated and left the power to the people. Kant agnostically asked: was it really a revolution, or not?

Every thinker writes within the context of his times and Kant is no different. Kant’s view has often been derided as a sneaky way to justify the revolution without being seen in public as doing so. Defending the revolution publicly could attract the King’s ire. The Prussian king, like all Europe’s sovereigns, feared the advancement of the revolution, and endorsements by opinion leaders might hasten that outcome. Kant, who was a professor at Königsberg, was Germany’s premier philosopher. He had many followers and defended a highly idealistic moral theory with clear affinities to the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Thus, fear of censorship could have been Kant’s reason for misrepresenting the event as something else than a revolution.

But perhaps Kant’s interpretation was quite sincere?

If we explore Kant’s politics in context the first thing to notice is the scope of his argument: it was about the events of 1789, not the various (and bloody) transformations of the next decade. Moreover, the events he had in mind resembled a fairly orderly democratic transition. King Louis XVI was facing a disastrous debt crisis and his juridical institutions were recalcitrant to establish new taxes to make up for the debt. To solve the situation, the absolute monarch invited all male taxpayers over 25 years of age to elect deputies to a representative assembly (called the Estates-General), which was to deliberate about solutions to the debt and on how to improve the state’s wellbeing in general. This proto-democratic assembly met at Versailles on May 5, 1789.

Almost immediately, it became apparent that this archaic arrangement - the group had last been assembled in 1614 - would not sit well with its present members. Although Louis XVI granted the Third Estate greater numerical representation, the Parlement Of Paris stepped in and invoked an old rule mandating that each estate receive one vote, regardless of size. As a result, though the Third Estate was vastly larger than the clergy and nobility, each estate had the same representation - one vote. Inevitably, the Third Estate’s vote was overridden by the combined votes of the clergy and nobility.

The fact that the Estates-General hadn’t been summoned in nearly 200 years probably says a thing or two about its effectiveness. The First and Second Estates - clergy and nobility, respectively - were too closely related in many matters. Both were linked intrinsically to the royalty and shared many similar privileges. As a result, their votes often went the same way, automatically neutralising any effort by the Third Estate.

Additionally, in a country as secularised as France at the time, giving the church a full third of the vote was ill-advised: although France’s citizens would ultimately have their revenge, at the time the church’s voting power just fostered more animosity. There were numerous philosophers in France speaking out against religion and the mindless following that it supposedly demanded, and many resented being forced to follow the decisions of the church on a national scale.

Beyond the chasm that existed between it and the other estates, the Third Estate itself varied greatly in socioeconomic status: some members were peasants and labourers, whereas others had the bourgeois occupations, wealth, and lifestyles of nobility. These disparities between members of the Third Estate made it difficult for the wealthy bourgeois members to relate to the peasants with whom they were grouped.

Because of these rifts, the Estates-General, though organised to reach a peaceful solution, remained in a prolonged internal feud. It was only through the efforts of men such as Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès (1748-1836) that the members of the Third Estate finally realised that fighting among themselves was fruitless and that if they took advantage of the estate’s massive size, they would be a force that could not be ignored.

The summoning of the Estates General assembly was usually thought of as a revolutionary act, since the King had not intended to relinquish his absolute power. He had just asked for advice on how to run the country. But according to Kant, the King’s intentions were of no consequence. Once he had committed the error of setting up a representative organ he was no longer the sovereign ruler. Absolutism relied on the notion of the monarch as the sole representative of the people (which otherwise would be a disorderly multitude). Once the monarch abandoned that task he could no longer claim to be the ruler, and his sovereignty automatically “passed to the people”. So while the Estates General assembly was rigged to give veto power to the nobility and the clergy – the defenders of the old regime – the Third Estate acted in concert and asserted its power upon the assembly. Asserting its sovereignty, the assembly started preparations for a new constitution enshrining the values of liberté, égalité, and fraternité.

Kant’s view was not so controversial at the time. Edmund Burke (1729-1797) too thought the King had abandoned absolute sovereignty, something that pleased the conservative publicist, who was sceptical to absolute power whether in the hands of the king or the people. But Burke and Kant disagreed on what came in its stead. Burke concluded that power reverted to the ancient constitution of the feudal society that existed prior to royal absolutism. That society had dispersed power among the church, the nobility, the commoners, and the king. Kant, however, did not consider government of such mixed nature to be a real government at all, but just a collection of groups and persons pursuing their private interests.

Moreover, the representative assembly Louis XVI had convoked was elected by the people (or at least the propertied males) and was to represent not just special groups but also the nation as a whole. This was perfectly in line with Kant’s view of popular sovereignty as the ultimate source of justice in any government. He shared this view with Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès  who was not just the most influential French popular leader but also an admirer of Kant. Like Sieyès, Kant did not hate monarchy. He simply considered that once the popular assembly had been set up, the King was reduced to a constitutional monarch, with no right to reverse the process. The popular uprising that followed in the summer of 1789 and that culminated with the storming of the Bastille was not a revolution since sovereignty was already with the people. It was just the result of popular fears that the monarch would claw back the power he had abandoned.

For Burke, he undoubtedly did see it as a revolution. But interestingly he described the Revolution as a ‘democratic revolution’. Indeed he called this “new democracy” a “monstrous tragicomic scene” – monstrous because it was deforming the body politic, tragicomic because in its attempts to establish democracy it was undermining democracy’s own principles. At first, Burke seems to claim that the revolutionary government is democratic only in facade. “I do not know under what description to class the present ruling authority in France… It affects to be a pure democracy, though I think it is in a direct train of becoming shortly a mischievous and ignoble oligarchy.” Burke here seems to suggest that democracy is a cover for an oligarchic class rule in France (the bourgeois). But he doesn’t stop there because he is also quick to acknowledge almost immediately that democracy is emerging in France, and it is quickly on its way to degenerating into a tyrannical government of the masses. “If I recollect rightly, Aristotle observes that a democracy has many striking points of resemblance with a tyranny. Of this I am certain, that in a democracy the majority of citizens is capable of exercising the most cruel oppressions upon the minority whenever strong divisions prevail in that kind of polity.” Thus, Burke presents the revolutionary government as, on the one hand, an oligarchy pretending to be a democracy, and, on the other hand, a true democracy, in which the masses exercise tyranny through “popular persecution.”

For Kant it can be argued that he saw the French Revolution as not a violent revolution by the courageous masses, but a democratic transition. Burke would of course disagree. But I think both would agree for different reasons that the events that led to the French Revolution was set in motion by the king himself.

So perhaps one can agree with both that the real French Revolution began not on 14 July but 5 May 1789 when King Louis XVI summoned the Estates-General for its first meeting since 1614.

Thanks for your question.

#ask #question #french revolution #edmund burke #immanuel kant #kant #burke #monarchy #society #culture #philosophy #conservatism #ideas #july 14 #bastille day #france #history

[raisingsupergirl]

Do You See My God?

So, I know this woman. She's a hard-nosed, Bible-thumping Christian, and, we'll say… opinionated. She's the type who sees the world a certain way, forsakes all others, and lives by the all-inclusive mantra, "Everyone is free to have their own opinions, but they're wrong." In general, I enjoy talking to her because she's intelligent, purposeful, and passionate. But I made a mistake the other day. I said, "I have this friend who's Calvinist." She looked at me, smiled, and said, "Well, now you have two." Crap.

