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emiliasilverova · 10 months

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Day 2 of Fest... time to unleash one very big post 👀

You've seen the title on the link above, today I bring you an Alec playlist. But me being me, there's a tiny bit more to it than just being a selection of music I love (it absolutely is, though, don't get me wrong). This is a narrative playlist—in other words, each song represents a moment in Alec's life, in chronological order, and based on my interpretation of (and expansions on) the GoldenEye canon. Oh and... although I didn't put that much thought into this aspect of the playlist, it happens to be mostly British songs, some Russian ones and a few others. Pretty fitting, I would say.

See you below the cut for the full story behind each song :D

Pink Floyd, Another Brick in the Wall pt. 1

Our story starts with Alec being a little orphan in 1950s-60s Britain. Therefore, my choice went to a song about a very similar little orphan—Pink, the protagonist of The Wall. Although circumstances are different, the song tells the same story for both kids: they're lonely and deeply resenting of their father's (or parents') absence... which will be the root of all the ills in their lives.

David Bowie, Life on Mars?

There was a joke between @prismatic-bell and I once. Since Bowie and Alec are so similar in terms of appearance, Bowie must have been Alec's first crush (and therefore, bi awakening). Therefore, there has to be some Bowie in here—and this song in particular is perfect to describe Alec growing up, looking at the depressing Cold War world from his young eyes.

David Sylvian, Forbidden Colours

Speaking of bi awakenings, well this is it. At this stage of the story, young Alec has realised ‘[his] love wears forbidden colours’. And just like in the song, he'll ‘[try] to show unquestioning faith in everything’, from public school to the army. Another brick in his wall, as somebody else would sing.

John Barry, Theme from the Persuaders

The only instrumental in this playlist, but perhaps the name of the composer alone tipped you off on why I chose it. By now Alec is a Royal Marine, and he meets a certain Navy commander—a fellow named James Bond, you might have heard of him. So why the Persuaders and not a classic Bond theme? Easy, just watch the opening of said Persuaders. The parallel editing between the lives of Roger Moore's and Tony Curtis's characters... I dream we could have that for Brosnan!Bond and Alec.

Pet Shop Boys, This Must Be the Place I Waited Years to Leave

So Alec is an MI6 agent now (probably under James's influence). The point here is, he actually loves his job—being in the shadows, not having to be around handsome men in uniform all the time anymore... He's found his place, and he can look back on his younger years as a bad time that is finally over (or is it?) Fun fact by the way, this song could have been the Living Daylights' theme song. It didn't go too far into that process, but still I highly recommend this edit of TLD's credits with the song over it.

Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Relax

‘Not having to be around handsome men in uniform all the time anymore’... yeah. Well, there is still is one ridiculously handsome man Alec is around all the time—James. Cue more bi panic, growing jealousy, and, of course, sharing everything absolutely everything. Doesn't help that Relax, an extremely gay song (enough to be banned by the BBC when it came out...), is the hot thing on the radio back in those days...

Tears for Fears, Shout

Alec has just earned his 00 status, and he has many scores to settle with life... so he's going to shout, and life is going to hear him. Case in point, his bullets.

a-ha, The Living Daylights

A continuation of the previous song. This is Alec and James living the high life as 00 agents, full of broken gadgets, expensive food and clothing, private jokes and other code phrases. An excuse for me to shoehorn my favourite Bond song in the playlist? Absolutely. a-ha's synth version of it, too—as much as I love Barry's version (the one used in the movie), I have to say this one is vastly superior.

Public Image Ltd, The Order of Death

Oh no. Alec has been too curious and got his hands on his MI6 file. Now he knows everything. The Lienz Cossacks and their betrayal by the British; his parents' survivor guilt; the fact his name shouldn't be Trevelyan but his parents' Russian name (Trailin, in my headcanon); the fact MI6 knew his origins and still got him to work for them (if it didn't have a say in how he was brought up...) He wanted to know, now he's got his answer. Whether he likes it or not.

Secret Service, Flash in the Night

Alec is depressed. He doesn't really know yet what to make of everything he learned in his MI6 file. He looks at James but he knows he can't tell him anything. James is part of the system that betrayed his parents, then betrayed him in turn. James can't possibly understand how it feels like. Yet again, Alec is alone. The scar once healed forever dissolves in the rain, as the song has it.

Кино, Спокойная ночь (Kino, Spokoynaya noch'—Calm Night)

Not too long later, a still depressed Alec is wandering in Soviet streets during a mission. Moscow or Leningrad, who knows (one day I'll have to choose, because I really want to write a one shot based on this song). Ideas are coming to him, but they aren't really clear. The only sure thing in all this is that he's starting to feel a lot more Russian than British... hence the inclusion of the first (and not last) Soviet rock song in the playlist.

C.C. Catch, ‘Cause You Are Young

Probably the same night, Alec stumbles on an underground nightclub blaring Western songs. After all, it is the mid-1980s, and Gorbachyov's USSR slowly starts to allow such music within its borders (censorship is still there, though, as proved by the blurb on the Soviet edition of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's second album not mentioning a single thing about Relax. Western music, okay, but gay? How about nyet) Anyway, my point: Alec hears this obscure German pop song, and suddenly everything starts to fall into place in his mind. A wake-up call, if you will. What he needs now is to catch his freedom from MI6, whatever the cost.

Depeche Mode, Personal Jesus

Janus is born. Alec's Personal Jesus, the persona that will give him his freedom from—and revenge on—Britain. The inspiration behind this choice of song comes from Brigada, the most famous Russian TV show of all time. Basically, the story of a group of friends in the late 1980s who go on to become a powerful mafia group in the 1990s. In the first episode, the protagonist decides to commit his first crime over Personal Jesus... and commits said crime in an underground nightclub that blares ‘Cause You Are Young. Small world, I know.

Peter Gabriel, We Do What We're Told

Alec is preparing his plans to fake his death and truly become Janus, but in the meantime he has to pretend everything's fine. So he does what he's told... like in his childhood, like in the army. He absolutely hates it, but he knows his patience will pay off.

Propaganda, p:Machinery

One word: Arkhangelsk. The planning phase is over, the day has come for Alec to make his move and disappear from the face of the Earth. Except that, as we all know, not everything goes according to plan... Fun fact, I just learned that this song was greatly influenced by David Sylvian, of Forbidden Colours fame. The world doesn't get any bigger, does it?

Pink Floyd, Hey You

In a Soviet hospital, Alec recovers from his Arkhangelsk wounds... and falls deeper into depression. But with Janus on board, depression takes on a much more threatening face. Alec is despaired, but he also wants to kill. That should distract him from despair.

Nautilus Pompilius, Воздух (Vozdukh—Air)

As the USSR slowly dies, a new organisation comes to be—the Janus Syndicate. It's only the early days, and it probably doesn't really ressemble what we see of it in GoldenEye. But it comes at a time Soviets themselves are growing disenchanted from their world. as everything crumbles down, even law enforcement doesn't see any point in catching criminals anymore (as told by the lyrics). Exactly the kind of fertile ground the Syndicate needs to grow.

The Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil

There's a newcomer in Alec's life—a certain Xenia Onatopp. Is she a cis or trans woman, I'll let you choose. What she definitely is, at least, is someone who wants absolute freedom, even if it means harming others (a cause Alec can relate to). That, and the kind of untamed energy that would greatly benefit from being given a direction. For instance... working for Janus? Unless it is dominating Janus in the bedroom... my Alec is bi for a reason, after all.

