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kayr0ss · 3 years

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Hands that Remember Chapter 2 [AO3]

[Horizon Zero Dawn, Elisabet Sobeck Lives, Found Family, Mother-Daughter Feelings, GAIA is recovering, Ereloy]

Summary: Aloy saw the recordings, felt their grief over the death of their culture - the loss of their identity. Ted Faro had blown away the light meant to guide humanity through darkness - but she was willing to risk it all to take it back. To bring APOLLO back. It wasn't the first time that the world asked her for a miracle, but it bargained with a miracle of its own: This time - she didn't have to do it alone.

[Wherein Elisabet Sobeck returns, GAIA is recovering, Erend is done waiting around, and Aloy discovers a family she's never had before to help lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.]

Chapter 2: Re-Calibration

CHAPTER 2

It was such an odd thing to feel dirt again.

When was the last time she felt sediment and rock between her fingertips? A thousand years ago—quite literally. She’d forgotten the feel of it squeezing underneath the overhang of her nails, the discomfort of a pebble pressing on her heel within her shoe.

Little things. Living things.

GAIA Prime and all the other bunkers she had to oversee were exactly that: bunkers. Giant boxes of metal sealed from the world and its mounds of dust, dirt, and rock. But this disconnection wasn’t new: it’s been around since before she was locked away and working on Zero Dawn. It was there even back in Miriam, in FAS—even as far back as Stanford. So much time spent rushing towards the next breakthrough that she never had the time to stop and smell the flowers before they all burned away.

It was hard to wrap her head around the idea that flowers were back—blooming again somewhere out there. But for now she’d settle for the desert sand, riddled with weeds and other small signs of life.

She wondered what Erend might be thinking, seeing her run her fingers along the ground like a toddler. Eager to feel—to learn, no, relearn about a world she was only getting her bearings on. She caught a small blade of grass between her fingers. It’s alive, it’s all… alive again, she stared in wonder at the small miracle of live in her hand. Her return to consciousness was a violent experience. This was a nice change of pace.

The rest of the vanguard gave her and Erend privacy to talk, running errands in the nearby encampment and leaving them in the shade of an open tent. God knows she needed the space. She had questions—so many questions and while Erend tried his best to get her up to speed it seemed like there was always more. His rushed explanation was a disaster. Machines, cultists—whatever the fuck else was out there—and Aloy.

He said he’d try again and break it down slowly this time, sticking to what he knew and leaving the rest ‘to Aloy.’

‘Aloy’ sounded like a big shot. Someone important. Erend spoke about her with both familiarity and fondness—like how the other Alphas sounded when talking about one another. Whatever tangent he flew into—about what they had to fight off and how he believed it was related to herself and the other ‘Old Ones’—it always came back to Aloy. There was an unwavering faith he had in her that she could recognize: the feeling that they’ve fought together, bled together.

Endured something terrible together.

She remembered how he looked a little hurt earlier. “You’re Aloy’s mother, aren’t you?” He said it almost reverently, but unfortunately the answer was a very strong “no.” It must have been a misunderstanding—why would he think that?

“Got some boar roasting in camp.” Erend’s voice carried above the sound of his heavy footsteps. He walked closer, seating himself on a rock across her. “You feelin’ better?”

“I think so,” she admitted. “Alive. Which is better than the alternative when it comes to emerging from cryosleep if you ask me.”

“Good, good.” He crossed his arms. “Not hungry?”

Elisabet shook her head. “I don’t think I can taste anything yet.” She really hoped this side-effect was temporary.

“Well, let’s get you some soup. That’ll help.”

How she was feeling was a can of worms she didn’t want to open quite yet. Her body was on edge, the hairs along her arms standing in attention while she could feel the pace of her heart jog above average. It almost made her wince, the self-awareness of expecting a panic attack at any moment, but if her system had decided to be useful before shutting off completely later on, she was going to make the goddamn most of it.

Deep breaths.

She needed to take deep, long breaths. This was nothing but a jacked-up sympathetic nervous system stress response—there was no real danger. Just hypothetical fear. She needed to relax. She needed to think.

Orientation would be a good start—what, when, and where. And then she needed a plan. Something. Anything to do other than wander aimlessly like a fucking relic out of time. “You okay?”

It almost made her snap. He was asking if she was okay? She looked up, a smart quip loaded at the tip of her tongue but then—he looked so earnest, so concerned. An expression like that didn’t belong on a soldier.

“Not really, no.” She admitted.

“Huh.” Erend sat hunched over with his chin on one hand, looking comically close to that old statue of a thinking man if not for the wider breadth of his knees. He cleared his throat. “So…”

Despite the situation, she chuckled. “I’m glad to see that the most awkward of conversation starters evolved itself back into common use.”

The reference likely flew over his head, but he smiled while rubbing at the back of his neck almost shyly. He seemed… kinder than a hundred pounds of armor and a warhammer would seem like.

“I mean what am I even supposed to say?” He shrugged. “I uh, hit things with my hammer. You—and this predicament—are not things I’m gonna hit with my hammer.”

“That’s reassuring,” Elisabet deadpanned.

“You sure you aren’t Aloy’s mother?” Erend cracked her a lopsided grin.

Elisabet rubbed at her temple. “I think I’d know if I was. Is it wishful thinking to hope you guys have any ibuprofen?”

She had been pointedly ignoring his assertions that she was anyone’s mother. There were more pressing concerns to address, foremost of which was the distinct lack of technology. She’s only been up and about for a few hours but it was enough to notice the rudimentary tools and structures, along with the fact that Erend seemed to be the only other person with access to technology similar to hers.

“I’d check if we do, if I had any idea of what that is.”

“Where are we?”

“The furthest west I’ve ever been, honestly.” Erend shrugged. “I’m not familiar with these lands. We generally call it The Forbidden West—but there isn’t much else we know. Just more… sand, and dust. I’ve heard stories of trees that grew on sand, at the border of an endless lake. Never been there to see it myself.” He paused thoughtfully. “I uh, made a short trek back east from where I found you. About an hour or a little more.”

Elisabet stayed quiet, willing herself not to ask the question prickling at the tip of her tongue.

“Was that your home?” Erend asked quietly. “Where I found you. With the tall, pointed trees and the old stone structure.”

“Pines,” she supplied. “The trees, I meant. I thought you would know this by now.”

He grunted. “I’m a captain. Pretty good darned captain too, but no tree expert.”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I meant you as in people, in general. The kinds of trees and animals, our history and technology—we tried to pass that on.”

Something wasn’t right—a feeling that’s been weighing on her since her awakening.

Erend and the vanguard were outfitted with plate armor and looked to have no means of transportation other than by foot. They had waterskins instead of thermal containers and their basic camping supplies were made of fibers and tanned leather. Nevermind real-time mapping and wireless communication. ‘Battle-ready’ wasn’t exactly what came to mind, and she’d have paid to hear Herres’ take on 31st century military technology. She might have even chuckled, had the implication not been so dire. Something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the nearby encampment allied with you?”

“It was established by the Carja military as a way station, under the Sundom’s jurisdiction.” Erend beckoned her nearer, shuffling towards the side to leave space on the large, slated rock he was sitting on. “Ever since the Battle at the Spire, the Sun King’s been allowing expeditions towards the west—Aloy’s got a hunch that something is going on over there and you could guess that most of everyone listens to her these days. Whether she likes it or not.”

Carja. Sundom. Factions and nations, most likely?

“Just a minute.” He fumbled a little with his focus, looking up and awkwardly moving his hands in thin air. His frustration was noticeable in the deep set of his brows. “Aloy’s done this before—a map, on scrolls of light. She could share it with me while it, uh, did its floaty thing.”

“Do you have the map open?” Elisabet tapped her focus, hearing the small digital beam alert her of its activity. Technology was a familiar comfort—something to ground her. She whistled lowly while running a system check on the piece of hardware, trying not to wince at the fact that the date read January 14, 3041. The 31st fucking century. Safe to say it’s still working way past warranty declarations. “I think I got it.”

“How did you—its telling me that an external device accessed my display?”

“Hacking it,” she smiled. “This is more or less my area of expertise.”

“Right,” Erend nodded. “So we’re right over here.” He pointed towards a small glowing indicator.

“Outskirts of Carson City.” She had said it so softly it surprised her. She never pegged herself as particularly sentimental but being so close to home… after everything.

“And this,” he moved to the east. “Is the Sundom, and to its eastern border is the Nora’s Sacred Lands.”

Elisabet let herself have a moment of evaluation, eyes moving around the map to absorb as much information as she could. The satellite image let her know that the area’s topography reverted to pre-Faro Plague days: desert and canyons. Forested mountains covered the range to the east, but the northern range where she recalled Yellowstone was seemed erratically cold and glacial.

Information was a valuable resource she was lacking in.

“I need to get to the most developed settlement,” she muttered to herself. “Acclimate to customs and culture before finding a means to find and access ZD bunkers.”

“Bunkers?” Erend blinked.

“I assume that camps similar to this one are interspersed between the border of the Sundom and our location? At distances accessible by foot?”

“Yes, but—”

“I have to account for hostility along the road.” She crossed her arms. “And resources for supplies. What currency do you trade with?”

“Look,” Erend’s tone was firm. “We are going to take care of hostility and resources, because we’re going with you.”

“I—”

“You need to slow down,” Erend rose to his feet. “We don’t even know for sure if you’re okay after getting thawed out a thousand years later.”

“I need to figure out what happened to Zero Dawn. Find GAIA, and then—”

“Elisabet,” his voice was softer again, big and heavy hands settling on her shoulders. “We have time.”

Time? Of course they didn’t! There were a million things left to do and only two weeks until—

“The world isn’t ending anymore.”

He’d finally convinced her to sit down and get something to eat and it wasn’t damn easy. Elisabet was back to the makeshift planning table even before swallowing down her last bite and by the forge it was driving Erend just a little bit crazy.

“This is where we’re headed.”

Erend marked his own map, one that was tangible and inked on parchment instead of light. More reliable, if you asked him. Didn’t flicker in and out of sight—and didn’t make him look like a total jackass in front of his vanguard, waving his fingers around something they couldn’t see.

It was nearing sundown. The vanguard packed up ahead of time; they were leaving at the break of dawn. Erend split the party in two—one was to continue the expedition towards the Western Threshold, and the other, with Erend, was to hurry back to Meridian discreetly. It was a plan forged into metal: Erend needed to talk to Avad, while Elisabet seemed particularly interested in the Spire once he mentioned it.

“Utah and Colorado,” Elisabet whispered in wonder, tapping her focus on likely projecting a light-based rendering of them map on top of his own. “The staging areas for Zero Dawn.”

Erend looked at her with curiosity. “S’that what they used to be called? Before… before the whole thing—”

“Ended?” She punctuated, sensing his discomfort. But then she gave him a slight smile—it was different from Aloy’s. Wiser and wearier. “Though that’d be wrong. We’re still here, somehow.”

He smirked. “Don’t look so surprised. Didn’t you have somethin’ to do with that?”

“I’m just one of many,” she looked back towards the map. Didn’t look ready to talk about that, it seemed. “So what have we got?”

“We’re not in a hurry. We can take the traders’ path on the way back.” He pointed along a red, snaking line etched on the surface of the parchment. It was well-lit, well-guarded, and easy to traverse with enough camps in-between to restock and rest. He tapped twice on a marker at the end of route: it was a black, soaring tower. The good ‘ol Spire.

“That’d take us too long.” Elisabet shook her head. “We could go through these passes through the ridges. Cut straight through and save both time and resources.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“And time—”

“—is something you have now.” Erend stood his ground, arms crossed. “As I keep reiterating to you.”

“I’ve noticed.” Elisabet set her jaw. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to—” she waved a hand over the map “—this.”

“You mean not being the one in charge?” Erend grinned.

“I didn’t really ask for that,” she smiled back kindly. “But old habits die hard.”

“The long way to Meridian it is, then.”

Sobeck Journal, 1-14-41

We did it.

Even this barren desert looks beautiful. Can’t shake the feeling that I don’t deserve to see it all though.

Not without the rest of ZD. Without the rest of you.

I’m going to forego writing about how I feel because I don’t even know where to begin digging up that can of shit. Exhaustion was always an effective sleeping pill back in the day: now that I’ve got time to think when I lay down everything is so loud. Given the state of things I doubt they’d invented melatonin pills yet either, but who am I to complain? Alive is still better than dead.

Off to sleep now. Something’s wrong with APOLLO. More things to figure out tomorrow.

After all these years, I still don’t get to rest.

[“—someone— … —back to see—“]

“Great timing as usual.” Aloy hissed under her breath. The strider she was on was nearly worn down. She was an hour’s ride away from the forest’s edge—right where the sands of the Barrens began. That’s what she was going to call them anyway: “the Barrens.” Those prissy cartographers up in the mesa have no idea just how large the West was. It wasn’t all sand and tumbleweed: there were forests so different from the Jewel and the Sacred Lands that she didn’t know how to begin describing them! And the lake… the biggest she’s ever seen. A body of water so large it must have cloaked the world’s entirety. She’s seen it on the spherical maps stored in her focus—a depth of blue so imposing she couldn’t even wrap her head around it. The air was different along the lake’s edge—salty and crisp. Both beautiful and foreign and so very unforgiving.

She gently stroked the side of the strider’s neck. She didn’t want to wear him down completely—best to leave enough so that he could carry on and survive another day. Herds of broadheads often wandered around the Barrens anyway, although not found as often as in Meridian and to the East.

She’s been getting scrambled messages from Erend for the better part of a day now. He sounded panicked. He hated using his focus but there was apparently something important enough for him to try. It seemed desperately urgent and the only thing she could make of his messages was that she needed to go back.

Chasing after GAIA and whatever was left of APOLLO was going to have to wait.

Her strider whinnied—Aloy hummed a small apology she hoped it could understand. If she found a charger it’d be better—she could ride through evening on a mount strong enough to discourage smaller machines from engaging them. By next evening she could rest by the ranch.

Aloy bit her lip, a soft feeling of longing at her gut. That’s what Elisabet called it in her journals anyway—Sobeck Ranch. A small speck of life, trees, and flowers on the eastern edge of the Barrens. A small place to rest before another two days’ ride to Meridian.

She remembers how freeing it felt to tell Rost about her misadventures so far. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to take a few minutes for Elisabet and do the same.

She urged the strider to run a little faster, wind whipping at her hair and the tassels of her armor. “Just a bit more, big guy. Just a little more.”

A/N: Thank you once again to Tototops for beta-reading this chapter!

It's been a hot minute but here we go with chapter 2!

#Horizon Zero Dawn #HZD #Fanfic #Elisabet Sobeck #Aloy #Erend Vanguardsman #Erend #Ereloy #Found Family #HZD GAIA #Elisabet is Mom #Brb i'll cry #Aloy x Erend

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medranochav · 3 years

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my moms been living with us for 4 months now. her stay was initially tolerable but is now triggering and I find myself regressing in a lot of ways. Her grief has evolved into torment and per her m.o. she'd like for her issues to take first priority. Except, my sis and I are grown now, and as a therapised household (literally we've all been in counseling, babies included) though we still lean on each other for support, we ultimately don't function codependently.

And beeecause that's not how we grew up, I think my mother is now having to contend with the reality that she has to do the emotional work of surviving her many traumas (and currently her many dramas) on her own. We support her but we can't fix it for her.

Currently, it's a crisis a day and she's spiraling into mini catastrophic states everytime. Which was sufferable at first because despite my labored support, I still maintained my boundaries and didn't adopt her distress as my own. The problem now is the increasing frequency with which these crying spells are taking place. Not to mention the fact that she's been doing so in front of the kids; something that would normally be acceptable because my sis and I make space for feelings (even our own) in our home. The difference being, we do so responsibly. We listen, we talk, give affection and/or space but always with the fundamental knowledge that our emotions belong to us individually and only we can be accountable for them. A gentle reminder that though part of a unit, they still have agency and accountability.

This interdependency makes way for a more compassionate exchange. Whenever they see us cry or be vunerable, the kids have the wherewithal to approach us without attaching themselves to our emotional circumstance. It's an empathy that perceives our emotional reactions as relatable but still not their responsibility. I've seen our work proven time and time again.

One example is when my sister's [redacted] died and the boys spotted her crying on the couch. Without being prompted, they approached her independently, commiserated, hugged and kissed her and shortly after went back to playing on their electronics. It was such a graceful display of emotional validation that demonstrated their love for her without sacrificing their own desires in doing so. Truly remarkable, that at ages 5-8 they maintained boundaries while still being there for their mom.

They're also there for one another but it's seldom a sinking ship. And when emotional support is rejected they respect that as well, without taking it personally [tbh that has more to do with concepts of mandatory consent that we impart on them, but as is evident, it applies. #intersectionality] It's an ongoing practice that I'm proud to be a part of, considering the kids have codependent figureheads in both their maternal and paternal families. WE'RE TRYING TO BREAK CYCLES HERE.

Yes, our home is a safe space for emotional processing but always leveraged with the emotional balance of self reliance, awareness and resiliency. The kids have proven to have the capacity for this and through teaching them, so do we.

It's human to have outbursts, but my mother's pattern is proving to be less intrinsic and more deliberate. She needs an audience in order to experience catharsis. A potentially reasonable behavior except for it's her only one. So it's imbalanced and seeks refuge in the reliance of our total empathy.