As you would expect, she went into a lengthy monologue about her earlier years of ignorance, her frustration and desperation over rectifying the true heart of God—over whether He pre-determines who will find salvation or if we have free will to do so. I smiled and nodded, but it didn't seem to be enough. I had to see it her way. I had to see the light of truth. And so, the next time I ran into her, she handed me a book on the topic, worn with use and filled with her own personal notes. No, I didn't have to read it right now. I could take my time and get it back to her whenever. And when I did finish it, I would no doubt see things her way because it was the right way, and I was a smart young man. Ha! Shows what she knows. I've been avoiding absolute truths for as long as I can remember.

It's not that I don't value understanding. I absolutely love it. I seek it every day, deeply and earnestly. I love research and contemplation and healthy conversation. It's just that my happiness isn't tied to knowing absolute truth. Why? Because, like Plato and Socrates before him, I'm acutely aware of how ignorant I am. I realize that my every outlook and belief is an amalgam of past experiences, emotions, and mental faculties, right down to things like my body type, birth order, and attention span. For instance, I'm a non-denominational Christian with strong Southern Baptist roots because I grew up in central Missouri in a Southern Baptist church that taught me to love God but to hate legalism and hypocrisy (the hard way). I believe in free will not because of the dozen or so times I've read through the Bible, or because of my years of extra-Biblical study, or because I have a hard time wrapping my mind around a loving God who would pre-select some for salvation and others for damnation (though all of those things certainly play their part), but because I, myself have a spirit of independence. Free will is who I am. I follow the breeze and relish all of life's new experiences with an open mind. I believe in free will because it's how I see the world, though I don't need it to exist for me to be happy (since I at least have a blissfully ignorant perception of it). But that's just me. Other people, like my friend the Calvinist, need rules. They need to know the truth, even if it's not really the truth. And it's these people who have polarized our country to the brink of distraction (I meant to write "destruction," but somehow the autocorrected "distraction" is just as appropriate, so I'm leaving it). 

It's not wrong to have an opinion. It's not even wrong to have a strong opinion. But to hold a truth so tightly that you strangle all other possibility will never lead to growth or freedom. And if enough people share that approach, you get only oppression and, ironically, the death of the one thing those people desired—truth. Though, if I'm being honest, I don't believe it's actually truth that absolutists seek. It's power. Contention. Grandeur. Conquest. And I believe it comes from a place of insecurity, fear, and desperation.  But, of course I don't dare say that to their faces because I have better things to do than listen to their fuming rebuttals.

Of course, it seems like I've just demonized anyone who holds a firm belief on anything, but that wasn't my intention. It's only when beliefs are taken to the extreme and combined with negative emotions and intentions that the outcome is disastrous. As I said before, there's no inherently wrong starting point to forming our individual beliefs. We are products of our own multi-faceted and infinitely complex lives up until this very point. It's this variety that gives flavor to the human experience. Some ultimate truths are pretty simple: Never shake a baby out of anger or frustration. Don't wear white after Labor Day. If it's yellow, let it mellow; if it's brown, flush it down. You know, the obvious stuff that no one's going to argue about. But most things have room for debate. Is there a "right" answer to most things? Absolutely. Can anyone choose correctly regarding all things? Absolutely not (except Jesus Christ, though I guess that's just my opinion). And that's why we all need to practice grace and patience. There's nothing wrong with standing up for what's "right," but when we start approaching every topic with a, "Condemn first, ask questions never," attitude, we're doomed, and we probably deserve it.

I read The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins a few years back, and it was an extremely depressing book. It wasn't depressing because of the subject matter but because Dawkins made it clear that he despised Christians for the harm they had caused him in the past. Most atheists don't rally behind him because his biologist background didn't set him up to intelligently present most of his arguments, but to me, it was his inner pain that disqualified him. And it's the same with my Calvinist friend who gave me the "life-changing" book. She's had struggled in the past because of a traumatic event that she couldn't forgive herself for. And because of that, she needed something to take that guilt away from her, and Calvinism may have very well saved her life. But that doesn't mean it's correct. An invaluable belief for some? Sure. But, conversely, it could crush the spirit of others (like me). And that's the way it is with a lot of things: religion, politics, snack preferences. Even the Bible’s New Testament shows us multiple viewpoints and insights on the same Christ. It’s okay to see things a little differently than your brother or sister. Life's complexity is simultaneously the greatest source of its beauty and its suffering. We can either embrace it or drown in it.

Personally, I think we all have the freedom to make that choice, and that freedom sets me free. Then again, I could be wrong. And I'm okay with that.

Interesting addendum: While trying to tag this blog post in Tumblr, it turns out that “religion” is an unavailable hashtag. Hooray for censorship! Maybe free will is an illusion, after all...

#free will #calvinism #predetermination #religion #freedom of choice #unpopular opinion #WhyIsntReligionAnAvailableHashtag? #momblr #mumblr #dadblr

[solitaria-fantasma]

Dark Arts and Demons - Ch. 35

The ‘spicy’ ice cream was actually quite delicious, and (once he’d worked up the courage) Penn shyly asked Savina Pepper if he could have another.

As he retreated back to his ‘private’ booth with the succulent treat, the spirit skirted around the edge of the room to avoid the people still remaining. Mr. Kingsmen had pulled the real Arthur outside to ‘have a talk’ as soon as the group had broken up, and the scary blue-haired girl - Vivi - had left with the dog-beast, Mystery. They had books at home that they needed to read, to know how to safely pull Penn out of his Arthur’s body, and put Arthur back in.

She had pulled Lewis aside before she’d left, and whispered - all while side-eyeing Penn where he sat huddled in his booth - to ‘keep an eye on that one’.

Penn had tried not to take it too personally.

But Lewis didn’t try to approach Penn until a little while after Vivi had left, and the restaurant floor had been detail-cleaned. Pepper Paradiso had a reputation to uphold, after all. Eventually, however, there had been nothing left to do, and Lewis had (somewhat hesitantly) approached the only occupied booth.

“Hey...” Penn winced, and sank a little lower in the booth seat. He’d been quietly hoping that Lewis would just watch him from a distance, like Vivi had been. “Listen, I’m, um. I’m sorry. About calling you ‘dangerous’ before.” Lewis rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “We thought you were someone who’s done very...very bad things to us,” Gods above, was that an understatement. “And...we were scared-”

“That I might hurt your family.” Penn finished sullenly. Lewis winced. When it was said out loud like that-...well, no. It sounded terrible either way. But he’d been hoping not to have to say it out loud, anyway.  “You do not have to worry.” Penn fidgeted nervously with the milkshake glass, turning it back and forth on the table and drawing his finger through the condensation on the outside. “I will not hurt these people.” He promised. “They have all been very nice to me.”

“...mm.” Lewis hummed, and shifted on his feet. Penn wondered why he did that. Wasn’t this man a spirit, like he was? He was pretty sure normal people couldn’t change themselves into a flaming skeleton…and survive, at least. “May I sit down?” Lewis asked, gesturing with one hand towards the booth seat opposite Penn. The spirit hesitated, but nodded his head after a few seconds’ thought.

He was going to be with these people until he could be removed, and Arthur could take his body back, whether he liked it or not. It was probably in his best interests to try and be as accommodating as possible.

“Thanks...” Lewis slid into the seat, and folded his arms along the table. “So…” He smiled, and the expression was so warm that Penn couldn’t help but relax, even just a little bit. A tiny part of him felt unnerved, by that. “Mama tells me you actually like Cayenne’s ‘spicy milkshake surprise’?”

“It is...very tasty.” As if to make a point, Penn took another sip of the milkshake. “I like the flavor, and the way it makes my-...um...A-Arthur’s...tongue tingle.” Lewis’ made a curious sound, and leaned back in his seat, seemingly missing (or maybe ignoring?) Penn’s slip of the tongue.