Depeche Mode, Never Let Me Down Again

Do you know Scarface, and more specifically the Push It to the Limit segment? Well picture that, but with Alec as Tony Montana, Xenia as Manny Ribera, the freshly renamed St Petersburg instead of sunny Miami... and Depeche Mode instead of Giorgio Moroder's music (with the caveat that Alec clearly didn't get married back in those days, because there's only one person he'd marry: James). These are the heydays of the Russian mafia, when some people who previously knew nothing of capitalism became dizziyingly rich overnight... and fought each other to death for more power. The days of the Gulf War, also—when the Janus Syndicate sold stolen Red Army weapons to Iraq. Pop quiz, do you know what the mafia bosses who survived those turbulent times are called today? Oligarchs. Kinda sheds a new light on Alec, I won't lie.

Tina Turner, GoldenEye

I had to include it. There's no two ways about it, this is the ultimate, canon Alec (Bondalec, even) song. Just look at the lyrics, and tell me this isn't Alec spitting all his jealousy on James. Xenia would be just as menacing, yes, but nowhere near as salty. So where are we in our story for me to include this song? Well, just at the beginning of GoldenEye proper: Xenia has met James in Monte Carlo, and tells Alec as they prepare to steal the Tiger (yes, Xenia's accomplice in that scene is Alec. Fight me). Cue a very sour laugh from Alec, who cannot believe fate has put James on his path again. Not that it really matters to him at this point though—all he's focused on is his upcoming revenge on Britain, and if James has to be a bystander, then so be it.

Midge Ure, The Man Who Sold the World

James wanted to be set up with Janus... well, he's got what he asked for. Janus, in person, at the statue park. Alec, alive and with a murderous intent. Again a song with a connection to Bowie, as you might have noticed... but unsurpringly I prefer the very 1980s, synth-heavy version by Midge Ure. Bowie, hmmmm... a hint towards renewed bi panic on Alec's part? You'll know soon enough.

Nautilus Pompilius, Нежный вампир (Nezhniy vampir—Tender Vampire)

A little interlude before we enter the endgame. The tender vampire here is Janus, of course—dragging Alec's better self into the abyss, being so jealous of James he starts circling around Natalya like a hungry shark. The absolute creep we see in the train scene, in short. For the record, I know this song from Brat, another very famous Russian movie about the 1990s mafia (I'll probably run a watchalong for it later during this Fest, so stay tuned 👀).

Propaganda, The Murder of Love

Train scene, act 2: the Mexican standoff. Alec and James face each other again, but James still doesn't really have the upper hand. So Alec (well, Janus) spits more poison at him, this time a lot more personal and hurtful. And yes, the bi panic is firmly there, as smug as Alec tries to look. He knows he can't kill James, but he also knows he can't let James talk to him. Alec can't be diverted from his revenge on life itself, because that would be acknowledging that all the time and effort he put into that goal was a waste. Therefore, he prefers to gloat at James... in other words, to be the victim who's become the judge, and to make James plead for mercy.

Pet Shop Boys, I’m Not Scared

Well, this particular one originally wasn't in the playlist. But the moment I first heard it, I knew I had to include it. This has to be James's answer to all of Alec's venom in GoldenEye and The Murder of Love. James has always loved Alec, and doesn't understand how Alec could have grown so scorned and spiteful. Are Janus and Alec really the same person? Will he have to kill Alec? If he does, will James ever be able to forgive himself? If only he and Alec could talk heart to heart... as @3nigm4art commented about this song, Alec would cry if he heard James singing it to him. Perhaps he could even be reasoned... So what I envision here is the beach scene, with James looking at the sea asking himself all those questions—and Alec, somewhere in his lair, being unable to take James out of his mind.

Leonard Cohen, First We Take Manhattan

We are now in the Janus control center in Cuba. Xenia is dead by now, but Alec probably hasn't really processed that yet. After all, he has other things on his mind: his scheme coming so close to completion... and James right in front of him, watching and commenting what he sees. Alec likes this, in a way—what better witness to him becoming a literal god than James? He's not jealous anymore at his point, because in his mind, he's won. He's done the impossible: destroying Britain, and beating James. But there's an issue here... being so drunk with his triumph, he forgot that James won't let himself be just a passive bystander. Which surely won't come back to bite him in the arse, will it?

Pet Shop Boys, It's a Sin

As everything explodes around him (literally), Alec loses it. James has stolen the triumph he deserved to get. Therefore, James will die. By Alec's hand. Ensues the fight on the antenna. Alec probably knows he won't survive it, but he doesn't care anymore. All his rage, all his jealousy, all his frustration are what fuels him at this point—with glimpses from his past flashing before his eyes, as the song suggests. He has wasted nine years of his life, and the rest of it in fact. His whole life has been nothing but sin, from his origins and attraction to James to becoming a spy then a mafia leader. So if there's no turning back... at least he'll go out with a bang. And hopefully take James with him.

Кино, Легенда (Kino, Legenda—Legend)

The story ends here. Alec falls to his death after James lets him go, and James has to live with the memory of Alec haunting him. But is it what really happens? If anything, this song is here to be an open ending. It is an elegy, yes, but it could be Alec singing it. Since death is worth living, but love is worth waiting, maybe he survived and has to piece himself back together at James's side. Or maybe it's James who fell. You decide, but at least there's one thing we can all be sure about. Credits might roll, but Alec's legend never ends.

(Thank you so much for reading, and listening ♥️ I put a lot more energy into this post than I thought I would 😅)

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minty364 · 5 months

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DPXDC Prompt #94

Danny falls through a portal to the DC world from a natural portal that opened up while he was in mid fight with Skulker a fight that began at Vlads where the creep put a collar on Danny that kept him in ghost form, Vlad thought he’d force Danny to reveal his secret to his parents by taking away his human form. Looking around he’s in a dark city with dark smog colored skies. Unfortunately he’s stuck here as the portal closed leaving him trapped. He tried to find help but no one can see him in his ghost form. He starts tailing the vigilantes of this world and eventually follows one onto this space station through this tube (possessing inanimate objects sure comes in handy). He wasn’t expecting for the random British guy in a trench coat to see him.

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #writing prompt #poor danny #What if no one could see Danny like deadman #Danny is stuck in ghost form #Constantine has a headache especially from the ghost king that has apparently been tailing Batman for a week #ghost king danny #Batman had a feeling he was being tailed but it’s hard to prove when nothing is amiss #my asks are open #More Minty lore? Sure!#Honestly no one in my family knows I love Danny Phantom so I only own a glitch in time #It’s still my favorite show from the 2000s but at this point that probably has more to do with the phandom #I’d also like to reveal my DP inspired world soon but I have no clue how to go about it #Should I start a new blog? Or should I just post it here? This blog is meant for everything but I don’t want to bog it down #So that’s my rant take it or leave it but you can’t unread it!! Thanks for reading have a great day!

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 2 months

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Yet another wild crackship between my LDB and some Skyrim dumbo, but this time it's General Tullius, and it actually gets madder from there

Look, a lot of this surprised me too. It sure surprised @elder-dragon-reposes and yet it makes sense and that's the strange beauty of it

He could be forgiven for not seeing her at Helgen. Between Ulfric's capture and the following dragon attack, Tullius had his hands full with escaped prisoners and a town in ruins. Not to mention Elenwen's attempts to take over his execution. One half-elf caught in the crossfire was below his attention at the time. When she came into Castle Dour, a cold wind in her wake as she spoke about fire and death, he had no choice but to pay attention to her. Especially when she brought up things like "peace" and "ceasefire." This Last Dragonborn was out of her mind.