Furthermore she's disingenuous in her emotional performances. When approached out of concern, she responds with the proverbial, "I'm ok." Like, its subtle but super manipulative to say that, when we can CLEARLY see she's not. The kids see and hear her, the least she could do is not gaslight them. And I'm not saying her tactics are successful but it exposes the bby's to unnecessary dysfunction and covertly teaches them to assume the responsibility of communicating her emotion for her. She's also non verbal and unpredictable and tho not at her best rn [like, literally who is? this year has wrecked us all] she and we deserve proper communication.

The mind games are soul sucking and triggering for me in a way that is not for my sister. Though we share a mother, the repective versions of her that we experienced as children differ greatly.

My sister's the eldest and spent the first couple years of her life as the only child to a very young mother living alone in America after being displaced by the civil unrest in her native El Salvador. By age 3, with the addition of a new baby sister (my moms 2nd) she was sent to a country fully at war. My sisters would spend the next half decade of their lives in sunny wartorn tropics, watched over and raised by our family of four women. A blissful antithesis to their future with our mom. Upon the return to their forgotten country of origin (USA) and severed from the only family and community they've ever known, the girls were whisked away by a mother they barely remembered and a baby brother they had never met... marking the beginning of my mom's descent into single motherhood.

My mom resented having a brood of kids, namely her 2nd and 3rd, who's father was abusive and absent. Don't know much of the facts outside of what she would ritualistically berate my siblings about during her brutal tantrums -as if it were their fault they simply existed. The second born, my other sister, left home at 12 and has been estranged ever since and the third, my brother, has recently severed bonds abruptly claiming a new life with a woman he's known barely a year yet now calls wife. Proving that despite being raised by the same woman we all had different mothers.

Since my siblings endured a childhood with a volatile, violent woman who managed her emotions thru physical abuse... when she wasn't, she was neglectful of them, turning her attention onto me... the youngest (four years removed from the rest of the pack). I bore witness to said abuse until I was 5, when it was litigiously exposed, forcing her to abandon corporal punishment and rely solely on mental/emotional abuse. That's the version of my mom I got.

I was 10 when my sister left for college. Just my brother and I remained. Similarly to each other we both lived in service to our mother. Whereas his duties were more physically laborious, mine consisted of full on emotional labor. I spent most of my childhood navigating a homelife that was so saturated and occupied by my mother's opera of a life, that there was no room for my feelings, thoughts, desires or identity. I was her plaything, a person sans agency. My age and vulnerability proved advantagous when grooming me. I learned to behave in ways satisfactory to her needs. I was made to react to (and collect) her emotional distress, endorse her judgements of others, perform well in school as a testament to her rearing, and accept her violations of me as normal. I was a shackled spectator, whose own emotions were mere reflections of her dramatizations. I was tailored to be the MOST convenient. So I kept secrets and coped alone. I knew just enough abt myself to remain human but lacked the vision to actualize it. And because emotional abuse is so insidious in its indoctrination, I was really none the wiser until I too moved away years later.

I'm almost 30 now and I'm a mess. I can't establish enduring relationships, I'm fat, I'm broke, I'm debilitatingly avoidant, socially inept, codependent, confused and lack significant self worth. I spent the past decade delving deep into undoing all the work done to me to keep me a reliable supply for my mother and coming to terms with all the time lost in doing so. I've had glimpses and proof of another life but this year sent me back to old coping mechanisms and devastatingly familiar relationships. I read that by its very nature, all pandemics have to end and I thought I was strong enough to share a definite time&space with my abuser for the foreseeable future.... but with no end in sight, I kind of really wish I had established a clearer version of myself and where I stand in this family, to her.

Similar predicaments flung us both to the south and having her here is like a screen forging images of the same dysfunction I exhibited upon my arrival 7 years ago. There's so much I wish I could tell my former self, namely, "it's not your fault. you're not alone. you don't have to try so hard and tomorrow is another day" And perhapz it's this layered vision of myself as seen thru her that compels me to want to save her, but doing so requires me to get too close to a flame I've yet to extinguish. Im not foundationally sound enough to go up in flames and rebuild afterwards, I need a few more rounds of therapy for all that. I'm a stitch away from coming apart at the seams. Weak construction, but I'm still standing. I have more life to live and can't risk the breeze of my mother's chaotic whims to topple what's taken years to forge. I love her, because she's the only mom I got and because she's the kids' only access to our motherland. How can I reconcile this version of me with this version of her?

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ccyans · 5 years

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Kfjdjdnndndjdj what were you acually gonna do in flowers in my footsteps. I was very surprised at first that you were the one who wrote it bec I read it a few years ago,,,, and,,, bec my girl rin o' course needs some love y'all and i was so into fics with alive!rin back then haha! And god, you really did evolve as a writer. Howd you do that? I am completely junk at being descriptive/creative in writing, and I might not do any justice when I get to write characters + their interactions

OH MY GOD. FLOWERS. FLOWERS.

I always MEAN to come back to that fic. It’s not like In The Company Of (another naruto fic) which needs a complete rewrite – I only have 2k up for Flowers and though it was written so long ago I’m pretty okay with it, barring some descriptionary fixes. I have 3 drafts for Chapter 2 in my drives but it just keeps on getting derailed because I can’t figure out Konoha’s STUPID ASS ninja infrastructure system.

SPOILERS!!

Some Kakashi POV written in my notes. Not sure if this was supposed to make it into the actual story, but the background knowledge is necessary.(was Flowers dual POV? Single POV? it’s been so long.)

So there are a lot of places Kakashi should be on February tenth but aren’t, and there are a lot places he shouldn’t be but still is. Namely, for the former, his hospital room. He limped back from an A-rank two days ago (tracking and destroying another one of Orochimaru’s hidden laboratories at the edge of Grass) and he’s spent the time after sleeping off chakra exhaustion, a case of black manba poisoning, and getting the blown out nerves in his hand fixed again. Technically, he hasn’t been discharged (and his regular attending is getting so fucking sick of seeing his stupid masked face, why the fuck are you here again, Hatake) but February 10th is Obito’s birthday. Kakashi has a duty. Kakashi has been grimly terrible at most of of his assigned duties so far, all the important ones at least but they do exist. On bad days he imagines the little boxed dates on the calender (ObitoRinSenseiKushina) so small and so heavy with all that unrealized potential, and Kakashi is hit with a wave of terror strong enough to make him want to drag himself back to ANBU Barracks and get another misison, any mission, but–

Birthdays are important. Death dates are important. Some days Kakashi feels like his blood is boiling in the hours leading up to the morning, but he goes. He always goes. February tenth is Obito’s birthday, and Kakashi owes him that at least.

Which brings us to where Kakashi isn’t supposed to be: the Memorial stone.There is a tiny, tiny little girl at the Memorial stone.

Her hair is very pink, tugged up into pigtails, and she’s swaddled in a scarf and a woolen coat and boots. She doesn’t look older than five. The memorial is a public monument–a public ninja monument, but still public–so it’s not exactly strange to see her there. She might have dead relatives on the stone. Most people do.

What is strange is the lack of parents. He thinks maybe there should be an adult figure nearby. That is likely the normal expectation. Kakashi does not know anything about kids, not even when he was a kid, and these days the closest interaction he has with people under ten are when he’s in the middle of killing them (Rebelling Lord’s children for examples and dead-eyed experiments for mercy) but he thinks, normally, parents are involved.

There aren’t any

The kid is just sitting there, seiza. Incense smoke curls off the bright red sticks. There’s food laid out, untouched. It smells of oolong and fruit and hamburger steak and crisp winter. The girl smells a little of trepidition and a little grief and a lot of pomegranate.

Um. Children. No.

Kakashi waits in a tree. It’s a cold day. She’ll have to leave, preferably sometime soon.

His ankle throbs. Dodgy joint.

Except the little girl does not leave. The little girl does not even move. She sits there, after the tea has long cooled and the food is probably frozen, head bowed and chakra a loose, tiny curl and Kakashi is beginning to think she’s fallen asleep with how uniformly even her breaths have been coming.

He doesn’t know if that’s a normal thing. He really doesn’t.

He finally gets off his tree (in like, an hour) because, you know, it’s been an hour and Obito is probably rolling his other eye at him from beyond the grave. It’s just a little girl Bakashi. Genius my ass. He makes sure to make noise as he moves. Withered brown leaves crunch under the heel of his sandals. Kakashi is not very sure about children, but generally, all living things have decent enough survival instincts (which didn’t apparently apply to any if Kakashi’s Genin team, but well), and he’s a ninja still wearing the remainders of his bloodied and burned ANBU uniform.

The girl shakes her head out from her scarf. She sneezes, then stands up, and her legs wobble, likely because she’s been sitting there for an hour. She blinks huge green eyes at him.

They stare at one another for a while.

Then, contrary to expectation, she doesn’t shriek or apologize or leave or even continue with the silence. She smiles at him, one edge hiked just a little higher than the other. She has an expression on her face that makes Kakashi automatically tense up, alarms blaring: it is familliar and nostalgic and she looks at him the way people look at soft, precious, delicate things. People looked at him like that once. Not many–but. They’re dead now.

All of them are dead now. She has no reason or right to look at him like that.Then she says: “Hello, Kakashi,” in a tone that is tired and all too relieved, and Kakashi’s first thought, two days fresh from burning another one of the Snake’s base is: Orochimaru.

But that’s quickly discarded; it makes no sense, Orochimaru has no reason to sound like that, even if he is the foremost enemy that would take over a little girl’s body, and his second is: infiltrator, but he can’t think of any village that would call him Kakashi, they would call him Hatake or Sharingan or White Fang’s hier.

Unless this is a psyche tactic. Very likely it is.

He grips the hilt of the kunai in his pocket.

He wonders if it’s even a little girl. He’s been sitting on that tree for an awfully long time, and his reflexes are not in that great shape after the hospital. Subtly, he weaves a quick genjutsu, a tiny one, (which wouldn’t work against Orochimaru, but nothing Kakashi does is likely to work against Orochimaru, so) and opens Obito’s eye.

The world lights up in colour. Hazy chakra. The tendrils of the earth, green gold. The little girl, pine-lit in earthern shades. The oil green of summer leaves. The bottle green of a wine glass. Her chakra is calm, no insidious threads wrapped around in a henge or genjutsu or some other obscure technique. He can read the tremble of her muscles, every micro-expression in beautiful, perfect stillness. No apprehension, but tension, something fine and delicate in her shoulders.

The little girl tilts her head. Kakashi catches every strand of pink hair that goes into her eyes, past and present and almost-future.

Then she bends down, turns her back towards him, and begins to tidy her lunch boxes. She slings everything into a violently yellow knapsack, puts it over her shoulder, and then turns back at him. She smiles that same strange smile.

“Walk with me, Kakashi” she says.

His eyes narrow, and then physically relaxes, a thin veneer of uncaring. “Mah, why I should I?”

The girl’s eyebrow raises; the smile doesn’t go away. It itches like hives down his back, another warning of danger. “Because we’re going to the place you’re already probably thinking of sending me.” Her child voice is fond. “Come on. I have an appointment with a Yamanaka at Interrogation.”

The confirmation of Rin’s identity is something she already set up (she knows a) Kakashi, and b) ninjas well enough to know they’ll want like, a BRAIN SCOUR to make sure she’s not a hidden plant.) So there’s the Yamanaka, and then the Hokage, and then Kakashi who comes up of Sarutobi’s office with the completely..????? knowledge of: yes that tiny child out there IS the dead team-mate/best-friend whom he promised (his other dead best friend) to protect and then killed and have had nightmares about for the past 5 years because the sharingan gives you beautiful photographic memory. ;)

ANYWAYS: The plot of Flowers is basically soft and focuses a lot on recovery (Kakashi’s). It goes into deph about Kakashi and Rin’s former friendship, which I think both canon and fanon glosses over a lot, (I explored it in the platonic soulmate AU, this is the longer version) and their current… ??? friendship, because currently Rin is a 4 year old from a civilian family who has no idea about her previous incarnation and Kakashi is this giant mess of issues dressed in ANBU armour.

Flowers is basically Rin trying to address Kakashi’s giant ridiculous mess of issues and trying to help him through it. Even if he tries to basically shove everything into the closet. I think it’s important for it to be Rin, because she’s one of the… like… 3 people he was ever emotionally close AND transparent with, which means that unlike everyone currently alive she already has a way into his stupid spiky apathetic shell.

Anyways a lot of this fic is conversation and Kakashi not saying things and Rin just READING INBETWEEN THE LINES DO YOU THINK THAT SINCE YOU GREW 5 INCHES I FORGOT HOW DO THAT?? And the the hilarious Outsider view (mainly Tenzo) of watching this tiny cheerful no-nonsense civilian pink haired girl hanging out in Kakashi’s space and bullying Kakashi into eating things that aren’t ration bars, and doing normal people things like decorating his apartment, and STAYING IN THE HOSPITAL KAKASHI I CAN SMELL THE DISNFECTANT. And Kakashi lets her, which is the STRANGEST THING to everyone who’s ever known Kakashi. They also have like 90 inside jokes and Kakashi-senpei can joke?????? Yeah.

#cyan ficstuff #naruto #flowers in my footsteps #ask

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goldenkamuyhunting · 5 years

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Do you want cat to change? If cat dies, will you keep working on gk? It's more like a personal question so you dont have to answer it if you dont want to.

I guess with ‘cat’ you mean Ogata, don’t you?

Now, in regard to your questions...

First the easy one.

If cat dies, will you keep working on gk?

While Ogata is my fave character and one of the biggest reasons due to which I started reading Golden Kamuy I’m not here SOLELY for him.

He’s part of a story, a part that for me is very interesting, but he’s just a part of it. If the story were to turn boring I would probably stop being interested in it even if Ogata were to live, and if the story remains good I will probably remain hooked to it even if Ogata were to die.

Of course though I’ll be very sad if he were to die very much so, and Ogata’s eventual death will likely bring away a big part of my enjoyement of Golden Kamuy no matter how well executed it will be because I’ve lot of fun trying to figure him out, way more than what the other characters give me.

But I really can’t tell you if the story will become boring all of sudden.

It really will depend on how Noda will develop it.

For example if Golden Kamuy were to start supporting the idea Asirpa's compassion is wrong and she has to become a person who kills without hesitation... if the story were to start supporting murdering without guilt... if characters simply stopped evolving and the story were to support that the way they are is the RIGHT way to be... then I will likely be disappointed a lot as well.

At the moment though I think it’s a big early to worry about this.

It’s pretty unlikely Ogata will die in the next chapter as it will probably continue/end the Koito flashback, so we’ll see what will happen in the future.

Next...

Do you want cat to change?

Hum... not quite, though it really depends from what do you mean with ‘change’ and what do you think makes the core of who Ogata is.

Let’s pick Shiraishi.

Shiraishi is consistently a friendly guy, who can be clever on some things and a complete dunce on some others, who can be fearful for his life but can also take risks if he judges it’s worth it as he likes betting and who’s definitely not prioritizing honestly. He is lazy, would like an easy life and longs for a woman.

This is his core. This doesn’t change through all Golden Kamuy.

Yet we can say that Shiraishi ‘changed’ as when he formed meaningful relations with Asirpa and Sugimoto.

That’s because his priorities shifted and he included them among the things he judged precious. So, even though he was afraid for his life, even though he believed betting on Tsurumi would be more advantagious, he remained with Asirpa. And because he also grew close to Kiroranke he couldn’t wave away his dead like he did with Kumagishi, whom he tricked and then abandoned in a prison and then, when he heard the guy died trying to escape labelled as a dummy because he told him not to escape during outside labor [Chap 86].

He complains Kiro was too serious but it’s clear Shiraishi is grief-striken by his death and buries him with special care.

It’s not that this Shiraishi is another person compared to the Shiraishi who shrugged away Kumagishi’s death. This Shiraishi is merely a Shiraishi who cared for Kiro, who was his friend and wanted the man to live, that regrets he’d dead even if he knows he betrayed them and would just like for Kiro to at least rest in peace.

Kumagishi instead, for Shiraishi, was just a guy who was in his same prison. Not a friend, a mere aquaitance, one he didn’t care for.

Everyone can grow to care for someone else, even the Lighting bandit and O-Gin, who were notable for their viciousness, loved each other and loved their child.

And now let’s move to Inkarmat.

Inkarmat is consistently a clever and independant woman, who can use her brain and her gift of foretelling to try to influence people and get what she wants. She however blindly believes in the prophecies she makes and is strongly tied to her past with Wilk.

However, although her prophecies told her she would never meet Wilk again,

she resumed hoping she would meet him again.

That’s because due to the meaningful near death experience she had she learnt fate can be changed.

It’s not she became a completely different woman. She just acquired a new knowledge that changed her mindsetting.

Sugimoto is a bit of the same as originally he believed Ainu to be against him but soon enough he learns they have no ill intentions toward him.

So what I want for Ogata isn’t exactly ‘to just change’.Ogata, the core that makes him who he is, has to stay the same.

I simply want him to form meaningful positive relations, to go though new positive experiences that will expande his understanding of the world and will cause a shift in his priorities.

I like to think the result will be that even if Ogata will remain Ogata, his path will change.

In short I don’t want him to be a character who remains still, who stagnate where he is, but one who grows, like each human does.

But so far he didn’t quite have chances to have positive interactions and experiences.

We don’t know much of his childhood but during the was he was under Tsurumi and become his accomplice.

His partnership with Tsurumi is, in a way, similar, to Shiraishi’s partnership with Hijikata.

Hijikata gave him the choice of giving him a copy of his tattoo and become his ally or not, but he made clear Shiraishi would not walk away if he were to choose ‘no’. As a result Shiraishi officially agrees and does his bidding but ultimately betrays Hijikata in favour of Sugimoto, even if back then he didn’t trust Sugimoto either (he was scared by him and believed Sugimoto would have killed him if he were to knew of his partnership with Hijikata).

