#just a concerned fellow first world citizen

[unicyclingskinwalker]

Ganyu with a S/O who’s the embodiment of Sin of Wrath

Okay so this has been in my brain for DAYS! How I got this idea? Well my fellow XX and XY chromosomes (please don’t come at me if I didn’t include your gender okay ily) my friend asked me to do yeah. This is my first time writing so please tell if I got anything wrong.

Warning's: Ganyu being teased by Ninggaung, Gn!Reader, violence (kinda), Beidou on her shit again, SFW, fluff.

• ARRGGGG THIS DYNAMIC IS SO CUTE. Since S/O is you know, the embodiment of Sin of Wrath, you can already assume they are a hot headed fellow.

•Just Ganyu being the absolute sweetheart she is, meanwhile S/O just blew up a whole hilichurl camp because one of them looked at them wrong.

• I’d like to imagine S/O is just very blunt with their words towards everyone else, except for Ganyu. Someone could say “Hey, am I ugly?” And S/O will just say without skipping a beat “Yes.”

• But Ganyu is a different case, because my girl has body image issues, she can ask S/O “Do you just pity me?” When she feels down, and S/O just looks at her like “bitch tf?”

• Then proceed to go on a 3 hour rant on how she is perfect.

• Now let’s talk about how Ganyu views S/O. At first encounter she was more or less fucking terrified of them. She was worried S/O would destroy Liyue, but as time went on, feelings developed and then BOOM

•Dating.

• She loves S/O with all her heart, but has to calm them down whenever something ticks them off. Some random citizen looked at Ganyu weird? Well now S/O is about to tackle the dude.

• Venting to S/O about someone was a bit snarky to her? S/O is now asking about any information they have on this person.

• My girl over works herself to exhaustion, S/O would swoop in and take her on a date as a fucking break.

• S/O would bring in small treats for her like strawberries. Also anytime you two go out on a date at a restaurant, you would be the one to say they got he order wrong.

• Also naps with her are the BEST! Pls let her rest her head on your shoulders, she needs it.

• Now her co workers.

• Ningguang would be concerned for well, the entirety of Liyue. The physical embodiment of the Sin of Wrath here? Yep, they are going into a watch list.

• Ningguang would be very on edge anytime they were near S/O but would cover it up. After a while, she be okay with S/O, since they’ve proven they’re not a threat to Liyue.

• When Ganyu and S/O start dating and news of it gets out, ohhh boy, Ganyu is in a world of teasing from Ningguang. Ning would walk up to Ganyu and start to ask her “Is your partner treating you fair? I hope he is.” Or something like that.

• Keqing would be the same case, but on edge for wayyy longer. Like even after when S/O started to date Ganyu. Idk, this girl gives off the vibes she does personal investigation on S/O for WEEKS.

•But at some point she’ll warm up to S/O, a tiny bit. Not a whole bunch but it’s progress. She will definitely be very happy that Ganyu found some joy in her life.

• Now Beidou. She honestly wouldn’t mind S/O that much but jokingly say to them, “I could use you for my crew!” While taking sip of her drink.

• One time, Beidou managed to convince S/O to help her get rid of some hilichurl camps. Well that ended with the hilichurl population at basically zero and the landscape unrecognizable.

• Yeah, S/O and Beidou got in trouble.

• Now Ganyu’s family, Zhongli, Xiao, Shenhe, and Cloud Retainer (Xianyun). (Yes I see them as a family. Yes it’s my own head cannon, idc, bite me.)

• I imagine Ganyu wanted to introduce S/O to them after they started dating.

• Zhongli would be questioning S/O. Since now he can actually see them in person we would ask so many questions about them. Bro would ask them what their most traumatic memory they have.

• Then ask if they like dogs…

• After like a whole court trial’s worth of questions, he would give the green light that he’s good.

• Cloud retainer/ Xianyun. She’s doing full on stalking. Not in a bad way, she just wants to make sure S/O is a good fit for Ganyu.

• At first she would HATE S/O because one, they are the physical embodiment of wrath, and two wrath = extreme violence, and violence is a red flag. She can’t have any harm done to Ganyu, who is practically her child.

• Now after Ganyu had to do some convincing and S/O being told to be on their best behavior, they got the green light! YAYAYA

•Xiao. First encounter and he would immediately pick up on the negative energy S/O has around them, and basically try to kill them, and Ganyu would have to stop it.

•After she explained to Xiao, he would look Ganyu, confused, look at S/O, look up and down, turn back to Ganyu and say “Really?”

• He’s gonna be so snarky towards S/O. Both of you guys would feel uneasy around each other after that incident.

• But you guys will be forced to apologize to each other at some point, likely by Ganyu. You two would still side eye each other but it’s fine.

• Xiao won’t verbally say it, but he will accept you at some point. So YAHOO

• I won’t have much for Shenhe since I don’t know much about her and I don’t want to mess her up so yeah.

• She stare down S/O for god knows how long. Just her mind thinking wether or not if S/O is a good fit.

• Shenhe would also ask some questions such as “What are you intentions with Ganyu? Will you harm her? Are you dangerous?” Answer wrong and you’re going to hear boss battle music.

• Then after some time she’s going to be all like “Okay, they’re fine.”

Alright that’s it for now! This was my first ever post and I hope I got things right enough! Okay ily, drink some water, have a snack or go to FUCKING SLEEP.

#ganyu #ningguang #beidou #keqing #shenhe #xianyun #zhongli #xiao #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #cloud retainer #genshin

[beesmygod]

do the forbidden woods have any connection to the beasts or great ones, aside from being geographically adjacent to byrgenwerth? Are the snake infested fellows just "normal" as far as yharnam is concerned? Like before yharnam got all bloodborney, was the Yharnam Cartographer's Guild map of the woods still just a big circle with SNAKES written?

this is a really good question because, as a lore psycho, i think the understated lore implications of the woods are genuinely fascinating. i think there's a lot to unpeel, even if we take into account that it was one of the places in the game that was chopped up at the 11th hour and scrambled before release.

as always for these lore posts, important nouns are bolded and speculation is in italics. we are going to discuss the woods in three parts: from the gatekeeper to the windmill is "the village". from the windmill to byrgenwerth is "the woods". the subterranean cave shortcut back to yharnam will just be called "shortcut." i'll expand on this shit GREATLY when we reach this part in "you hunted" (I HAVENT STOPPED WORKING ON IT I PROMISE IM JUST SWAMPED) so considered this a light overview. feel free to ask for more details on things and ill do my best to fill in the blanks.

THE VILLAGE:

-from the jump, the village gatekeeper is a fucking weird little blip in bloodborne's narrative. i haven't thought about him enough to figure out if he's more than just a spooky, unexplained element but he has some cut dialog that sheds some mindboggling information about yharnam: he seems very confused about WHEN it is and will cite the last time he had a visitor as anything from a year to a century.

-the lamps in this area lighting the way to the village are little burning fetal beasts of some sort.

i'm starting to understand more and more about how fire operates in the world of bloodborne, since most of the time it appears in the game, it's seemingly impossible. the thing that confused me the most was how old yharnam was still burning if it happened a long time ago. i think it's time to start thinking of the old blood as impossibly combustible and a great source of light/fire. this isn't the first in-universe example of creatures being used as fuel: the lamps in the fishing village are slugs (also infants? they strongly resemble the hunter's appearance as a baby great one in the "childhood's beginning" ending). this is a whole fucking like, thing. it's its own post.

next, the huntsmen enemies here are dressed funny. you probably noticed it but couldn't pin down how. they're dressed in white church clothes! the first model here is used only in the forbidden woods. the two on the left are from central yharnam. note the gloves on the first two; these are church doctors!

(this post goes on like this for some time)

the white church doctors are the ones that were doing "experimentally backed blood ministration". the butcher's garb further defines it as "forbidden research". these white church doctors are the citizens of this "village". in the clustered buildings where the majority of the huntsmen are, you can find blue elixir and beast blood pellets in abundance. both of these items can only be purchased from the store after obtaining the choir's badge, drawing a firm connection between the white church doctor's research and the goals of the choir.

although, this probably isn't too much of a surprise; it's almost certain that this is where fauxsekfa came from. she took the same shortcut we did, right? i'm not really sure i understand the shortcut too much. but let's talk about it.

THE SHORTCUT:

although not explicitly stated, i am strongly convinced that this cave is the entrance to the hintertomb. at the very least, it is absolutely an entrance to the labyrinth. the presence of tomb mold, blood gems, parasite larva, and pthumerian giants/corpses makes this very clear. the root chalice for the hintertomb describes it as "a cesspool of noxious snakes and insects"; i think it's likely that the snakes came from the hintertomb given they can be found in the swamps there.

the giant graves here and further into the woods are referred to as "tombstone[s] of a great one".

the hunter's mark i think would suggest these are pthumerian made. its possible that the hintertomb is spilling out into the world above but frankly all of the graves here are baffling. grave placement and appearance needs more research. the graves in the woods only are developing a strange sort of honeycomb rot pattern not unlike the head of an amygdala. this pattern shows up enough that it warrants more investigation.

the slow poison-inducing "water" here has similar properties to the slow poison pool in the research hall. they are different colors, but have similar origins: the poison pool in the research hall is from the decomposing bodies of the patients, who were exposed to bizarre blood ministration and parasitism. the pool here is likely from decomposing great ones. with this in mind, perhaps the silvery liquid is mercury.

the ladder leading out of this area is fucking insane and i have a hard time understanding what occurred there. like what in the hell is up with that grave you exit into in yharnam. who popped it open. why is it so cavernous. what happened to the contents.

anyway, let's just go back to the woods.

THE VILLAGE (again)

there's really only two more things to mention here before we move on: first, beast roar can be picked up here. it's the undead, still twitching hand of a darkbeast. nothing touched by the old blood can truly die, and these severed limbs are no exception.

second are the butchers. these are the people who collect specimens, hack them apart, and present them to the church doctors for research. they show up in three different ways: the surviving madaras twin wears the butcher's set (the hunter picks up the set from the other twin's corpse), the "executioner" enemies (REMINDER: a better translation would have been "butchers" [or, literally, "dismantling men"], i have no idea why they went with "executioner" outside of their superficial appearance) wear the cape with the popped collar, and there are huntmen enemies skulking the streets below the grand cathedral hunting for victims dressed in the garb. they literally only appear there.

ah, one more thing. this is the place where you can find the suspicious beggar and interrupt him while he's in the middle of chowing down on one of the biggest families i've ever seen in my life. at first i thought the devs hysterically fucked up the sizes of the corpses, but they're dressed like the citizens of yahar'gul. while not outright stated, evidence strongly suggests that the beggar is irreverent izzy or one of his followers such as the close proximity of one of izzy's inventions and the beggar's clothing reflecting his past as both a veteran tomb prospector gone mad and former church agent. there's a lot of meat on that bone, but for another time.

OKAY. LAST PART NOW.

THE WOODS:

this is the part you probably remember the most bc it's snake hell. the first thing we absolutely need to keep in mind is that the snake-infested guys you meet are a reference to doobie from jojo. the snakes are parasites to people, but the snakes themselves are also being parasitized? they are covered in ticks, those are the huge bloated blobs all over them. given that the augurs of the great ones are invertebrates...what does that imply about the inclusion of the ticks narratively?

there's something absolutely fascinating happening to the flora and fauna in this section of the woods but it's hard to know what it all means. some notes:

-when enemies in bloodborne die, the game handles their corpse in different ways. some of this is lore related, some of it is to reduce hardware strain. some corpses turn into ragdolls, some explode into blood, some explode into white particles (sometimes with blood but not always). snakes explode into white particles. i got way too into the fucking weeds with this, but (outside of the slime scholars....kind of) all of these enemies either appear or were intended to appear in the chalice dungeons, the nightmare frontier, or the nightmare of mensis (the lecture hall containing the scholars connects the waking world to the nightmare). all of these locations are, arguably, the nightmare.

-there are statues of amygdala and a presumed evolution of the celestial child sprouting out of the ground. i am almost certain these are original versions of the statues in the grand cathedral and yahar'gul, respectively.