“Arthur usually can’t handle a lot of spice.” The other spirit revealed. “Mama and Papa made a special spice-free version of some of our dishes and deserts, just so he could try some of them.” The ghost scratched thoughtfully at his cheek. “I wonder why you experience it differently? Maybe it’s a ‘mind over matter’ thing, and you have a different tolerance because you have nothing else to compare it to?”

“.....yes.” Penn said before taking a long sip of the shake. He had no idea what Lewis was talking about, in all honesty. But he liked this strange atmosphere that was starting to form - one where he didn’t feel watched or threatened. It felt like coming home had...before he’d learned that he wasn’t who he thought he was.

“....” Lewis’s smile widened, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. Penn swallowed nervously, and leaned back just a little bit. “Do you like tacos?” Lewis asked, steepling his hands in front of his grin. “Because there’s this recipe for a chipotle dessert taco I’ve been working on, and I really, really need someone to taste test it…”

…….

Of the many difficult things Arthur had to do in his lifetime, he considered this awkward heart-to-heart with his uncle to be the hardest of them all.

Lance had already seen him - and even helped him through - some of his lowest points in life. He had been there when his parents had walked away from him, and when he couldn’t sleep through the phantom pains of a freshly lost limb. He’d listened patiently when Arthur had rambled about demons and green skin in the haze of hospital-grade painkillers, and Arthur had nothing but gratitude for all his uncle had done for him.

He just...hadn’t wanted Lance to know how far he still was from ‘okay’.

But out there, on the back patio of Pepper Paradiso, with nothing but the distant song of cicadas to fill the silence, Arthur told him.

About the voice in his head that had once blended with his intrusive thoughts, only to grow more and more distinct and vicious over months and months, and the nightmares he’d kept to himself. About his fears of being ignored, or his concerns being laughed off. About his fears of being taken all too seriously, and abandoned by the people he loved all over again...

Lance listened to all of this with his usual stoic poker face, and when Arthur had finally fallen silent, he reached out, and wrapped one arm around his nephew’s shoulders. The firm, one-armed side hug was a small gesture, but Arthur sank into it gratefully. He’d been half-expecting a stern lecture on ‘taking stupid risks and the consequences of such’, like Vivi had given him on the flight back to their hotel, but in retrospect, that wasn’t Lance’s style.

“I’m sorry.” He’d said them so much over the last few days, the words were starting to lose their meaning. “I swear, this wasn’t the outcome I wanted. I just wanted to...to...” Arthur cringed and ground the heel of his ghostfire palm against his forehead as he searched for the right words.

“To clear the air.” Lance supplied. Arthur released the breath he’d been holding, and sagged, letting his arm drop down to his lap.

“Yeah…” He murmured. “Exactly.” Lance patted his shoulder a few times, and Arthur continued to lean against his uncle for the duration, quietly marveling at how much lighter he felt. Maybe he should have gotten all this off of his chest a long time ago…in hindsight, it wasn’t having the disastrous ripple effects he’d feared, and really, it would have avoided an awful lot of trouble to have just gotten it over with…

Lance patted his nephew’s shoulder one last time, and then lowered his arm. Arthur took the cue to sit up, and scrubbed his hands across his face, though any tears had long since dried. He took a deep - and somewhat shaky, still - breath, and let it out slowly. The sound of the cicadas seemed a little bit clearer.

“Arthur,” Lance started. “I want you to know that you can trust me. I know I’m not the easiest guy to come to with big emotions like all that,” The man quickly held up a hand before Arthur could speak. “But you’re my family and I care about you. Even if I don’t understand all of what you do or what’s going on in our life.” He still wasn’t big on all these supernatural shenanigans...but they were a part of his nephew’s life, and that, by extension, made them a part of his.

Nothing he could do but learn to deal with it.

“If you need to get something off your mind - no matter what it is - I’m always gonna be here to listen, and I’m not here to judge you.” Lance continued. Arthur wondered how he could feel a lump in his throat with no nervous system. Wouldn’t Vivi love to hear about that? “What’s done is done, and yelling won’t take anything back, so I’m just gonna suggest that, from now on, we talk about things like this, ‘stead of keeping them all bottled up.” The elder Kingsmen shifted awkwardly, and crossed his arms.

“I’ll be up front with you, kiddo. I’m gonna be just as terrible at it as you.” He admitted grudgingly. “I don’t exactly wear my heart out on my sleeve, so to speak. But I also won’t ever ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do, myself, so I’ll promise you this: If you’ll trust me enough to vent to me when you feel overwhelmed or upset or anything else, I’ll trust you enough to do some opening up, myself.”

“.....” Arthur made a choked up sound, and scrubbed his hand across his face again. “Sure thing, uncle.” He promised. If his voice cracked a bit, Lance would never tell.

They sat outside for a few minutes more, listening to the cicadas, and the sounds of the traffic around the building slowly increasing as the day wore on, before standing up, and heading back inside the restaurant.

#mun's writing #Dark Arts and Demons #daad #mystery skulls animated #Lewis #Arthur #Lance #The Peppers #Vivi #Mystery

[harrowingwords]

chessr i always wanna know more about moral of the story sO 🌍 for worldbuilding,,,,,, what do u mean "near destruction" are we talking ultron levels??? did the Gifted foretell this? like if they have prophetic powers, can they sense the ""villainess"" to stop it? what,,,,,is the POINT of sorting people into hero paths and villain paths???

so!! I decided to just delete what was in my inbox bc it was so full it was overwhelming but I decided to keep this one bc it was actually a REALLY INTERESTING set of questions and I rlly wanted to answer it. so I am answering it... v v late. my bad.

under a read more bc I’m about to ramble for ages

Okay so “near destruction” would be like. heroes and villains were so caught up in fighting each other they weren’t. paying attention to the damage they were doing to. literally everything else. By the time they were stopped and restrictions put into place, there was permanent ecosystem damage and destruction that they’re still recovering from... however many years later I made it I can’t remember off the top of my head. Like the schools take all first years on a trip to somewhere where the effects of various powers are still visible and causing problems for the area - and there are so many of these places that none of the schools have to travel very far. 

And in the Apocalypse Era, when all this was taking place, so many people were still trying to figure out how to even use their powers, how they worked and all, especially those with prophetic powers - they’re extremely difficult to control. Prophetic Gifted definitely had a part in putting an end to Apocalypse Era tho. 

The problem with prophetic powers is that the future is always being messed with and changed by the actions of everyone in every second of the day. Most prophetic Gifted can’t see that far ahead. The ones who can see further have to work extremely hard and are only seeing a general path. They have to focus on what they want to see to see further than the immediate future.

For example, the Gifted that sorts Max and most of the rest of the main cast is a woman who calls herself Fortuna. She focuses her powers into tarot cards to get a general feel for the person in front of her. She isn’t actually seeing any images of the future or anything, just the “most likely” outcome of what the kid will be like. For Max, she draws the Hanged Man card. She doesn’t rlly see anything of his future, it’s just that her Gift notices a trend in his possible futures of him having to leave things behind to move forward, a trend of him having to decide what is more important to him in each moment. On the hero side, Connie is given The Sun as her house. Fortuna’s gift sees that Connie’s way of managing problems and trials is an unfailing sense of optimism and a sheer stubborn force of will that they’ll find a way through whatever they’re facing. 

A prophetic Gifted that can actually see the future is extremely rare and none of them would be able to see far enough ahead to see what the villainess is doing until it’s too late to do anything about it.