Ogata too could have refused when Tsurumi wanted him to become his hitman and murder people in the army who were against Tsurumi, he could have refused when he was told to make friend with Yuusaku (whom Ogata wanted to avoid) in order to corrupt him, could have refused when told to murder Hanazawa but... what then? Tsurumi would have found a new hitman and dispose of the people he wanted to dispose along with Ogata.

Ogata clearly couldn’t denounce Tsurumi, no one would listen to him.

So he joins forces with him and then, like Shiraishi did with Hijikata, betrays him.

We don’t know if Ogata first joined the rebel group or Kiroranke.

We know though he joined Kiroranke prior to joining Hijikata and that allegiance is part of what stops him from forming connections with the members of the Hijikata group or of the Sugimoto group.

He knows he’s there not to make friends but to kill Wilk.

It clearly doesn’t help Hijikata doesn’t trust him at all and tries to keep away from himself by placing him with Ushiyama first and then with Sugimoto and will go ask information about him.

Sugimoto made matters even worse by not only refusing to trust him and generally being a jerk but also by stating that ‘any man who turn traitor once will do it again’...

he is basically trying discouraging Hijikata from cooperating with Ogata in case Hijikata hadn’t realized Ogata has diserted from the 7th who was anyway a traitor unit and Sugimoto knows... and worsen matters further by trusting Tanigaki instead, who also has left the 7th but that Sugimoto doesn’t consider as a traitor... and by trusting Shiraishi who yes, hadn’t betrayed Sugimoto but had betrayed Hijikata and so is technically a traitor.

Add to this how Ogata was made fun of due to his mother in the Army and you get why he doesn’t really manage to relate with the people in the groups he is in.

And things turn slightly sour with Kiro as well, as it’s implied Ogata had no idea the guy planned to drag Asirpa in Russia or to free Sofia from Ankou prison. Ogata loses faith in him as a partner, loses faith in a partner who had him kill his best friend and now is manipulating his best friend’s very young daughter and praising how Wilk was capable to kill allies easily when they were wounded and useless.

Probably Ogata ended up seeing Tsurumi in Kiro even if the two are so very different and Kiro is actually so blinded by his great ideals and his care for the minorities he’s not really seeing what he’s doing.

But Asirpa?

Some might ask.

She consistently tried to get friend with him.

And in fact he made small progresses in that way... not huge but there was a tiny start in this direction... but everything was tained by the fact when all is said and done he was her father’s murderer and he’s sure she would kill him due to it and by how he didn’t quite realized she cared about him too.

Long story short, what I want is for Ogata to have experiences that will affect him and his behaviour so that he’ll end up making better choices.

You can see this as him changing or, more simply, as him evolving, growing, like it happens to... almost all humanity.

What however I specifically want is for those experiences, for those relations to be positive, to have a positive influence over him as what he had experienced so far actually influenced him in a negative way. It was still evolution, it was still growth but in the wrong direction.

I’d like for him to find the right path for a change. But well, I don’t know if this can be done. He’s in a horrid situation because after being shoot by Asirpa’s arrow he ended up prisoner of people who hated him and wanted him dead and with Asirpa in shock and rightfully very upset at him.

Not the best setting for positive experiences/relations.

And now he’s trying to escape to those people and I can’t genuinely see how he’ll manage to do so in the situation he is and this too isn’t the best setting for positive experiences/relations.We’ll see if things will change in the future, or he’ll never get a chance.

Noda clearly has a plan, we can just wait and see if he’ll end up like Youichirou, who managed to find peace and love among the Ainu and lived for a long time with them

or like Sekiya, who fundamentally found peace only when God punished him by having Hijikata survive at his test and kill him.

We’ll see. Thanks for your ask and sorry it took me so long to reply!

#Golden Kamuy #Ogata Hyakunosuke #Sugimoto Saichi #Shiraishi Yoshitake #O Gin #Sakamoto Keiichirou #Sekiya Waichirou #Youichirou #Asirpa #Kiroranke #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Inkarmat #Ask #Hijikata Toshizou

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icanseeyoufromhere · 5 years

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This must be the place

Over the past weeks, I spent quite a bit of time sitting in the swivel, gliding chair my mom gifted us before Magdalena was born. It was nestled in the corner of our bedroom, next to French doors that we rarely opened but that let a lovely morning light in when we forgot to close the blinds. I sat in that chair so many times, not just to nurse (which was its original purpose), but also to read, to recover from chemo and surgeries, to give myself a timeout when my kids made me feel crazy, and, when my body let me, even to nap.

It is a comfortable chair, although at night when I’d go to stand and put my (finally) sleeping child back in her crib, the force of my standing, even if I did it as gently as I could, kicked the swivel back, loudly, against the wall. The noise would wake my babe up three times out of seven—enough to be really annoying but not enough to keep me from using it again the following night.

From the viewpoint of that chair, I saw so much. I saw, for example, our enormous, king-size bed. We spent OVER ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS on it. (I use caps because that’s how I say it in my head, every time I think about it.) We bought it just when we moved into our home, after we had returned from living for several months in Argentina. Camilo was barely one, and co-sleeping with him, alongside my just under six foot tall husband, in our double bed (yes, you read that right, a double) had become unbearable. So we bought this ginormous bed. Shortly after we made the purchase, Camilo decided he preferred his crib after all. It’s one of the most expensive things we own, and it’s the best bed we’ve ever had.

Just last week, after months of planning and weeks of packing, we moved that bed, alongside all of our other worldly possessions, to Argentina.

I cannot say this—I sometimes can’t even think about it—without feeling weepy.

I am over the moon about this change, I really am. Matías is Argentine, and I am so happy to take Camilo back to Argentina and to introduce Magdalena to the country. I am thrilled to see his family. I’m excited to work at one of the greatest universities in the country as a part of my Fulbright award. I love everything about this move. Except, of course, for everything we are leaving behind.

And by “everything” I mean our friends, of course, and my big, light-filled office at the University of Arizona. I mean the ease of life that we had. Tucson was an easy place to live. The people were (mostly) nice. The weather was (mostly) great. Most things are a ten minute drive away. My brother and sister and their families were only a three-hour flight away (one of the only non-stop flights out of our tiny, comfortable airport—travel was pretty easy from there too).

What makes my heart feel heaviest, though, was leaving our house. This rather tiny but completely cosy single-family home, which we rented for three years.

If I’m being fully honest here (and I try to be), I had a love-hate relationship with the place. Frankly, it was a bit too porous for my liking. We had more critters run through the rooms in the middle of the night than I’d care to acknowledge. The pipes in the bathroom made a constant groaning noise when it was warm. (It was warm there a lot.) It had concrete floors. They were beautiful, but they showed every crumb after dinner and each grain of sand my kids brought back from daycare. And they were so hard—half of my parenting there was spent warning my kids they would “crack their heads open if they keep rough-housing like that!”

But it was our home. The home where Cami took his first step and where Magda was conceived and grew in my belly. The house received her upon her birth, and, with time, it saw her take her first steps too.

I was in that house when my doctor called with the news of my cancer. Shortly after, I opened its front door to welcome my kids home from daycare and to inform Matías of the diagnosis. It was in that house where he hugged me, where we discussed treatment and prognosis, where I contemplated my mortality at night, in our giant, expensive, comfortable bed.

I often called my mom from this house, telling her of my treatments while she talked about hers. I wasn’t in the house when my mom died (I was lucky enough to be with her), but I was there to grieve. The house watched me manifest my grief in its myriad, sordid forms: tears, rage, anger, depression, alcohol use, more tears…

A move is, by nature, disruptive. It quite naturally conjures up all kinds of emotions. I know this. But our tiny, lovely house in Tucson saw us go through so much. Life. Death. Illness. (Are those the big three? It feels like they should be.) And while I will bear the weight of all of that experience for the rest of my life, I may never step in that house again, where it all happened. It’s unimaginable, really.

To make this move happen—to successfully take my post-tenure sabbatical year (and perhaps longer?) in Argentina—I had to receive the all clear from my doctors. I saw each of them over the past few months. I received instructions for follow-up appointments and monitoring.

You know what? Even if we stayed in Tucson, I probably wouldn’t have seen any of them for at least a year.

And so there’s that, too. The finality that comes with having been diagnosed with cancer and successfully moved past it (for now). Of surviving chemotherapy and immunotherapy and six surgeries and hyperbaric oxygen therapy and early menopause. My plastic surgeon quite literally removed my (last?) JP drain the day before we boarded the plane to head south.

The good news, of course, is that with a new country, a new city, and a new home come new experiences and new opportunities to make more memories. Indeed, our house in Buenos Aires is beautiful. It is, in many ways, the opposite of what we left behind in Tucson: big, airy, with tons of natural light and two stories, and even a separate little space (not unlike a Tucsonan casita) for making asados on the weekend. I haven’t seen a critter just yet on the inside, but a neighborhood cat likes to spend her evenings in our backyard. We have an open garage where our kids can play ball and learn to ride bikes. We live beside a beautiful, massive public park and have most of what we need (groceries, diapers, wine) at just a few blocks’ walking distance.

Our life here will be wonderful. And, of course, I’ll continue to think about cancer and genetic mutations and life in general from this new perch.

But that tiny house—where our life evolved in ways both imagined and unimaginable—will be so incredibly missed.

Here’s our (messy) back patio, on Easter, aka, the day we have chocolate for breakfast:

Camilo playing trains in our living room:

Magda jumping on our massive bed, singing “Five Little Monkeys,” while I fret over her bumping that cute little head on the concrete floor.

And, in case you were wondering, we really did move everything to Argentina:

I’d be remiss if I didn’t include some pictures of our new, beautiful place in Buenos Aires:

To our lovely place in Tucson, here’s one last picture of goodbye. Peace out, little home. We love(d) you!

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mikayla-jays-world-blog · 5 years

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Mikayla Jay's World...

Welcome one and all.

Hey friends....I thought it's about time for me to really introduce myself to all of you. I started this little blog about 6 weeks ago, and the first thing I should say is that I'm...well...*ahem... getting older. (I'm 45). As such, I'm a bit of a late-comer to social media. If truth be told, this is my first and only blog and platform that I have ever used. Ever. I don't use Facebook, I'm not a YouTuber or on Twitter or Twatter or Chatsnap or whatever else is typically used by y'all. This isn't about monetization for me. I needed a place to be creative, to vent, to learn, to grow...and most importantly...I wanted to find others in hopes of developing some sort of support network for myself. You see, in addition to being old (er), I'm also a proud MTF Transgender WOMAN. I am also bi-sexual, with a ravenous sexual appetite for both men and women - and each for their own unique reasons and dynamics. I have been an artist for mist if my life and career, having spent over 15 years professionally as a tattoo artist (I was attracted to Tumbler initially because of the graphic friendly, pro-art/artist philosophy...and the porn lol- at least until they took that away 🙄). I got burned out professionally about 18 months ago, and really wanted to follow a dream that has been sitting in the back of my head for years and years... I wanted to pursue writing. I've always believed that you do what you love, AND THEN you find a way to get paid doing it. But really, it's not about making money for me. It's about living my life on my terms, loving the person I continue evolving into, standing in my own truths, living authentically and being happy....truly happy with the life I want to live. And while I'm on the topic, I wasn't always interested in that. Living, I mean. The Cole's Notes version of my past is certainly colorful, but also full of pain and some tragedy- like many of us.

I grew up in a chaotic household, with parents that fought constantly and ultimately divorced. That was tough on me because I was close to my mom, and not so much to my father. Mom was a Nurse, Dad a University Professor. You see, I knew I was different from an early age. Thing is, my Mom knew too. She caught me wearing her makeup (because I would smush her lipsticks not understanding proper application techniques, and she got tired of me destroying them on her lol). So my Mom decided to show me how to apply makeup properly. She knew I liked lingerie, dresses, heels etc. I believe she also knew that I was not straight at the very least- certainly as I entered my teens and became a horny kid, it became obvious- to her. My father had his face in a textbook my entire childhood, and so was oblivious to his oldest son's (me) true personality. As such, I became very close to Mom. She was my best friend.

When I was 13, my parents divorced. My Mom needed a fresh start and my father made way more money, so we (me and younger brother) were forced to live with him. We moved to Maritime Canada- Prince Edward Island to be specific, as my father accepted a job in Charlottetown. My Mom moved to the North West Territories, and took a job as an Emergency Medical Flight Nurse working thru a small Native reserve hospital in Fort Simpson NWT. I was heart broken at being away from her suddenly, and bitter at the whole situation. Then my life really turned upside down.

My Mom, the best friend I ever had, loved her new life. She was finally really happy, and at peace with herself. She spent a very. fullfilling year up North. Then, just before X-Mas 1988, my world fell apart. My mom was on an emergency medical flight, and without me reliving painfull details, the plane she was flying in- 3 miles from the airport on the return leg, flew into a mountain. The plane exploded on impact, and my Mom was killed. That day, a big piece of my heart died.

I'm 14 yrs old. My mom, my best friend, my confidant and only person I trusted and supported who I was, was taken from me. The impact it had on me was simple. I was broken inside. I was in a new city and province, had no friends, was confused, alone....and broken.

The way I dealt with the pain and grief was to bury it by inside me. I became introverted, isolated, depressed, and scared. I was also trying to fit in where I didn't belong. Those of you that have never experienced small town maritime Canada, it's like Deliverence. Only worse. I had to adapt to my surroundings. The local customs and beliefs were not open, accepting or pro LGBTQ. The one thing I had going for me (at least then) was that I was coordinated and active. I could play sports. And I was a big kid. I believed my only option to fit in was to pretend I was like "everyone else". I learned to bury not just my pain, but everything that made me who I was. My sexuality. My needs and longings to feel feminine. To dress up and wear makeup. The happiest side of my personality was intimately linked to my feeling that I was born in the wrong body. I became sport-o. A jock. I blocked out and buried that part of me. And began living a life of lies. I became a "mans man".

Fast forward. I got big. I got angry. I hated myself and the world. I got involved in football and rugby and started amateur boxing. I became more confused as time went on. And more angry. Eventually after University, I moved out West. To British Columbia. Vancouver. Part of me wanted to get as far away from my father, Atlantic Canada, and my past. Part of me was aware of the progressive open gay community out there.

I ended up taking a job as a bouncer in a fairly violent biker bar. I immersed myself in that world, all the while walking a razors edge where I was "Iron Mike" on the outside, a tough SOB and all around bastard of a person. My confusion and anger over time grew into overwhelming dysphoria. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I battled those feeling by way overcompensating and going to the extreme other end of the gender scale. I became hyper masculine outwardly, and satisfied my inner desires on the sly, behind everyone's back. I engaged in many dangerous and stupid behaviors. I became a drug addict. And that culminated in 3 suicide attempts. I wanted to die.

That part of my life is a story for another time. But I will fast forward, for the sake of my sanity and yours. I was lucky enough to find an addictions doctor and a mental health councillor who helped me turn my life around. I began with grief Councilling for dealing with my mother's death. As I learned to trust the two women at that clinic, I came clean. With everything. My sexuality. My gender identity. I opened up about my risky sexual behavior (days and weeks suppressing and burying who I was inevitably would boil over and I would "blow off steam in the extreme let's just say.) Cyclical, drug fuelled gay sex parties were like a medicinal, almost spiritual healing event, just in a backwards twisted sort of way. My depression, dysphoria and anxiety would go up and down with my moods. I needed to change. And the more I worked on accepting myself, and battling the debilitating shame of feeling like a closet freak, the more I realized how wrong I had always been. How confused, disillusioned and unhappy I always was. I learned, slowly and not without setbacks, that I was not the pariah I feared I would become. I wasn't a freak. And I didn't have to continue to be......broken.

Over the past 10 years, I have grown and evolved. I began by accepting that I was gender fluid, and embracing it. My lifelong habit of crossdressing became something I refused to bury, and I stopped being ashamed of it. I consider myself mostly bisexual....with a definitive preferrence towards gay men and gay sex. I enjoy sleeping with women as well, but I really find it is a different type of sex, and my attraction to women is more about the intimacy. I emotionally 'make love' to women, whereas I like a good n' nasty fuck with a man...call me old-fashioned LMAO.

I also evolved in my gender identity, my knowledge and experience growing alongside my courage, and the belief in who I really am. I have grown to embrace the woman I've been evolving into. The amount of time I spent dressed up and living as a female grew more and more. I learned to truly accept myself, and the word Transgender. The philosophy, lifestyle, choices, mental impact and ultimately the strength and happiness that I've found by embracing that I AM A PROUD AND HAPPY MTF TRANSGENDER WOMAN has absolutely changed and saved my life. As such, I went through Gender Councilling, and went through the long and arduous waiting list/period to see a gender specialist doctor. I am so excited to say that I finally began by hormone therapy treatment about 6 weeks ago.

Which brings me to where we are now. I have just begun the next phase of my life. I am so happy and thankful to have survived and come through on the other side. Part of that journey has been learning to love myself. Respect myself. Believe in myself. I am so grateful to the small support group of doctor's and mental health workers who helped me learn to live my life as it was always meant to have been lived. And the other part is making sure that I can pay that gratitude forward, by helping other Transgender people live their authentic wonderful lives. That's a big reason why I started my blog. Mikayla Jay's World is a reflection of who I am. It is a place where I can thrive, meet others like myself, actually BE myself, and continue to grow....creatively, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. It is a world where you won't be judged, and you will always find a supportive girl to lean on and become friends with. We are on the cusp of great societal changes. We have the ability to help each other through the difficulties still to come, and all be stronger, better people for it. Welcome to the world I live in. Welcome to a place I love. A safe place to be who you are...inside and out....and a place where we can all laugh, cry, be shocked, be turned on, be motivated, be creative, be unique, and be loved. Your always welcome in Mikayla Jay's World. Thanks y'all.