-remember that strange pond with the fireflies? the only place in the game where there's fireflies? what the hell is up with that lol. i kind of have an answer:

most concrete is this: back when the original boss of the woods was snakeball, you would have faced a rematch in this pond.

insane theory crafting moment: look, this is stupid complicated and a reach so if i have to get into really defending it it, ill do it in another post. but in bloodborne people can be teleported around via "communion". communion is the means of entering the chalice dungeons and requires three things: ritual blood (or perhaps just liquid, if rom's arena is anything to go by), something to hold the blood (typically a chalice, but sometimes the "chalice" is a skull), and light (this is almost always achieved with candles). this pond is probably full of blood, if the rotten bodies nearby are any indication, and the fireflies offer light. but, look, this shit was cut so don't think too hard about it.

-its in the art book but also in the game (but hard to see): the wall separating byrgenwerth from the rest of the world is melted.

wait wtf there's dudes in it. lol. what da hell!

oh my. the name for this asset is "wall of divine tomb". cool. every day i lean some new insane shit about this game, for real.

anyway the only other point of interest is whatever the fuck valtr and the league are doing. too deep of a topic for now. anyway, those were the points of interest in the forbidden woods. i hope this was....whatever counts for informative when it comes to video game trivia

#bloodborne lore #bloodborne

[bananamilkbunni]

greetings Miss Bun,

one of my best friends rts your account on twitter often and from what i have seen i have come to the conclusion Bun is somewhat of a Tartaglia analysis expert.

therefore i was wondering if you knew or had a guess about Tartaglia's loyalty to The Tsaritsa.

Do you think part of the reason Tartaglia is so loyal is because he believes it's what's best for his family, that the Tsarista does know best? or does he love the Tsaritsa & is loyal for a separate reason regardless of family? If Tartaglia had to make a choice to stay loyal to the Tsarista at the cost of his family getting hurt, do you think Tartaglia would make that choice? Is Tartaglia's family getting hurt worth making the Tsaritsa's vision come to fruition?

i understand if this is too heavy a question or if there simply not enough information to make a guess, just curious as to what Bun thinks as a fellow lover of Childe.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, hope you have a wonderful day

(^-^)

Thank you for asking! It's true that we don't have much solid information on this, but I'll do my best to answer your question based on the current info and my own personal interpretation.

Judging by what we've learned thus far, Childe's loyalty to the Tsaritsa is partially due to being granted a purpose.

There are three separate instances in which purpose/motivation is mentioned in regard to or by Childe, making it a recurring and significant theme for his character.

Childe's Collected Miscellany. In this video, Dainsleif says, "Since becoming a Fatui Harbinger, fighting for the Tsaritsa is his new motivation as a warrior." This statement raises the question of what his motivation had been prior to the Tsaritsa, or whether he even had a motivation at all. My personal theory is that he did not have one.

Labyrinth Warriors (Limited Event). "All those who stalk the battlefield yearn for meaning and value." This quote comes from Childe himself.

Childe's Act I Story Quest. The quote from this requires the full context, so I'll expand on this below.

In Childe's story quest, Teucer gets the opportunity to see Childe fight for the first time. After the fight, he says to Childe, "I wanna learn to fight too. I wanna be cool like you!" to which Childe responds, "...Fighting isn't about looking cool. You can only continue to get stronger if you know the reason why you're fighting. I can teach you. But think carefully, first. Why do you want to fight?"

Teucer briefly ponders Childe question. Soon, he replies, "I want to protect sister Tonia."

This dialogue between the two of them is crucial in understanding Childe's own individual purpose for fighting. Later in the quest, outside of the abandoned ruin guard factory, Childe references Teucer's response when speaking to Paimon, after she asks if he is concerned for his little brother's safety. His words are as follows:

"Of course I am...but no matter what the danger is, I will parry it. Isn't that what any older brother would do?" followed by, "Even Teucer understands that, now that he knows what he's fighting for...It's the very same reason that's been nestled in my own heart for so many years."

This means that, much like how Teucer concluded that he wished to protect Tonia, Childe wishes to protect their entire family.

According to the description of the Funerary Mask obtained from Signora, the Fatui's primary goal is to go against the Heavenly Principles, against Celestia. It reads, "...Only those who possess an obsession close to or exceeding the level of delusion might be willing to join this group that so rebels against the Heavenly Principles..."

This is to say that the Fatui possess a wealth of information and knowledge beyond the average citizen in Teyvat. They have knowledge about Khaenri'ah and Khaenri'ahn technology, the Abyss, Irminsul, the truth of the world—and Childe, a Fatui Harbinger with firsthand knowledge of the Abyss, who traveled deeper than any other living human being, is not exempt from this. He is aware of the stakes, and of the war they'll have to wage to defeat the Heavenly Principles. He knows what will happen if they lose.

With that being said, to sum it up, we can assume that his loyalty is in part due to 1) gratitude for being given a purpose and 2) to ensure a safer world and future for his younger siblings and the rest of his family.

As for whether Childe loves the Tsaritsa or not, that remains to be seen. Since the Tsaritsa is implied to be the god of love, this could serve as one of the numerous plot points for the future main archon quest of Snezhnaya in 2025. What does true love mean to a god, especially to the god of love herself?

The question also reminds me of a past discussion between myself and a good friend of mine, as to whether worship and love can be equated. Is love a result of worship, or vice versa? Is it possible to worship without love? Can it even be deemed worship without it? And how would these complexities influence Childe's path? How would this internal dilemma affect his relationship with his family? Who would he choose if it came down to that?

Personally I believe that, because Childe's devotion to his family is such an integral part of his character, it is unlikely for his loyalty to his god to surpass that, in the event that his family would come to harm. In fact, it is my personal belief that this is the one line that can never be crossed. It would be his tipping point. Not only are they an inextricable part of his life, but I have reason to suspect that their role goes even farther beyond what we've been shown or told. I believe that his responsibility to his family, as well as the love of his younger siblings, is the very thing that has allowed him to maintain his humanity.

(But this is already way too long. I cannot get into that. Lmao)

In Labyrinth Warriors, ran in version 2.2, we learn about Childe's sense of dehumanization—self-dehumanization, as it is self-imposed and reinforced by himself (though it was undoubtedly cultivated by the Fatui). The event's story contained strong parallels between Shiki Taishou—a shikigami in search of his master—and Childe. Both perceived themselves as weapons, and Shiki Taishou says an interesting line: "If I am able, I wish to retain the kindness in my heart until the very end. But a weapon cannot betray its master's will. If he was able to create me, then he is able to control me."

This evolves into a harrowing conflict when applied to the context of Childe's own individual story, especially with the addition of Xinyan's perspective on Shiki Taishou's dilemma.

"All you gotta do is find the thing that was most important and righteous to you."

In other words, my personal prediction for the course of Childe's journey as a character is this: Caught between multiple worlds, there will come a time when Childe is forced to make his own decision. Will he carry out the Tsaritsa's orders, or will he save his family from harm? Should a situation arise in which his family is in danger, I believe he will ultimately choose to protect them, even if it means going against the deity he loyally serves.

In a nation ruled by a god of love, a character choosing love above all else would be extremely impactful, a perfect fit for the narrative and a profound moment for Childe's own story and development. After all, I think that is the entire point of his character—someone who, against all odds, retains his kindness, even if he himself is not entirely aware of it.

I hope I was able to answer all of your questions! I apologize for how lengthy this response is, but I'm just always very excited to discuss him. If you ever have more questions, you're always welcome to ask! I promise not ALL of my responses will be this long lol

#childe genshin impact #tartagalia genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact #character analysis #q&a session #childe #tartaglia

[wallgirl]

Feral!Poseidon Headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

So... What if Poseidon was a little more ‘Enalios’ and a little less ‘Zeus’?

SFW

Feral!Poseidon dresses largely the same as his canon counterpart, minus the choker and with a larger cutout on his back. His white wrap is much shorter to avoid being a hindrance. Anatomically, he has a few more changes. His skin is even paler due to the lack of sun exposure. His teeth come to a point, sharp enough to tear through his prey with ease, and his hands and feet are webbed. Some areas of his body have scales in place of body hair. ifyouknowwhatimean

If canon!Poseidon only tolerates humanity’s existence, feral!Poseidon loathes it. It’s humanity that’s constantly endangering his realm and everything within it. He does not compromise with humans, much less seek out interaction with them. If humans make the mistake of stepping out of line under his watchful eye, they will pay the ultimate price. Poseidon has no qualms with sinking ships that overfish, or setting a tsunami against a town that dumps pollution into the ocean. He won’t kill humans without reason, but once it’s justified in his mind, he does not hesitate. Many a greedy human has found themselves impaled on his trident after unsuccessfully begging the unyielding sea god for mercy.

This Poseidon has the utmost respect of his subjects, not just because of his fearsome strength, but because of his active involvement in the realm. He meets with lesser sea deities and mortal citizens regularly to discuss and strategize conflicts and other things that require attention. His subjects know they can rely on him to lead the charge against anything that might threaten their home, and for this he has their undying loyalty.

As driven as this Poseidon is, he still finds time for himself while traversing the waters. When he's not occupied with his duties, he prefers to lurk in the deep ocean, observing the strange life forms and geological features that can be found only there. He’s still a solitary being at heart, and finds peace just swimming alongside schools of fish and examining the wreckage of doomed ships on the ocean floor. Although humanity is a blight, useful items can occasionally be pillaged from them, and he retrieves them to give to his subjects or keep for his own use. Likewise, his dwelling - more of a glorified cave than a real home - is in deeper waters than the other humanoid ocean dwellers, such as merpeople, prefer. He finds comfort in maintaining some physical distance from the surface world, and enjoys the peaceful silence of the ocean's depths.

Feral!Poseidon views himself first and foremost as protector of the ocean before his status as an Olympian, and there are times when his priorities clash with his family. He is the hardest to find of Zeus’s brothers and makes himself scarce on purpose. He doesn’t think much of most of his fellow Greek gods, as he believes they concern themselves with pomp and ceremony more than they do the actual governing of their realms.

Although he doesn’t hunt for sport, he is a peerless predator and catches his own food. He prefers to eat prey with simpler minds, such as shellfish, and he silently thanks his prey before consuming them.

Feral!Poseidon is not one concerned with luxuries or useless baubles, and scoffs at the useless treasure his fellow Greek gods fill their own homes with. His rocky dwelling is largely empty except for tools and necessary furnishings. He makes most of the items he uses himself, and can carve and weave rather well. His exemplary survival skills mean he can journey empty-handed through the ocean indefinitely, crafting and making do with what he finds in the surrounding environment.

NSFW below cut

Although Feral!Poseidon is incredibly good at what he does, there’s no end to the amount of work that requires his attention. He eventually decides that he needs some offspring to assist him in his never-ending work... and, perhaps, a partner to seek refuge with after a long day. To this end, he seeks out a suitable mate - a fellow humanoid ocean-dweller who’s strong, healthy, and reasonably clever - and takes some time to observe them and confirm his choice before moving in.

In keeping with his primal side, Poseidon has no problem hunting you down if you run away spur his advances. If you do manage to get away, that’s fine, if irritating to him. Where, exactly, do you think you can go? The ocean is his domain, after all. He’ll easily track you to your home and entrap you... or wherever else he manages to catch you.

Your actions will decide how this coupling proceeds. Are you going to fight him? Fine then, he’ll haul you back to his dwelling and keep you confined there until you warm up to him. He’ll bring you priceless trinkets from the shipwrecks he scours and feed you the fish he catches to prove his sincerity and dedication. Eventually, you’ll come to see how good of a mate he is. What more could you want, after all?

Or... do you accept him immediately? If that’s the case, you can have him however you want him. He’s more than happy to satisfy you. Up against the cavern wall, with your lower half locked about his waist? On the ocean floor, his weight pinning you down and fingers entangled in the seaweed? Of course, once he’s inside of you, nothing else matters to either of you. He might not be able to resist biting you with those sharp teeth of his. You’re welcome to bite him back with matching passion.

Of course, now that you’ve coupled, you belong to him. He brings you to live with him and ensures that your every need is attended to. The loyal citizens of the realm show you the same respect as him, and there's no safer position in the world than as mate of the fierce sea god. While he is gone most of the time overseeing business, he returns home every night to relax in your arms. You have many children, and together you raise them to become valiant guardians of the sea.