As for the point of hero/villain schools! This is my fav question okay I love this. Max actually asks this when Unseelie is doing his sorting. 

“The cards only give you a basic view of where your life will lead, Max. They decide the type of training you will receive and nothing more. No one decides your fate but you, and it is your choice what you do with the training you will receive. Do not be discouraged if this was not the future you imagined for yourself,” they said, their voice a lilting thing that Max couldn’t place to any one accent, sounding more like a chorus of whispers than one singular person talking. “You’re saying the old lady was wrong?” “Fortuna is many things, but she is not infallible. The future is what you make of it; she simply saw the general direction you are likely to carry it in. The nuances of your future are yours to decide.” “All the greatest Powers in the world, and y’all decide to make the most important decision in every kid’s life based on a ‘general direction’?” Max asked, unable to keep the scorn from creeping into his voice. “There were no perfect solutions to our problems. Powers complicated everything. We are simply trying to keep from nearly destroying the world again,” they answered patiently. “Why don’t the heroes just eradicate the villains, then? Why permit us to exist at all?” “What use are heroes without someone to fight, Max? We are allowed to exist because it serves their purposes. We exist to hold their power in check. We exist so the world does not realize that their heroes are simply one choice away from being us.”

After the Apocalypse Era, there was a lot of questions about what to do moving forward and what the best way to deal with Gifted people was. The Council was formed as an off-shoot of the United Nations as a way for non-Gifted to keep tabs on and hold regulations over Gifteds across the world, to prevent the level of destruction they caused in the past. There are laws about where powers can and can’t be used, how they can be used, and each student of the schools receives a license upon graduation that, without, they aren’t allowed to use their powers in any form. The reasoning behind the schools was simply that villains would exist no matter what, and it was better for them to exist with training and regulation than to be left up to the whims of the individuals. The villain schools exist to keep the worst villains in check. Unseelie and the other villain school officials aim to redirect their villainous tendencies into manageable avenues and keep them from thinking of taking things too far. 

Because, really, they were trying to walk a narrow path between leading the Gifted down acceptable paths and complete genocide of every Gifted to be born. They were faced with how to allow them to exist as they are, to use these powers that are an integral part of who they are, and how to also keep them from becoming too much to handle again. The problem with just putting restrictions on using powers is that someone with villainous tendencies would just... ignore the rules. and without heroes to stop them, who would keep them in line when they inevitably used their powers for their own gains?

The hero/villain schools was their solution. Allow heroes to be trained to fight the villains. Allow villains to embrace who they are and steer them down a path that was manageable and might cause less destruction. Train them to not go too far. Train them to recognize their own position in this precarious balance the world has found itself in.

And there’s also the fact that having superheroes is inspiring to the non-Gifted people of the world. That’s apparent enough in our own world. Who doesn’t love superheroes? The idea that you can be greater than you started and make something amazing of yourself? Everyone wants someone to look up to. Superheroes are just. a blatantly obvious idol. But what good are superheroes without someone to fight? You can’t exactly send superheroes to fight non-Gifted criminals; there would be outcries of unfair fights and unnecessary damages and such. They need villains to fight. It’s a very precarious balance. The hero teachers don’t really focus much on that in their schools, they don’t see it as practical to teach that sort of stuff to the students. The villain schools focus heavily on that. Unseelie sees it as extremely important to teach all of their students that their role in society is extremely important, that no matter how looked down on and how much shit they get thrown at them - they are vital to society and the way things are could not continue without them. Because, in their mind, they see this reminder of the power they hold in this balance as an important part of why so few of their students have ever tried to push things too far. They exist to keep the masses entertained so that they don’t realize the heroes they look up to are so very close to being exactly what they fight. Because that realization on the part of the masses would have disastrous consequences for both sides.

#wip; moral of the story #story info #I just #have major feelings about the hero/villain divide #it's easily my favorite part of the mots world #it's such an interesting thing to think about and write about #thehomoeroticisms

[coffeelouis]

one of my resolutions for 2019 was to post monthly fic lists of every fic i’ve read that month! i’m really excited about it, as it’s driven me to read more and catalog my fic reading more intently. i also have been really enjoying the fics i’ve read in the past few months, as i’m reading so much more by taking the tube so often, so it’s a perfect fit! and without further ado: 

here’s every fic i’ve read in january 2019, in order of reading: 

Take Your Time by @laynefaire

When Harry finds himself in the middle of a messy break-up with no place to live, Louis offers a spare room in his flat. Unbeknownst to Harry, Louis has been infatuated for years. Over the objections of their friends, who know the truth, Harry accepts. Can Louis survive Harry moving into his home…and closer to his heart? Will Harry see what's right in front of him?

Whirlwind by @darlou

“Noisy boys over at that table there, yes, you two, would you like to share something with us?”

...

“I was just saying that you’re probably the only person who’s ever literally taken my breath away"

-

AU inspired by Phoebe and David from Friends.

⭐ to the brim with fright by @hereforlou​

The only reason he’s here is because it’s tradition. And also, Harry said it’d be fun to make Liam wet himself in fear and Louis agreed. It’ll be hilarious. He’s not an insecure new transfer anymore, thank you very much. It took him no more than a week to insert himself into a group, to get invited to his first party, and to start crushing on someone—he’s not what anyone would call socially impaired. He doesn’t need validation.

(Or, the one where Louis’ high and scared and Harry’s...also high and scared.)

caught up in your love affair by @disgruntledkittenface​

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

“I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

There’s Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You) by @chaoticallyyours​

Roommates Harry and Louis both consider themselves matchmakers. Louis' latest crusade is finding the perfect match for Harry, despite the admittedly disastrous results. With just a little bit of help from their friends and a lot of whining, Louis realizes that the best match for Harry might just be the person already sharing his flat.

OR: Louis is a dumb gay who doesn't realize he's in love with his best friend. Until he does.

a fire in us by @hereforlou​

Louis had always thought it wouldn’t catch him off-guard. If he ever got his Time, he would be ready, and he would be calm, and he would make his way to wherever his soulmate waited for him and blow them away with how ready and calm he was.

When he got his Time on that Monday, years after he had stopped fantasizing about meeting his soulmate, Louis was not ready, and he was not calm. What he was was late.

(Or, the one where Harry waits and Louis worries.)

Wild Love by purpledaisy

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

gonna dream of how you (tasted) by @hereforlou​

It was clear that they were not going to talk about how they knew each other. Harry was relieved, he didn’t need Louis to spell out how fast he’d wanted to get out of the house back then, but it also made him anxious. The fact that they had seen each other naked and they were pretending it had never happened was hanging between them.

I had your dick in my mouth, Harry thought loudly at Louis, and then remembered there was a baby in the room and felt a little dirty. He decided to stop thinking about it altogether - Louis seemed to be managing just fine.

(Or, the one where Harry needs a handyman and it turns out they have a bit of a history.)

⭐ bloodsport by @tofiveohfive​

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

i’ll take your pain by @suspendrs

It’s kind of romantic when Harry thinks about it, feeling all the pain of the person he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life. Sure, it’s rather inconvenient when he’s in class and his soulmate gets kicked in the balls, or when he’s sleeping and his soulmate knocks his head or his knee off something. It’d be nice if the function helped them to find each other, but Harry supposes he can live with knowing that they’re destined to run into each other someday.

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other's pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed. (Or, the soulmate au crack fic I can't believe I actually wrote.)

A Few Good Mistakes by @louisandthealien

He almost wishes there were a better story.

"Fucked up pop star ends five day bender by wandering into a dive bar alone and passing out in public."