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mysongfortheasking · 6 years

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So This is the New Year

I’ve tried to make “resolutions” more than once in my life. I never stick to them. “This year, I’ll work out at least three days a week.” And by April, I was losing money to the gym membership I never used. “This year, I’m going to be a vegetarian.” That lasted a whole three months, until I gave into the temptation that spinach and mozzarella stuffed chicken provided. “I’m going to go to bed much earlier this year.” As soon as my next college semester began, I was back to thinking that being in bed by 12:30am was an accomplishment. “Punctuality is a goal: I’m going to be fifteen minutes early to everything I ever go to this year.” Well…I at least managed to screech in right on time.

After countless failed resolutions, I decided the best thing for me to do was to instead take time to reflect on the previous year, and see what I had experienced, what those experiences taught me, and how I could carry those lessons into the coming year. So around this time every year, I sit back, think on the previous 12 months, and write about how I have changed, what I have learned, and how I will move forward. (For some weird reason, I am missing 2017, but if you want, you can read my post from January 2016 here.) So without further ado, here are my 2017 reflections:

2017 was a big year for me. I finished my Bachelor’s. I started graduate school. I moved back home, then moved into an apartment. I started a new job in a work atmosphere I had zero experience in (which was retail, if you’re wondering). There were lots of big transitions and changes in these last 12 months. And sometimes, in those times, I found myself frustrated and stressed beyond belief. But stress comes with any type of change and transition (whether it be a good or bad one), and moving on is a natural part of life. So although 2017 was a tough year for me, it was a good one.

In the midst of all these huge adjustments, I learned a lot about myself. One major thing I learned about is the value of self-care (which I posted about in greater depth a few months ago--click here to read it). But perhaps the most important lesson I learned in 2017 is one that goes hand in hand with the idea of self-care, but is a bit deeper and a lot scarier. This last year, I learned the value of vulnerability.

I was the type of person who never wanted to ask anyone for help. I thought asking for help meant I was weak or broken. During some of the crazier moments of 2017, I started attending a church I found and fell in love with. At first, I would go to service, partake in the routines and rituals, and leave. A lot of times, I would go eat lunch alone, drive back home, and binge watch Law and Order for the rest of the day. Although the church itself brought me a lot of peace, I knew there had to be something more. But something inside me was afraid. Afraid that if I got too close to these strangers, someone might take advantage of me or not care or judge me.

At some point in time, I realized I was in desperate need of genuine human connection. So I joined what is called a “Life group” (which is just a churchy term for a small group of people who get together once a week). I was really hesitant at first, because I didn’t want to join a “Bible study” group or some type of “mini-church.” Others had asked me to join “life groups” in the past, and I always said I was “too busy,” or “too tired,” or would attend one for a while and then slowly fade away. I had a thousand different excuses and reasons for isolating myself, but it all came down to being afraid. I eventually decided to ignore my past failures and join one anyway. I told myself if I didn’t like it, I would just quit going. The truth was, I desperately wanted to belong. I don’t think I even knew it then, but I just wanted authenticity. I wanted to be a person with other people.

I ended up joining a group that started as a “dinner group.” Once a week, we went to a member’s home, and had dinner. There wasn’t a lot of religious talk or Bible reading or prayer. It was just a bunch of people getting to know each other. And (somewhat to my surprise), I loved it.

Our group then evolved into what we call “The Tribe.” It was through The Tribe that I discovered Brene Brown and her TedTalk on vulnerability. In it, she says:

“What we are doing with vulnerability. Why do we struggle with it so much? Am I alone in struggling with vulnerability? No... We live in a vulnerable world. And one of the ways we deal with it is [to] numb vulnerability...The problem is that you cannot selectively numb emotion. You can't say, here's the bad stuff. Here's vulnerability, here's grief, here's shame, here's fear, here's disappointment. I don't want to feel these. You can't numb those hard feelings without numbing the other affects, our emotions. You cannot selectively numb. So when we numb those, we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness. And then, we are miserable, and we are looking for purpose and meaning, and then we feel vulnerable, so then we [numb those feelings] And it becomes this dangerous cycle...

But there's another way...This is what I have found: To let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen, to love with our whole hearts, even though there's no guarantee...to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror, when we're wondering, ‘Can I love you this much? Can I believe in this this passionately? Can I be this fierce about this?’ Just to be able to stop and...say, ‘I'm just so grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means I'm alive.’ And the last, which I think is probably the most important, is to believe that we're enough. Because when we work from a place, I believe, that says, ‘I'm enough,’ then we stop screaming and start listening, we're kinder and gentler to the people around us, and we're kinder and gentler to ourselves.”

(I know that’s a lengthy quote, but the entire talk is beyond amazing. Do yourself a favor and watch the whole thing here.)

I watched that video because some Tribe members suggested it. And as I watched it, I broke and cried alone in my car. Because that was me. I was the queen of numbing feelings, of hiding behind myself, of going through the cycle over and over. I decided that I would try and be more open and vulnerable with others. And then the opportunity arose.

Once a month, The Tribe has “story night.” At Story Night, we gather around a fire in the back yard, and two people share the story of their life. Not necessarily every single detail from birth to the present, but rather, a story of how they struggled through something and overcame. And in the month of December, my turn for story night came around.

I knew an entire month ahead of time I would be sharing. And for four weeks, I struggled with what I should tell. I had stories that I “didn’t mind sharing,” things that almost everyone knew, things I could say, “Hey look, I overcame this.” But there was something so unsatisfactory about that. It felt like I was taking the easy way out. Because I had a story in me that I had never shared before, that no one outside of myself (and my therapist) truly knew the whole of. And even though I was terrified, I knew it needed to be told.

The night of “Story Night” finally came. I (somewhat intentionally) went last (taking as much time to procrastinate telling my story as I possibly could). Public speaking never scares me (in fact, I’m one of those people who loves it), but when my time came to speak, I was literally shaking. I had brought my guitar, so I sang two songs, the whole time thinking to myself, It’s not too late to change your mind and tell something easier. But when I finished playing and began talking, I forced myself to share my story. Because despite the fear running through me, I knew it needed to be shared.

At the end of it all, I said, “So that’s it. I feel like we should share stories where we truly overcame and won, and maybe this isn’t a story like that. Because, to be honest, I'm still dealing with all of this. It still hurts. It still makes me hate myself a little bit. But I’m working through it, and I’ve gotten better, and someday I’ll be able to say that I truly got over it and came out on top.”

In that moment, one of the fellow Tribe members spoke up and told me, “You say that, but as I listened to you play and sing and then share your story, there was so much strength. When you played, I knew whatever you were going to share would be amazing. And it was. And you say that you haven’t overcame, but by sharing this and sharing yourself, I think you’re already there.”

I broke. The support and love I felt that night was unreal. Afterwards, more than one person came to me and encouraged me. One girl approached me and said, “I am going through the exact thing you talked about, and your story helped me realize I’m not alone.”

It was that night that everything became real to me. Vulnerability became more than a word. It became more than “a good TedTalk topic.” It became more than something I heard people say they had. That night, it became a part of me. I grew stronger than ever. I knew that night that I wasn’t alone. That being open and honest wasn’t wrong or weak. That night, I truly grasped that being vulnerable is one of the strongest things we can do.

All of this is not brag about myself and say, “Look at what I did.” This is in no way saying I have reached some ultimate goal. In fact, I’m positive this is something that I will probably continue to grow in for the rest of my life. But that night, sharing my story was a huge leap of blind faith and trust for me. Faith and trust in the people around me. Faith and trust that they would see me as a fellow human among other humans. Faith and trust that they would still welcome me with open arms and say, “You are one of us.” It was truly a risk. But it was a risk well worth it.

I don’t do “resolutions,” but going through all of that in 2017 made me realize that I can actually be a better person for others around me when I recognize and am honest about my own faults and flaws. Asking for help makes me a better friend to others when they need the same. So in 2018, I will continue moving forward in openness and vulnerability. In being human with other humans. I am by no means perfect. Neither is anyone else. So instead of pretending like I am, I have learned that it’s much stronger of me to simply recognize my imperfections and turn my weaknesses into strengths the best way possible: by becoming genuinely connected with others around me through our own humanity. And that lesson isn’t something I should only apply in 2018. it is something I will continue to strive for and carry on for the rest of my life.

#humanity #connection #vulnerability #brene brown #human connections #love #new year #reflections #life #stories #personal

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the-literary-witch-blog · 7 years

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Trick fanfic: “Letters”

Ever since reading Dare I’ve been inspired to write something new, with complete respect to the main characters Flare and Jeryn its not about them though they do make a quick appearance lol I love them don’t get me wrong but Poet and Briars extended cameo and peek into their life several years after the events of Trick gave me all the feels! I can never seem to get enough of these two, their love story is just so romantic and inspiring I just can’t let it go! So once again here is a quick one shot from me of their life together in the Autumn kingdom. I’m an amateur writer and I do all my own proof reading and editing so forgive me if its not perfect grammatically. Natalia if you read this thanks again for creating these characters and inspiring people like me with their story, I apologize if i misrepresent them in anyway.

It all started with the notes, his longing for her made clear with just a few words “I need to see you” or “I can’t stop thinking of you”, followed by a suggested place and time to meet that he scrawled hurriedly on to scraps of paper and then trusted to a faithful little ferret to deliver across the expanse of the spring palace. Her answers returned just as quickly, “I’ll be there” and “I’m counting the hours”.

These days however there was no need for secrets, in their autumn home they could hold hands in the hall without fear of someone seeing, take long walks and picnics in the orchard at sunset, and linger sweetly in a bed they shared. Still the notes never stopped, because life didn’t either, between the hectic routine of royal duties, performance training and parenting there was still so much their hearts wanted to say, and so those notes evolved into whole letters

Sometimes just a page that he had taken the time to write during breaks to catch his breath while practicing his acrobatics, other times whole pages that took a week to compose. Always she would find them hidden in places only she was sure to come across, such as under her pillow, in her desk drawer, or in the pocket of a gown. Poet, always the wordsmith never failed to perfectly express his love for her or to describe in detail his less than innocent fantasies which left Briar breathless and flushed. When she found time to write him in return she never felt like hers quite measured up to the beautiful and lyrical words He gifted her with, that was until one day - just a couple of years in to their life together in Mista - when she secretly watched from behind a corner as he found and read her most recent reply. His neutral expression lighting up instantly at the sight of fresh pages waiting to be devoured, she watched as his eyes roamed over her vows, and endearments, promises, and confessions that were just for him, he sighed almost dreamily and broke out in a boyish grin, not his usual devilish smirk but a genuine love sick smile that threatened to split his face, Briar knew it well for it was a reflection of her own. After that she never questioned the affect her letters had on him or what they meant to him again.

Time moved on, changes both happy and sad came to pass, Nicu grew and grew but his heart always remained a size larger than he was, with joy they welcomed children of their own, held each other in grief when their mothers left this world and ruled side by side with compassion and wisdom for many years. Yes, time changed many things, but not the way they felt about each other. Even as the decades passed and wrinkles were etched into their skin and their hair turned grey their passion and devotion only grew stronger.

Then came a change no one could have predicted so suddenly and that no one was ready for. One night In his 85th year Poet fell asleep beside his love and he never woke up again...

People from across the four kingdoms came far and wide to offer their support and condolences to Briar and to witness him laid to rest. The royals and nobels of the past who had scorned them were long gone, those who attended were loyal friends, subjects, and admirers from Poet’s performance days as a Jester. Among them were King Jeryn of Winter and his wife Flare, no two faces were more a welcome sight to Briar. Jeryn had kindly offered to have Poet’s body examined to determine his sudden death, promising he would be treated with the utmost care but Briar had firmly declined, “I don’t want him picked apart like that, knowing the why wont bring him back”.

When it was all said and done, when the eulogies had all been spoken, when the feasts were over and the guests had all departed and her children and grandchildren had all been kissed and consoled one final time for the night, Briar retired to her chambers where she could no longer maintain the careful composer and strength of a Queen and mother and sank to the bed with sobs wracking her chest. She couldn’t take the damn silence or the emptiness of the room, every where she looked was the evidence of his life and yet they now became the painful reminders of his absence. She had been asking herself the same questions over and over since waking up to his still form days ago, what now? What would the remainder of her days be like without his presence? without his smile and laughter? Without his touch or his kiss? Exhausted, she fell asleep were she lay on his side of the bed inhaling his scent and willing it not to fade.

When morning came she declined her ladies and maids attempts to assist her in dressing for the day, all of her usual royal duties were either on hold or had been given to trusted advisors for the time being. Soon she would need to seek out Nicu and make sure he was well, despite his advanced physical age and the progress he had made over the years with the right care Nicu’s mind remained childlike in many ways as they had known it would, and because of this he was having a difficult time grasping the loss of his father. Briar thanked the seasons for her loving and patient daughters who had been there for their brother now that he needed them most and when Briar herself couldn’t always be at his side these last few days, they had made an impossible situation more bearable. For now she pulled herself from the bed, her tired muscles and aged bones groaning in protest. After shrugging off last nights gown and grabbing a robe to cover her chemise she wandered aimlessly around the large room, glancing from the side table where he had left some of his signature ribbons, to a lonely pair of boots on the floor. Eventually her eye’s could no longer avoid gravitating to the large portrait above the fireplace, a portrait her mother had had commissioned of the two of them shortly after they had moved into the castle as a couple and a family, other portraits had been commissioned over the years, portraits they had miraculously gotten Nicu to sit for and portraits to mark birthdays and anniversaries but this one, the first one, had remained most special. What made it so was the way in which they had chosen to pose for it, instead of facing the artist they faced each other, hands clasped and eyes gazing sweetly. The artist had truly been the best in the Four Kingdoms for In that one shared look he had captured everything they had been saying without words. Briar choked on a sob, they had been so young, where had the years gone? she wondered. How could their life together already be over? Desperate for air and unable to stand the confines of the room a second a longer Briar turned from the the fireplace and opened the doors to the private balcony where she stepped out and clung to the stone railing for support, thankfully the open lawn below was empty. It took her several moments but eventually she was able to wipe her eyes and the ache in her chest subsided.. at least for the time being. How many more moments like this would she have to endure before missing him became any easier? She couldn’t imagine it ever would. Slowly she sought out her usual chair and sank in to it only to be startled by the sound of crinkling paper. Confused, Briar lifted the edge of the cushion and pulled out a wrinkled but otherwise unharmed folded piece of paper toped off with a red satin ribbon. Briar brought her hand to her lips in shock, for she knew instantly what it was and who had put it there. Carefully so as not to untie the ribbon she gently slipped it off, unfolded the pages and began to read...

Sweeting

As I write this you are currently dozing in the chair beside me, the picture of serenity and beauty. Our grandchildren are playing in the lawn below, their laughter more lovely than any musical composition could ever be. It is in perfect moments like these that I am most compelled to write my feelings down and share them with you my love. In my eighty odd years I have known more joy than I ever believed was possible to experience in one lifetime. It is to you that I have to thank for most of this. When I was young I use to be convinced that if I just trained hard enough and accomplished my dream of becoming a renowned performer and Jester that I would have everything my heart desired. And then Nicu came in to my life and I began to realize that true happiness comes from living for more than just yourself, he was my everything and I didn’t even think to wish for more, as it turned out I am apparently fates favorite fool, for more of course came in the form of you my lovely thorn, You so unexpected so surprising and yet my whole heart made room as if it had been waiting for you all along. I’ll never forget those weeks we spent in the spring castle giving in to our desires, falling in love and then the pain of our falling out, thankfully coming back together in the end. The journey since then hasn’t been without its trials, but I wouldn’t have missed a moment of it. Many (as we knew they would) despised the love we shared and expected us to fail in every way, and in every way we have defied their expectations. What they saw as fleeting infatuation has stood the test of time, our example has given others the courage to fight for love should it be found with someone of a different station. Moreover we’ve been blessed with three spectacular children and then gifted further by the birth of their children, and most importantly through our efforts and the efforts of friends we have witnessed extraordinary change in the treatment of born fools. What more could we possibly achieve out of life? I once told you that we were a tale for campfires, Nay my love we are a tale for the history books, when our lives come to an end and centuries pass they will still be telling the story of how the love between a Princess and a court Jester changed the face of the world, to be able to leave behind such a legacy with you is more than this peasant boy could have ever dreamed of. You are stirring in your sleep now and twill ruin the fun of a new letter if I am caught before I can hide it!

until next time princess, Poet

Fresh tears fell and stained the bottom of the page, these however were tears not of grief but delight at having been gifted this final message from her love. It was as if Poet were speaking to her from beyond the next life, reminding her of all she had been blessed with and all she still had to live for. Briar reread the letter several times, each time helping to lift a little more of her sadness before clutching it to her chest. For Briar the moment of Poet’s death had eclipsed everything else, instead of reflecting on precious memories and being thankful for the time they’d had she couldn’t help but feel bitter. And while this final letter from him couldn’t magically heal her broken heart his words took root inside of the cracked places and gave her strength. “he wouldn’t like to see me looking so defeated” she thought. “there is still life to live and work to be done”. Briar carefully refolded the pages and replaced the scarlet ribbon before retreating back inside to pull a large dress box from under the bed, the same box she used to hold all his letters, she placed it gently on top of all the others, and tired not to think of it as the last she would ever receive. Instead she began to speak aloud...