#record of ragnarok headcanons #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #hcs #headcanons #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon

[the-real-page-turner]

Chapter 1 - Settling

The country smells odd. The lack of city smog is the first thing you notice. The small village of Ponyville had the smell of dirt and sugar in the wind. The next thing you notice is how silent the countryside is. The station was a lot quieter than the one back in Manehattan. No hustle and bustle of the city and the railyard of the big station. The station had one track next to one platform, with a singular line for goods traffic. The last thing I noticed was the lack of a crowd. The station had a ticket master, a porter, and five other passengers boarding and unboarding; that was it.

Lila and I stepped off the train, the porter unloading our bags. With four suitcases between us, we then realized how fun this would be. Lila carried both of hers in her magic while opting to pull them under my wings. She would need her magic to help with Fluttershy and the animals.

“We should probably find our rental; are we talking studio or multi-room?” I asked, struggling with the luggage wheels on dirt roads. Some citizens of my new home looked concerned, but I kept a brave face.

“Father said it was basically four rooms. A room for each of us, a general room, and a rest—Page duck!” she shouted, however, a little too late.

I felt an object, and a pony hit me in the side, sending me to the side of the road. Lucky for me, they hit my suitcase and not my body directly. It still hurt like hell, however, and my wing was the only casualty.

“Scootaloo, you just hit a lady!” A little girl with a squeaky voice said.

"Ma'am, are you okay!?” A southern child said above me: My face being in the dirt meant I did not see the source of the voice.

I of course articulated a perfectly rational and reasonable response: “Where's the leak, ma'am...?” Perfectly irrational because of the pain.

I heard a larger set of hooves walk over and say, "Ma'am, are you alright? I'm a might sorry, my sister and her buddies gotta ya’.

Before I could respond, I felt magic pull me up. Lila’s magical pull was familiar and welcomed. As I got reoriented with the world around me, I saw four figures. Three of them were fillies no older than thirteen each. One little girl had a white coat with a light purple two-tone mane that's curled slightly at the ends; another was yellow with a red poofy mane and a bow larger than any archery bow in her hair. The last little girl caught my attention due to her undersized wings for her age. I think it’s rude to stare, but as a fellow pegasus, the orange and purple filly was disconcerting. The idea of lacking flight was such an abstract thought for me that I sometimes forget Lila could not fly. I mean, call me stupid, but if you have something your entire life to the point of second nature, you forget it when others don’t have it. I guess an inverse example would be eyes. I wear very thick glasses due to my eyes not developing right, but to me the blur is normal, and I don’t fully understand how bad my eyes are, as they are all I know.

Recentering my thoughts, I turned to look at the adult mare, with an orange freckled coat; she was maybe twenty-ish years my senior with a blonde mane. Her green eyes were warm and concerned, as was her face. Her soft look of worry for my safety was contrasted by her muscle to rival the gym bucks of Manehattan. Her hoof was over her chest, with her stetson hat between them.

Now, with the magic fading and my hooves on the ground, I smiled apologetically.

“Yes, ma’am. I am fine; I am so sorry for not paying attention to my surroundings,” I said, breaking my momentary eye contact by looking over my hooves. Out of my peripheral, I saw Lila looking at me, also concerned; I just fell. I am not going to die; these ponies are worry warts.

“Ma’am, pardon me saying so,” she said in a polite yet firm tone. “I believe my sister and her friends owe you the apology; those speeds in this town was a very irresponsible move.”

I was now growing increasingly uncomfortable. Just let me take responsibility and move on; it is not a big deal. “Ma’am, I am fine; no one got hurt. Let’s just let it be.”

She looked at me for a second before her expression changed to an almost forced positive expression. The three girls had already long gone to hide from the tongue-lashing they might have received.

“Pardon my manners; my name is Applejack.” She said, reaching a hoof for a shake with us both, her positive expression being less forced.

I shook Applejack’s hoof first, saying, “My name is Page Turner; this is my friend Lila, blossom.” My friend in question was now levitating my bags as well as her own, damn. Lila did not say hello or shake the hoof; she just waved with a temporary small smile, the average Lila response.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you folks.” She said, then paused, looking at Lila, “You would not happen to be the Lila studying under one Miss Fluttershy, would ya’?”

Lila and I looked at each other in bewilderment, then back at Applejack, “Yes, I am; do you know her?” Lila asked while I eyed how to get my luggage from her magic.

“Flutters and I are old friends; shoot, she is ranting and raving about having a student finally,” Applejack said with a smile. “What about you, Ms. Turner?” Why was she asking me? Lila was the one with a good reason: "Work, ma’am.” A cookie-cutter response—not untrue, but not the whole truth.

“What kind of work? With the harvest coming up, my farm could be a choice, given you are up and dandy,” Applejack said, making me nervous. It's an offer I can't really pass up but wish I could. Jobs don’t grow on trees, though. Well, maybe hers does. I was just hoping to breathe before I needed my first ever job.

“Once we get settled, I will give you a visit,” I said without planning on it. “I appreciate the offer.”

She looked at me like she knew I was full of cat shit. “I hope you do, ma'am.” Her expression became more pleasant again. "Well, I’ll see you fillies around; take care!

Applejack wandered off after we said our byes and continued walking as I said to Lila, “Odd lady,” and got a hum from Lila in agreement.

“Maybe I should get the farm job,” I pondered further as we strolled.

Lila spoke up from behind me in a concerned tone, “Are you sure that is such a good idea? Hicks are not usually the most accepting type, and you cannot wear the dress in the field.”

I sighed, hating the reminder that people now hate me for existing in the life I live. “It’s worth a shot; besides, isn't that one really trans-inclusive clothing brand from here? I can buy some work clothes from my savings; I’ll need to either way most likely,” I said, proud of myself for being logical.

“Just please be safe,” Lila said earnestly.

I did not respond but did nod, rolling my eyes subtly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We arrived at our new very small house; it was near the Everfree Forest, chilling but cheap. It makes me wonder if the realtor told Lila’s parents about its proximity to the forest, and if they did know, would they really rent a house this close to the Everfree?

Currently, Lila and I have separated to hang out in our own rooms and get settled; however, she left an hour ago to meet with Fluttershy. So that left me alone in my room, setting up my typewriter and my mirror.

Aside from my bed and dresser, I had three things of note in my room. The first was a desk with my older, reliable typewriter; it was a dusty old hunk of iron, but I loved her. The second was a model train on my desk; it was one named Lode Star, and I absolutely adored it. Lastly, there was a large mirror where I talked to myself to get writing ideas. However, when I say talk to myself, I mean I pretend to talk to the protagonist of my novel, Fresh Take.

Fresh Take is an orange pegasus with orange hair in a messy bob cut. She was tall and thin, with commanding eyes and a confident look on her face. She had the fur pattern on her legs, which most people refer to as socks; however, hers were brown on the ends of her hooves. I know all this for two reasons, one being that I made her. She is a figment of my mind.

The second reason was a bit more dubious. I shall put it like this: as I looked in the mirror, I saw her staring at me from over my shoulder. Her purple eyes looked right into my orange ones. I started seeing her after I created the concept for her story, A Fresh Take on Life. After that, I started to talk to her, and this game of pretending that she was here was comforting. She talked me through things; she is the reason I moved to Ponyville. Talking to this figment of my mind was good for me; it helped me think.

“How are you doing, my dear?” She said to me in her posh pseudo-Canterlot nobility accent, “The move has been interesting so far.” Her voice was soothing and caring.

"Well, aside from the assault of preteens and their overly polite hick sisters, I am doing the same as always.” I felt just numb to the change.

"Why, my dear, aren't you glad to be away from that terrible place? The only thing everyone saw was you with pity-framed, rose-tinted glasses. That is no way to live. Here, you start with a Fresh Take. Let’s not waste it, sweetie.” She said, wrapping her own wing around me in a brief hug, that she was right. Most ponies back home saw me through the lens of pity or as something to keep around so she ‘doesn’t have another episode.’ It is frustrating because once you show even a bit of weakness, ponies see you so differently. They pretend like it is not there or hide it away. However, the stain is always on the mask.

“You are right as always, Freshie. Maybe I should send mom a postcard, though.” I said, but was cut off by Fresh. “And worry your mother like that; a poor woman needs to just forget you. You have already caused her enough pain; let's not forget the reason you needed to move.”

I was quiet and placed a hoof on my neck at the mention of that. After a moment, I said, ‘I was in a bad place then, but I left, so I left it behind. Nothing would go around my neck again; I left that behind me.”

Fresh smiled a warm smile. “Good; reinforcement is good for habits. Speaking of, I shall plan our route in case this turns sour. It would not hurt to be prepared. Now why don’t you rest?”

At that, I started to feel a wave of exhaustion. I was pretty tired. With that, I rolled over and decided to catch some sleep. Knowing I was in good company, I was taken care of.

#fanfic #mlp #mlp fim #mlp friendship is magic #mlp g4 #mlp oc #fan fiction #fan fic writing #my little pony

[dokidokitsuna]

Hello! Long time fan of your work, recently made a tumblr account so figured I’d say hi. Question about Dream Alliance: I was going through that post of the endgame for the AU, where Mags gets imprisoned and Marx breaks Hyness and the gang out, and I was wondering what happens to Adeleine or Gryll? When Division Six disbanded, did they go their separate ways? Betting they’d probably be against Magolor being imprisoned.

Hey there; welcome to Tumblr! ^^ And thanks for being a fan~

So that's a very good question-- I was thinking the same thing myself, honestly. ^^ I mean, I left them out of the story because I didn't really want them to be involved in it (they're better off...) but I guess if nothing else, once they turned on the news and saw "BREAKING: DIVISION SIX MUTANT SUPERWEAPONS RAZE CITY, DEATH TOLL IN THE MILLIONS" ...they'd probably guess something was up. ^^;

Although first I should establish how much they knew about Magolor's drama in the first place, because I don't think that was ever really clear. Warning: another long post ahead...

As the normal people closest to him (and fellow scientists/engineers), I think they would probably have *suspicions*, but they'd be too nice to call him out on his lies. ^^; Unlike the rest of the world, they can see how much he cares for people and how he really wants to do good, and take that into consideration. Maybe once or twice, he might admit to them that he does have some secrets he doesn't want to burden them with...or perhaps one of his angels might let something slip accidentally...but that's about as far as it would go.

Later on, when the Void Termina crisis is over and the Dream Alliance starts to downsize, they would go their separate ways, promising to stay in touch and all that. Although with the world finally starting to rebuild and heal from all the destruction, I imagine Gryll and Adeleine would end up busier than they expected, and contact Magolor less and less as the months go by. They'd probably figure they can just see how he's doing on the news every once in a while (since he is very much a celebrity) and maybe even assume that he's too busy to talk to them, which would be partly true. In this way, they'd kinda grow apart...

And of course, when Susie starts pressuring Magolor and getting him to reveal his secrets, he would definitely not want to contact his old friends about it, fearing that she might try to use them against him the same way she used his father's life as a bargaining chip. In his mind, the less they know (and the less they care, as far as Susie knows), the safer they'll be. Meanwhile, he and his fellow mages can take care of themselves...until the day comes that they can't. ^^;

You're absolutely right; Gryll and Adeleine would protest as loudly and publicly as possible if they knew what had happened to Magolor in their absence. Unfortunately, they really had no idea-- as far as they knew, there was a new disarmament policy going into effect as part of the Dream Alliance's restructuring, and then they just stopped hearing about Magolor after that point. I imagine Susie would not want the dissolution of Division Six to be public knowledge, and do everything in her power ($$$) to cover it up. At most, she would probably say that the Division Six's young general decided to "retire", surrendering control of all his assets to the Dream Alliance...which is almost the truth, technically. ^^ The only thing that would be a total lie would be her insistence that she doesn't know where he went after his resignation, and that she's as concerned about his sudden disappearance as everyone else.

This is what I was referring to when I mentioned that Marx had a hard time finding information on Mags' whereabouts-- it would be difficult even for a normal citizen with access to media, let alone a vagabond alien who'd be risking capture just by showing his face in public. Although a fun idea I had was that he might meet Adeleine and/or Gryll while he's on the run, and stay with them for a while. He could be the one to make them realize that Magolor's in some kind of danger, and that the Dream Alliance is in on it somehow. And they'd have to believe him, knowing that Mago would never abandon his favorite angel to wander the streets alone, unless something had gone horribly wrong.