That would've generated press, he thinks, and if there's one thing that's constantly on his mind (or more accurately, on the mind of everyone else around him) it's that all press is good press, and good press is good press but bad press is great press.

Besides, he's 25 and trying to do the whole transition from boyband to solo pop star. He's pretty sure a press-fueled meltdown is, like, a right of passage.

The truth, alas, is a whole lot more boring.

---

Louis falls asleep in Harry's bar. Harry takes him home to hang out.

No Place Without You by @fackinglouis

Harry's in love with life and he's in love with the world.

Louis' in love with Harry and he doesn't think there's any way he can possibly compete.

A Wanderlust AU in which Harry doesn't have a permanent home and stays with Louis when he visits NYC.

Fortify Me by @louisandthealien

“I’m just so happy I have you, Lou,” Harry says softly, prodding his toes against Louis’ ankle. “I feel like I’m going to get Simon’s little talking-to any day now…I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” Louis very much doubts that, but stays quiet. “It’s just, like, it’s so good to have someone here who’s going through the same thing, I guess?”

Louis tries not to smile too wryly when he nods. “Yeah, yeah it is, I suppose.”

“And…and— ” Harry starts again, voice sounding a little braver, a bit more jokey, “and how much better could this be?” he gestures with one hand at the bed around them. “Two very gay, very fit mates having a very platonic cuddle during their very exciting boy band adventure?” He kicks Louis again. “That’s the stuff of movies, right?”

#to be clear no place without you was a reread #for a secret project i'm working on #everything else was new #which is very good for me #as i tend to reread my favourites a lot #additionally #can you tell i got SUPER invested in hereforlou? #i read like all their fics #and bloodsport kinda counts too #cause i read their other fic last month and got so addicted #also i LOVED bloodsport #def one of my faves #and it's going on my rec list #mine #fic rec

[missblanchette]

Hippocratic Oath [1/4]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Jinguji Jakurai/Kannonzaka Doppo

Rating: PG for language

Summary: The fact of the matter was that a relationship between a doctor and a patient was unethical. Sooner or later, one of them had to speak up about it. (Or: Jakurai and Doppo work out their Feelings™.)

Words: 2115

Notes: Hi hi~! I have some free time finally, so I wanted to write something for these two Awkward Old Men haha JakuDoppo’s such a sweet pair to me, so I wanted to share my feels for them hehe ^-^

ko-fi // You can read this on AO3 | Ch. 2 | Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy~! (*＾▽＾)／

Ch. 1: Doctor’s Recommendation

One of the most terrifying things in life -- if not the most terrifying -- was hearing the phrase "I'd like to talk to you." Especially when coming from somebody you respected a lot. Double especially when no context framed it.

So suffice to say when Doppo heard Jakurai utter those words, his heart started racing at a hundred kilometers per second and his palms grew as clammy as the shellfish down in Yokohama's Umi no Koen. Terrible outcomes stacked upon horrible outcomes as he racked his mind for anything wrong he’d done recently. There shouldn't have been any reason Jakurai wanted to talk to him, but maybe that was exactly why. Because he couldn't notice his own screw ups, because he'd been careless, because he couldn't do anything right --

"Doppo-kun, please let me continue," Jakurai said, his low, sonorous voice breaking him out of his disastrously derailing train of thought. Touch feather light, Jakurai's fingertips rested atop his knuckles that had grown white when he'd balled his hands into fists. Doppo's mouth clamped shut before he let any more of his ramblings loose. "I assure you that it's nothing bad, but it is a rather... personal matter."

"Okay," was all Doppo could say that wouldn't send him into another downward spiral. "So what is it?"

Retracting his hand, Jakurai steepled his fingers as he took a breath. In turn, Doppo clasped his hands together, thumb running over the spot Jakurai had touched. Jakurai glanced to the side ever so briefly, his lips parting slightly before closing -- a cycle that repeated about three times.

"Would you like to order something first? I invited you to dinner, after all." He gestured to the menus, still not quite looking at him.

Despite his inner protests yelling at him to get whatever the hell this was over, Doppo mumbled an agreement. He hardly looked at the menu, already knowing his usual order of tonkatsu and beer, but pretended to leaf through it anyways. In his peripheral, Jakurai was as focused on the menu as he was; that was to say, not at all. The chatter of the other patrons and clatter of plates and glassware filled their silence after they'd relayed their orders to the waiter. Forcing yet failing to keep his nerves at bay, Doppo concentrated on Jakurai's general direction like it was an anchor of sorts amongst the racket of the restaurant.

"Forgive me, Doppo-kun. I'm still not sure how to approach the subject."

"You're fine, Dr. Jinguji,” he said, biting back his own apology. If anything, he could appease Jakurai by trying to follow his advice of not over-apologizing. Key word: trying.

Small talk was never necessary for them, at least for Doppo. True, during his appointments, he would spill everything from how his body refused to cooperate with him to his shitty day at work, but Jakurai would never push further than necessary. Outside of their sessions, when it was just them as Matenrou, Jakurai's presence was enough for him. No words were needed except for the raps they spit and the lyrics they sang. Living within Shinjuku's cacophony on a day-to-day basis, the quiet was a blessing and there was no greater blessing than someone who understood that like he did.

But right now, the silence on Jakurai's end suffocated him. Even after they'd received their orders, Jakurai didn't touch his food nor attempted to speak. He merely wore a pensive expression, eyes downcast. Doppo took a sip of his beer and toyed at his food to keep busy with something other than his thoughts.

"Doppo-kun," Jakurai called out to him. “This may sound very blunt, but I say this with your best interests in mind. I think you should find another doctor --”

Doppo's chopsticks clinked loudly against his plate.

“-- because I can no longer care for you properly.”

"What? " He cringed as he heard his voice crack. "W-What do you mean? You're a great doctor!" Then, in a hushed tone, "I trust you..."

A small smile graced Jakurai's face, though it held hints of self-deprecation.

"And that is exactly why you should seek treatment somewhere else. I do not want to take advantage of the trust you have in me."

"I don't -- I don't understand."

"I believe our relationship is no longer appropriate for a doctor and patient."

"If this is because we're in the same group, then I'll just quit --"

"No," Jakurai said, shoulders tensing. Seldom was it that Jakurai spoke with such severity that Doppo flinched. Posture relaxing, Jakurai cleared his throat. "My apologies for that outburst, but you are an important member of Matenrou. I would never ask you to leave."

"Then what is it?"

For a moment, Jakurai wasn't the unwavering pillar he'd always looked up to. To anyone passing by their table, he might've appeared calm and collected but Doppo could see how his fingers tapped against each other and hear how uneasy his breaths were. Maybe he'd started hallucinating, though, since Jakurai's cheeks appeared red as well.

"I... have feelings for you." Jakurai's azure gaze met his. "Feelings a doctor shouldn't have for his patient."

"What."

As soon as that came out, Doppo slapped a hand to his face and buried his head as far into his palm as he could. An extremely dumb response to a confession, was what that was.

If it was even a real confession.

Any second now, he expected to hear Jakurai say that he was kidding or break into laughter or some sort of combination of the two. Go figure he'd humiliate him right before breaking some shitty news, like he'd been lying earlier and was going to kick him out of Matenrou or that his feelings were actually of hatred and he'd just been putting up with him all along. Hell, Hifumi was probably in on this and gave Jakurai the game plan on how exactly to mess with him. Right, Doppo told himself, this was all some sick joke to get him out of their crew.