Yet somehow, she led him into an agreement to meet with the Stormcloaks at High Hrothgar.

Tullius isn't quite sure he likes that. She's as double-edged as any Thalmor diplomat with her words. As noble as her intentions appear on the surface, he's not sure he can trust her.

At High Hrothgar, the Last Dragonborn, Leara, leads both sides into an agreement where no one gets what they want, but no one is worse off, and she plans to trap a dragon in a castle.

She . . . plans to trap a dragon in a castle.

Tullius knows he was sent to Skyrim to tame the rebellion, but no one ever prepared him for how maddening the people of Skyrim were. No one is as maddening as the Nords' hero. Tullius cannot understand her. He's not sure he wants to, all things considered.

The Legate is amused by his consternation. He knows this even without her saying anything. But Tullius is worried. This Leara has the power to sway Skyrim in whatever way she chooses, and if she joins the Stormcloaks, then he has a feeling that the Empire might lose more than Skyrim before all is over.

He keeps an ear out for the Dragonborn's movements. His spy network throughout Skyrim is extensive: If she breathes in Windhelm's direction, if she says anything about the Civil War, then he'll need to be ready. This woman has slain dragons. He doesn't want to see what she'll do to a legion of mortal men. Tullius needs to be ready.

Tullius is not ready when Leara walks into Castle Dour again, armorless and prim as she waltzs into his war room. Legate Rikke greets her, but Tullius pretends to give half an ear. He looks like he's going through reports, but he's trying to keep an eye on the anomaly in the room.

Legate Rikke and the Dragonborn talk quietly together. And then the Dragonborn leaves and Tullius finally puts down his paperwork. Legate Rikke is frowning.

"What did she want?"

The Legate's attention snaps to him.

"She wanted to know about our support from Cyrodiil, sir." "Support?" "She mentioned your inability to negotiate a peace settlement, General."

Tullius recalled that. He'd told the Dragonborn he couldn't do more than accept Ulfric's surrender. But why did the Dragonborn want to know about the Imperials' ability to negotiate with the rebels? Didn't she already get her peace treaty and trap her dragon?

Tullius cannot wrap his head around her. Everything his spies have reported paints her as kindness. Even the coldest Nords seem to thaw around her. But Tullius can't base his understanding of such a power player like the Dragonborn on reports and a handful of interactions. He'd have to speak with her himself.

The Winking Skeever is busy when he steps in. A few heads turn, but otherwise, no one pays Tullius any particular attention. The Dragonborn isn't difficult to find, either: She's at a corner table with her nose buried in a dusty book.

Tullius makes his way over to her.

The Dragonborn is surprised to see him but still invites Tullius to sit at her table.

"I assume this is about my discussion with your legate earlier."

She's perceptive. But Tullius already knew that.

"Do you always discuss politics in a bar?"

At his question, the Dragonborn offers a little half-smile, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Do you?"

No. Honestly, Tullius couldn't recall the last tie he even visited a bar or tavern other than while traveling. Perhaps he was working too late, but between the Civil War, Elenwen, the dragons, and (maybe) the Dragonborn, he couldn't afford to slack off. Why else would Tullius chase the Dragonborn down to the local inn?

"Have you read much about Skyrim?"

Her question surprises him.

"War commentaries mostly. Military history."

The nod of her precise head is measured as if she expected that response. Marking her page, she closes her book and shows him the cover. It's some thick tome he's never heard of, but the knotwork dragon design around the edges breathes of old Nordic craftsmanship.

"As Dragonborn . . . [she pauses for a long moment] . . . As Dragonborn, I am highly invested in the preservation of the Empire and Skyrim."

She chews her lip.

Tullius almost asks if she's about to join the Legion. He can't deny that he'd hoped that would be her ultimate decision, but sitting here across from the Dragonborn as she was now, deliberating over words and tapping her book's cover, Tullius knew she wasn't about to swear fealty to the Emperor.

When she continues, she speaks slowly.

"General Tullius, would you be willing to help me? I need to reach out to people in the Imperial City about a peace summit, and I don't know where to begin."

A peace summit?

"I take it Ulfric didn't put you up to this?"

Her frown is surprising.

"No, he didn't. I asked him."

The Dragonborn asked Ulfric if she could talk to the Empire about a peace summit?

Before he could ask what in Oblivion that was supposed to mean, the server brought a tea service to the table. Just as quickly, he was gone.

"Would you care for a cup, General? I'm afraid all they have is lavender honey." "I . . . would like that--" "Leara."

She supplied. Her lips quirked.

So Tullius found himself ensconced at a table in The Winking Skeever and discussing different politicians and diplomats back in the Imperial City with the Dragonborn – Leara. He's halfway through his second cup when she admits that she's trying to find a peaceful resolution to the Civil War that could please everyone. He calls her a hopeful idiot, but she smiles.

"You can't please everyone." "Well, I don't think I can please the Dominion, but I can tie them in legal knots."

Leara wiggles her fingers at him, her rings glittering in the candlelight, and Tullius finds himself speechless.

If the Dragonborn – Leara – can tie the Thalmor up with a loophole, how imminent would their retaliation be? Tullius is at once intrigued and put off.

She was mad.

"Here, you'll want to write . . ."

But by the Divines, he was going to help her anyway, wasn't he? If Leara could talk Ulfric off his warpath, then maybe there was something to her hair-brained scheme.

Tullius sees Leara a few days later. She's been to the Blue Palace and the Bards College, she tells him when he meets her again at the 'Skeever. She's combing through maps and treaties, drafting letters, and making lists. Her mind is running at speeds Tullius can't comprehend, and yet she keeps looking to him for advice.

As Leara stirs a lump of sugar into her snowberry spice tea and peruses another list, Tullius wonders if she did this with Ulfric when she went to ask him to consider peace.

Her penmanship is as poised as the rest of her. He cannot see her against the harsh stony backdrop of Windhelm, amidst the snow and vitriol. She's too civilized for Skyrim. She's almost too civilized for Cyrodiil, but Tullius won't think of that.

He doesn't have a chance to give it much thought anyway when she's asking him about neutrality and the terms of the Concordat.

It's late when Tullius leaves her the second time. As he leaves, she's carrying a stack of papers upstairs. She has a hopeful lift in her step.

Tullius almost smiles.

Almost.

The next morning, Legate Rikke drops a new report on his desk. It's from Captain Aldis.

"What's this, Legate?" "There was a break-in, sir." "And we're concerned with this, because?"

Legate Rikke's jaw tightens, her eyes are wide. Whatever it is has unsettled her.

"It was at The Winking Skeever."

She sighs. Heavy. It's a familiar frustration.

"General, I believe that the Thalmor were exercising their Concordat-given rights."

A pit settles in Tullius's stomach.

"They took the Dragonborn, sir." "On what grounds?" "It doesn't say. sir. It doesn't even mention the Thalmor at all. But you know–"

Tullius doesn't hear the rest of the sentence because he realizes his mistake. He should never have discussed the possibility of an armistice with Leara in a public room. Who overheard her? Who saw Leara's notes and lists and books? Who ratted her out to the Thalmor?

Tullius's fist clenches, his knuckles pale. The one person with a Divine's chance in Oblivion to bring a favorable resolution to the Civil War and the Thalmor took her like every Talos worshipper the Empire was supposed to turn a blind eye too.