Unfortunately, neither of them would really know what to do with the information, especially considering that the Dream Alliance (and by extension, Susie) has so much influence over the available authorities. At best they might try calling Meta Knight, since he's the one who let Marx escape...unfortunately, I think by then he would have either resigned as well, or been fired for insubordination. ✌

So they'd have to track down his personal contact info in order to reach him...of course, with Marx leaving to enact his grand plan within the next 48 hours, they wouldn't have time anyway. :T

Another fun (and very old) idea I had was that, long after the chaos had died down, and the members of the new Jambastion had settled down in their own little dark corner of the world...Gryll would venture out there alone to try to visit them. ^^ And this way we could see how they've changed since their Division Six days.

Marx would probably be just about the same, still moody and overprotective of Magolor, but now free to murder anyone he thinks might be a threat without anyone stopping him. Galacta Knight would join him in this, being permanently heartbroken from the events of their big rescue mission, and spiraling into the depths of depression and self-hatred. His desire to protect his family would be the only thing keeping him going...

Morpho would also be pretty much the same, albeit a bit bored. He would probably split his time between discussing magic with Hyness, killing intruders with his brothers, and running errands for Magolor. And Hyness would actually be super happy. XD He'd have his son back, and three brand-new followers to teach all of the old ways (kinda like replacements for the Mage Sisters...). Knowing how long it took to rebuild the Jamba Heart the first time around, he probably wouldn't even bother with it, instead focusing on spending quality time with his son and "grandsons", and just generally enjoying life for the first time.

Last but not least, Magolor...would probably be a sad, passionless shell of the person he once was. I think at first he would distract himself by rebuilding Morpho's body, but after that he'd kinda have nothing. He'd spend most of his time staring out windows and occasionally having half-hearted conversations with his father and angels. Chronic pain from the Nova shards embedded in his skin and phantom pain from his missing hands probably wouldn't help his mood... Despite that, I think seeing Gryll again might help him feel a little better. ^^ Y'know, just a reminder that there are still people out there who remember him as a hero, and appreciate the sacrifices he made. That Jambastion won't be the beginning and end of his life after all.

#dream alliance

[ascendancy-echoes]

Chapter 18: The Flame

As Oren predicted, there were merchants who tried to cross into Alastori’s waters within days of the embargo, but they were stopped in the ports before they could reach the open sea. Many of those were angry and argued at their trials that they had done trade with the northern town of Auestad and encountered no overt animosity from its citizens. Crono and Marle hoped that some fines would dissuade their citizens from continuing trade with the Mystics, but they had come to a similar conclusion as Oren. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped past the patrols and made landfall on Alastori’s shores. Weeks went by and while there was news of people being unhappy with the sudden lack of lambic beers and lumin silks amongst other luxury goods that the Mystics had to offer, most people were content to move on and let the Mystics isolate themselves from the world.

Most, but not all…

~o~O~o~

Russ stood in the dark beside the other agents. It was a moonless night, made darker by the area of unnatural darkness created by the agent known as Shadow. Mirror told them they were there to catch some reported human smugglers and deal with the problem by any means necessary. It was Russ’s first assignment in the two months he had been part of the Order and test to see if he was truly loyal.

“What about the Mystics that are trading with the humans?” Russ asked after they were briefed on the assignment.

“Your concern for your fellow Mystics is commendable,” Mirror replied. “But we’re dealing with Daemon from Auestad. Only thing you can truly trust them for is to make lumin silk.”

Russ nodded in silent understanding. He had learned early on of how Daemon lived apart from other Mystics, thanks to the failure of General Slash and the treachery of General Flea. Ozzie II had argued that if the two most trusted Daemon in the army couldn’t be counted on, then no Daemon could be trusted. The only reason, Mirror claimed, that Daemon were tolerated on the island was because many of their kind had learned to cultivate crops with magic to create certain lambic beers and lumin silk as well as much of the produce the rest of the island used.

Soon enough, the sound of a boat approaching the shore could be heard. The rhythmic sound of the oars hitting the water grew louder until the sound of splashing replaced it. Mirror held out a spyglass and quietly confirmed the arrival of a boat.

A small group of Daemon climbed out of the boat, unloading small crates and bags. There was whispered chatter amongst them that Russ could barely make out. What little he could hear told Russ the Daemon were afraid of being caught. They knew what they were doing was wrong but one of the older Daemon argued they had no choice. Before Russ could hear the reason was, Mirror threw something in their direction and the area around the boat erupted into a cloud of smoke. Russ was surprised with how fast the other agents moved in and detained the Daemon. 

As the smoke began to disperse, Russ saw movement towards the treeline. One of the Daemon was escaping. Knowing he couldn’t fail Mirror, Russ gave chase the moment she called for him to capture the escaping Daemon.

It didn’t take Russ long to catch up to the Daemon and grab him by the arm. Unfortunately in his haste to catch the Daemon and the Daemon’s own efforts to flee the scene, neither of them saw the tree root. The two of them tripped over the root and crashed into each other. Russ landed on top of the Daemon, coming face to face with a green-haired young Daemon maybe a few years younger than him.

The kid looked absolutely terrified as Russ was over him. Russ found himself frozen as well. This was just a kid, someone who didn’t want to be here. In his hesitation, Russ got a blast of wind to the face that knocked him back as the Daemon conjured a small whirlwind and scrambled to his feet.

Russ could have sprung to his feet and caught the boy, but he couldn’t bring himself to act fast enough. Something held him back. He watched as the Daemon disappeared into the darkness of the forest and out of his sight. He silently chastised himself as he got to his feet. Mirror was surely going to punish him for his failure.

As he emerged from the forest and onto the rocky shore, Russ saw the three other Daemons were tied up, surrounded by the other agents. Mirror turned to him and asked where the other Daemon was.

Russ wiped the dirt off his robes. If there was one thing he had learned from Mirror, it was you could bury a lie in the truth. He sighed and said, “It was dark in the forest… The kid knew the woods better than me and I tripped on a tree root. He got away before I could get up. I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm, a shame,” Mirror hummed, clacking her beak. “But not an issue…. With the right persuasion, his friends will tell us who he is.”

Turning to the others, she told Russ to help take the captive Daemon to the wagon so they could take them to a nearby base to question. While the others interrogated the Daemon, she and he would return to the manor to report to Nocturna.

~o~

Alone in his room, Russ couldn’t shake the image of the Daemon boy’s face from his mind. The look of fear he had seen in the boy’s eyes felt terrifyingly familiar. He had known someone in his past that had looked at him with that same look of fear, but not anyone in Medina.  At least not yet. In his attempt to stop thinking about the young Daemon, Russ found himself worrying about Ismene and his friends back in town. How long had he been under Mirror’s watch? Did they know where he was or why? Would they trust him as they had before?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Mirror called out from behind the door and told Russ to head to Nocturna’s office on the second floor as soon as he was able. Nocturna had been pleased with his efforts as she had predicted.

“Aren’t you coming too?” Russ asked as he opened the door.

Mirror sighed, “I’d love to but Nocturna asked me to go report to the Elder. I’ll see you later.”

Russ nodded and started to wish Mirror good luck but she waved her hand and said, “I’m sure he’ll be happy that our mission was a success.”

After making sure he was presentable, Russ went to Nocturna’s office. He felt nervous but he reminded himself that Mirror wasn’t afraid so he had no reason to be either. The halls of the second floor looked the same as the first. A finely furnished home yet devoid of any decor indicating the identities of Nocturna or any agents. Russ found himself before a wooden door with the Order’s symbol engraved on the doorknob. He knocked but didn’t have to wait long before Nocturna called him in.

Nocturna was dressed in robes of blue ombre. She had her signature silver mask on her face. In some ways, it reminded Russ of the moon. He stood silently and at attention as Nocturna walked around her desk to approach him.

“You’ve done well Russ,” she remarked. “Efficient, loyal… finally in control of your magic. You’re ready to join the Order.”

“Th-thank you,” Russ answered.

Nocturna nodded slightly. “When Mirror returns, you are to go with her to complete one more task.”

Russ looked confused. “Another assignment?”

“No, this time you are to collect your reward.”

~o~O~o~

“Where are we going?” Russ asked as he followed Mirror through the thickets and forest north of the manor. It felt like they had been wandering the forest north of Medina for over an hour. The mid-morning light was burning through the fog as they hiked forward through the thick underbrush.

“To the Forest Ruins,” Mirror explained. She reminded him of the books and lessons she had given him about Noctis Arbitra’s history.  “The Mystic that would go on to found Noctis Arbitra discovered the ruins during the war.”

After some hiking, they came across a worn down dirt path that led to a large clearing with a stone platform. Mirror walked up to the moss-covered stone platform. To Russ, it looked like an abandoned plaza, nothing noteworthy. There were glass spheres at each corner of the platform.

“After the Demon King failed to summon Lavos, there were some who felt it could be done again.” Mirror explained. “Each generation, that hope was passed on.”

Russ thought for a moment before remarking, “If it’s possible… Why hasn’t Lavos been summoned yet?”

“The ritual needs a large piece of a stone known as Dreamstone but the last piece of it was destroyed when the summoning failed,” Mirror replied. “There’s smaller pieces in these ruins, but there’s not enough…”

Mirror walked over to the middle of the plaza. From Russ’s perspective she seemed to be examining the stone tiles that made up the middle of the plaza. He waited while she tapped her foot against a tile here and there. Suddenly, there was a slight shudder and Mirror stepped back as the tiles rose to reveal a metal box the size of a linen closet.

“Good, the entrance still works,” Mirror said. She turned to Russ and motioned for him to come over. “Let’s get down to the main part of the ruins.”

Russ, while unsure of what was going on, approached Mirror and stepped onto the platform. No sooner had he stepped foot upon the platform with Mirror than it began to descend. A single amber light illuminated the space they occupied. He looked to Mirror for some reassurance that this was normal.

“It’ll take a moment or so to reach the bottom,” Mirror said. “Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe.”

“What is this place? Why are we here?”

“Some think it belonged to an ancient magical civilization… As for why we are here… To remember the Order’s ultimate goal of ensuring a world for Mystics, each of us carry a small shard of this dreamstone,” she explained, revealing a small reddish-orange stone polished into a pendant that she had tucked into her robes. “We’re here to get you your own piece of the flame.”

“Flame?” Russ asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

“That’s what we call the stone we take pieces from,” Mirror laughed. “It certainly looks like a flame, like a small campfire.”

The movement of the platform came to an end with a slight shudder. Mirror seemed unfazed by it while Russ thought for a moment that they were going to plummet into the unknown depths.

“You get used to it,” she assured as one of the walls slid open. “Follow me.”

Russ followed Mirror down corridor after corridor. The halls seemed to be illuminated from below the grated floors by a luminescent liquid and there was the same odd symbol on the walls that repeated. Down some steps and another hall, Mirror kept a brisk pace. Russ assumed she had the route to their destination memorized as she didn’t pause once in her steps.

She stopped at the end of the hall and gestured for Russ to follow her in. The room beyond the door had several empty shelves. There were tables along the wall where glass beakers and flasks not unlike the kind that Ismene owned lay filled with dust of varying colors.

There, on the center table was a large stone, the size and shape of a campfire. Spikes and tendrils of red-orange ombre rose from a ruby-red base. It truly looked like a fire frozen in time. Maybe it was Russ’s imagination, but it almost looked like the stone itself was glowing, the inner light shifting about. It felt like it was looking at him and Mirror. 

While he eyed the stone with a growing sense of unease, Mirror leaned on the table and admired the stone, resting her head in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said. “It almost looks alive. Like a real fire. I swear it hasn’t changed a bit since I first saw it.”

Russ nodded. Outwardly he kept a calm facade but he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. His voice was caught in his throat before he coughed and managed to stammer out, “W-what do I need to do?”

Mirror replied, “Simple, break off a piece and I’ll make it into a pendant for you.”

“Break off a piece? Is it really that fragile?”

“Not really, no… It's made of several shards and those come loose easily,” Mirror hummed. “Hurry, Nocturna is expecting us back soon.”

Russ could feel his body shaking as he reached across the table and towards the crystalline fire. His heart seemed to pound louder and louder in his ears. He silently chastised himself for feeling fear over a rock. It wasn’t a fire and it wasn’t going to burn him. A rock couldn’t hurt him. He wrapped his fingers around a crystal shard that seemed to twist and curl like a flame rising from a candle and pulled. It came off with surprising ease. Russ had expected that he would have needed to wiggle the piece loose. Instead it came off as easily as plucking a mushroom from the ground.