But when Doppo risked a peek through his fingers, Jakurai was looking at him with a soft expression. No malice hid beneath his eyes nor any ill intent behind his reassuring smile. Doppo was sure of little in the world, but one thing he knew for certain was that Jinguji Jakurai would not lie to him. And that fact weighed heavily on him.

"Sorry, I'm just... you're serious?"

"Yes, Doppo-kun. I'm completely serious." Jakurai folded his hands together, not once breaking eye contact. "I do not expect a response right away nor do I expect you to return my feelings, but I thought it would be better for the both of us if I told you."

"Better," he said, but all Doppo wanted to do now was combust into a million tiny pieces. Unfortunately, his wishes never came true and he was still very much intact in this restaurant on a Monday evening where he sat across from Jakurai. Any other person would've been ecstatic to receive a confession from someone they admired so much, but instead he felt like he’d been dumped into the Arctic Ocean in the dead of winter. He'd been fine being with Jakurai as a patient, as a division group member, and (he liked to think) as a friend. Any fantasies of a more intimate relationship had simply been that: fantasies. There were no worries about any repercussions in having fantasies, no having to deal with shifts in the status quo. As long as he kept them to himself, he could keep Jakurai in his life without much fear of ruining things between them. His entire life had been spent settling for less because he deserved no more than less; what he had with Jakurai was no exception.

Except now there was a possibility for those fantasies to become a reality and that possibility sent him into a tizzy. Of all the people in this world, Jakurai chose him . And he couldn't possibly fathom why.

"I..." don't know what to say. "I..." think you've made a mistake. "I..." am not worth your time.

Doppo scrambled for his belongings and stood up.

"I have to go."

"Doppo-kun --"

"I'm terribly sorry, but thank you very much for inviting me! I'll just pay for my order and go," he said all in one breath while frantically searching for his wallet.

"There's no need for that. I invited you, so I'll pay for you."

He grabbed a couple of bills after hastily opening his wallet up, paying no attention to which ones they were. Whatever he threw down would cover it. Probably.

"No, I've got it --"

"Doppo-kun," Jakurai said, a sense of finality in his tone. Doppo's head snapped up to him. More often than not, he wondered why Jakurai needed a Hypnosis Mic in the first place when his voice was hypnotic enough as it was. "Please, allow me. It's the least I can do for you."

Glancing back and forth between his wallet and Jakurai, Doppo stood still with more excuses rushing to escape his mouth. “I don’t deserve it,” he wanted to scream; “Save your money for something worthwhile,” he wanted to shout. But with Jakurai looking at him so intently, so earnestly, he choked them down.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time." He bowed as deeply as he could, head banging against the table.

"Are you okay?"

"I’m sorry! Thank you again!" he said, the sting but an afterthought as he rose back to full height. It wasn't like he hadn't experienced worse pains before.

He froze when he caught sight of Jakurai staring at him, brows knitted in concern and lips quirked downwards. Of course, Doppo thought, what Jakurai felt for him wasn't fondness but pity. Before Jakurai could get another word in, Doppo turned away.

"Good night, Doctor!"

He made it to the train station in record time.

Knocking out was Doppo's typical plan of action as soon as he got home and tonight was no different. Things didn't always go according to plan, however, and another bout of insomnia struck. Laying stiffly on his bed, he found himself too restless to close his eyes and his body too overbearing to exist in.

Hifumi had already left for work by the time he'd returned home, something Doppo usually wouldn't mind but his thoughts screamed far too loudly in the silence of their apartment -- thoughts of how badly he'd screwed up that evening that refused to die. Nights like these made him wish Hifumi was here to yap his ear off. Groaning, Doppo grabbed his pillow and smashed it against his face as if cutting off his air supply would solve all his problems.

His stomach growled and he pressed the pillow harder against his nose, remembering that he hadn't touched the food that Jakurai paid for earlier. That alone should be testament enough to the fact that he didn't deserve Jakurai. To take advantage of his kindness and hospitality without giving anything in return, he was absolutely pathetic as pathetic could be.

Even more pathetic was that he'd just left him there without a proper response.

To say he didn't have any feelings for Jakurai whatsoever would be a lie, but therein lay the problem: he had no sense of these feelings, what to make of them, nor what to believe. Rarely did anyone treat him with compassion, so of course he'd take to Jakurai like the night dwellers to Kabukicho. Yet surely he was simply one of many who received Jakurai’s kindness. He was a doctor; sympathy and gentleness were part of his job. He treated everyone the same way and it was Doppo's own fault for construing his behavior as anything meaningful. Simple infatuation was all it was, having overvalued a relationship that meant the world to him but little to Jakurai. He'd long grown used to Hifumi's affection and in time, too, he would grow used to Jakurai's care and see him as he should've been: as a doctor, as a friend, and as a leader. Nothing more than that. Never anything more than that.

He repeated that to himself like a mantra. Any romantic feelings he held for Jakurai were not real; he was not good enough for a man like Jakurai; Jakurai would eventually grow sick and tired of him; he and Jakurai, he and Jakurai, he and Jakurai --

Doppo slid the pillow down from his face, gasping for air like a fish for water. Thoughts of Jakurai would not leave him throughout the entire night, and he couldn't decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #jakudo #jakudoppo #cross posts this like a week later whoops #also i swear the rest of the fic isn't as self deprecating as this chapter ajkskdjf

[mayumi-sato]

Ocean... gems?

Summary: The answer part to @not-aph-england’s ‘Ocean Gems’ fanfiction written for the @usuknetwork​ valentine’s day event! I’m suuuper-late but well, I’m always late, sorry. hjklj You really have to read littlemaple’s part to have fun with this one so please do this now! 

Did you do that? Okay! Now, you can read this story!^__^

As soon as Alfred opened the letter that someone had left for him in his locker, he recognized his best friend’s handwriting in it.

How would he NOT recognize it? Arthur had been his friend for years. Of course he would immediately know that Arthur was the one who wrote that letter. Of course, it did help that Arthur’s handwriting looked almost like the signature of some poet from the 19th century.

It was a little strange to have Arthur send a letter to him instead of simply talking to him, but Alfred assumed that this was just, you know, Arthur’s style. That guy had a flair for the dramatics. He tried not to let his imagination fly high and simply assumed that in the letter, Arthur would invite him to a sleepover or something.

However…

There’s something I need to tell you, but I can’t tell you in person… I have admired you for a long time, and the more I can be around you, the more I’m sure of it. I love you. I know it’s strange, and weird, and I’m sorry.

…

Okay... Maybe that was just… a bro thing…  Maybe Arthur was just admitting timidly how much his friendship meant to him...

I love your chubby cheeks, mostly when they’re blushing, and I’d love to hug you, and kiss you.

Oh right, that definitely wasn’t looking platonic now. Alfred felt his whole face burn as he read this line. He had to cover his mouth with his hand in order to not scream a loud "whaaaat?" in the middle of the hall.

Holy crap. Arthur liked him! Arthur liked him back! That was aweso...!

And again, I’m sorry if this is all too weird… I wish I could tell you all this in person, but I know you don’t like guys, so I settle for an anonymous letter in your locker.

Wait, what?

From your secret admirer.

What the…

Was that a joke?

Had Arthur just confessed to him as a SECRET ADMIRER???? What could Alfred do with that information now?! That was bullshit!

Now he knew that Arthur liked him, but he couldn’t even say "hey, I like you back" because there was a slight chance that that person who sent the letter wasn’t Arthur and if Alfred confessed that might lead to a disastrous outcome in their relationship!

Why had Arthur signed as a secret admirer? Knowing that there was a chance they liked each other, without him being able to say anything about it, was so much worse than being resigned with the idea that Arthur would never give him a chance!