“you’re right Poet, true happiness comes from living for more than just yourself, and so I will continue to live for you, our family, and everything we’ve stood for so that when I follow you into the next life I can leave with no regrets just as you did, until next time Jester”

#trick #natalia jaster #dare #foolish kingdoms #andshewaits #poet x briar #poet and briar #trick fanfic #trick fanfiction

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kimamanitranslatesnovels · 7 years

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Fiancée Observation Record c3

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Chapter 3: Bertia, Age 10

“Welcome. Thank you very much for coming to visit… It has been a while, Prince Cecil.”

“Thank you for inviting me. Yes, it’s been a while, Lady Bertia.”

It’s Lady Bertia’s tenth birthday.

During the past three months, I was unusually busy with a lot of different things and was unable to meet her. On finally meeting her, I notice that she seems a little… worn-out.

“What’s the matter? Are you feeling ill?”

Preparations for her party are underway at this very moment, although only a small handful of family friends will attend it. Right after this, she’ll be the star of the party.

As I volunteered to be her escort as her fiancé, I came to the Noches mansion a little early. But by the time I arrived, she had already gotten ready for the party.

She was wearing a faded gold-coloured or perhaps milk tea-coloured dress that closely resembled my hair colour. It looked a bit mature on a ten-year-old girl. In direct contrast to her charming clothing, her expression was clouded – she seemed somehow tired.

Despite this, fire blazes in her eyes as she glares at me resentfully.

“Your Highness, you’re terrible!” she bursts out resentfully - immediately after we sat across each other in the drawing room and greeted each other.

“What?”

I am technically the crown prince, so normally, if someone said something like that to me, all the adults around me would go pasty white… but the only people in this room other than us, Zeno and Lady Bertia’s two maids, have already gotten used to this. They nonchalantly prepare our tea for us.

Naturally, the black fox curled up on her lap continues to sway its tail at an even tempo.

“Lady Bertia, did I do something to make you twist your lovely face so?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“Argh! Argh! Argh!” she shouts suddenly. She picks up a cushion next to her with both hands and begins slamming it against the sofa.

It’s a simple way to let out your temper in a way that doesn’t harm others. It’s additionally an incredibly easy way to demonstrate your anger.

… Though the black fox-lookalike on her lap doesn’t seem too happy about this turn of events.

“… Ahem. Excuse me.”

I drink some black tea that her maids prepared, waiting for her to calm down. But she calms down in just around thirty seconds. She returns the cushion to its original position, looking awkward, and turns back to face me. She coughs.

“B – but, your Highness, you’re in the wrong as well. Just like we promised, I haven’t talked about ‘the past’ with anyone but you. So – so – the only person I can talk to about my mother’s situation is you, your Highness, but I haven’t been able to see you for three months! It’s my birthday today! Originally, my mother would have passed away by now! I wrote you so many letters while we couldn’t meet, but all you would say was ‘It’ll be fine,’ – I didn’t know what I should do…”

… Her maids and Zeno are listening in as hard as they can, but apparently they don’t count as ‘people listening to the conversation’ in her mind.

Well, a maid good enough to be employed in the House of Noches probably wouldn’t reveal her master’s murmurs and secrets to others, and my ‘envoy’ has reported that in fact no one has revealed such things, so it’ll probably be fine.

As I muse about such things while listening to her grouching, she finally begins to cry, large tears dripping from her eyes.

Even I panicked a little at the sight.

After placing my tea on the desk carefully in order to not make a sound, I make my way to her side fairly quickly and softly put my hand on her back.

I do feel like we’re a bit too close for an unmarried man and woman, but she is my fiancée – it’s probably fine.

More importantly, I need to comfort her.

“Lady Bertia, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought that you would worry so much about this. I’m really fine – that’s why I wrote that I was in my letters. I just was a bit busy dealing with cleaning up some accidents and planning out how to best use some leftovers and covering things up and so on. And making your birthday present took me some time too…”

To be honest, the letters she sent me didn’t contain any information I hadn’t already processed, so I didn’t really have anything to say but ‘It’ll be fine,’… but from her reaction, I’ve caused her to worry quite a bit thanks to my short responses.

It’s not the first time that I’ve caused people to worry like this because I just say that I’m fine if I think the future seems okay. I forget that people may not see the same future as I do.

I think it’s pretty easy to see the future if you make some logical deductions based on various bits of information… but it seems that depending on the person, it may not be that easy.

When I dismiss something as something I already know and sum it up in a few simple words, it looks like sometimes I still need to say more.

This seems like a bad habit of mine.

I need to be careful.

“What do you mean, ‘fine’!? Since we’re changing the plot anyways, I tried to obtain as much Ruona grass as possible in order to save as many people as possible, but I don’t have anywhere near enough! … And it was difficult for me cultivate or preserve a lot of them that well so there’s a lot that can’t even be used for medicinal purposes. And also, the disease outbreak that should’ve been happening isn’t, and my mother, who should’ve died by my birthday, is doing just fine. I just don’t know what’s going on… I don’t know what I should do!”

“Ah, hey, Lady Bertia. Don’t cry so much. It’s fine.”

“It is not fine!”

“It’s fine. The disease outbreak happened, just like you said… it’s just that since you gave me information, I was able to deduce what kind of disease it was and what kind of medicine to make as well as where it would begin spreading. So it’s just that I made the medicine before the outbreak happened, and when it did, I quarantined the patients at the source for treatment, so there were almost no deaths or casualties.”

“There’s no way that making the medicine and quarantining the patients at the source for treatment would be fine… huh? Medicine? Quarantines at the source? Treatment?”

“That’s right. So the disease has already been put under control – it’s unlikely it will infect your mother. Oh, but just in case, here’s the medicine. I thought it would be a good idea to bring it to be prepared for a worst-case scenario.”

I take the medicine from Zeno, who had been waiting next to me for the right moment to give me the medicine. I place it in her hand and have her grip it.

“Medicine? What? Huh? What? Wait, I don’t understand…”

“See, that’s why I said it would be fine. This way, there won’t be many deaths due to an outbreak in the capital, nor will your mother die.”

“Huh? Wha-a-a-a-a-at!?” cries Lady Bertia, opening her tear-filled eyes wide.

Oh, one of the maids quietly headed out to the hallway to deal with the people who would no doubt come at the sound of Lady Bertia’s scream.

Yes, truly an excellent maid.

“W – wait a second, your Highness! What does this mean!? Please explain!”

Looking surprised or perhaps panicked, she grabs my shoulders and shakes me back and forth violently.

… I’ve never been treated like this before.

But my head is spinning – this isn’t a very nice experience.

“I understand already, so shall we calm down for now?”

With a bright smile, I grip both her wrists and stop her from shaking me.

“As if I could calm down! Hurry up and explain!”

She looks like she’s about to bite me. Good grief, I think.

I tell her about what happened after she told me about her mother’s future death.

After her story, I asked my father in order to receive permission to use the greenhouse and Ruona grass seedlings.

As it was apparently difficult to cultivate, I read books that described how to cultivate it. I additionally used some of my own ideas based on Ruona grass’ peculiarities as a plant… and it grew unbelievably well.

Since I had grown it so very easily, I thought that I might try my hand at making the medicine as well. I asked my father to hire doctors of pharmacy and medicine in order to learn from them. As I learned under them, I read every book I could get my hands on in the royal library.

I had Lady Bertia tell me everything she could recall about her mother’s symptoms when she died as well as any peculiarities of the disease in order to narrow down my deductions as much as possible.

… Though she had apparently been simply asking me for advice over tea and hadn’t really thought that I would begin to seriously make my move.

After thinking hard about those symptoms along with the most statistically likely infectious diseases to occur based on the weather and climate this year, I eventually narrowed it down to a single disease.

And from her comment that the disease was an evolved form of a known disease and the fact that Ruona grass was needed for the medicine, I tried making the medicine through trial and error.

It’s much simpler to reverse-engineer a known solution than to determine a single answer from a large number of possibilities. So I reached the solution remarkably easily.

Though well, I couldn’t verify whether my solution was truly correct or not until the outbreak already happened.

Anyways, the point is that it took quite a bit of time for a simple prince like me who was no scientist to get this far, but things went pretty well up until then.

… That’s right, until then.

Though I had more-or-less determined the disease and how to make its medicine, it was a deduction that all hinged on believing Lady Bertia’s story.

I had made my move out of curiosity, thinking that I didn’t really care whether or not it was true. But the adults around me wouldn’t do anything for a reason like that.

I didn’t have the necessary tools to convince them and nor did I have the guts.

And so out of desperation, I decided to create some coincidences.

I, a prince, claimed to coincidentally be interested in infectious diseases and visited a doctor researching them under the pretense of learning from him.

There, I talked passionately about the potential effects of Ruona grass and their use, which I had coincidentally gotten into growing.

The doctor listened intently to my story perhaps partly because I was the crown prince.

At time to time, we entered into back-and-forth discussions to exchange ideas.

However, it was difficult moving forwards from there.

It was much more difficult than I had imagined to lead him on a round-about way towards the answer without revealing that I already knew it.

I experienced how painfully difficult it was to manipulate someone to where you wanted them without them noticing.

I lost count of how many times I wondered how he couldn’t notice something this simple.

Regardless, I doggedly continued our discussions until I somehow managed to give the doctor all the information necessary to make the medicine. All I needed to do was make sure that he would make the connection between the medicine and the disease when the time came.

All I needed was for the doctor to notice the disease as early as possible once he had finished all the initial preparations.

After all, the infectious disease that was most likely to spread this time around was his speciality.

I presumed that in front of a patient, even if their symptoms were slightly different, he would identify the correct disease. The disease was most likely to enter the capital through the main gates – which could also be called the entranceway to the city. And so since there coincidentally happened to be an empty room near the gates, I asked my father to make his temporary home in the capital be there.

And so I had everything prepared by the time Lady Bertia had said the incident would occur. I had successfully reached a situation where all I had to do was watch my plan unfold.

Well, it might be a bit odd to say this after I did all that, but to be honest, at that point I didn’t even half-believe Lady Bertia’s stories of the future.

It’s just that I had thought that even if the chance that an infectious disease rampages through the capital was slim, it would be a good idea to be prepared. I had been able to learn a lot through this incident as well so a part of me was satisfied with just that.

That’s why I was shocked when I visited his home to see someone suffering from what looked like the initial symptoms of the disease. I had snuck into his home on the pretext of wanting to see his medical texts, wielding my childish innocence as a weapon.

Stuff like this really happens, I thought.

But though I did think that, since I had already made all the preparations, I didn’t really panic.

All I had to do was coincidentally connect the dots and manipulate events to make a ‘miracle’ happen.

The doctor really worked hard once he realized that a patient with a new strain of infectious disease had appeared.

Naturally, I provided him with my large supply of Ruona grass which I had been coincidentally growing as a hobby.

In this way, everything unfolded just like I had planned.

This happened just around two or three months back.

“Wa – wa – wait a second, please! Your story is weird in a lot of places!”

“Is that so? In which places?”

After telling Lady Bertia about everything that happened after she told me about the infectious disease – about how I discovered a patient, about how I had the doctor realize how to make the effective medicine and had him actually make it, about how I quarantined the disease before it could really spread and treated it – she cried out while holding her head in her hands.

She’s saying that my story is weird, but things unfolded just the way I planned – I don’t think it’s really that weird?

Oh, by the way, I obviously didn’t mention that I hadn’t really believed her until the first victim appeared.

Putting aside my personal beliefs, in the end, I started to move based on her story and succeeded in protecting the citizens of this kingdom from the terrifying disease that she had predicted.

There’s no reason for me to go out of my way to be stupidly honest and reveal everything. That would just make her think less of me.

“W – w – why would you do such a thing, your Highness!?”

“Did I not say that I would help you?”

“You did say that. However…”

“Additionally, I have no intentions to ignore my own fiancée’s worries, nor to overlook the possibility that the woman who will become my second mother could die, no matter how slim that possibility may be… especially if I can deal with the issue if I put a little effort into it.”

“That definitely was not a ‘little’ effort. Normally, an eleven-year-old child wouldn’t be able to do something like that.”

Lady Bertia looks at me with a complicated expression, like she can’t tell whether she should be happy.

“Hm? I’m almost twelve, you know?”

“A twelve-year-old too!”

“Well, a normal twelve-year-old probably couldn’t. However, remember, I’m the crown prince. I’ve received quite a bit of education and I can use the books in the royal library as I please to a certain degree. For the first time in a while, I spent entire days engrossed in my books, but that was beneficial to me and fun as well. Oh, and I can also borrow other people’s help if I get Father’s permission, though it’s not like I can use people as I please.”

Though well, since there were a few too many ‘coincidences’ this time around, Father is probably a little suspicious since he knows the whole situation. But if I just insist that it’s “just a coincidence” with a smile, he’ll probably let it go, look tired, and mutter “good grief”.

“I – is that so?” says Lady Bertia, looking at me with an astonished expression.

I respond with a bright smile.

Behind me, I feel like I can hear Zeno murmuring, cheerful as usual, that even a normal young crown prince wouldn’t be able to do something like this. But I decide to ignore him.

“It’s possible, perhaps? It’s possible for things to work out so nicely, perhaps? It shouldn’t be, right!? It shouldn’t be, but it is!? Wait, but for the ‘Android Prince’ who’s the embodiment of a genius, maybe it is possible? But but…” murmurs Lady Bertia in front of me, hand on her chin as she begins to worry.

… What does she mean by ‘Android Prince’?

As I expected, I can’t understand what she’s saying again today.

“Well, don’t sweat over the small details, okay? It seems like the Lord and Lady Noches are fine as well and the damage to the capital was minimized. Isn’t that good?”

“… T – that’s true! It’s good that Mother and everyone in the capital were able to escape from the disease’s evil grasp!”

Lady Bertia decides to stop thinking. Perhaps she thought too much and reached her limit.

Yeah, this is more convenient for me too.

After all, even if someone asks me why I was able to do something like that, the only answer I can give is that I was able to do it when I tried.

“Oh, that’s right, Lady Bertia - I’m planning to give you your official birthday present from the King and the crown prince later, but unrelated to that, I have something for you from me personally…”

Though she decided to let things go, it seems like some things are still bothering her. I hold out a velvet-covered square box to her.

It was about the size of both my hands put together. Naturally it didn’t fit in my pocket, so I had Zeno hand it to me right before I gave it to her.

“W – what is this?”

Despite deciding to let things go, it looks like she’s having a tough time doing just that. She looks at the box I hold out to her cautiously, with an expression like she has something stuck in her teeth.

Her expression makes her look like she’s about to burst out saying “You still have more surprises for me!?”

“It’s my personal birthday gift to you. Though it’s handmade, so it’s nothing special,” I say, opening the lid of the box and showing her the inside.

“My! It – it’s splendid!”

It’s an exquisitely designed necklace that looks like silver ivy is tangled together in the form of a necklace. It’s adorned with an ultramarine blue heart-shaped stone, the colour of the night sky on a clear day.

Though well, in reality it isn’t a ‘stone’, but rather a carefully cut glass bottle containing an ultramarine blue liquid.

“This is some of the leftovers from the cure for that disease.”

“What? Leftovers… of the cure?”

Confused, Lady Bertia tilts her head nearly horizontally to the side.

“That’s right. While I was researching Ruona grass in order to make the cure, I learned that it has the ability to increase the effectiveness of other medicine. However, if you just use it as it is then it’s not really well-suited with some medicines, so the ones it can improve are limited. Apparently the base medicine for the medicine we used this time around was well-suited with Ruona grass, so the medicine turned out good.”

As I explain, she listens while nodding her head in agreement.

However, it’s a mystery to me whether she’s nodding her head because she really understands.

“But while I was looking through the royal library’s books to see if I could use Ruona grass for other things since I had the chance, I found a book that was a little interesting. Using that book’s unique refinement technique, I was able to extract just the medicinal components of the grass. In this form, I could make special medicine that could increase the effectiveness of many different types of medicine. So with this special medicine, I tried making a universal poison antidote.”

Though well, I say it’s an interesting book but I found it in a hidden room where all the sort of forbidden books were.

A certain location in the royal library had bothered me due to the way the royal library was structured. When I investigated it just in case, I found the hidden room.

It was locked with an odd mechanism that required me to move around numbers on a clock face. It really felt like it was a room I shouldn’t open, so naturally I ended up opening it.

Humans are creatures that naturally want to do things that are forbidden to them, wouldn’t you say? Especially ‘children’ like me, no?

On a side note, the passcode to open the door was my mother’s birthday.

I’m sure that Father set it to that so he wouldn’t forget his beloved wife’s birthday, but the entire country extravagantly celebrates the Queen’s birthday. Am I the only one who thinks that it’s pretty risky to set the passcode to a number the entire country knows?

“… Huh? What? Universal antidote?”

“That’s right. Here in what looks like an ultramarine blue stone. This is a glass bottle that holds the antidote. I extracted the detoxifying components of several herbs that work well as antidotes along with refined extract of Ruona grass to increase its effect. It’s guaranteed to work.”

In order to build up an immunity to poison, at times I drink a non-lethal amount of poison. When it came time for me to drink poison, I drunk a little more than usual and secretly also drank my antidote. It worked, so the antidote definitely works.

Naturally, if I told others about this they’d definitely get angry at me, so it’s a secret that I experimented like this.

“As my future wife, there’s always the danger that you’ll be targeted by many different people. To make sure that I don’t lose you in even a worst-case scenario, I made you this to be your protective charm. You’ll accept it, right?”