“Oh that’s a lovely piece!” Mirror declared. “I’m almost jealous.”

Russ looked over the crystal in his hand. It definitely had an odd luster to it, sparkling like a diamond yet the light seemed to move around independently. There was something… familiar about it. Maybe it was Russ’s imagination but the stone felt warm, almost alive. The fear he felt before was gone, replaced with a sense of comfort.

“Let’s get back and I’ll have that pendant done for you by the morning,” Mirror said, placing a hand on Russ’s shoulder.

~o~O~o~

The next morning, after breakfast, Mirror handed Russ a small satin bag. Russ took the bag and opened it, pouring out its contents into his palm. There was the crystal, intertwined in shining brass wire that complimented the curved shape of the stone. It hung on a simple yet beautiful brass chain made of delicate, tiny links.

“I think it’s my best work yet,” Mirror preened. “Do you like it?”

Russ nodded and immediately slipped the pendant on. He found himself staring at the gem in awe. His thoughts were interrupted by Mirror.

“Now, if you are ready, you can go home.”

“Go home? Back to Izzy?” Russ suddenly felt unsure about going back to Ismene. “W-what do I even tell her? You’ve said before that I can’t tell her that I’m in the Order… but I’ve been gone so long.”

“It’s only been two months,” Mirror replied. “We can tell her a partial truth. You paid for your crime of hurting those agents, you had to do some hard labor for us… Now your debt is paid and you’re free to go as long as you don’t break any more laws.”

Russ frowned and sighed. “What if she doesn’t believe me?”

“Dear Russ, you and her are best of friends, why would she ever doubt you?”

“But… I’ve only ever seen other agents at the Demon King’s night or the night that Nocturna took Izzy and I away,” Russ replied. “Who can I talk to about the Order if it must be a secret?”

Mirror tapped her mask thoughtfully before looking up at Russ.

“I trust you Russ,” she said. “Do you trust me?”

Russ nodded. “I do.”

“And you trust that I had to keep secrets to protect you until you were ready?”

Again, Russ nodded.

“Now that you’re going back home to Ismene, you will need a confidant in which to discuss matters of Noctis Arbitra,” Mirror said, taking off her mask. Her voice changed to a more familiar tone. “Naturally, it should be me.”

Russ sat there speechless as Mirror put the mask down on the table. Before him was a Kotengu he knew well. Someone he had seen as a friend for years. Someone he would never have expected in a million years of being in Noctis Arbitra.

“Bel?!” he finally exclaimed. He was truly at a loss for words at this revelation. “This whole time- How could you- You let-“

“I did as I was ordered by Nocturna and for that I am truly sorry I caused you so much pain,” Mirror, or rather Belinay, said solemnly.

“I was the one that suggested you join the Order,” she continued. “The Elder and I are childhood friends. If I had not intervened and suggested you join me in the Order, Ismene would have had to pay for her treason.“

She reached out and held Russ’s hand firmly. “I brought you here to save you both. You know I see Ismene as a friend as much as you do.”

“I am sorry for the deception but Nocturna thought it best that you didn’t know the truth until you were officially initiated,” she continued as Russ silently stared down at his hands and hers. “Do you forgive me?”

Russ was quiet for a long moment. Two months ago, he wouldn’t have understood the mission of Noctis Arbitra. He would have been angry and felt betrayed but he understood the need for secrets now. It was for everyone’s protection. He let out a breath.

“I do, Bel.”

#chrono trigger au #echoes in time #chrono trigger #zeal ascendancy

[faustdiary]

Futile Compass | Chapter 1

(My first ever story that I'm publicly posting hehe this will definitely be a fun one)

———————————————————————————————————————

Fog.

The bustling city sounds fill Nora's ears, the streets filled to the brim with many faces, buildings packed together standing tall into the sky, a red orange glow as the sun begins to set.

A plethora of loud noises and popping colors permeated the city blocks; car engines, phone calls, commercials and simple conversations. The deep yet subtle rumble of the engines of the city below maintaining altitude safe from the dangers of the ground eliminates any kind of true silence.

The city was a true testament to the creativity, ingenuity and passion people had towards a better life despite the calamity that wreaked havoc across the Earth so long ago; Dismantling the old world and ushering in a new era of humanity.

Nora looks around her vicinity, walking without aim in the plaza simply to explore the intriguing environment around her.

Suddenly, a fog spreads throughout the massive city. It's quite common, especially at the high altitude the Sieg Engines are lifting this hulking mass of steel at. The road begins to clog with traffic, vehicles slowing down to avoid accidents. Yet, they're all attempting to U-turn; to pull out from the situation in which a piercing scream is then heard from within the crowd near the intersection.

A horrendous scene of blood spreads and pools on the concrete, as an amalgamation of flesh and machine towers over the citizens before tearing them apart with reckless abandon.

The city block clears within seconds, thundering footsteps as everyone scrambles away from the hulking beast, trampling over one another without a sense of concern for anyone but themselves.

"How in the world did this happen? The city is held up by Sieg Engines, best of the best. So how in the world did this outsider monstrosity even begin to enter let alone get remotely close to the outskirts?"

This situation in itself is already too confusing.

"But let's leave those thoughts for later." Nora hurriedly evacuates the scene, swiftly striding past the panicked, frozen crowd. The fight or flight response has grown more apparent; Freeze.

The situation seemed to get worse by the second, and every tick of it counts. As sudden as the sickening beast's rampage, it just so abruptly stopped in it's tracks as if observing the crowd.

Nora looked back, locking eyes with the creature; It was only something that could've been spawned from a novel and yet there it was. Bone substituted for metal, wriggling flesh barely holding itself together towering nearly 7 feet tall.

The eye contact felt like an eternity, seconds to minutes, minutes to hours. As Nora snaps out of it and continues to run away, the amalgamation unhinged it's jaw revealing it's sharp yet misaligned and unmatching teeth. Letting out a deafening roar that rumbled the city streets.

People were sent on their knees covering their ears promptly before getting eviscerated by another amalgam.

"Wait, how did it-"

An even worse case scenario has presented itself; The roar had a purpose, to attract it's own fellow monstrosities to enact what seemed to be nature's vengeance on humanity and it's cruelty.

The smoke and flame grows, most small establishments are leveled within minutes by the consuming horde of machine chimeras, thousands of people killed within hours, containment and extermination possibly taking days.

3 hours after the initial attack, Nora lays flat under the ruins of an abandoned building, rubble on her right leg and a piece of rebar piercing her left thigh, when is help coming? If it even is going to arrive.

Waiting is downright agonizing, every single twitch of a muscle lets blood from her wound, a pool forming by her legs crawling down the floor and onto the sidewalk. She closes her eyes and tries to ignore her pain.

The ambient light that pierced her eyelids slowly becomes darker, a bright light jolts her awake once more. She finds herself on a peaceful hill with lush green with a giant oak tree in the middle.

It looks perfect, almost too perfect. The sky seems artificial, glitches in the animal's voices, running water seemingly still in it's perfected flow. Is this what heaven is like?

Nora stands up and looks around, walking over to the tree. There she sees two small children, a boy and a girl seemingly engrossed in a book. "We have to work hard for this, so we can see what everything the world has to offer!" The girl enthusiastically exclaimed. "That's a promise then?" Replied the boy.

They interlock their pinky fingers in order to make it official; They must see the world together.

Nora continues to listen to their ramblings until they stopped dead in their tracks and started to look at her. "You can see me?" Nora inquired.

There was a period of silence between the three, the calm breeze wafting the scent of spring leaves across their faces.

The boy spoke, "You shouldn't be here Nora." He slowly stands up and walk towards her, his face seemingly blurred in her vision. Before she had noticed what had happened..

Nora jolts awake once more.

...

...

Returning to reality, Nora awoke amidst the rubble- yet she was standing. Looking down on the surface she placed her feet on were a pile of unidentifiable corpses; Machine Chimera corpses.

A set of lights come into view out in the smoke, and once the dust settled Nora witnessed a convoy of soldiers; weapons aimed at her.

"Put your hands in the air and walk towards slowly!" One of them shouted. They anxiously continue to raise their weapons against the figure upon the pile of corpses.

To which Nora simply responds, "I am not your enemy." As she slowly descends with her arms up; a confusing silence in the air around them. The soldiers froze from her calm demeanor, fingers locked on the trigger guard hesitation creeping up behind them.

One of the soldiers then approach her to attempt to communicate; "How were you able to accomplish.. this?" They all look around and take in the scene before their eyes, aside from the pile of corpses that Nora was standing on prior, there were multiple buildings with damage only sustained through extreme conditions.

Conditions that, are only achievable by a living being with a fairly high resonance level with their Rapture essence. Considering she's been the only human found in nearly an hour of searching the inner city perimeter, there's a simple explanation; She's a threat.

"You seem to have a sour look on your face, officer." Nora calmly voiced, clasping her wrists together signalling the officer to handcuff her. The anxious officer raises his hand in a panic and signals the soldiers to aim directly at Nora despite him in close proximity.

"Prove to us.. Prove to us you aren't an enemy." Nora pondered on the statement before retorting, "There is nothing I can do to prove my innocence, but the truth of the matter stands, all of you are still alive infront of me. Look at my wounds, I'm a citizen of the city am I not?"

The soldiers look at eachother puzzled, an anxious feeling still in the air. A young man from within the convoy truck speaks out as the other survivors look on in curiosity.

"She said her piece sir, can't we just look into her later? You guys have a database don't you?" The young man exclaims.

The officer simply sighs, rubbing his temples together. "Fine, we'll focus on evacuations for now. But we'll look into your case after this is all done. And you, young man!"

With a glance from his blue eyes that mimicked the ocean and the deep, unsaturated blue hair that swayed in the in the slight breeze he replies, "Yes?"

"Get back on the convoy, and what's your name boy?" The officer inquired after his concise order. Soldiers boot steps slightly muffling his voice as they all go back into their respective vehicles; with Nora in tow.

"Ahh, it's Sonata sir. Sonata Arkhlight."

#story #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #beginner writer #scifi #mystery

[gaylactic-fire]

Hhhrrgg I'm thinking about a BOTW Four Swords AU again after a long ass time bc I wanna revisit it. Thinking about each of BOTW Link's colors being somewhat reflective of the FS boys in the manga but also reflective of the game's different playstyles.

Ideas under the cut 👀

Blue

A strong and silent type, who attempts to take on a leaderly role but is often denied so by Green. Dedicated to vanquishing Calamity Ganon and his blights first and foremost and doesn't care about much else. He will rarely entertain the idea of a sidequest unless he is dragged along by the others (or if a cool weapon is involved). Out of all of the colors he feels the most guilty about the events of calamity. He fully believes that his own weakness was a significant cause in the downfall of the kingdom. He tries not to show it, but it's quite apparent to the others, especially after regaining a memory.

Green

He's the adventurer. He takes the resurrection shrine almost as a blessing, as he gets to experience the world with new eyes. He is always the one to be off the beaten path, collecting mushrooms or finding hidden koroks. He's so keen to immerse himself in this beautiful world that he often has to be reminded there is still a quest at hand. Out of all of them he tries most to put the calamity behind him, instead focusing on the here and now. As a result it sometimes creates a point of contention, especially between him and Blue.

Red

Red is the most friendly and communicative of the Links. Always ready to strike up a conversation and speak with villagers and fellow travellers (as such he has fallen for Yiga traps an embarrassing number of times). He feels the most at home with other citizens of Hyrule and despite the company of the colors, he often feels a great sense of loneliness out in the wild. He's the most outwardly emotional about the calamity. He's extremely concerned for Zelda's wellbeing and actively mourns the champions. His willingness to be emotionally vulnerable can sometimes be cathartic for everyone.

Vio

Link's amnesia frustrates him to no end and he is always searching for answers. Whether that be on the events of a hundred years ago, or on the mysterious sheikah technology scattered across the land. He's most fascinated by the shrines and will insist on completing any that the group finds (bar tests of strength). While he agrees the calamity was terrible, he mostly just wants to try and piece together what on earth even happened. Without knowledge of Link's prior life he feels lost and like a part of him is incomplete. He will stop at nothing to feel whole again.