What Alfred could do now?

Later that day when Arthur was getting ready for his next class, Alfred pulled him by the shoulder.

“Hey, Artie. What is this?” he asked, trying to sound very casual and not at all jumping of excitement inside.

He showed Arthur the letter from his ‘secret admirer’. He wanted to ease the situation for both of them by giving Arthur a chance to tell the truth.

“Uh… a… letter?” Arthur sounded almost robotic as he asked that, making the fakest confused expression in the history of mankind.

“Well, yes, but you know what kind of letter this is?! Read it!” Alfred shoved the paper in Arthur’s hands.

For a moment, it was as if Arthur had forgotten how to read. He took such a long time to read that letter and his eyes seemed to be pausing over every little word.

“It’s a love letter?”, he finally answered.

Oh gosh. Some progress, finally!

Alfred nodded enthusiastically. He didn’t want to give away everything that he knew on a nice plate to Arthur just yet. He couldn’t just ask, "Is this your letter?" with Arthur pretending to be an idiot like that. He had better play it safe as well.

“Yeah! Isn’t that cool? A love letter!”, Alfred exclaimed, trying to pretend he was just really excited about love letters in general.

Arthur's reaction to that was of legitimate puzzlement.

“Why are you so happy?”

“Because someone’s got a crush on me?” ‘and this person is probably you?’ Alfred thought to himself.

“But… it’s a guy?”

Alfred had no idea where Arthur had come to the conclusion that he was straight. Apparently, Arthur had world views as heteronormative as a Christmas special made for television.

“I know!” Alfred spoke in a slightly impatient tone.

He knew it, he knew it! He knew it was a guy! He knew it was Arthur! It was so frustrating to have to walk in circles that way! Still... Tsk. If that was Arthur's pace to come in terms with his feelings, Alfred had to respect him. He had to patiently introduce the idea to Arthur that he was more than welcome with the idea that his best friend was his secret admirer.

Pulling himself together in a matter of seconds, he added with a big smile:

“I like girls better, but boys are cool too.”

Boom, there it was. The big revelation. Now, would Arthur finally be brave enough to admit his feelings?

“Oh.”

... That was all Arthur had to say on the subject. Oh, man. That sucked.

Wouldn’t he say anything else about the subject, really? What was holding Arthur now? If his only fear was that Alfred was straight, then there were no more obstacles ahead. He should simply throw himself into Alfred's arms and say, "Oh, Alfred, I've always loved you, and to be honest, I think you're more handsome than Chris Evans!"

Seeing Arthur's reaction made a small murmur go through Alfred's thoughts. Perhaps… Perhaps his secret admirer really wasn’t Arthur. Perhaps there was another person who embodied a Victorian ghost while writing something. What if Alfred made a mistake?

“So, I was thinking you could help me try to find out who it is? It’d be cool,” he ended up proposing to Arthur. That seemed like the best solution to the situation.

In the best of scenarios, Arthur would eventually muster up the courage to admit that the letter had been written by him. In the worst of scenarios, Arthur would help him find out who his true admirer was.

It was a win-win situation.

Arthur had accepted to help Alfred find his secret admirer, but one day later, he hadn’t done anything about it yet. He was completely silent on the subject, as if that conversation had never happened. So Alfred ended up having to push him a bit on the topic while they were walking  home after school.

“Who do you think it is?” he asked, giving Arthur a side glance.

His friend, oddly enough, reacted as if Alfred had just stepped on his foot, making a resentful face with slight remnants of pain in it.

“How am I supposed to know?” he asked in a louder voice.

Sheesh. Did he have to come to the attack like that? What was his motive for acting like that? Was it possible that his secret admirer wasn’t Arthur and he was jealous now?

Ahhh, it would be totally great if that was the case.

“I dunno,” Alfred laughed fondly and joyfully, “just, what do you think from what you read? What kind of person do you think he is?”

Arthur's reaction at that moment was quite incriminating.

He gave a long sigh and replied, blushing, his hands in his pockets and his eyes turned to the ground:

“Uh, it looks like it’s someone who really likes you… but is kind of shy… and who… really pays attention to all you do…”

Good lord. His admirer had to be Arthur. Why on earth would he feel so shy about someone else? That dummy. He was such a terrible liar. Alfred had to laugh about it, man.

Arthur got suspicious of this reaction so Alfred just shook his head and patted Arthur on the back.

“Oh, nevermind, I just remembered that video I sent you last night… what were you saying again?”

Alfred couldn’t even get upset when Arthur muttered that he was being stupid. Honestly, who was the one being stupid there?

More days passed and Alfred made further attempts to make Arthur admit that he was his secret admirer. He even arranged a list of several people he suspected could be his admirer just to see if jealousy would make Arthur react.

Well, in a way it worked. Arthur seemed a bit grumpy looking at that list. However, his words on the subject remained distant and ambiguous. "Oh, I don’t know. It can be anyone." It was so frustrating to hear that.

There was a limit to how much Alfred could pretend he was an idiot. That same afternoon, he noticed Arthur staring at him as if he were almost mesmerized while they were doing homework in the library. It was ridiculously obvious. Arthur was not subtle at all. Even his letter hadn’t been subtle either.

In fact, it can be said that Alfred could be much more subtle than Arthur since, despite knowing the truth about what was going on, he wasn’t letting Arthur notice that he knew.

Then came the second letter and it had a “Arthur wrote it” feel all over it, even more so than the first one. Seriously, that guy was a complete sucker in disguising himself. He mentioned the way Alfred's eyes flashed when he won a game when Arthur was the only person with whom he played anything personally. Could he be any more obvious?

After reading this letter, Alfred wanted to run to Arthur, hold his shoulders and scream in his face "I like you back! Can’t you see that?!" He couldn’t understand how could Arthur, who was usually so clever, not realize something that obvious.

Once more, he brought the letter from his ‘secret admirer’ for Arthur to see and asked what he thought of it.

Arthur simply shrugged.

“It’s kinda sappy and abstract… but you know what? I dig it. It’s nice,” Alfred said and seeing the little smile that appeared on Arthur's face when he heard it, he couldn’t resist teasing him a bit, “I don’t get how my eyes can be both oceans and gems but I don’t get poetry so whatever,” he joked, but then added in a more serious tone, giving Arthur a meaningful look “I think it’s cute.”

He wasn’t just talking about poetry when he said that.

Arthur, however, paid no attention to this. He seemed lost in his thoughts and almost as if he was choosing what emotion he should feel at that moment. Alfred took advantage of the fact that he was distracted to take a good look at him. Arthur was so adorable. It was almost unfair that anyone could be that cute.

Alfred really wanted to be able to kiss those thin, rosy lips, pressed against each other because of Arthur's level of concentration. It was getting harder and harder to be patient and wait for Arthur to admit his feelings on his own.

“You know, after the first letter I asked Gilbert to check my locker because I was sure I’d get a second one… ” he bluffed, trying to push Arthur into action.

“Yeah?” Arthur asked in his robotic voice again.

“Yeah, and Gilbert said he saw you around my locker…”

That was a total lie but it did manage to get a reaction out of Arthur. Not a good reaction, though.

Arthur didn’t look adorably embarrassed, as Alfred guessed he would. Instead, he seemed about to faint. All the blood seemed to drain from his face and he gave Alfred a look of utter terror.

Alfred felt guilty. He didn’t want to see Arthur like this. Arthur maybe wasn’t ready to reveal his feelings yet and it was wrong of Alfred to keep pressing him... He didn’t know why Arthur didn’t confess directly to him but he could have some valid reasons for it. Therefore, to force a confession out of him would be the action of a villain.