He paces around his office. Legate Rikke has left him alone, and now all Tullius can do is think and walk. Turn. Think and walk. Turn. The cycle repeats throughout his office. He only suspects that the Thalmor took Leara. Without concrete proof, he can't accuse them or he'll risk something far more uncomfortable than paperwork. But if he does nothing, then every hope for peace in Skyrim vanishes in the Dragonborn's wake.

Tullius stopped in the middle of his office, standing at a crossroads. Was it possible to ascertain that the Thalmoor abducted Leara and to request her freedom without bringing Elenwen down on his head? Probably not. But . . .

Tullius recalled the wide eyes, the fear swimming in the teary blue when Leara was faced with Elenwen at High Hrothgar. At the time, Tullius didn't think much of the Dragonborn's aversion to her. Most people hated the Thalmor Ambassador on a good day. But the terror that flickered in Leara's face before she grew cold and distant and manipulated the entire table to her own ends came back to him.

No, Tullius knew Elenwen personally had the Dragonborn. There was a history there he couldn't see, but it peeked at the edges of his vision in brilliant horror.

Elenwen had Leara, and she wouldn't let the half-elf go lightly.

If Leara could cheat an entire room of warring politicians and soldiers while ensuring a truce, then Tullius could sure as Hell try to manipulate Elenwen.

Sitting at his desk, the General ruled out any official Legion channels. Those would be tied back to him and ruin any chance Leara had of negotiating her armistice. Something under the table, then.

Mercenaries were messy. Robbing Elenwen would take a different hand. He grimaces and drafts a letter.

General . . .

The messenger hawk returns the next evening. Tullius doesn't want to think about why the hawk returned so quickly. He just hoped his charade would hold.

(Writing Galmar Stone-Fist of all people to encourage a Stormcloak raid on Northwatch Keep was something Tullius knew he could never live down if it got back to any of his superiors in Cyrodiil. He couldn't trust that General Stone-Fist would take an anonymous tip at face value, but as Leara soliloquised late that last night,)

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

It's four long days of giving only half his attention to his job before an Imperial scout reports that the Stormcloaks attacked the Thalmor fortress of Northwatch. When the Legion got there, nothing was left but smoldering ruins.

"They had a dragon, sir."

Tullius didn't want to know how they had a dragon, but he was optimistic that it meant Leara made it out of there alive.

With the Stormcloaks, but alive.

He sleeps through the night for the first time in over a week. When Tullius wakes up, he wonders how he could turn to the rebels to save the Dragonborn. Effective, yes, but it went against everything he was supposed to represent.

But she's alive.

She would be dead or worse off if he hadn't done it.

Tullius uses that thought to bolster himself through the coming weeks.

Then, a letter addressed to Tullius comes by way of Whiterun of all places. He recognizes the slender script curling his name across the paper. It's a short letter asking him to retrieve her belongings from her room at the 'Skeever. Two things stand out to him: The first is the thank you. Tullius cannot tell what Leara means by it because he knows that Stone-Fist didn't know who sent the tip about Northwatch. And yet there's a tearstain on the parchment, small and alone as if any others were quickly dashed away after the first one fell. The second is that all her books, papers, the things she worked on for her peace talk were all hidden in a panel behind the bookshelf in her boardroom.

Tullius didn't even think of Leara losing all her work. He was more concerned about getting her out. He was more worried about her than anything else.

Tullius buries his face in his hands.

This was a familiar feeling. It'd been years since the last time he felt like this.

Although, Tullius gave himself a wry smile, he doubted he'd have betrayed the Empire for the Countess of Anvil's cousin.

Tullius goes early the next morning to retrieve Leara's things, hidden or otherwise. A member of his spy network is tasked with getting the parcels to a Lydia in Whiterun. Then Tullius watches as every connection he has to the Dragonborn disappears out the doors of Castle Dour.

It's back to the everyday humdrum of war, then.

Until, some months later, a familiar half-elf comes into Solitude. Now, she's accompanied by a dark-haired Nord woman in heavy armor. Her stormy expression and hawkish eyes remind Tullius of Rikke at times. Leara introduces her as Lydia, her housecarl. Then Leara is handing him a folio of papers.

"I've been corresponding with some of the Elder Council. I'm planning a summit in Whiterun."

He takes the folio from her.

"What's this?" "My draft for a permanent peace treaty. I thought that since you helped me, you'd like to peruse it. Of course, I need to get it to Jarl Elisif when you're finished."

That Leara is offering to let him be a part of her peace treaty isn't lost on Tullius. He sets the folio on the table but leaves his hand on top, protecting it.

"I can come back for it tomorrow." "I'll get it back to you tonight."

Legate Rikke coughs, obviously. Tullius adds,

". . . we can discuss it over dinner, if you like?"

Leara's smile is full.

"I would like that."

They don't end up talking much about the draft. But Tullius gives Leara some of his favorite brandy after their dinner of roast lamb and stewed vegetables. Her giggle is light and airy, and her hand is cool like spring water when he takes it across the table.

Perhaps he drank more than he should have, but liquid courage was a reassuring friend.

At the end of the night, Leara, tipsy and yet all grace, presses a petal soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulls away.

His hands slide up her arms, callused fingers catching on the soft linen of her sleeves. And he pulls her back and kisses her, full and properly on the mouth.

Leara tastes of tea and winter and something floral and frosted. There's more than magic in her mouth – there's music and mercy. If Tullius wasn't drunk before, he finds himself intoxicated on Leara.

She strokes his face, smiling, always smiling, and then backs away. Her eyes are bright and liquid and as deep as Lake Rumare. In the low glow of golden orange firelight, she is beautiful.

He loves her.

He doesn't say it, and soon she's gone, slipping through doors into the night. An angel passing from the room.

The next day, he finds that she left him her address. It had been a long time since Tullius even tried to write a love letter. They were never his strong suit, but Leara had a way of inspiring madness in him. He wrote her.

And Leara wrote him back.

Again and again and again.

Tullius doesn't expect for his presence to be needed when the summit is called in Whiterun. The Empire has its own group of delegates to negotiate the terms of Skyrim's division. But still, Elisif the Fair says that General Tullius has been asked to attend. The young queen seems as if she can't quite believe it, but she was often wide-eyed and overwhelmed as it was.

(Maybe Julia was right. He should listen to Elisif more. But pretty soon, it was likely Tullius would never see the Queen of Solitude again.)

Leara is there in Whiterun, laying out the terms of the Armistice with the light and delicacy he'd come to expect from her. How many others here knew she was anxious that things would crumble apart, that things would come to blows, and that the war would escalate for all her efforts to temper the fire?

Ulfric's face is a dark stormcloud, but somehow the Jarl of Windhelm appears to hold his tongue around the Dragonborn. He watches her, defers to her, and in return, Leara smiles at him.

Tullius is simply in an advisory position for the Imperial delegates to mine information on the state of the Civil War and the Imperial Legion. He never speaks to Ulfric, and seldom to Leara during the weeklong summit. But he sees the Jarl speak to her between sessions. Leara is quiet and nods. Her eyes are faraway and thoughtful.

Tullius remembers that when she first brought the idea of the summit to him, Leara mentioned that she convinced Ulfric to agree to it. For the first time, Tullius wonders how Leara went about winning Ulfric Stormcloak to her side.

His chest burns.

When the Armistice is signed and Skyrim divided in two–

"Divided, you can finally be united."

Leara said.

–there is a feast. Leara is in demand all night. Tullius watches from the sidelines, some Cyrodilic brandy in hand as he watches one person after another flit around her, bees buzzing around a blooming rose. After a while, Tullius gets up and retires to the quiet of the Dragonsreach porch.