#fires posts #ramblings #four swords #botw #botw four swords AU #y'all r free to ask me anything about em (in fact I highly encourage you!!)

[dawn-of-worlds]

Love Herds

(Turn 15; Haebarik has 4+3+2d6->9=16 power)

Slowly, over time, the Tarbra bold enough to venture into the southeastern mountains of Haebrach discover passes and goat paths, guided by a desire for new grazing grounds and lands free from ohmlings. Eventually, passage is found, and migrants stream south, bringing what animals they can, and taming those they find.

As they spread out over the continent's southern peninsula, they find something else entirely.

A mark, perhaps the last mark, left upon this world by an ancient slumbering god. A great region of the plains, dozens of miles in length, where the grass is purple-hued, the wind is always still, the stars above seem off. The first herders avoided this land, which they thought to be terribly cursed. But purple grass can be grazed still, and so ever bolder Tarbra led their beasts through these lands, until at last it became just another odd landmark.

Over generations, changes begin to take hold.

Their beasts grow more docile, less fearsome, their tusks and claws shrinking and dulling. Some grow blisters of soft flesh, which can be harvested like one picks fruit without harm to the animal. Some retain their umbilical, which toughens and strengthens until they may move it as a Gegant its trunk. Some are born dead, or too deformed to live; these the herders bury without further thought. The eldritch influence that lingers in their bodies leaks out, over time, and spreads the change-marked zone ever further.

The Tarbra, too, have their changes, but theirs are more subtle. Many develop purple eyes or lose their fingernails; some find the taste of meat now repulses them. A rare mutation sees their back-arm split fractally at the three joints, so that eight hands all grow from a single point.

The Tarbra tendencies towards communal labor and pack-bonding are strongly intensified in these beings, which universally tend towards altruism, empathy, and nonviolence. Some claim that all these new Tarbra, who call themselves Mera, love all life as they love themselves; a ridiculous notion that seems frightfully true.

Individual clans swiftly fuse, sharing herds and lands. Old institutions fade, a pseudo-eusocial system arises in its place, centered around a grand stone city at the magenta heart of the plains, where wandering herds come and go with their many docile beasts to provide the citizens with milk and flesh-blisters. Here in Lach Lero, the place of love, are born most new Mera, who grow ever more distant from the Tarbra, who feel a love ever more universal.

The Mera are prosperous: their herds are not ravaged by conflict, their people know they may all trust each other, and each is possessed by a drive to improve the lives of their fellows. Their civilization sends out scouts and missionaries, preaching compassion across the mountains: some travel south in search of utopia, but most ignore the messengers and continue to raid upon each other. It would be wrong to ascribe this to malice: each year some herds suffer more than others, and the divided northern people have no way of correcting the balance but warfare. A few even try to strike at the Mera, who are torn between their aversion to violence and their concern for their fellows, and at last tearfully repel the invasion.

Some, after those events, come to believe that only the transformation they underwent can bring about true peace. But others suggest that the right rulers, the right laws, they too can foster peace and love. Both groups research and theorize, and Lach Lero's knowledge of eldritch energies and psychology grow side by side.

In time, those skilled in both arts find ways to channel the power of long-gone Zaag. This mind-magic, in the local language called Psyk, is employed to create great crystal pillars that link the thoughts of Lach Lero's denizens, to tame and command beasts without a word, and to reform that rare Mera born without the endless compassion they all share.

(those that resist, that hide their condition and flee, that are born outside Lach Lero's reach; they often find refuge amidst other tarbra, and though some in time find their own path to a more human kind of love, some wield great psychic power unmarred by compassion, and so become the terrifying potentates of northern tribes)

For now, this power is restricted to the Mera and those subject to their meddling. But that meddling extends ever further north, and already some dare hope of 'civilizing' the whole continent, of establishing One Great Herd that all life might flourish by, of abolishing disease and death, of joining all minds in one and ending the cruelty of separation!

Perhaps the love of gods is too great for a mortal mind to hold?

(Create Subrace 10 points, Advance Civilization 6 points, 0 points left)

(Obviously, Zaag-Ghvaash can command these as if they were her own)

#fantasy? let's put some gratuitous psionics in there #it's at the edge of the world so if ppl want to ignore it they just can #i will also not apologize for that pun in the title #world 02457 diegesis

[diggersofgraves]

fucking hate when someone calls out other ppl for appropriating latino culture or making fun of some aspect of it. and then in comes some random ass latino, "we dont care abt this, we're laughing with them, we're not sensitive 🙄"

bitch First of all, stand the fuck up for yourself. they made a fucking joke at ur expense and they continuously do it and u wanna laugh with them 🥺

and its not just at ur expense. its at the expense of ur parents. siblings. friends?? if as a latino you've never experienced aggressions or had ppl already decided ur not trustworthy or speak to you like a child bc they assume u dont speak english or call you names or have police target ur dad and push him around when he's just walking or claiming that ur mom had drugs on her on a random ass stop bc for what fucking reason, idk, but it fucking happens or getting referred to as "you people" constantly paired with just an awful assumption abt "you ppl" or bullied for an accent ir not speaking english.

thats great for you. im really glad you didnt have to deal with that, specifically if u grew up in the US, but honestly, anywhere else where these might present as problems.

but this whole "latinos aren't sensitive 🥺 not like other ppl" shut up shut up shut up

BC the Second thing im talking abt is the fucking rude ass implications always attached to that fucking statement. these people always bring up "being sensitive" and "other people". underhandedly undermining the progress and valid statements and concerns and violence brought up by other racial and ethnic minorities. theyre speaking out abt their experiences and the unfairness of it and in comes this fucking guy, claiming its ppl being sensitive and they can't take a joke, but he can so he's better and he's different. YOU HEAR THAT, WHITE PPL??? HE'S DIFFERENT!! YOU GOT THAT?? UR SURE??

literally fuck you dude, you'd rather laugh next to an oppressor than the black, brown, or indigenous person who's speaking abt the endless struggles that the oppressor ur standing next to causes that makes their lives difficult and, many times, dangerous. good job, ur just like them now, im pretty sure thats what u want? like genuinely, thats what u want?? did they choose u??

and yeah, Third, bc despite the fact that its not obviously there sometimes, the fucking anti-blackness/racism in these statements and occurrences and within the community as a whole. your experiences as a white latino or even as "mestizo" (i dont particularly like using that word to describe myself or others bc of its roots in the spanish caste system, but I don't have a better word, if anyone can help out there, I'd appreciate it very much <3) dont encompass all latino experience within the US OR within the country your family might have immigrated from. talk to your fellow afro latinos and indigenous members of the community. even if you're dont experience any struggles to speak abt, if ur families doesnt, listen to other people in ur community and be a fucking ally. fucking idiot

my Fourth and probably final point is documentation status within the US. if u came into the US with documents, if u were born in the US, etc etc. thats privilege baby. i guarantee you ur experiences as a documented latino is going to be different than the experiences as an undocumented latino.

there are resources you can reach when ur a citizen that are unavailable to undocumented ppl. and not just latinos in this case, i mean from all over the world, but especially if ur a racial/ethnic minority in the US.

my mom came to the US undocumented. she was getting that shit ready when my family had a fallout and we became homeless. the fucking. obstacle's she had to go through to access resources were fucking crazy. many many times they didn't want to offer these resources to her or us simply based on her undocumented status. many many assumptions were made abt her and our family. she was taken advantage of in jobs and programs.

the problems didnt exactly stop when she finally became a resident, but that weight was so so so much lighter on her after that. we finally had access to resources they refused her before and things became much easier.

I know that as someone who was born in the US, im already less likely to face such events that my mom did. that's privilege already.

if u go to or went to a majority latino school, there might be a chance that there are students who recently came from latin america, maybe within the last year or few months or weeks (my hs school had new students come in every couple of months). pay attention to how they're treated. not just by students, but by the staff. there is discrimination going on there. teachers might make little comments, call them lazy, stupid. its not funny. speak up for them. these teachers are making nasty comments in english when the students usually dont grasp the language so well yet, they JUST moved there. if you dont need to speak up for yourself, fine, speak up for others.

making jokes out of latino struggles reinforces stereotypes and its not you on the bad end of them bc ur laughing with the white man on the otherside. but there are still members from ur own community that might fit some of the stereotypes (bc ur reinforcing these stereotypes by making fun of the CULTURE, our actual way of life) and thats enough for some racist or xenophobic asshole to grasp onto and make a persons day or life a little shittier.

ur not the only person in ur community. there are actually communities out there, latino ppl who speak up on the issues ur laughing abt. in laughing with the oppressor, ur undermining ur community. fuck off dude, fr.

#monzerath rants #especially on fucking tik tok dude #like damn #also this post brings up points from my own experiences #u can talk more on them or add more points if ur latino #or if u wanna correct me in something i said #i dont wanna make latinos looks bad #but if u dont call out the ppl in ur ow community #where will we be? #anyways #long post #ish? #also i used the word latino bc thats that specific word i use to identify myself !! #any ppl who feel more comfy using latine or latinx #are 100% free to do so :) #my experiences come as a latino living in the US #and other ppls experiences differ depending on so many factors #listen to them #speak abt them #ily

[l-in-c-future]

Book Reading: Justice-What's the right thing to do?

Patriotism and Solidarity

In the chapter of dilemmas of loyalty, Michael J Sandel raised numerous questions: 1. Do citizens have obligations to one another that go beyond the duties they have to other people in the world? And if they do, can these obligations be accounted on the basis of consent alone?

2. Is solidarity a prejudice for our own kind?

Sandel argued that for those who believe that patriotism has a moral base to believe they have special responsibilities for the welfare of their fellow citizens, then they must accept the third category of obligation-obligations of solidarity or membership can't be reduced to an act of consent.

For those who do not agree that they have special obligations to their family, comrades, or fellow citizens, they argued that the so-called obligations of solidarity are actually just instance of collective selfishness, prejudice for our own kind because the critics heightend concern for one's own people a parochial, inward-looking tendency that we should have overcome rather than valorise in the name of patriotism or fraternity.

Yet in Sandler's view, it solidarity doesn't necessary to be like this. Obligation of solidarity can point outward as well as inward. Some of the special responsibilities from the particular communities a person inhabits may owe to fellow members/citizens. But others a person may owe to those with whom his/her community/society/country has a morally burdened history, as relation of Germans to Jews, or of American whites to African Americans. (Also the white Australians to the First Nation Peoples.)

In these situations, collective apologies and reparations for historical injustices are good examples of the way solidarity can create moral responsibilities for communities other than one's own. Making amends for my country's past wrongs is one way of affirming one's own allegiance to it.

Such moral solidarity beyond one's own sac can apply to other chronical ethnic conflicts because both sides can owe each other the same injustices and unless such are acknowledged and ready to be remedied, it is hard to reconcile towards peace. That was the case of Rwanda peace reconciliation. That will be the most constructive way to resolve the deadlock ethnic hatred driven war in Palestine, the ethnic violence in the highlands of PNG, and the ethnic persecution of the Rohingya people in Myanmar.

Sandler was of the view that sometimes solidarity can give us special reason to criticise our own peole or the actions of our government. Patriotism can compel dissent. He cited the case of the opposition of the Vietnam War by the Americans in 1970s on two grounds.

the war was unjust.

the war was unworthy of the Americans and at odds with who they were as a people that linked to the sense of pride and shame. A Swede or anybody in the world could oppose the Vietname War and consider it unjust, but ONLY an American could feel ashamed of it. This capacity for pride and shame in the actions of family members and fellow citizens is related to the capacity for collective responsibility. Both require seeing ourselves as situated selves-claimed by moralities we have not chosen and implicated in the narratives that shape our identity as moral agents.

Further common examples of such pride and shame was cited. e.g. Americans traveling abroad can be embarrassed when they encounter boorish behaviours by American tourists, even though they don't know the person personally. Non-Americans might find the same behaviours disreputable but could not be embarrassed by it.

It is not hard to see the application of these principles in today's world with more recent profound examples. Nalvany and all his predecessors who criticized Putin were driven by their love of Russia. Those who oppose the Ukraine invasion in Russia are the same because they know the war is unjust, unworthy and in fact participation in it is committing war crimes against humanity.