“… But, duh, I mean, your locker is close to mine, of course you’d be nearby. Gilbert didn’t pay enough attention…” Alfred said, trying to calm him down.

However, at that point, it was too late. The damage was already done. Artie was clearly pissed at him. He grimaced at Alfred for the rest of his walk home.

Alfred wasn’t sure of how to fix the situation.

“So… what do you think about coming to my place so you can help me narrow my options as to who sent me the letter?” he suggested with a smile. Maybe if they were alone, he could explain himself to Arthur and…

“I’m tired, why don’t you go ask someone else to help you? How about Kiku?” Arthur snapped. Oh, man. He was seriously pissed off.

Maybe Alfred should just go straight to the point.

“Nah, we don’t need that, do we?” Alfred answered, and then he winked.

So Arthur would see that they didn’t need to run in circles. It was mutual! It was…!

“No, thank you,” Arthur said and ran to his house.

Everything seemed absolutely fucked.

“ ... so that's why I was happy to see you here today. I thought I was so screwed, man,” Alfred finished explaining his point of view of the last days to an awe-struck Arthur.

It was Sunday, it was raining, and Arthur came, almost out of nowhere, to confess that it was him who had written the letters. The way he'd said things, it seemed that he was expecting the worst possible scenario. Alfred couldn’t understand at all how he assumed it when Alfred had clearly shown in the last few days that he was available and willing to go out with guys.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Arthur exclaimed after hearing his version of the facts and his argument which, by the way, made perfect sense. "You liking men wouldn’t necessarily mean that you would like me!"

“Come on, Arthur. Any guy our age who is attracted to men would be attracted to you,” Alfred replied, rolling his eyes, and Arthur immediately blushed in response. He was so adorable. So freaking adorable.

"A-Anyway... Everything could have been solved much easily if you had said that you knew about the letters!”

"Well, everything could have been solved so much easily if you had just confessed directly to me from the start!”

Arthur had absolutely no argument to rebutt Alfred, so he just grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss to distract him. The worst part was that that dirty tricky actually worked. For the rest of that rainy afternoon, Alfred completely forgot what they were discussing before and focused only on feeling Arthur’s touches.

#USUKUS #USUK #UKUS #Long post #Because tumblr is messing up read mores

[arcanalogue]

My partner and I have recently had a lot of communication problems which I *hoped* could be attributed to Mercury retrograde. Our written communications to each other used to rival the best online video game lore writers, however, our IRL verbal has always lacked. Is there hope for us in this spoken realm and will we ever be able to get on the same page again?

I sympathize, Querent. Translating feelings into speech in front of the person you admire most -- and are most vulnerable in front of -- can be extremely difficult. Also we tend to factor timing into it, and it rarely feels like a particularly good time to have an intense talk with an unforeseeable outcome.

You two are evolving -- independently, as well as together -- and that means that certain familiar ways of doing things will fall by the wayside. Until/unless new systems arise to take their place, you end up stranded in a strange realm where you technically know each other better than anyone else, and yet meaningful communication has grown more sparse and also more emotionally fraught.  

If you asked the Knight of Wands what to do about this, they’d give an impulsive, impetuous, unpredictable answer -- mainly just to get the faucet flowing, you see, and because they trust their Will to carry them to a place where meanings become unmistakable, once everyone’s reactions have died down.

On the left you see the Ten of Cups, which represents the burden you haul into every communique -- the burden of history, of so many dreams fulfilled that one won’t risk any action that threatens to undo them. That’s what happiness and togetherness gets us, Querent: closer to that place where we suddenly find ourselves experiencing reality more as a “we” than an “I,” and thus anything that threatens our relationship also threatens our reality itself. 

On the right we have the Six of Wands, which suggests to me that you actually have a great deal of clarity stored up in terms of what you want to say, what you want to ask, what you want to explore together. Holding all that back goes against the natural flow of your willpower, which craves action toward easily identifiable outcomes. Thus you approach these conversations with a heavy heart and a head full of fire, and if that sounds potentially combustible, that’s because it probably is. 

That being said, this conversation has to start somewhere, and the Knight says you’re the one who’s going to blaze that trail -- even if you don’t feel capable, or resent having to do it. We can deal with that later!

The big reason you’re going to is that speaking openly from the heart to each other saves so much time. Hours of brooding or wondering, days of choosing the right moment, weeks’ worth of attempts at repression in case the problem “just goes away on its own.” Years can go by with certain grudges steadily nursed in private, fears unvoiced, desires bitten back. 

And then we wonder why we (or they) end up falling in love with somebody else?

As couples, time is the one thing we can never really count on having more of. That’s why it’s worth risking being really bad at IRL conversations for a while, so that by the time it really matters, you’re already better at it.   

Be open about what you’re doing. Start with something like: “I’m not good at talking IRL, and we don’t do a lot of it, and you probably hate it, but it’s still really important to me to improve at this and be a better team together, even though I feel totally uncomfortable right now.” Be willing to sound dumb, or make a silly joke, just to prime the pump. 

The talk might not go well the first time, or the third, or even the sixth. The best way to get them on the same page with you is to warn that you’re just going to keep trying, over and over. So the next time they see you riding up carrying the Talking Stick, they may just give up and accept this is their fate. They’ll relax and stop seeing it as a potential Disastrous Important Convo and just roll with it. 

Bonus points if you make sure to hand them the Talking Stick, and try not to react in a knee-jerk way to anything they have to say, even if you think they sound like a jerk. They, too, may have things to say that you hadn’t counted on hearing. Best to know now, at long last, don’t you think?

You wouldn’t think it’s so hard for couples who love each other to talk openly and honestly in person, but it totally motherfucking is, to the point where we pay people to help us do it. That’s not what I’m prescribing to you, Querent. The Knight of Wands suggests that there is simply a trail that needs blazin’, and that showing up (with relentless frequency) is enough. 

The other cards are reminders not to bear down on these conversations with the full weight of your feelings, and to hold back the parts of you that are desperate to resolve everything successfully, each and every time. The very act of exchanging is a ritual that is inherently successful in its completion, regardless of what was exchanged. Allowing someone the safety and freedom of showing up to the conversation grouchy, suspicious, and/or exhausted is truly an amazing gift to bestow. Private talks can be extremely luxurious in their obvious inadequacy, in their abrupt twists and sudden interruptions. Let the river run between you, and try not to worry too much where it goes. 

Coupling up is a funny thing to do, isn’t it? We don’t just love someone’s heart, we also love their shadows, their sadness, their silence. Without a certain amount of input, however, that’s all they become to us, and the heart sort of slips out of our immediate awareness, like keys that you KNOW are in the house somewhere... but where?

For what it’s worth, you can also try to initiate the kind of written conversations you used to love having. Couldn’t hurt! Same basic principles apply. These cards, however, suggest to me a forward momentum into less familiar territory. You’ll bring your light and your willingness to embarrass yourself (a necessary ingredient in long-term relationships) and you’ll learn so, so much based on what the other person brings.  

Have I scared you spitless? Try this: bring an actual wand to the conversation. Tuck a pencil behind your ear, or hold one in your hand to fiddle with. In a pinch, it may remind you how you got here, and that the stakes are comfortably low. All in a day’s work for a humble errant knight! 

Have a tarot reading request or tarot-related question for Arcanalogue? Ask here. Tips accepted (but not required) via Venmo, @arcanalogue. Or support my Patreon? I’d love that.