He isn't out there long when the doors open again. From the dark stairwell where he sat, he saw Leara flit by, orbited by Ulfric.

Tullius's hand tightened on his glass.

"You must be relieved that's over." "I'm glad we could reach a resolution."

She deflected Ulfric's concern with a wave of her hand.

But Tullius knew the truth: She was terrified of the summit. She was terrified she'd fail.

"What will you do now?"

Leara's question broke through Tullius's thoughts.

Ulfric shifted.

"There's much to do. Skyrim hasn't been in a state like this since the Second Era. I'll need to work quickly to bring stability to the east before we can truly reap any of tonight's rewards." "You have a busy schedule, Jarl Ulfric! [her laugh is musical] Even when my work ends, you still have so much to do!" "Leara . . ."

There's a hesitation in Ulfric's voice that Tullius never would have imagined from the man who Shouted High King Torygg apart. Leara's responding,

"Yes, Ulfric?"

is careful.

"I was hoping that you would come to Windhelm with me. To help me." "Help you? As an advisor? Certainly, but–" "Not as an advisor. Not . . . as you're thinking. Leara, surely you must know what I feel for you." "Oh."

If Tullius didn't fear being caught, he'd have stormed from the porch. Or over to Ulfric and pushed him off. Or something. His blood was rushing in his ears.

Certainly, he and Leara hadn't truly defined what it was between them. This week was the first time he'd seen her since kissing her that night in Solitude, and in this week, they'd hardly been alone together long enough to discuss anything beyond the summit and the usual pleasantries.

But her letters were candid and funny and full of ideas. Her mind spilled across the page in curling and shifting lines.

Tullius knew then that while he had Leara's mind, there was every possibility that Ulfric had her heart. She was as divided as Skyrim was.

"Ulfric–" "While Skyrim was at war, I knew I couldn't give you the attention you deserved. But now that we can have some peace, I wish to ask you for your hand. Leara, you ignite a fire in my chest that burns my heart when you are near. Please do me the honor of agreeing to marry me."

There's silence. Long, drawn-out silence. Somewhere on the plains, a wolf howls. Its cry echoes the pain in Tullius's chest.

"Ulfric . . ."

Leara's voice is choked, emotional but she is forcing it down.

"Ulfric, you're very dear to me, but I can't marry you."

It was only Ulfric's loud,

"You can't? Why?"

That covered the sound of Tullius's brandy glass slipping to shatter on the stone stairs.

Leara hesitated.

"I can't give you my heart because it belongs to someone else. I can't take it back." "Who?"

Leara quieted.

"Please, Leara, if you won't marry me, then allow me the courtesy of knowing who I lost you to!" "I–"

Leara choked.

Tullius's heart sped up as his hands shook. He was as anxious as Ulfric to hear her answer.

"You won't like it." "Who is it? Galmar? I know he was the one to pull you from that Thalmor pit."

Divines. That would just be the cherry on top of this entire fiasco, wouldn't it?

"No, not . . . It's . . . General Tullius."

The silence that followed was more deafening than any that proceeded it. Even from the darkened stairwell, Tullius could since the thunder around Ulfric, rumbling silent and yet violent.

"You won't marry me because you're in love with Tullius?" "If that's how you want to put it, yes, that's it." "Leara – I, he . . ."

For once, all of Ulfric's fine speeches seemed to fail him.

"Please don't be upset."

Leara's voice is as soothing as the first spring rain, as far apart from Ulfric's hurricane as possible.

There was a rustle of skirts.

"You are a very important person to me, for more than you can possibly know, but I can't give you the love you want. It's not mine to give you." "But Tullius–" "Has been so vital to me during these last several months. We would not have this peace if not for him. I needed him." "I need you." "I know, but I've given you all I can. I can't give you any more."

Tullius peeks around the corner far enough to see Leara on her tiptoes. She whispers something in Ulfric's ear, then presses a fleeting kiss to his cheek. Tullius ducks back just in time to be hidden as Ulfric turns and leaves the porch. The doors shut behind him with a whisper of finality.

"You can come out now, General."

Tullius's knees are stiff as he gets up from the steps. Leara is waiting for him in the middle of the porch, her red hair a dark contrast against the white gold of her skin and the pale ivory of her gown. She's aetheric in the moon and aurora lights.

"I hope you finished your brandy before the glass fell."

His neck grows warm with embarrassment.

"Is that how you knew I was there?"

Leara's coy smile was her only answer. Yes, then. Well.

"Ulfric Stormcloak proposed to you." "Yes, he did." "And you turned him down." "Yes, I did. " "Why . . ."

Her hand was on the side of his face. She was perhaps a hairsbreadth taller than him, maybe an inch, but her hand felt so small against his face that Tullius couldn't help but reach up and clasp it with his own for fear that it slip away.

"I thought you were eavesdropping." "Well, I wouldn't say that–" "And, therefore, would know why I turned Ulfric down."

Tullius tries to swallow, but his throat is tight. Leara's hand is cool against his skin, and he takes comfort in that.

"You love me." "Yes, I do."

Her smile is radiant.

Tullius's hand slips from Leara's, but then his arms are around her waist, pulling her into him. She is slim and cool and everything a flower in winter might be. He buries his nose in her neck, amidst the frost and flowers.

"I love you."

She doesn't reply. She only tightens her arms around his torso. They stand there in the quiet of the night, away from the celebrations but togehter under the stars.

Later, when Tullius returns to Solitude for the last time, he packs his things for the return to the Imperial City. He takes his bags to the docks.

And there Leara is waiting for him, Lydia her housecarl in tow. She smiles at him, full and vivid.

"You're late. My trunks are already on board. Right, Lydia?"

Lydia rolls her eyes.

"All eleven of them, my Thane."

Tullius chuckles, quiet.

Leara's hand finds his, and he helps her up the gangplank of the Imperial Naval ship. It would be a long voyage, but Leara had never sailed before, so that would be their mode of transportation back to the Imperial City.

"What will we do when we get there?"

Leara's question is teasing and free of the burden of being Dragonborn and peacemaker. There were still the Thalmor to worry about, but after the ruin of Northwatch and the signing of the armistice, Tullius hoped they'd think thrice before going after Leara again.

"I'll buy you expensive teas and you'll drain my accounts on tea and books."

Her giggle rang out amidst the sounds of the ship preparing to leave the harbor.

"Oh yes, that must be why I've gone and married you."

Tullius pulled his wife to his side and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Must be."

It couldn't possibly be that she was the most maddening thing in the world and she drove him mad by proximity.

Madly in love.