Same as the dissidents of China because they can't resonate with the wicked deeds committed by the autocratic CCP. What they are doing is no different from every honoured genuine loyals to the Chinese peoples in the Chinese history despite their actions and words offended different rulers of different dynasties at different eras who crimed them as dissidents.

History doesn't judge loyalty and integrity as blind obedience to the ruling authorities. History crowns the real loyalty BEYOND times and dynasties.

Same as the case of bullying and intimidating Mainland China tourists behaviours. Only a Chinese can feel ashame of the uncivilised behaviours because the poor perceptions by the international communities inflict shame on every Chinese or even innocent Asians who are being misunderstood for being in the same buckets. Chinese who DO NOT share and DO NOT commit uncivilised behaviours are unjustly judged and shamed by indirect discrimination. Therefore, to some, we have the moral responsibilities to be the accute critics of our own people. In this sense, it is what Chinese say, the more we love, the harsher we criticise because it is part of our own natural reflections of our own issues. In these sense, those who have the capabilities to criticise and even to the extent of being seen as being 'dissidents' are in fact showing their ways of patriotism to their fellow people with deep moral sense of pride and shame. On the other hand, a narrow inward looking of 'patriotism' view imposed by the authority out of obssession for their own pride and prejudice about their 'faces' is not the real love for the country.

"With belonging comes responsibiliy. You can't really take pride in your country and its past if you are unwilling to acknowledge any responsibility for carrying its story to the present, and dischraging the moral burdens that come with it."

This is why some countries never able to move forward from their historical wrongs they committed.

In this chapter, Sandler questioned people like Henry Hyde, John Howard and others he cited. To insist that we are, as individuals, responsible only for the choices we make and the acts we perform makes it difficult to take ride in the history and traditions of one's country. Anybody can admire the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution (by the way the Australian Constitution doesn't even provide equal rights of all people before the laws), Linclon's Gettysburg Address, the fallen heros honoured in Arlington National Cementry and so on. But patriotic pride requires a sense of belonging to a community extended across time. (i.e. can stand the test of ages beyond change of politics, political ideologies, political regimes and systems). History doesn't define and crown patroitism pledge link to one particular government, ruler and regime.

History crowns those who were willing to sacrifice all they had priviledged, even their own lives to serve and do good for the peoples they pledged love and loyalty. This is why Nalvany, the critics of Putin and Soviet Union, the oppositions of Hitler in Germany, the critics of those in powers and authorities in any time because the peoples refuse to blindly endorsed the wrongs for the goods of their own countries out of a broader solidarity of humanity.

And that naturally led to the next question: Can loyalty (to one's own community/society/country) override universal moral principle? Sandel's answer is: as long as we don't violate anyone's rights, we can fulfill the general duty to help others by helping those who are close at hand. Similarly, there's nothing wrong with a rich country setting up a generous welfare state for its own citizens, provided it respects the human rights of persons everywhere. Obligations of solidarity are objectionable only if they lead us to violate a natural duty.

The best example to illustrate this principle was found in the same chapter-Israel authority's rescue operations of Ethiopia Jews in 1984 and 1991. The operation managed to airlift 21000 Ethiopia Jews to Israel but it faced severe opposition from the Arab countries. Why? In the Arab countries' eyes, they knew that every Jewish settler added to Israel's controll and occupied lands would mean direct taking away further lands, properties and rights of the Palestinians in Palestine. While Israel authority has the state policy to 'save' by welcoming every Jews in the entire world back to their ancestry homeland, this is perpeuated by depriving and eliminating the Palestinians's human rights of survival. The ethnic base airliftings operation did not create equal rights of humanitarian aids to be received between the Ethiopia Jews and the rest of Ethopian peoples who suffered from the same famine.

If everyone suffered the same calamity of natural disaster, why some people deserved more humane treatments than others? Why didn't every Ethiopian person being airlifted out of the calamity? This was a broader equality and justice consideration beyond Arabs and the Jews' ethnic grudges. It is something about humanitarian aids given to any suffering community should NEVER be granted and priviledged just on ethnic basis. The lives of all other Ethiopian peoples were as valuable as the Ethiopian Jews as fellow human beings to everyone else of us in this world because we are part of the same community of fellow humans.

Patriotism is not narrowly inward set. Not the false narrations portraited by D Trump, Putin, Xi Jin Ping and Netanyahu. One cannot really be pride as a decent human being and be loyal to the nobility of human being as part of the SAME community of the species unless we can go beyond nationality, ethnic and ideological boundaries to humbly acknowledge and confess the historical wrongs and injustice inflicted by our precedessors AND the courageous to rights the wrongs to progress together as part of the human being bigger communities, for with whom, what else can we really belong to?!

#humanity #patriotism #solidarity #social justice

[grantgoddard]

Health & safety & death in the workplace : 2004 : BBC World Service Trust, Phnom Penh

We were standing in a concert hall designed like a futuristic room on the ‘Discovery One’ spaceship in the film ‘2001’. Every feature was brilliant white. White plastic seats. White walls. White ceiling. When the house lights were switched on, it was a dazzling sight. In 1968, my father had accompanied me to watch that sci-fi movie at our local cinema because my school project concerned the American space race. Simultaneously, maybe an unknown architect somewhere had exited a theatre, sufficiently inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s cinematic vision to design their next project, this room, all-white.

The huge hall appeared little used and surprisingly intact, despite the sprawling two-story concrete headquarters of ‘Radio National Kampuchea’ [RNK] in which it was built exhibiting significant evidence of the raging civil war that had started with the overthrow of Cambodia leader Prince Norodom Sihanouk in March 1970. I wondered to myself whether this concert hall had served as a secret location for the Khmer Rouge leadership to enjoy a Friday night knees-up after a hard week’s work torturing and murdering fellow citizens. There might be ghosts here that would be best undisturbed.

“You will be training our staff here,” ordered Tan Yan, RNK director general, waving his hand around the cavernous hall.

“Er …,” I replied, on the verge of telling him that this was no suitable venue to train a handful of his staff in radio production. But I managed to restrain myself from contradicting this Cambodia government appointee. I recalled that, only months prior, Chour Chetharith – deputy editor of an independent Phnom Penh radio station ‘Ta Prohm 90.5 FM’ critical of the country’s ruling party – had been shot dead by two gunmen on a motorbike on arrival at his workplace. Like anybody, I would like to live.

From his instruction to me, it was evident that our host likely had never made a radio programme, had scant idea how radio programmes were produced and had never needed to learn. His role, in charge of the government’s one national radio channel, was to ensure that its output caused no problems for his masters. We had just come from an initial meeting in his office, a cramped room awash with paper and lacking any twentieth century technology other than a telephone and an electric fan, but weirdly reminiscent of a North London taxi cab office. Then he had shepherded our delegation into a long narrow room, empty apart from two lines of chairs on opposing walls. Speeches were made in Khmer by government men sat opposite. My BBC colleague said something in English. We all stood up, uncomfortably close together in that small sweaty space, a photograph was taken and printed in the following day’s newspaper, trumpeting the first partnership between the Cambodia government and the BBC to produce radio programmes.

After the concert hall, our guided tour of the radio station took us to a large windowless office crammed with desks piled high with papers and occupied by scribbling staff. Our host explained that this was the nerve centre of his operation where everything had to be ‘checked’. Strangely, there were no signs of radio production equipment. The sign on the office door said ‘CENSORS’. This is where every script written by lowly radio employees was edited by important managers to ensure the words’ suitability for broadcast to the nation. Then it was recorded onto analogue tape in an unseen studio somewhere, to be returned here for checking that the announcer had not inserted any personal inflection or inference into their reading of the approved script. Every item within the station’s output was created this way. Not one minute of ‘live’ content had ever been transmitted. If aliens were to invade, this radio would inform Cambodians a week after their abduction to a distant galaxy.

We were then taken to a large darkened room in the bowels of the building, filled with standalone metal shelf units on which the station’s tape archives were stored. Thousands of items were evident, many in boxes, some not, much seemingly uncatalogued, some unspooling all over the floor. It was an unholy mess. No air conditioning. No organisation. But it was surprising it had survived at all the Khmer Rouge era. Right here, since the station’s launch in 1947 under the supervision of the Ministry of Propaganda, we were told there were priceless recordings of musicians, interviews and news reports spanning the country’s turbulent history … if you could ever find them amongst the chaos. I was awestruck.

Then it was down to work. The BBC had requested interviews with a dozen of RNK’s existing staff, from which we would choose a radio production team whom I would train to create (shock horror!) a live weekly phone-in programme, the first in the station’s history. We decamped to one of several unused rooms whose doors had been removed and that opened onto the compound, where we sat around a group of old desks pushed together in the middle. No air conditioning. Just a bare room and the three of us: the BBC’s radio manager in Cambodia, Chas Hamilton; BBC translator Keo Sothearith; and freelance me. We had a list of staff names and that was all. No CV’s. No idea who we were about to see.

One by one, our candidates arrived and what ensued was the most bizarre round of interviews I have ever encountered. Asked what their present job entailed, what skills they possessed and what they wanted to achieve in their career, most failed to answer anything at all. Some just stared at us as if we were mad. Several answered “I do what my boss tells me”. None appeared enthusiastic about their work or the potential of training with the BBC. Reluctance would be a gross understatement. I wondered to myself how they had secured their jobs in radio in the first place if their communication ‘skills’ were so poor. They seemed to consider our polite enquiries as interrogation, as if we might incarcerate them for any incorrect answer … or worse. Perhaps the government radio station staff were still being managed through ‘fear’, just as the Khmer Rouge had terrorised the population not so long ago.

By the time we reached our last interviewee, we had noticed that all our candidates had been dressed in black. We asked why. Our last man explained that one of their female colleagues at the station had recently been killed by falling masonry from the crumbling war-torn building, so the staff would be attending the funeral that afternoon. We looked at each other open-mouthed. We were sitting in a death trap. Oh dear! What were we doing there? Despite me having interviewed potential candidates for radio jobs in many countries, this selection proved the most difficult to assess because we had elicited almost no relevant information. We remained there a while afterwards to discuss our preferences, deciding to select the marginally least reticent six staff and hope for the best. I felt anxious about how I could train people who appeared so disinterested.

Our morning’s work done, we left the room and headed to the director’s office to thank him and say goodbye. It was empty. We walked out to the front gates of the compound and were astonished to find them locked from the outside. We walked back to the building and wandered around offices on the two floors, shouting ‘hello’. It was completely deserted. Like their former colonial masters, the staff must have left en masse at precisely midday and would not return for two hours. We had been locked in without anyone anticipating that their morning visitors might still be present.

All the three of us could do was walk through foliage around the inside of the high perimeter zinc fence and look for a gap to escape. Eventually we did find a small hole where the metal had suffered damage, we prised it open and, bending down, could just about crawl through. By then, we had been outdoors in the midday sun for a while and, once returned to the BBC office, we desperately needed refreshment. It was a bizarre end to a bizarre morning of meetings at the government radio station.

That afternoon, after reflecting upon our experience, I told my local line manager, Chas Hamilton, and the BBC Cambodia project manager, Giselle Portenier, that I considered the RNK premises a wholly unsuitable venue for me to train staff. Was there a room in the BBC building I could use instead? The local staff showed me a conference room with a boardroom table that seemed ideal. I almost fainted when I realised I had seen this exact space, with its large circular motif embedded in the marble floor, during a dream five years earlier. Not for the first time, ‘déjà vu’ sneaks up out of nowhere to surprise you in the strangest situations.

To me, it seemed self-evident that this room – in a secure, air-conditioned environment with access to a kitchen and toilet facilities – was the perfect solution to hold my training sessions two full days each week for the next few months. I was taken aback to be told that neither Hamilton (who had visited RNK with me) nor Portenier (who had not) agreed. Apparently, the BBC’s contract with the government insisted the training would take place on-site at RNK and that was considered the end of it. Before making that agreement, had anyone from the BBC actually visited the RNK building? This stalemate lasted more than a month. Maddeningly, in January the BBC in London had sent me to Cambodia to start work with the utmost urgency and yet, by March, I was still unable to commence training one of my two radio production teams.

In desperation, I felt forced to send this formal email on 30 March to Hamilton and Portenier:

“I feel I should flag that no specific resolution has yet been agreed to the health and safety issue of the RNK building.