I smile at her brightly even as she frets. I take the necklace from the box and softly place it on her thin neck.

Her cheeks flare with red in an instant, almost as if someone had cast a spell on her.

“Mm, it suits you.”

“T – thank you v – very much.”

Even as she looks to the ground, cheeks red as an apple, she strokes the necklace on her neck. Seeing her like this makes me feel satisfied.

The medicine that was leftover after the disease incident was dealt with had become quite the pain.

Thinking that it would good if something useful was created, I threw myself into my work out of curiosity. But it was even more fun than I had expected and I went too far.

Ruona grass extract no longer had the limitation of only being useable with medicine it was ‘well-suited’ with. However, this had its pros and cons.

On the positive side, medicine mixed with Ruona grass extract obviously became more effective.

On the flip side… mixing it with poison or narcotics and such made their effects that much worse, creating ultimate poisons.

It’s a huge help if used for good things but devastating if used for bad things.

Considering the risks vs. the benefits, I decided against revealing this medicine to the public.

And so, instead of revealing the medicine to the public, I made it one of the royal family’s secret medicines. I then decided to begin with giving it as a birthday present to Lady Bertia, who would likely inevitably be in danger due to her place by my side.

So it could be used a shield against those who would destroy my precious fiancée (toy).

“Lady Bertia, this necklace’s secret is a secret between us two, okay?”

It would be a pain if the existence of this medicine became well-known… my father might end up discovering that I entered the hidden room,

And also, in a worst case scenario, if people who knew about the medicine stole it away from her, then it would be useless as a shield.

From the way she usually acts, I don’t know just how much the people around her will believe her, but I’ll keep her quiet just in case.

“I – I promise for you for sure definitely!”

Hm? Lady Bertia, that sentence ended weirdly, you know?

I immediately felt ill at ease at how effectively I had muzzled her.

As I wonder what happened, for a good while, Lady Bertia grips the necklace I had given her with both hands and trembles, looking down with a bright-red face.

But immediately afterwards…

“Prince Cecil!” she calls out suddenly, looking at me with very determined eyes, “In order to repay you for this debt, I will properly fix the plotline and become a splendid villainess noble lady! I, Bertia Ibil Noches, swear this on this necklace!”

“… What?”

“In order to do this, I will begin with my father, who was meant to begin his path to evil due to this incident! I will make him magnificently evil!”

“No, I really don’t need you to do that?”

Marquis Noches is pretty good at his job, so it’s probably better for him to serve the kingdom instead of committing crimes.

“Please, there’s no need for you to hold back! This is how you and the heroine will become happy! I will dedicate my heart and soul to becoming a villainess!”

“No, I’m not holding myself back?”

“Just watch me! I will superbly walk along the path to ruin!”

“…”

Mm, it doesn’t seem like she’s listening to me.

This is a problem.

But well, Marquis Noches isn’t likely to dance to her tune so easily, so it’s probably okay if I leave things the way they are.

… It seems interesting, after all.

If it looks like things are getting bad, I can step in and stop her, right?

As she looks at me with sparkling eyes, making some kind of incomprehensible vow, I decide to ignore her with a silent smile.

T/N:

#JustTranslatorThings: Being obnoxiously happy when an author mentions a gender so you don’t have to awkwardly tip-toe around pronouns. Shout out to you, Mr. Doctor!

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#web novel #Fiancée Observation Record #An Observation Record of my Fiancée - A Self-Proclaimed Villainess

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keptin-indy · 7 years

Text

Dresden Files: Salem

I’ll try to post these on Mondays or Tuesday, since that’s when I do the previous weekend’s writeups. Feel free to ask questions if anything not clear or you just want to know something!

Background info

If you know the Dresden Files books, this game starts during the events of Changes, but with some small changes. If you don’t know the books, the relevant info is that wizards and “Red Court” vampires have been at war for some years now and the main character, Harry Dresden, just managed to set off a really powerful curse that killed all of them. For some reason, during the fight leading up to that, the Wardens - wizard cops - were unable to help him because “they were sick”. The big change in this campaign is that the illness was a deadly plague set off by the vampire ambassador who had just been by and it killed a swath of the powerful people who had gathered to meet her.

I’ll try to link Dresden-specific terms to wiki pages for people unfamiliar with the universe. There may also be some easter eggs in the links sometimes...

Setting (in the GM’s words)

If anyone in America were asked to compile a list of the locations important to the occult history of the country, it would surely include Salem. The town is nearly universally associated with the witch trials of the 1690s. Everyone, clued-in or not, associates Salem with witches, and, in this world of the occult, associations can have power. In this case it has lead to Salem having probably the largest supernatural community on the east coast of North America. That area includes (for the supernatural community at least) Boston as well.

And community it is, much more so than many other cities around the globe. Salem is a geographically small town, yet rich in history, emotions, and magic all attracting a different crowd from the spooky side, if they didn’t have some structure and order there would be constant conflict (well, more-constant conflict). The city has evolved a particular brand of stability, with regular gatherings of all the major power-players in the city. This isn’t a court or anything so formal as that, but usually neutral parties will side with the aggrieved party in conflicts, preserving the status quo. Until recently these gatherings were informally lead by [Warden regional commander] Michael Rowland, one of the more powerful denizens of Salem, how they will shake out going forward remains to be seen…

Characters, or at least what was known about them at the start of game. The Dreseden Files RPG is set up so that most of the PCs had met each other by the start of game, but we weren’t a coherent party yet.

Murchah O’Dougal has lived in Salem for a long time. He switches jobs every few decades, but it’s Salem, so people have caught on that the tall, thin, taciturn, middle aged man isn’t your vanilla mortal. Additionally, he likes taking long walks on the beach...the parts under the water, without the benefit of breathing gear. He’s not a very social man, but he helps out where he can, especially if it involves ghosts, which he can see and interact with. He’s the one who convinced Eunice to leave her nursing home.

Eunice Featherham’s son married a witch. Now, Eunice was an intelligent woman and knew there was no such thing as magic, so it was pretty insulting that her daughter-in-law could use it. It was even more insulting that she taught it to their daughter Evelyn, but then both her son and the witch had to die in a house fire, leaving Eunice to raise Evelyn the Right Way, eg without magic. Over the years as Evelyn grew up, Eunice could feel her age catching up with her, and when it was time for her granddaughter to go to college, they sold Eunice’s house for tuition and put her into a nursing home, where she eventually died. Damned if that was going to stop her, though, not when there were so many people who needed her sage advice, starting with the nurses at the home. In desperation, the home called the Salem Witches’ Circle (kind of a magical chamber of commerce), who asked Murchah to talk the irate ghost out of terrorizing the staff.

They also called Dr. Evelyn Featherham, who was now living in Boston as the city’s only therapist dealing with the supernatural. After a long struggle with Eunice’s parenting, Evelyn had finally reclaimed her magical heritage and was using her experiences to help others through situations they couldn’t explain to anyone else. One of those people, 10 years ago during her clinicals, was a teenage mage grieving over the loss of his father. Now, though, she had to deal with being permanently haunted by her grandmother and trying to convince her receptionist not to quit because of the new office ghost telling her how to answer the phone correctly.

Once upon a time, a witch found a tiny black kitten in a dumpster. She had been looking for a familiar, so it seemed like serendipity and she took him in and named him Sir Adler Toebeans. She was absolutely not expecting her cat to start talking a couple years later and even less to change his shape into anything he felt like. It seemed her kitty was in fact some kind of fae or at least a changeling, though he didn’t have any more idea what he was than she did. Regardless, she switched awkwardly from pet mom to real mom and Adler eventually moved out and got a job at Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery, where he worked in the museum itself and made short films as both advertising and subtle education. [A note on pronouns: I’m using “he” because Adler has presented as slightly more masculine than anything else during the game. He doesn’t seem to have an innate sex or gender, so I may switch back and forth with “they” depending on how game goes/the situation.]

A wizard with a mysterious past came from Syria to America and fell in love with a woman whose high-society family had profited off of the supernatural while disdaining them as people. The pair ran away together and she was disowned, so they settled in Boston where he took magical odd jobs and she tried to figure out how to be working class. Eventually Sebastian “Baz” Bassam was born and later his sister Olivia, and their father began to teach them how to control their magical talents. When Baz was 14, his father was killed in a multi-car pileup, but not before his uncontrolled magical energies shorted out an entire hospital wing, unintentionally taking a lot of people with him. This large-scale violation of the First Law of Magic brought the attention of the local Warden-Commander, Michael Rowland, and when Baz subsequently brought down a possession victim with his therapist during his grief counselling, Rowland decided to train the boy alongside his daughter Sylvia. These days he’s a full-fledged Warden who likes to think of his duties as magical community outreach rather than beheading first ans asking questions later. He also looks like a cheerful Syrian lumberjack. [Note: Dat’s me! It’s going to seem like I spent a narcissistic amount of time on my own character in the writeups, but a) the first arc just has a lot of Baz-plot and b) when the GM asks if anyone is doing anything, the others haven’t really answered much and I hate to leave the GM hanging.]

As part of his education in control, Rowland sent Baz to a Tibetan monastery when he was 19 to learn meditation and healing with the monks there, traditional allies of the White Council of Wizards. While there, Baz befriended a litter of Temple Dogs, newly returned from having been dognapped and taken to Chicago of all places. One of the puppies was notably rambunctious and ended up outside the monastery walls trying to eat a yeti several orders of magnitude bigger than it. The puppy ran back to the temple, yeti in hot pursuit, and hid behind the Warden-in training, who fought off the yeti and saved the puppy and monks from the puppy’s own bad decisions. As a “reward”, he was given the perpetrator so the monks wouldn’t have to deal with it. Baz named him Samuel Gompers Bassam and took him back to Boston, where he grew into a very large Tibetan Mastiff who can see spirits and whose teeth technically count as a holy weapon, which he mostly uses against Baz’s shoes. At one point while attempting to eat a ghoul, Sam met Adler as a dog and brought him back home, where he stayed for a few days before abruptly turning into a bird, thanking Baz for his hospitality, and leaving before any questions could be asked. [Note: Yes, Sam is a PC. One of my friends decided it was an awesome idea to play an actual, only slightly magical, non-talking dog.]

Session 1

The town of Salem had been enjoying an uneventful Fall, supernaturally-speaking. Even Halloween, always an anxious time for those in the know, had gone by without any major mishaps. That all changed one night in November, when every practitioner or supernatural being in the world awoke from vivid dreams of the world ending in fire and blood. Many people recognized the dreams as the psychic backlash from some kind of spell, and those with more magical experience further narrowed it down to some kind of worldwide curse effect even though such things were thought to be impossible. Around Salem, the Community woke in terror and reached out to one another. The shapeshifter Adler called his mother in the Witches Circle, who told him that calls had begun to come in from several of their members, including some of the older ones, who were so shocked by the experience that they had been taken to the hospital. Dr Evelyn Featherham likewise checked in with the Circle and headed to the hospital herself to volunteer for on-call psych services. Her late grandmother, Eunice Featherham, checked the news on the constantly-on TVs in her nursing home and saw confused reports rolling in of simultaneous coups and assassinations in several South American countries, which she assumed was the work of either the CIA or Communists. Finding that news less than interesting, she floated out to track down her granddaughter. Murchah O’Dougal, always watchful of the ocean for reasons known only to himself, walked into the Bay, but saw nothing amiss; whatever he was looking for had not been disturbed by the hideous dreams. Baz Bassam, Warden of the White Council, immediately checked on his mother but found that her sleep hadn’t been disturbed at all; presumably meaning that regular mortals were unaffected by the spell’s backlash. He called his sister at college, who most definitely had woken up, but had nothing to offer her besides assurances that they were all okay for the moment. Knowing Warden-Commander Rowland was in Edinburgh at the moment, he called head witch Mary Harrison, who was coordinating a makeshift command center to coordinate help to those who needed it and a response, should it become necessary. Before heading over to lend his help there, he checked in with Warden Command at Edinburgh, but found chaos there, too. The wizard who answered the phone said that they only thing they knew right now was that the Red Court appeared to be no more. From what they could tell, every single member had been wiped out at once by a spell. Once they had more information, they’d be sure to get back to Warden Bassam, but in the meantime they had to figure out who was in charge of the Wardens. This was almost as alarming than the giant curse as far as Baz was concerned, but with no more info coming from Edinburgh, all he could do was head to the witches’ command center and try to keep people calm and safe until more news came out.

After a long, sleepless night, morning came with no more information. Invitations went out to the members of the Greater Boston supernatural community from Ian Fitzpatrick, the caretaker of the largest neutral territory in the area, Hamilton Hall. Before the meeting in the evening, one of Edinburgh’s army of clerks called Baz to read off the last wills and testaments of Michael and Sylvia Rowland, naming him as heir to their magical holdings. Baz was gutted, as Michael Rowland had been his mentor and surrogate father-figure since his father’s death, and he’d grown up and trained alongside Sylvia for nearly ten years. The clerk couldn’t tell him how they had died or any details about what was happening within the Wardens; only that he would likely get “official” notification of the Rowlands’ deaths at some future date. That the lawyers were working faster than the Wardens was significant cause for alarm all on its own.

That evening, Fitzpatrick welcomed representatives from all the major power blocs and notable individuals into Hamilton Hall, formally allowing everyone through the threshold. Baz sought out Mary Harrison before the meeting proper began and warned her about the deaths of the Rowlands and magical killing of the Red Court. Fitzpatrick brought the meeting to order and announced the Rowlands’ deaths himself, calling for a moment of silence that was observed by most people present, with the notable exception of the representatives of the Winter Court (and Eunice, though due more to her difficulty hearing than any disrespect). Adler asked how they had died and Fitzpatrick said there had been an attack on the Wardens in Edinburgh, which was the first Baz had heard of it. Ignoring that for now and trying to give the impression of a calm and level-headed authority figure who wasn’t grieving, Baz announced that he knew where the nightmares had come from and explained the curse that had taken out the entire Red Court. The gathering was shocked that something that large could have happened and that the threat of the Red Court was suddenly gone (though the Summer Court and Daniyah, a powerful local sorceress, seemed less surprised), and Fitzpatrick adjourned the meeting , saying that he knew full well some people were going to use the situation to jockey for power. He gave them a week to get it all out of their systems and then he would call another meeting to see where Boston should go from there. The jockeying and networking began before anyone even made it out the doors. Baz asked Daniyah what she or her spirits knew about the attacks, but she would only tell him that “things” were awakening that had lain dormant for many years. Knowing it would do no good, Baz continued to press for details and was informed that the city faced two threats...from within and from without. Eunice floated from group to group eavesdropping and overheard the Winter Court proposing to murder someone for the sole reason that the scarier warden was dead now, which she dutifully reported to Baz with a stern admonition to stop them. Without more details, Baz simply went over and stood meaningfully by the faeries. Meanwhile, Adler took on his dog form and sought out Sam, warning him that his wizard was in danger and offering his help guarding him for the next few days. Sam, in turn, told him to be aware of Daniyah, who no longer smelled purely human anymore, but instead like some kind of spirit, and also her owl familiar, who was definitely a spirit, though he hadn’t been able to figure out what kind without licking it. Baz turned around to see a familiar black dog incongruously petting his own dog, and asked if he would stick around and answer some questions this time. Adler agreed, but answered everything as literally as possible without offering any information was wasn’t specifically spelled out and some that was. He told Baz that he had enjoyed the name he’d given him last time and to keep using that, and that he would follow and protect Baz along with Sam while the immediate danger hopefully passed. Seeing that Baz was distracted from his rightful duties, Eunice got into an argument with the Winter Court, but her attempt to spook them into following the straight-and-narrow backfired when they scared her right back, startling her back into a dementia episode. Baz and his two large dogs circulated amongst the other faction heads, assuring them that he was as dedicated to keeping the peace as his predecessor and generally attempting to politic. Murchah drew him aside and offered to train him to use the sword he carried and Baz tried to find a polite way to tell him that he had specialized in swordplay for years. Unconvinced, Murchah asked to see his fighting stance and was pleasantly surprised to find that Baz was not merely boasting.

Finally, the meeting broke up and Murchah headed back out to his ocean patrol, only this time he noticed strange behavior in the fish. Not being a spellcaster himself and having no way to track magical energy, he called the Circle, who told him to call the Warden. Baz had not yet made it home, so Murchah left a cryptic message with Baz’s mother to call him back. Eventually Baz returned home with one dog more than he left with and reintroduced “Fenrir” to his mother, warning her this time that he was definitely sentient and could talk (though Adler refused to do so on principle now). He returned Murchah’s call, but with nothing more to go off of than “the fish are weird”, decided to let it wait until morning. Adler insisted on sleeping in Baz’s room, which required some setting of ground rules, starting with a promise never to harm his mother. Adler agreed, but was less forthcoming in answering Baz’ questions about his nature or allegiance, saying only that he wanted to protect both Sam’s human and the city balance he represented as a Warden. He otherwise revealed only that he could take on many forms, though he wouldn’t say if he had a natural or default one, and that he usually worked at Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery, where he could use his skills to great effect. Baz was both fascinated and slightly frustrated at the mysterious creature playing bodyguard for him, but when he found that Adler could use computers, he immediately handed over the password for the email account Olivia had maintained for him and begged his help keeping in contact.