What nonsense.

fin

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front-facing-pokemon · 10 months

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#manectric #i woke up at like noon today y'all i'm queuing this after work. i forgot about it all day and i was about to hop on totk #but i got the reminder to do it. so here i am. with manectric #el woowoo‚ if you will #a lot happened. yesterday. it was not a very good day. which is why i woke up so late. it was a little bit rough. but i guess it's a new day #so. it'll get better. planning on Not Doing Shit today or tomorrow to compensate for all the Bullshit that happened yesterday #hoping you all are doing well. one week from today (friday june sixteenth) i'll be hopping on a flight for the first time in 10 years #looks like according to the queue this will actually go up the day before we leave. so‚ to you guys‚ i'll be heading out tomorrow #which is scary a little bit. last time i flew i had no idea i was autistic‚ but now that i've come up with a lot of better accommodations #for myself and i understand myself a lot better and my needs‚ i'm realizing a lot of my accommodations just aren't gonna make it through TSA #plus it's a lot of unfamilarity with unfamiliar people and an unfamiliar environment which i feel like is gonna lend itself to sensory #overload like Immediately and i'm probably gonna get a headache bc that's how it manifests for me #so when we get there i'm probably gonna have to run to the nearest pharmacy. and grab some shit. which is annoying! so. i'm a little #worried. about the trip. NONE OF HTIS IS ABOUT MANECTRIC SORRY #this is a pokémon i have a hard time caring about outside of its involvement as the leader of the electrike in amp plains #that's about it #any tips from frequent flyers who are autistic would be greatly appreciated. not even just about flying but about like. going to unfamiliar #places on the other end of the country and stuff. i feel like that's what i'm most worried about even though i'm worried abt all of it #also hi i'm writing these tags from day-of. like the actual day this is going to post. me from a week ago sure did know what she was talking #about! anyway. i'm. gonna like. take my meds now goodBye see you all when this Posts in a few hours

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theflyingfeeling · 4 months

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okay I'm not expecting anyone to care all that much, but I was looking at the prompts for the 18th Day of Gift-Giving for my Olli/Allu fic advent calendar and I'm between two options on what to do with them, so if anyone out there wants to put in their two cents...

(see the pros and cons in the tags of the original post)

#on one hand i'd like to write a standalone with a storyline of its own #because that way i could probably manage to write a better story #on the other hand i kinda feel like i should focus on the main plot after all the standalones i've posted this week #but if i stick to the main plot my options would be more limited 🤔#because i don't feel like making either of them have a random headache/migrain or some kinda personal crisis #just for the sake of the prompt #i know there's barely any plot to begin with but i still don't want to make it too scattered 😅#i have an idea that would work alright for the main story and it would probably turn out cute enough #but some of the other prompts that wouldn't really work for the main story are soooooooo tempting #and i mean. at least 4 or 5 of the stories for next week will be related to the main plot #plus the stories for the 16th and the 17th #so there'd still be plenty for that too!#i'm probably gonna make my own decision regardless of the voting result but i'd like to hear from you anyway #i've never made a poll before and i'm kinda nervous about this lol i really am expecting this to get maybe 3 votes max 🤡#i hate how the title is so huge pls don't be annoyed with me i'm sorry for existing i promise i'll never make a post ever again 😭#not putting this in any tags. you see this if you see this

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egginfroggin · 3 months

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So this post got stuck in my head again.

Baby Sabi variant of I Told You So go brrrrrrrrrrr.

Some fluff under the cut -- and Emmet struggling with that thing that every parent of a baby does at some point: comforting the Wailing One.

"You are being verrrry loud."

The infant continued to scream.

Emmet released the largest of sighs and shifted her in his arms, bringing her up a bit higher against his chest. Her round face was puffy and red -- distress incarnate, it seemed.

"Extremely loud," he deadpanned. "Yet I feel like I've heard louder. Still. You are being loud. Why?"

Sabi squirmed, finally lapsing into precious silence to draw breath.

Snuggled down in the nest, Lord Braviary grumbled and peeked his head over the rim of sticks and down.

"Do you want to cuddle with Braviary? Is that it?"

Her lungs had been filled, and she set about emptying them for the umpteenth time.

He couldn't see anything wrong, which was what made this entire situation so... infuriating? Bothersome?

Concerning?

Emmet wondered -- not for the first time -- how, in all the world, he had wound up like this. Lord Braviary had picked him, and that he could understand the Clan abiding with.

But the tiny orphan he was currently holding while the moon crept towards its midnight zenith?

Baffling.

She was distinctly unhappy, clearly indescribably so -- though, if one asked him, he'd say she was doing a fantastic job of describing her misery despite her nonexistent vocabulary -- and apparently hurting, if the desperate edge to her tone did anything.

Well, her tone, and the odd buzz in the back of his head. It was almost like panic, though subtle, and it didn't shut up no matter how much he mentally swatted at it.

He knew that maternal instincts were strange, if logical things, but paternal instincts were an oddity that he'd never heard of -- assuming that that was what this incessant need to comfort was.

"Would a kiss help?" he offered, half sarcastic, and was met with still more dismay and distress.

Sighing again and desperately nearing defeat -- down would hurt to stuff in his ears, but he couldn't calm her down and he needed to sleep -- he leaned down and gently kissed her tiny forehead. It was feverishly hot from her fussing, especially in contrast with the chilly Icelands air.

Yet -- she quieted at that, prying her bright eyes open to peer up at him.

"... What?" He blinked at her, and she blinked at him. "Was. Was that all you wanted?"

Could babies be petty? He didn't know. Human babies were outside his area of expertise -- and he didn't know how he knew that, he just did, don't ask -- and that included their capacity for grudges, pettiness, mischief, and all other manners of intentional tomfoolery.

But, no, she hiccuped, and her tiny hands were wiggling under her blankets -- she looked like a tiny Cascoon that had been kicked in the face.

Another peck on her forehead, and she babbled, sparing his ears the symphony of misery she'd been conducting.

"... Is it your head?" he asked, leaning back to tilt his head at her. He shifted her to one arm, lifting his free hand to tap at her forehead.

She gurgled, squirming like she wanted to lean up against his hand -- he finagled the glove off, exposing his fingers to the cold air, and pressed his hand to her head.

Well.

As excessive as her methods of conveying the agony of a headache may have been, he could sympathize somewhat.

Braviary clucked from his nest, and he lifted a wing as Emmet looked up at him.

Emmet stared at his Noble for a moment, then looked down at where his bedding lay rumpled on the ground. It had most likely gone cold.

He huffed, softly, and plucked up a pillow, keeping a tight hold on Sabi as he bend to pick it up. She giggled at the motion, down-and-up, apparently in much better spirits.

Lord Braviary rumbled deep in his throat as Emmet clambered up into the nest and settled under his wing. The Noble was exceptionally warm, all fluffy and soft, and it was like being smacked in the face with solid Sleep Powder.

"Okay," he said, patting Sabi's head. She blinked her big, green eyes at him slowly, headache forgotten already under the crushing weight of sleepiness. "Back to sleep. For you. And for me."

He cut off with a yawn.

"Sleepytime junction is now boarding...."

Sabi cooed at that, a little, "'eeby," that was almost a word falling from her mouth as she fell asleep.

Emmet followed soon after, and Lord Braviary after him, huddled in the cozy nest.

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blogalreadydoesntexist · 8 months

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every and any time that tom mentions hiccup or one of the riders/past events are mentioned, 8 years are taken off my life

#watching them bring up dagur made me physically ill im not joking it gave me a headache #STOP FUCKING AROUND GOOD GOD I HOPE THE 'riders' SUFFOCATE #minus alex shes not an embarrassment to her name thank god #sag and writers strike needs to keep them from making this show permanently #wait till they bust down the studio doors and find out that its an ai writing these episodes #how to train your dragon #dragons the nine realms #rant post #shorter rant post #short post #my school finally gave me access to the courses today so i wont be actually posting for a while #have this hatred towards dogshit in the mean time

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datastate · 1 year

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i think the thing that gets to me most about nankidai’s writing is the lack of confidence in some aspects for his story/characterizations to shine through, to the extent he overcompensates. prior to the ministories, it’s shown most in how reko’s doll is overly emphasized as being out of place.

but usually, he’s really good about being subtle!!! with joe being more clever than he typically lets on (and in the death game, letting his cheery attitude drop once he’s out of sight of sara), the tension between alice and reko not being exaggerated and we can see where reko’s torn, with keiji’s slow appreciation for sara over the course of the game, etc.! and actually, speaking of ch2 + regarding the satous, their role in the story is intentionally in the background by nature of their role as the ‘in-between’ asunaro and casual life (most prominent with kai; though it also shows up with gashu who is - for the most part - more 'normal’ compared to the other floormasters while still maintaining his menacing role. this is something i deeply appreciate in contrast to the other floormasters - it presents a different, and arguably more terrifying, aspect)

but with the ministories in play... i do feel like sei would be better off if he were involved solely with kai, rather than directly with gashu. i’ve stated my issues with how sei’s existent feels redundant with the dichotomy of kai and ranger already in play, though he remains a deeply important character to kai himself and should not be removed entirely. (but that is not the point of the post atm)

see, it’s already heavily implied / outright stated that ranger and kai are meant to resemble and contrast one another.