After my visit to RNK on 2 March 2004, I immediately expressed my concern (verbally) to Charles and Giselle about the health and safety risk of undertaking training work at the RNK premises. In subsequent conversations with Charles, Giselle and Lori [McDougall], possible remedies were discussed that involved training RNK staff off-site.

Paragraph 10(5)(a) of the WST [BBC World Service Trust] Freelance Terms Of Trade requires the Freelance to “make an assessment of all risks to health and safety reasonably foreseeable by him/her that may affect the WST or any others arising out of or in any way connected with the performance of the Contract” and to “promptly make and give effect to arrangements to eliminate or adequately control such risks.” The Freelance is made responsible for health and safety issues.

The Freelance is obliged to “notify the WST accordingly,” which I have done (verbally), and I will reiterate (in writing) my assessment: The RNK building is in a terrible state of repair and looks as though it has not been maintained for at least a decade, maybe longer. Most exterior windows have no glass and many of the rooms no longer have doors. Only a few rooms seem to have air conditioning. We learnt that a member of staff has recently been killed by masonry falling from the building. There is little or no visible security, and the large front reception area within the building is completely empty. When we went to leave the premises at noon, we found all exit gates were padlocked, and the building devoid of any staff to assist. We eventually found an exit through a gap in a zinc fence to the rear of the building. We have yet to see any kind of refreshment facility, or inspect the toilet facilities.

I do not feel that this is a safe environment in which to spend several days a week training RNK staff. Such training could be arranged off-site without any loss of relevant radio facilities (since RNK has no live studio/production environment relevant to the training). As you are aware, I suggested that training could instead be conducted at the BBC office and/or ‘FM 102’ (or elsewhere).

I am sure that we can work together to resolve this issue and commence the training of RNK staff.”

Still enduring no local approval, I then had to write a similar email to the BBC office in London which resulted in further queries, more correspondence but, eventually, grudging acceptance that my work could be undertaken in the conference room only metres away from my office desk. The outcome was that training sessions which should have started in January did not commence until April, by which time the plan had been for me to return home. However, having just won such a frustratingly minor victory, I felt it would have been irresponsible to leave immediately, so I offered to extend my time in Cambodia a further few months. Nonetheless, the RNK phone-in programme had still not launched by the time I eventually left, sadly as a direct result of these delays attributable to the BBC. This was the first time I had been employed by the BBC, as well as my first work for an international charity, and my experience with ex-pat managers had proven far from productive.

By contrast, my training sessions in the BBC conference office with the RNK staff, about whom we had harboured such initial doubts, proved to be amazingly positive. They were wonderful people who taught me as much about Cambodia as I hopefully taught them about radio. I was so sad to leave them without having seen through their phone-in programme, which finally launched on-air in October.

I never returned to the RNK building. However, I did run into the station’s director at the press launch of some health project in Phnom Penh that the BBC insisted I attend. We stood together in silence in the garden of the venue, a small high circular table between us on which we placed our free drinks. Conversation was impossible. My knowledge of French proved irrelevant because the language had been effectively extinguished by Khmer Rouge assassinations of anyone vaguely academic in the 1970’s. This middle-aged government man smiled at me friendlily, though I found myself wondering what ‘successes’ he might have achieved in Year Zero to have sufficiently impressed the ruling party.

Once back in London, I wrote an email to UNESCO explaining that I had viewed RNK’s broadcast archives and believed they should be preserved, catalogued and stored in an improved environment because of their historical significance not only to Cambodia, but globally. No reply. I tried my best!

I had had a job to do … flying to Cambodia.

#BBC #Cambodia #career #Grant Goddard #radio #radio broadcasting #radio industry #Radio National Kampuchea #radio sector #radio station #travel

[russianprotesters]

In modern Russia, what keeps people from protesting is the fear of harsh repression. The very right to peaceful protest, supposedly guaranteed by our Constitution, as the last feedback between the government and citizens, was taken away from them by the government itself. At the same time, people are intimidated and convinced that nothing can be achieved by protests. But that's a lie. This is wrong.

— Why, both then and later, protests in Moscow never attracted more than 100 thousand? They killed Nemtsov, poisoned and imprisoned Navalny, started a war, but on the streets it’s still the same.

— It seems to me that in any country there is not a very large part of citizens who are most sensitive to injustice, who have increased empathy towards other members of the community, who are interested in politics, who are concerned about how democratic the state and the government itself are structured, who are sensitive to the actions of the authorities, to socially significant events within the country, violations of civil rights.

This is the first and most sensitive element in the feedback system between government and society. These are the ones that always come out first. For others there must be stronger motivation.

- Why are the others silent?

— First of all, the authorities have completely suppressed any form of civil protest. Fears of reprisals for statements that contradict the official position towards oneself and one’s loved ones are not unfounded. A significant part of our fellow citizens are zombied by state propaganda. And this is reality.

There is also a very significant category of Russians who have deliberately isolated themselves from what is happening in our society and the world, believing that everything that happens should not concern them. There are some here, in the pre-trial detention center. History and life show that this is for the time being.

Representatives of this category of citizens will not take part in the protest until their personal well-being, freedom, and comfort are affected. As they say, until it stops. So far, apparently, it hasn’t stopped. But sooner or later this war will affect everyone. A clear example of this is the mobilization announced by Putin.

For me personally, the issue is resolved simply. Sometimes there are moments when you can’t just remain silent. I always say what I think needs to be said. And I have nothing and no one to fear anymore.

“We are responsible, first of all, to ourselves for the actions of that government, which has become a threat to the security of other countries and peace on Earth. And then, of course, we are responsible for the pain, suffering and death of people caused by aggression. Because we allowed such power, tolerated it, and did nothing to stop the war.

as a lawyer with a human rights background, I believe that those who at least tried to create something (spoke out, protested) deserve leniency. But not those who remained silent.

— How did it happen that so many Russians supported the war?

- This is an imperial war for the acquisition of new territories along with their population. For many years, by means of state propaganda, people have been indoctrinated that the goal of the leading world powers is to seize and dismember Russia, that the strength of the state and respect for it from other members of the world community lies, first of all, in its military power, and not in the level of its well-being citizens and their social security, and not in how developed science and production technologies, medicine, education and culture are.

An entire generation grew up on this ideology. But in reality they were simply deceived.

I have a suspicion that most citizens don’t really know what they want and how they should do it. People are misled by government propaganda about the value to them of democracy and freedom. Very soon the need for democratic changes will become obvious to the majority.

#russia #war #alexei gorinov #protests #propaganda #democracy #Ukraine

[thxnews]

Greg Fergus: Canada's Historic House Speaker

  Champion of Democracy and Diversity

Ottawa, Ontario — On October 3, 2023, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau extended a warm welcome to the Honourable Greg Fergus, the newly elected Speaker of the House of Commons. This historic election marks not only a momentous shift in parliamentary leadership but also a significant milestone in Canadian history as Mr. Fergus becomes the first Black Canadian to assume the role of Speaker in the House of Commons.   A Speaker's Essential Role The Speaker of the House of Commons holds a pivotal position in the Canadian parliamentary system. Elected by fellow Members of Parliament through a secret ballot, their responsibilities encompass overseeing the proceedings within the House. This involves not only maintaining order and decorum in the chamber but also offering impartial interpretation of parliamentary rules. Furthermore, the Speaker staunchly safeguards the rights and privileges of all its members, ensuring fair and just representation.  

Upholding Democratic Principles

In his new role, Speaker Fergus is entrusted with the vital task of fostering free speech and constructive debate within the House. Moreover, he will champion openness, transparency, and trust in the democratic processes that underpin Canadian governance. As the nation's elected representatives tirelessly work to address the most pressing concerns of its citizens, Speaker Fergus will play a critical and indispensable role in ensuring these discussions are conducted in a respectful and productive manner.   Beyond the Gavel However, the duties of the Speaker extend far beyond the confines of the House of Commons chamber. In addition to presiding over parliamentary sessions, Speaker Fergus will assume the mantle of overseeing the House of Commons administration. They will also serve as the spokesperson for the House in its interactions with the Senate, the Crown, and other external bodies. Moreover, the Speaker will fulfill various ceremonial and diplomatic obligations that are central to Canada's political landscape.  

A Message of Inspiration

Prime Minister Trudeau expressed his admiration for Speaker Fergus's election and the significance it holds for Canada. In his statement, he underscored the historic nature of this occasion, emphasizing that Greg Fergus's appointment serves as an inspiration, particularly to younger generations aspiring to engage in politics. The Prime Minister congratulated Speaker Fergus and looked forward to continued collaboration with him and all Members of Parliament. The Rt. Hon. Justin Trudeau, Prime Minister of Canada said, "Today is a historic day. Greg Fergus not only brings a wealth of experience to this role, he is the first Black Canadian to become Speaker of the House of Commons – an inspiration to all Canadians, especially younger generations who want to get involved in politics." "I congratulate him on his election, and I look forward to continue working with him, and all Members of Parliament, to uphold the values that unite us as Canadians, make progress on the issues facing our country and the world, and build a more prosperous future for all." Speaker Fergus's election signifies a moment of change, a step toward diversity, and a continued commitment to democratic ideals within the Canadian parliamentary landscape.   Sources: THX News & The Canadian Government.   Read the full article

#BlackCanadianSpeaker #Canadiandemocraticprinciples #Canadiangovernance #Canadianparliamentarysystem #Canadianpoliticallandscape #GregFergus #HouseofCommonschamber #PrimeMinisterJustinTrudeau #SpeakeroftheHouse #Speaker'sresponsibilities

[the-hem]

"Inspiration." From the Varaha Upanishad, "The Exploration of the Mysteries of the Wild Boar."

How we view the substances and materials in the body is indicative of how we project sin onto others. Not everyone is up to no good like you fantasize, not just because they have a body and use it, and your speculation needn't be something to which the public is subject.

About this, the Upanishad says bind the Wind of Grace to the throat is the best course of action:

58. (The giving out of) all external objects is said to be Rechaka (expiration). The (taking in of the) spiritual knowledge of the Shastras is said to be Puraka (inspiration) and (the keeping to oneself of) such knowledge is said to be Kumbhaka (or restraint of breath).

59. He is an emancipated person who practises thus such a Chitta. There is no doubt about it. Through Kumbhaka, it (the mind) should be always taken up and through Kumbhaka alone it should be filled up within.

60. It is only through Kumbhaka that Kumbhaka should be firmly mastered. Within it is Parama-Shiva. That (Vayu) which is non-motionless should be shaken again through Kantha-Mudra (throat-posture).

"That motionless Grace, the Supreme Kindness, Parama-Shiva of the Lord God of this this universe, that is what must be firmly mastered in the mind. Fill it all the way up within."

We use religion to modify our consciences in this manner. Through the study of the printed Words of God the Imprinted Word comes to life through the soul in each of us. Similarly the law performs the same for civil societies giving them a foundation and standard for the graces society called prosperity they are legally guaranteed to provide.

Soulful persons create civil societies and abide by the terms our ancestors, learned in history have provided for us so we experience life better than they.

You are legally allowed to life a life free of disgrace and the impetuousness of others. Society is legally obligated to provide this to you.

If you are concerned the government or its pet organizations are failing in their civic duties, read first the UN Declaration of Human Rights and then register concerns with local law enforcement officials who must respond to all violations including those targeting gender, race, sexual orientation, religion, employment, healthcare and the right to vote.

Presidents, Crowns, governors, senators, city council persons, all must protect these rights or they can be arrested and subject to prosecution. The more we press for equal and swift justice around the world, the more likely a world free of strife will come to pass.

As the text says, to vocalize one's claim to Grace is the first most important step. This being said, the Biden Administration is not posturing itself properly towards the poison of the Republican Party of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, who have perpetrated acts of gross domestic terrorism against their own fellow citizens.

Please write the UN Secretary and ask for his arrest and that of his cabinet at once. This is an election year and persons guilty of Crimes Against Humanity including election fraud, Pro-Life advocacy, armed insurrection, numerous genocides, rampant human trafficking, pedophilia, and violations of the Constitution remain in office and are reaching for the White House and this cannot be allowed.

His response to the invasion of Ukraine was inept, and is also a human rights conflict the White House should have taken leadership within.

Every letter will count and help return America and the planet to sanity someday.