“Fenrir” woke up early the next morning and got the household coffee, which he served to them with creepy mostly-human hands on a dog body. Betsy (Baz’s mother) was relieved when Baz gathered the dogs and put on some swimwear to meet Murchah at the beach. After some discussion about everyone’s underwater capabilities, Baz conjured air bubbles around his and Sam’s heads while Adler turned into a Lovecraftian fishman, and the group followed Murchah into the Bay, but Baz was at a loss figuring out what was causing the irregularities Murchah claimed to see. Sam happily ate one of the affected fish. Returning to the surface, Baz asked Murchah to call Dr Evelyn Featherham, who was more sensitive to tracing ongoing magical effects than he was, but shortly after her receptionist answered the phone, the poor woman was shoved aside so that Eunice could do her job “better”. Talking around the old ghost, Baz asked the receptionist to pass the message along when Evelyn had a free moment. Evelyn eventually had a chance to call back from her ghost-proofed office and promised to come out during her lunch break. Murchah hired a boat so that Evelyn (followed, of course, by Eunice, who was determined to chaperone her daughter meeting a young man on a beach) wouldn’t have to get her work clothes wet, but she couldn’t see the magical eddies from above the water and ended up having to do into the drink anyway. Unfortunately for her, only Adler seemed to be adapted enough for underwater hunting of this kind, and he realized that the fish were all swimming in a huge circle tens of miles across. The group returned to the boat to track down the center of this circle, which was occupied by a “fishing trawler” that didn’t seem to be doing any fishing. Adler turned into a bird to scope it out and noticed that some of the “fishermen” milling around on deck not fishing were concealing decidedly non-standard tentacle-arms. When he reported this back to the group, Eunice immediately floated over to the trawler and began haranguing the people on deck about their terrible work ethic. The “fishermen” were not expecting a sudden ghostly tirade and very sensibly tried to escape her senile wrath. Taking advantage of this distraction, Adler changed from a bird into a rat, dropping onto the deck and scurrying below. One of the doors inside was both locked and well-sealed, so he disconcertingly grew hands in order to pick it. The door swung open, revealing the rat with hands on the one side, and a number of tentacled cultists chanting around a circle on the other side. Adler scurried out of sight, but the cultists merely locked the door rather than give chase. Adler tried to direct Eunice’s wrath downstairs, but she found that the room was warded against spirits. Adler again reported back to the other boat and Murchah drew up alongside the trawler so the mages could board and follow the shapeshifter below. Adler once again picked the lock and Baz opened the door and demanded to know what was going on with as much gravitas as a man wearing a tank and swim trunks could manage. The cultists rushed to attack the newcomers while Murchah ran straight for the summoning circle and began disrupting it, hearing unsettlingly familiar and ancient voices whispering in his head while he did so. As Baz and Sam fought the cultists, Adler transformed into a hideous claw monster and jumped into the fray, startling everyone on both sides. Eventually the cultists were knocked unconscious and Evelyn could examine the remains of the circle Murchah was still determinedly wrecking, declaring that it had been meant to awaken something deep in the ocean.

#dresden files rpg #tabletop rpgs #livejournal replacement #game #Dresden Files: Salem #actual play

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minime-minimusings · 5 years

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in between

this summer has really been a crazy emotional ride, and has made me think a lot about growing up, the future, death...what fun times!

this will sound soooo lame, and honestly judge me or not, this is how i feel. my cat got kinda sick the beginning of this summer, or at least i noticed he seemed a bit different when i came back. we brought him to the vet to do testings, and it was the most stressful week of my life. he suddenly just seemed so lethargic, he wasn’t eating, going to the bathroom, responding, anything. he’s about 13 years old now, so in his senior ages, but it was such a low to my summer. coco is my baby; i got him for my birthday in 3rd grade and he’s always been “mine”. and pets are very emotionally investing! they really do become part of your family, whether it’s a cat, dog, rabbit, etc., if they’re in your life for long periods of time, they become a part of your family and your life. coco and i basically grew up together, so during that week, i thought he was going to die. i’ve never cried so much in my life before -- which makes me really scared for when people deaths come about in my stage of life. the fear of not knowing when he would pass, and whether or not i would be there, or how literally scared the crap out of me.

honestly, anticipatory grief seems worse than grief (we’ll see about that when we reach the other side of the speed bump). going to bed not knowing if it was the last time i’d see him, pet him, cuddle with him, worst gut-wrenching feeling ever. i still get teary-eyed when i think about it and i still worry whenever he doesn’t eat as much as he should, if he’s getting enough water, if he’s actually pooping/digestive system is working properly.

i knew coco wouldn’t always be around in my life, but i never really thought about how life would be without him in the picture. update: nothing seemed to be wrong, but just old age and picky eating/bad digestion..but hopefully he will be ok for a little bit longer.

but that brings me to my point. i never thought about the other side. my whole life has been, well, all that i know. my home in st. louis, my church, my high school friends, my church friends, my college, my college friends, my family, etc. it’s all i’ve ever had.

but going to college, i’ve been growing and changing and shaping myself constantly. i’m not the same as i was back in 2016, when i was #thriving as a senior.

i don’t think the same on certain things anymore. i have a broader perspective. i have hindsight on things that i didn’t. i grew (and still am) up.

college is such a weird “in-between” time. i’m no longer a teenager, but i’m not yet an adult. i’m passing by, learning new things, gaining new experiences, and when i come out on the other side, i start a completely new chapter of my life. my adult life.

and it’s so crazy to even fathom it, and it’s even crazier that it’s literally coming SO. SOON.

so when my cat got sick this summer, it was a huge reality check for me. everyone, everything that i had ever known in my life will not always be present when i move on to the next chapter of my life.

my two cats will eventually pass away (which i am still in denial about), my family won’t always be together, my friends are all moving on to do great things, i start my new life by myself. well, not by myself because i have support from everyone, but at the same time, i’m creating my new life, where i will eventually (God-willing) start my own family and start this process all over again.

it’s so crazy to think that this will be a new chapter in my life, and that nothing will be the same as it was for my first 20-something years of living. everything i knew, will not always be. and that’s insane and quite frankly terrifying. i mean, i already was sobbing myself to sleep every night about waking up and no longer having a cat -- how’s it going to be when people in my life will pass away? ok let’s not dive into that rabbit hole or else i’ll be crying myself to sleep again.

regarding this “in-between”, it’s been a very strange time of my life. as with any transition, it’s not always smooth, and i think i’m getting into the bumpy parts of it. this past year, i’ve grappled a lot with the frienships that i had, and frustrations with people. maybe i’ve seen that no friendship is perfect, people are sinful, and brokenness exists even in our relationships with our closest friends and families.

i felt like people from my church were stuck in one mindset; the mindset that i have had for the longest time. they think the same way that they always do, they do the same things, they’re predictable. and for my friends from church, they’re predictable too. and i feel like at times they assume that i will think a certain way, act a certain way, because that’s how it’s always been. so whenever i say something different, or i do something slightly different, they’re surprised by it, or are like “why?”. and it’s frustrating, because one of my very best friends i feel like is stuck in her ways, and because we had been the same person for so long, she thinks that i would be the same. which yes, 98% of the time i probably am. but there still is that 2% that has been changing, growing, expanding from the time i’ve been away. my family still sometimes treats me as if i was still a teenager in high school, expecting me to come home early, not to go out all the time, etc., and it’s frustrating because they still see me as that, because that’s how it’s always been. see the pattern?

basically, i don’t really know how to even properly explain this, but i feel as if i no longer am a perfect lock-and-key model (omg bringing in science sorry) to my old life in stl. i’d say more like an induced fit (HAHAH i really hate myself). i still do get along, i still have the same core values, but sometimes there are things that i notice that aren’t as perfect as i’ve always imagined them to be. there are subjects on things that i’ve learned, or changed my mind in, developed, that no longer really fit exactly to what my old life/person was.

at school, i feel like the person i was at the beginning of college is completely different than who i am now. i’ve grown so much (sadly not vertically) in a mere three years; i’ve experienced so many things, so many emotions, just so much life, that sometimes i feel like my college friends think of me still as the person i was one, two, three years ago, when really i’m constantly evolving. but when i do something different, people get questionable about it.

i’m growing as a person, my unique experiences continually shape and mold me, but i feel as if my communities expect me to mold back to who i was before.

i’m not the old me, but i’m not my new me either.

i’m in a weird in-between, where i’m on the cusp of starting a new chapter of my life, a chapter that seems so much harder, filled with so much reality, ups and downs that i’ve never experienced before. while i’m excited, i’m just now getting a small taste of what it may be like. and to not know how it’ll be? so scary. i don’t know a life without my cats. i don’t know a life without my family always being there. i don’t know a life where i have to start over in a new city. i don’t know a life where i myself start a family. i don’t know a life where i have to deal with death. this new chapter that’s coming is crazy -- but i do know that God will continue to be a constant through it all; He’s been carrying me since the beginning and i know that He will continue to. but there’s no shame in admitting that i’m freakin’ scared. so scared. and to wonder what will happen to all my friends, my relationships with them, who will stay in contact, who will stay in their ways, who will completely change.

oh! kinda found a better way to explain this complex of “in-between”. i feel like i can’t fully relate to either the people in my past, or the people right now. i’m me, and maybe i’m just unique, but i struggle with finding someone who is understanding of what i’m going through right now where i don’t know where i fit in and belong in. and i don’t know how it’ll be when the in-between phase is gone.

so here’s to end a confusing, long rant by re-iterating that i’m on a path, and while i am hopeful and trusting in God, this in-between time of my life is really confusing and frustrating to navigate through.

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chorusfm · 5 years

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The Chorus.fm Staff’s Top Albums of 2018