- with ranger’s referring to gashu as “dad” (contrast to kai’s “father”) - shin’s wondering if rio was meant to be a successor (sara’s comment of “in place of a son?”) - rio’s inferiority despite fulfilling what kai states he never could; the two on opposite sides of what gashu wanted (kai’s unwavering commitment (unfortunately, to human life) versus ranger’s utter disregard for human life (with only gashu as the exception)) - and these are just listed off the top of my head, as i’m. very tired lol :P

we already had an established unknown dynamic between rio and kai - through gashu! as his creation/son respectively.

with sei’s involvement as gashu’s other apprentice, it seems to take away from the parallels we already had with gashu’s established children - specifically in kai’s case. there are no longer any messy strings left behind with kai and gashu under this lens, as gashu has completely moved over to the other apprentice he once took on instead. which honestly feels very unrealistic for how close they once were and how gashu justifies how he treated kai after being told only ‘one’ could survive after the assassin’s trial - out of a desire for kai’s survival, not only for his ‘potential’ but out of his own... clear ‘love’ for his family. this became a necessity.

sei physically resembling ranger could’ve simply been a case of being the next-best survivor of the assassin’s trial, who still met his end by another’s blade because of how much he cared for kai (who could’ve been training with him, where they earned their friendship; both were waiting on the instructors to report back to each house, rather than gashu specifically), and gashu saw that as the reason for both kai and sei’s failures. if kai was never a factor in sei’s life, would he be the assassin asunaro sought out...? <- that sort of thing

though, honestly, i don’t think sei needed to tie in with any current timeline-relevant character at all!! (esp as it was never implied in the main game). ranger’s design can stand on its own, and sei’s effect on kai wouldn’t be lessened if he didn’t resemble rio. tying ranger into the past seems to overcomplicate what was already implied beforehand regarding gashu’s difficult feelings toward his family (wishing to keep his child by his side, even in replica) versus asunaro (the intense faith he holds in its ideals, to the point of committing suicide to retain the purity of the death game) and how he both resents and wonders where he went wrong with kai for him to be unable to kill anyone else or complete asunaro’s objectives, where all other assassins would’ve in its name. he was searching out a replacement for kai - that is all we’re given in-game, and that’s honestly all we need to know for ranger’s existence to make sense and have a deeper meaning than just being a malicious floormaster! he is underdeveloped, and that is the intention of his character; he was always meant to be in the shadow of the child he was based upon, the one who gashu truly cared for.

...in any case, it’s an issue solely with the ministories in general! i feel like nankidai did wonderfully with enhancing dynamics we were already aware of and adding in characters that could have a lot of potential on how they influence the yttd cast’s lives (ie. ryuu, sei, and more solid characterization for ursheen/stronghold!) and i absolutely adored the alice & reko events!!! the subtle references to how much reko cared about alice to set up a ‘secret hideout’ just for the two of them, still taking the time to explain music things he didn’t quite understand (and in turn, also trying to pretend she didn’t know as much about piano as she did so she had more time to hang out with him), etc etc - it’s heartbreaking seeing how coldly they regard each other in present day by contrast! with that small set up of just how their personalities/desires began to clash and leaving the rest to be assumed from there. reko & alice’s is by far my favorite of the ministories, though i do appreciate what nankidai is trying to convey with the others... i just wish he weren’t so overt with kai’s :’]

#i feel like this goes without saying but all critiques i hold come from a place of loving the story given #i adore ytd and it really does hurt seeing this lack of confidence end up having a negative impact on the story #and on characters that he ends up undercutting even without meaning to!!!#i love writing and character studies and i'm working on my own game... i have my own experience and i'm just. ahhh!!! i can see #exactly what nankidai is going for and i wish he let it speak for itself rather than . this!!!#don't undersell your stuff!!! please!!!!!#jestersvaguely #yttdlb #yttdposting #long post #negative #okay that's . enough of that. i might edit this post later when i don't have an intense headache but i probably won't #post abt this subject again unless prompted lol i feel really bad doing all of this #i'm just sad at what could've been & how much this took away despite trying to add more honestly

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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years

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would we be upset, relieved, or ambivalent if i suddenly started writing in actual, properly punctated english

You know, like this? Not just to prove that I actually know how to do it (because that’s probably in doubt), but mostly because I re-read thy fair imperfect shade and went, “Wait, where the fuck do all the sentences start and end? I can’t tell because this bitch doesn’t use her capital letters”.

It would still have all of the... y’know... weird punctuation and- oh, for the love of- hold on, just give me a minute- sweetheart, stop! I said I’ll get back to your WIP with Milo in a minute, now will you please go back upstairs and get dressed!

Um, as I was saying, it would still be the same stuff, just in actual English this time instead of all lowercase. Thoughts?

#this would only be for fic #lowercase only writing basically only exists on tumblr and now that i'm crossposting on ao3 i do feel like a little baby on there #it started off for the aesthetic and then i just got used to it lmao #but i don't want it to interfere with readability and ik that lowercase only might be fucking with that #i'll still type like this for general posts lol dw about that #i CANNOT be fucked to type properly for EVERYTHING #but hmu if you feel particularly strongly or another bc if the lowercase thing is giving you a headache #i'm fully down to change it #i will be honest the vibes for proper punctuation are WEIRD just bc i'm not used to seeing it coming from me on my blog lmao #in which i channel my inner 2011 ff.net emo girl Y/N writer and talk to the characters in the middle of a post #probably should have started that with an A/N:

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silverutahraptor · 2 years

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As soon as this migraine stops I’m outlining ALL the plot bunnies to explore how for Uchiha Headaches Are The Worst, Actually

#raptor speaks #my writing #okay but seriously though…#if your EYES are bleeding from the stress #you bet your entire head feels like exploding #also visual migraine aura for Sharingan users would be TERRIFYING #is their Sharingan deteriorating or is just their nerves being on fire??? who knows #i give Izuna regular headaches in #don’t trust them brother #don't trust them brother #(but usually because of overuse)#what if…. ALL Sharingan use comes with headaches #the uchiha just don’t mention it because they ALL have headaches ALL the time #mornings where Izuna or madara wake up and their head is already SO BAD…#but they HAVE to get up there’s no choice #(oh boy headaches AND depression or burnout is the Most Fun Combo i promise 🙃)#this post is sponsored by: me lying in a dark room and crying

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arthyritis · 2 years

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Feels good to have a reliable hobby again tbh

#greys random updates #this is about the rainbow loom stuff lol #im very excited ^^#like i love to do my art and writing and such but sometimes ideas run low or chronic pain and illness makes it hard to focus #but with rainbow loom (that ive been doing almost as long as either of my other current hobbies) thats not so much a worry #its a very idle thing. id go as far as to call it a stim because of the repetitiveness. and i was surprised i even remembered how to do it #but also i did so much of it back as a young teenager that really im not surprised #from the pictures ive posted so far we can see i love to do the fishtail lol #but ive made keychains/charms in the past and stuff too that im currently working towards again #im just having so much fun and ive only have it for 2 days lol new hyperfixation alert #anyway thats probably enough rambling ive got a headache but yeah <3 #tag rant

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dearest-lady-disdain · 2 years

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the ‘i will love you’ tirads by lemony snicket are unmatched and they make me feel things as well as go slightly insane

#i will post another one soon. probably #i have a headache today but that comes from wanting to write #it's a defence mechanism you wouldn't get it

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exopelagic · 2 months

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once again facing unstoppable force (anxiety-driven need to finish my work) vs immovable object (brain doesn’t wanna do anything but think abt little gay people)

#solution: write tumblr post #I JUST figured out a fix to my plot problem in this story I’ve been thinking abt #and I rlly rlly badly wanna start fleshing out these characters bc this is the story I’ve been most excited abt in a long time #it’s also combining a bunch of elements I’ve been playing with for a long time but never fit #and I am obsessed with all of the character concepts I have rn. there are 4 and this caters DIRECTLY to me #I’m getting much better at crushing the anxiety spikes that are uh. like. vaguely scrupulously ig that kept me from making things do ages #in favour of going hard on self indulgence and I’m having a great time #scrupulosity* as in i worry incessantly abt readings and sociopolitical implications until I’m just exhausted by the concept and drop it #sometimes you can just have fun luke it’s okay #but yeah I am!! and I wanna draw them all and do more stuff but #I have THIS FUCKING LECTURE. most boring frustrating man alive hislectures SHOULD BE GOOD but he SUCKS #he cannot get to the point and takes so many detours which are COOL but he’s so pretentious about it his lectures are PAINFUL #I get headaches within a few minutes of listening to him talk this hasn’t happened since I was sleep deprived in the v basic first year 9ams #and I’m on the last one. out of four. I have half an hour left. but this half an hour is insurmountable #and I gotta finish it bc I have so much other stuff to do (only two more lectures (better)!!! but also coursework now #which is easier!! and I know how to do both of them but it’ll take a chunk of time and I’m committed to getting it done by end of next week #okay. okay fine. I will watch this dumb fucking lecture and it will hurt #but once it’s done I will literally never have to listen to him talk again this is it forever. one last stretch #and then I can mess w my story while I have food. I can do this. pray for me #luke.txt

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cocklessboy · 10 months

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The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+#trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

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walkingintheamm · 7 months

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#i got my period 6 days earlier.......#so my moodiness from yesterday is explained #also the headache #currently battling cramps #pain killers only took 3 hours to kick in :')#have a report to write and instead spent my afternoon hugging a hot water bottle #me posts

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masonjarcollector · 8 months

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Guilt

Caiden knew that Alix would get pain that made her feel like her joints were corroded and her muscles were atrophied, and on some days it was hardly noticeable, but on other days it was so bad, they’d stumble around lifelessly and down ibuprofen like there was no tomorrow. Similar occurrences happened to everyone within the Unit, but it was Dmitri, Sig, and Alix who seemed to bear that weight the most.

Guilt manifested similarly to that pain, Caiden noted, as she pulled her knees tighter against her torso and attempted to curl deeper into the couch. It was a complex feeling that thrummed dully behind their sternum–embarrassment, nausea, hollow rage. Chattering that whispered endlessly in her ears. A burning itch crawling over their body that would only subside after they ran their calloused fingertips over old scars.

Sometimes, they would barely notice the sensation. They could joke and smile genuinely and leave the house with little fear and be okay. Sometimes, the day would start out good, and then maybe she was being watched a little too intently by a pedestrian, and then she would spiral. Sometimes, she just woke up like this. Woke up lethargic and malfunctioning.

Symptoms: Disinterested in doing anything involving getting up and moving, hazy attachment to reality, loud thoughts (way too loud), discomfort with reflection, injurious desires, crippling sense of shame.

Official Diagnosis: Known colloquially through the Unit as a “bad day”. Recommended Course of Action: Die. No, wait.

Crash the car in the middle of an intersection.

Fuck, that still isn’t right.

What could possibly be done to make her any better? Sleep? (And what, be disturbed by nightmares and memories and horrible visions of the future, uh, no thanks.) Drink some water? (Caiden was incredibly thirsty, but such predicaments were better left for the living and breathing.) Go outside? (Absolutely not. The outside was crowded and loud and packed to the brim with danger. Threats lurked around every corner, watching and waiting until they found the perfect moment to strike, the perfect moment to grab the little malfunctioning fuck up and run syringes into her spine, wrap chains around her neck, turn her back into the well oiled machine she used to be, or otherwise make her pay for every sin she had committed when she had the foolish idea to live among the innoce–)

“Can I assist in some way?”

Dmitri spoke gently. They stood over her, motionless but ready to spring into action, with their luminous eyes full of concern and hesitancy. They knew they couldn’t help her. Nobody can help anybody when they are like this. But, a thought broke through Caiden’s fog, it was still nice of them to ask. If she hadn’t been so tired, Caiden might have even felt warm gratitude towards them.

Instead, she just stared at them. Burning, itchy, guilty, exhausted. They got the point and left.

***

The Unit had given Caiden her space, and when they had to encroach into her existence (passing through the room to get to another, looking for something misplaced, following an order of Dmitri’s) they were as respectful and gentle as she was when they were having a bad day. For the most part, she hadn’t seen them.

At some point, Caiden had abandoned the living room to go back to the room shared by Dmitri and her. The blankets were cool and soft, and if she pressed the pillows against her head hard enough, her thoughts would be quiet for a heavenly second. Dinner was skipped. The sun went down.

When Dmitri entered the room, they set a glass of water down on the nightstand, and immediately went to Caiden’s bed. Lightly, they sat down next to her, waiting for her response.

“Caiden?”

The chattering in her thoughts was far too loud. And the pillows over her head weren’t doing enough. It was hard to see Dmitri as a caretaker and not an enemy. She was numb and guilty and her skin didn’t feel right.

Caiden realized. With some sort of disordered clarity. That perhaps the recommended course of action. Was to wrap her arms around Dmitri. And press her face against their shoulder. And inhale deeply. And accidentally emit a low keening noise. And relish the feeling of them wrapping their arms around her.

“You’re safe,” they murmured to her. “It’s okay, you can be like this here.” They held her tightly with both arms.

“Why,” croaked Caiden, suddenly afraid that they were going to pull away, and subsequently clutching at them with clenched hands, “why can’t I just be fucking normal?” It was a wail. A forlorn sob. The origin of shame, the insidious child of Guilt, the demonic presence of self-awareness. Why can’t they be normal one way or the other? Must she be a freak of nature, scorned by the two sides she had once called home? Why is divinity dangled right in front of their face yet so far out of reach?

Why does she fall apart during thunderstorms? Feel sick when she’s in a crowd? Grin in the face of adversity? Question morality? Discover autonomy? Why can’t she take what is given, accept what is given, and just. be. fucking normal?

“I know,” said Dmitri, plainly. Because they did know. They didn’t know it exactly like Caiden did, but they knew what it felt like to be a half-programmed mess, yearning for instruction while craving forgiveness for what they did under the instruction.

They knew how badly Caiden wanted to have friends who hadn’t seen her worst moments, they knew how hard she tried to communicate and how poorly she failed at it, they knew how jumbled her thoughts were, and they knew how thirsty she was and had brought her water.

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