I don’t know how to sum up 2018. At the end of most years, it’s possible to look back and see certain themes or narratives or big ideas coming through in the music from the past 12 months. 2018 was not one of those years. Most of the industry’s biggest stars sat the year out, and music critics couldn’t agree on a consensus album of the year pick. Instead, 2018 as a music year was chaotic. It was a dozen jukeboxes playing in the same bar at the same time, one blasting a starry-eyed country album about love, the next broadcasting a rock ‘n’ roll anthem about how it would be great if the human race didn’t fuck up the chance we’ve been given to, you know, exist. But music years like this are thrilling for their seeming lack of structure or narrative. They are chances for underdogs to fight their way to the top, or for new superstars to be born in place of the old ones. 2018 was that kind of year for music, and it was dazzling to behold. The only option was to dive headfirst into the chaos and embrace the many disparate triumphs that came along the way. This list, of our 30 favorite albums of the year, is symbolic of that leap of faith, a wildly dynamic set of records that includes callbacks to this community’s roots, monuments to how we have grown over the years, and signposts to where we are going. It’s been a pleasure to be a part of this site for another year, and to see the way we all share the music we love with one another. This list was made in that spirit, of discovery and shared passion, and I can’t think of a better way to sum up such a chaotic year. Note: Check the bottom of this post for links to individual contributor lists. Also, a playlist of all the “key tracks” can be found on Spotify and Apple Music. 1. Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour How do you make a “falling in love” album sound fresh, poignant, and emotionally satisfying in 2018? How do you do that, when everyone is cynical, when the 24-hour news cycle is a constant shitshow, and when virtually every songwriter in history has attempted to capture the humbling miracle of falling in love, to wildly varying degrees of success? I’ve listened to Golden Hour probably 100 times this year and I’m still not sure how Kacey Musgraves managed it. She used to be cynical, too: the snarkiest, wittiest singer in country music. Her songs made it clear that she wasn’t afraid to tell someone to fuck off, but that she might be a little afraid of letting her guard down. That was then, though, and this is now. Golden Hour may start with a song called “Slow Burn,” but there’s nothing slow about the feeling it chronicles. This album captures the dizzying, alarming, whirlwind sensation of falling for another person with quick and reckless abandon. Wrought with aching melodies and shimmering production, the songs here call to mind the way you feel at the beginning of a relationship, when the colors seem brighter and the sunsets seem prettier and the entire world looks just a little bit different. They contain traces of past hurt and heartache, the acknowledgment of what happens when you put all your chips on the table and lose. But they also crescendo with foresight and steadfastness as the album moves forward, just like real relationships evolve from shy crushes to first kisses to honeymoon stage infatuation and beyond, all the way to something strong enough to stand the test of time. The album will stand the test of time, too. It’s the surest classic from 2018, an album that won over fans across the musical spectrum and put a country artist at the top of trendy year-end lists for maybe the first time in the history of modern music criticism. It turns out that, in this age of cynicism and endless bad news, there’s still nothing more universal than love songs done right. [CM] Key Track: “Love Is a Wild Thing” 2. The 1975 – A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships Throughout my career, I’ve been lucky enough to watch the rise of quite a few bands as they move from “talked about on a message board” into the mainstream and public consciousness. It’s a treat every time it happens and watching The 1975 become the next in a line of those bands has reinvigorated a feeling I was uncertain I’d see again. There have been piles of ink spilled on this album across the internet, but what I keep coming back to is that it feels like a band that saw the occasion in front of them and didn’t shy away from it. And in the process, they created a collection that could very well define this entire year. It’s bold, brash, and unrelenting in its statement, but it does this while musically shapeshifting across a variety of genres. The 1975 are the band of this moment, and they embrace the mantle, the pressure, and the expectations with almost singular confidence. On its face, an album like this shouldn’t work. But the genius of the band is how they can turn qualities that often ruin albums—too lengthy, too sprawling, too ambitious, too cheeky—into a cohesive whole. But what impresses me most is how The 1975 always seem willing to try and push the boundaries of what came before. While other bands have sprouted up and copied what The 1975 were doing on their previous two albums, to varying degrees of success, they have pushed forward and continued to evolve their sound. And while I’m sure that at some point this ambition mixed with the band’s brazenness will result in something that doesn’t quite work, this is not that time. I’ve long been fascinated with the idea of the “three-album run” and the bands that are capable of maintaining a high-level through it. Building in popularity and avoiding a creative rut while pumping out a large amount of music is extremely hard. Right now, I’d hold this three album stretch up against just about any in recent memory. The 1975 have just been that good. [JT] Key Track: “Love It If We Made It” 3. Foxing - Nearer My God Foxing’s mindset going into recording Nearer My God was “make a classic record or die.” Nearer My God completely eschews the played-out blueprint for “Indie Band LP3.” Instead, it blends all the band’s favorite genres and influences into a single spacious canvas to create one of 2018’s most daring records. A whirlwind of soundscapes throughout, Nearer My God is immaculately produced by Chris Walla and guitarist Eric Hudson. The album’s twelve tracks rarely stay the same for long, effortlessly flowing from one sensory experience to next and showing a fearlessness toward taking risks of any sorts. One of Nearer My God’s biggest influences is Frank Ocean’s Blonde, even if very little of the record sounds like it. Because it’s bigger than music, it’s a mindset: the way Ocean weaves stories while effortlessly switching vocal gears, creating transparent, vibrant emotional music all within a highly meditative space. That same mindset is what fuels Nearer My God. And my god, the unforgettable moments on this album are endless. There’s the first time Conor Murphy shrieks “I’m shock-collared at the gates of heaven” during opener “Grand Paradise.” Or how about the bagpipe-paced power anthem “Bastardizer,” which unleashes some of Murphy’s brashest vocals? Or how the M83-tinged title track blossoms into a booming, soaring crescendo? Don’t blink or you’ll miss miss the brilliance of “Lich Prince” transitioning from oft-kilter indie-rock sprawl into one of the most killer guitar riffs recorded this year. And finally, there’s the thrilling way closing track “Lambert” paces itself before swelling up into sprawling riffs that conjure up Mr. November spending a weekend in the city. With Nearer My God, Foxing’s ambition became limitless, and it was thrilling to hear. [DB] Key Track: “Lich Prince” 4. The Wonder Years - Sister Cities Since the release of The Upsides in 2010, The Wonder Years have found success in making the universal out of the personal. Dan Campbell emerged as the de facto leader of the new-school pop-punk wave by writing about South Philly basements and the local landscape of churches and parks that line the band’s hometown suburb of Lansdale, Pennsylvania. In the process, he wrote songs that resonated with an international audience of people who knew how it felt to grow up listless and anxious in small towns. With Sister Cities, Campbell has written his most personal record yet, which naturally makes it the band’s most resonant. Written while the band toured the world on the back of 2015’s No Closer To Heaven, Sister Cities is an examination of borders and boundaries, empathy, and the ways that humans interact with each other in an era of cultural divide. To a greater extent, though, it is also an album about the many forms grief takes, the stresses of distance, the loss of loved ones, and the complexity of feeling everywhere and nowhere at once. These lyrical themes are accompanied by the darkest, loudest, and most delicate moments of the band’s decade-long career. It all culminates in their greatest closer to date, “The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me,” a massive and overwhelming rock song about a quiet, mournful moment spent watching waves crash on the beach. The song is wonderful because it proves how gigantic resonance comes from the smallest instances. [JB] Key Track: “The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me” 5. Now, Now – Saved Minnesota indie rockers Now, Now made a stunning return in 2018 with their first album in six years. Most impressively, the duo managed to create an album that bears many striking resemblances to 2012’s Threads, while still presenting itself as a fresh take on the band’s sound. We get a modernized version of Now, Now’s signature moodiness with tracks like “Can’t Help Myself” and “SGL”, while cuts like “Drive” and “Yours” take on poppier elements and showcase the impeccable production skills that drummer Brad Hale has been sharpening in the band’s absence. These songs are spacious, creating room for each instrument to stand out on its own and putting you at the center of a kaleidoscopic embrace. This type of environment also proves to be ripe for a great hook, which singer KC Dalager absolutely did not shy away from here. Her hushed vocal performance across the board can conceal how strong these melodies are at first glace, but when the album is long over and you catch yourself still humming the infectious chorus found in “MJ”, I’m sorry pal, but its over for you. You’re in this now. And just like a good record should, this one keeps on giving with repeat listens, as the lyrical themes and melodies from song to song begin to intertwine and reveal Dalager’s masterful craftsmanship. It’s an album about the struggles of being queer and in love, and how the love from another person helped Dalager to find herself when she needed it most. If you’re still sleeping on Now, Now, do yourself a favor and go for a night drive with this. You’ll thank yourself later. [TG] Key Track: “SGL” 6. mewithoutYou – [Untitled] Seasoned veterans mewithoutYou have never been an easy band to pin down. Even from their 2004 sophomore album, Catch For Us The Foxes, which veered from the band’s post-hardcore roots, it was clear that mewithoutYou would never stagnate. [Untitled], their seventh album, is everything that makes mewithoutYou great. Aaron Weiss’ vocals have found an old rawness, the kind we haven’t heard since 2002. The invigorating folk-rock of past releases is somehow stronger, while the band also introduces grunge influences on “Julia” and toys around with ambience on “Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore” and“Break on Through (to the Other Side).” If there’s one thing that mewithoutYou have wholeheartedly embraced on [Untitled], it’s a focus on creation through disarray. There is pain and beauty in chaos. If 2015’s Pale Horses was the calm before the storm, [Untitled] is the eye of the storm. It’s not all rage and fear. It’s also the solemn, reflective moments. “Someday, I’ll find me” are Aaron Weiss’ final words on [Untitled], and that sentiment has consistently brought me back to this album. I’m on my way to finding me. Here’s hoping mewithoutYou get there, too. [MV] Key Track: “Julia (or, Holy to the LORD on the Bells of Horses)” 7. Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness – Upside Down Flowers Andrew McMahon is no stranger to the spotlight, or to the music industry—a fact he embraces immediately on his nostalgic new album, Upside Down Flowers. Most listeners remember McMahon from his first two major projects, Something Corporate and Jack’s Mannequin. Opener “Teenage Rockstars” is a tip of the cap to those fans, and the perfect starting point for an album that feels like growing up, like entering (and exiting) your twenties, and like coming to terms with real adulthood. There’s a palpable journey to be found on this record: in the nostalgia of “Teenage Rockstars”; in “Ohio,” a tribute to McMahon’s midwestern roots; in “Blue Vacation”, “Monday Flowers,” and “Paper Rain,” songs that feel like pages out of a storybook you read once; in “Goodnight Rock and Roll,” an ode to lost heroes; in “Careless,” a hard look at how we sometimes lose people simply because we can’t see past ourselves; and in “House in the Trees,” a reflection on lost friendships and the bonds that always seem to stay in place—even when you’ve said goodbye. Upside Down Flowers is a love song to growing up, a dissection of one’s own humanity (and flaws), and an exploration of why it’s important to let go of the versions of people and things we’re all still holding onto. It’s one last look back, before you shut the door. Boiled down, the album feels like a toast to having the strength to look forward and not back. After all, that’s the only way any of us can go. [AA] Key Track: House in the Trees 8. Spanish Love Songs – Schmaltz Earnest, to-the-point songs are the bread and butter of the punk and pop-punk scene. It’s what sets the genres apart and ropes listeners in, and the fact that it’s so commonplace is what makes it so remarkable when a band comes along with an album that seems to speak directly to you. In a field where every song seems to be engineered to be relatable, designed to evoke emotion and be sing-alongable, Spanish Love Songs managed to craft a set of songs that speaks directly to the angst and anxiety-ridden nature of the millennial population. It’s an album about this generation’s constant search to figure out an answer to the all-consuming question of “why?” Schmaltz manages to touch on things that are small and insignificant, but seemingly so important, like haircuts and self image. In the same breath, the album speaks to the very real and almost unconquerable issues of gentrification and gun control. The band’s insistence on asking these questions in spite of the lack of answers, coupled with their energetic and unrelenting instrumental energy, results in a landmark album that feels achingly relevant and new while still maintaining the tried-and-true formula of unruly distorted guitar tones chugging underneath sing along choruses. Schmaltz is not a place to look for answers, nor does it have any particular moments of positivity or hope. But damn if it doesn’t feel good to have a collection of songs that makes you feel a bit less alone in the constant contemplation of the world you live in. [AJ] Key Track: “Beer and Nyquil (Keep it Together)” 9. Brian Fallon – Sleepwalkers Over the past ten years, I’m trying to think of an artist that’s been featured on our end of the year lists more than Brian Fallon. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any. From his work in The Gaslight Anthem, to The Horrible Crowes, to now his solo career, Brian Fallon has been a staple of our lives for most of the past decade. And even more telling? His output has been consistently excellent. Brian’s latest album, Sleepwalkers, finds us visiting many of the common themes found in Brian Fallon songs, but there is an undeniable new energy to the music. It’s this refreshing quality that shines through and elevates these songs amongst the best of the man’s already impressive career. Between Fallon’s instantly recognizable voice and his instantly relatable lyrics, it’s been an absolute pleasure to spend this phase of my life being serenaded by his music. At this point, I’m confident that no matter what name Brian Fallon’s music is released under, my ears are just thankful it’s here for me to get lost in. [JT] Key Track: “Forget Me Not” 10. Ruston Kelly – Dying Star Dying Star is the sound of a man at the end of his rope. Desperate, desolate, and achingly sad, this record chronicles singer-songwriter Ruston Kelly’s battle to beat addiction and put his life back together after an overdose and a series of messy mistakes. It’s the year’s most heartbreaking album, weighed down by drugs and alcohol and the ghosts of former lovers who Kelly himself can see left him behind for good reasons. But there’s silver lining around the edges, both in the actual text of the record (songs like “Dying Star” and “Brightly Burst into the Air,” which end the album with a reach for redemption) and in the subtext (Kelly’s own life story, which took a happy turn recently with his sobriety and his marriage to Kacey Musgraves). But Dying Star is powerful because of how unflinching it is in depicting the darker moments. Kelly doesn’t shy away from talking about the loneliness that his past life bred: the empty shame of morning hangovers after spending nights keeled over puking outside of barroom doors, or the soulless expanse of deserted highways as seen from a tour bus window after leaving the people you care about for the umpteenth time. Kelly said that he wanted this record to be “a raw transcription of a particular time in [his] life,” and he was so successful in that mission that he made what is arguably the most honest and human record of 2018. [CM] Key Track: “Anchors” 11. Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off, Dog There is no voice in modern rock and roll as unique or indescribable as Hop Along’s Frances Quinlan. Quinlan undertakes a variety of different approaches on Hop Along’s incredible third album Bark Your Head Off, Dog, creating a constant and fascinating see-saw between something beautiful and something ugly. The result is that every song on the album feels like an unique sketch, each one threading together to encapsulate a catharsis in the most imperfect yet perfect ways. Tracks like “How You Got Your Limp” and “Not Abel” prove that you don’t need to be abrasive to be impactful, channeling the tender yet spastic density of the band’s music. Bark Your Head Off, Dog may be the most visceral record of 2018, innately sticking with you long after the final track has finished playing. [DB] Key Track: “Not Abel” 12. Pianos Become the Teeth – Wait for Love Wait For Love isn’t as abrasive as Pianos Become The Teeth’s earlier material, but don’t mistake that as a lack of intensity within the band’s fourth LP. Love picks up where 2014’s Keep You left off, closing one chapter and starting another. The focus is on Kyle Durfey’s experiences of being a husband and becoming a new father, including all the exhilarating highs and devastating lows of trying to balance the two. The record is as emotionally complex as you’d expect from a Pianos Become The Teeth LP, but Durfey’s melodies have never been more powerful. They are surrounded here by the band’s increased gracefulness in their musicianship, and enhanced by David Haik’s pulsating and brilliant drumming. From the initial euphoric wave of “Fake Lighting” to the gorgeously intense closer “Blue,” Wait For Love is bursting with some of 2018’s most heartfelt, vulnerable tracks. It’s the sound of Pianos Become The Teeth fearlessly marching into the next thrilling phase of their career. [DB] Key Track: “Charisma” 13. Mitski – Be the Cowboy (Mary) When I first heard “Geyser”, the lead single and album opener to Mitski’s fifth album, Be The Cowboy, it felt to me like the culmination of all her previous efforts. The song contains the abrasive distortion that defined breakout hits like “Townie” and “Your Best American Girl,” but also reintroduces keys, last seen on Mitski’s adored sophomore album, Retired From Sad, New Career In Business. Familiarity is seeped through Be The Cowboy, despite the fact that the album sees Mitski taking a step back from the raw recollections on mental health and spiritual identity that outline much of her past work. Here, she embodies the fictional character of a swaggering cowboy, in order to capture the essence of bombastic confidence and epic romance. Mitski is deceptively calm and collected in the lively “Me And My Husband”, while “Two Slow Dancers ”sees her bask in youthful nostalgia. And then there’s “Nobody,” a song that features not just one, but multiple, glorious key changes. “I’ve been big and small, and big and small, and big and small again, and still nobody wants me,” Mitski despondently croons, against a cheery clap and bouncy disco beats. Be The Cowboy sees Mitski embarking on sonic departures from her last album, Puberty 2, but her stirring voice and dark humor remain intact, as distinguishable as ever. [MV] Key Track: “Nobody” 14. Thrice – Palms Thrice came out swinging from a five-year hiatus with 2016’s To Be Everywhere Is To Be Nowhere, an easy win for fans that had feared they may never hear from the band again. Settling back into the normal record cycle routine, they’ve returned two years later with an album that not only treads the ground paved by its predecessor, but uses the tools found along the way to explore even further. This growth is evident the moment Palms kicks off, as the arpeggiated synth notes of “Only Us” show up like fervent knocks on a door, insisting to be let in. Dustin Kensrue wastes no time getting into the meat of the album’s theme, bellowing in the song’s chorus: “Finally when will it be enough/to find there is no them/There is only us”. A revered singer in the alternative music scene for nearing two decades now, Kensrue has never been known to tackle songwriting without a passionate motive and something to say. With Palms, though, we hear him finding his place within the polarizing nature of world issues, opening his mind, and reexamining a restrained ideology. And while the past few years have made it especially nice to hear a straight-up call-to-arms type of song like “The Dark”, or its more aggressive sister song “Hold Up A Light”, it’s refreshing to hear Kensrue assess the way he attempts to mold his understanding of the world around him, rather than just digging his heels in. Meanwhile, Teppei Teranishi continues to impress by laying out riff after hypnotic riff, as the brothers Breckenridge unleash perhaps their most consistently stellar rhythm section performance to date. “Just Breathe” offers a vantage point of these qualities, as a blistering bass riff and tricky pull-off guitar lead pull the listener through verses that explode into dissonant choruses with a completely different time signature. It’s hard to make songs with this dynamic groove in such a satisfying way, but Palms has no issue demonstrating for us time and time again that Thrice is absolutely still capable of firing on all cylinders. [TG] Key Track: “Just Breathe” 15. Janelle Monáe – Dirty Computer Since her first full-length studio album, The ArchAndroid, arrived in 2010, Janelle Monáe has been shattering barriers and defying conventions. She’s earned accolades for her work both as an actor and musician, and even decided to delay the release of Dirty Computer to focus on acting in 2016 and 2017. It was well worth the wait. The album continues Monáe’s habit for weaving futuristic themes and metaphoric devices into her work. On the opening track, she declares herself a buggy, broken computer in search of a hard drive fix. For any millennial, it should be easy to relate to this metaphor. On “Take a Byte”, Monáe sings about falling in and out of toxic relationships, and the way we use each other despite knowing we are bad together. She does so by drawing on terms like “byte”, “RAM” and “code,” using them as stand-ins for human processes in a way that will feel uncomfortably familiar to the first generation that grew up plugged in. Ultimately, Dirty Computer uses its metaphorical subtext to walk a delicate line: between pure, unabashed joy and the stark reality of Monáe’s experience as a queer black woman in America. The album is a love letter to the American promise, while also lambasting the hypocrisy and brutality that exists in the American reality. As Monáe reminds us: “I am not America’s nightmare/I am the American dream.” She isn’t here to be polite. She isn’t here to be a representative of any one of her identities, though it is inevitable that she will serve as an inspiration for those who come after her within those identities. Instead, she simply is. If Dirty Computer is any evidence, that’s a pretty spectacular thing to be. [AA] Key Track: “Screwed” (ft. Zoë Kravitz) 16. Death Cab for Cutie – Thank You for Today My first listens to Thank You for Today felt underwhelming. It had been hyped as a return to form for Death Cab for Cutie; as the best thing Ben Gibbard had done in 10 years; as an album that captured the spirit of the band’s mid-2000s run. As someone who adored 2015’s pristine Kintsugi, though, Thank You for Today felt like a step backwards. But somehow, as the fall wore on, this album proved to have a mysterious gravity for me, drawing me back in time and time again. The reason, I determined, was nostalgia. The word “today” might be in the album title, but this record is occupied thoroughly with yesterday. “You can’t double back to your summer years”; “It didn’t used to be this way”; “When you’re looking in the mirror do you see/That kid that you used to be?” These songs delicately peel away the coats of fresh paint and varnish that have been layered over our past selves, finding their way back to the kid that we all were when we heard The Photo Album or Transatlanticism or Plans for the first time. Many of these songs actually sound like those records, with the gorgeous “Your Hurricane” most accurately mimicking the weightless beauty of songs like “Passenger Seat” and “Brothers on a Hotel Bed.” But Thank You for Today isn’t an album about trying to recapture old glories. Instead, it’s an album about looking back in time and recognizing the beauty of the things you took for granted when you were young. The result is the band’s most fully formed album of the decade, a record that grapples with what the years can do, both to a once-trendy rockstar and to the fans who used to seek refuge in his music. [CM] Key Track: “Your Hurricane” 17. Pusha T – DAYTONA 2018 was a difficult year to navigate—socially, politically, and otherwise—and perhaps no other album is more emblematic of that than Pusha T’s third LP. There is a darkness that hangs over DAYTONA, and a large portion of that can be attributed to the presence of Kanye West. The once-inspired producer and artist fell out of public favor this year by supporting a number of alt-right pundits and abusers (alongside Donald Trump himself). As the first release in West’s quintet of 2018 albums, DAYTONA arrived shrouded in controversy and seemingly inseparable from its producer. But where West’s new LP failed to offer much explanation for his controversies, Push uses DAYTONA as an opportunity to transport listeners into the middle of his own world. There’s a fair amount of commentary on Push’s background and current viewpoints on hip-hop (including his unforgettable beef with Drake) on highlights like “The Games We Play” and “Infrared,” but the MC often sounds best here at his most confident and comfortable. “A rapper-turned-trapper can’t morph into us, but a trapper-turned-rapper can morph into Puff,” he declares on melodic lead single “If You Know You Know,” before later proclaiming, “I’m too rare amongst all of this pink hair, ooh!” on “Hard Piano.” Push’s greatest asset is his ability to shapeshift from beat to beat, delivering extraordinary bars against a collection of synthesizers, guitars, and soul samples. Some will say he’s a villain, and others a realist, but somewhere in between lies the truth, preached so successfully on Push’s best project to date. [AM] Key Track: “The Games We Play” 18. Father John Misty – God’s Favorite Customer Somewhere along the way, Josh Tillman lost some folks. Some would say it had something to do with the rewarding yet trying runtime of 2017’s Pure Comedy. I would venture to say it was between his polarizing political meltdown at WXPN Fest and that eyebrow-raising interview with Pitchfork where he referred to pop starlets as “prisoners.” Regardless of where he lost you, there were many listeners that were simply not ready for another year of irony-fueled debates over whether or not Father John Misty was a “character.” Fortunately, that’s what he gave us. In 2018, Tillman politely turned down press and interview requests, claiming he wanted the music to do the talking. God’s Favorite Customer is the result of an artist reacting to their previous work without losing any of the initial spark that made it theirs. It’s a short collection, running at 10 songs and just under 40 minutes, but it’s also a largely forward one, at least in comparison to the rest of his work under the Father John Misty moniker. While I continue to contend that those first few records are as genuine as they come, even skeptics are likely to come around to the dazzling, George Harrison-esque “Just Dumb Enough to Try,” or emotionally devastating and dynamic ballads like “Please Don’t Die” and “The Palace.” They say the songs you grow to like never stick at first, but as a thorough meditation on heartbreak, alienation, self-improvement, and acceptance, there’s more than enough substance beneath the surface of God’s Favorite Customer to impress fans and naysayers alike. [AM] Key Track: “Just Dumb Enough To Try” 19. Wild Pink – Yolk in the Fur Wild Pink conjure up the ghost of Tom Petty and invoke the spirit of Springstreen on their expansive second LP, Yolk In The Fur. The New York trio follow up their 2017 self-titled debut by expanding on those influences while also creating intoxicating soundscapes that will engulf listeners during late night highway drives. There are no gimmicks in Wild Pink’s earnest rock and roll. Frontman John Ross is unashamed of sharing his dreams and failures over the album’s luscious, swelling instrumentation. What separates Yolk In The Fur and Wild Pink from their peers, though, is how seamless this record flows through various moods, making it the perfect listen no matter the surroundings. [DB] Key Track: “There Is a Ledger” 20. Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino I need to confess something: I never really paid much attention to Arctic Monkeys before this past year. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the ever-popular singles from 2013’s AM; it’s more that I seemingly incorrectly lumped them in with The Black Keys and other garage-rock acts that were never really on my radar. The album that changed my mind is this one, the positively unique and (inter)stellar Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino. For all intents and purposes, Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino is a visual album, a collection of cinematic stanzas that transport you to a time and place (specifically, a hotel and casino on the moon). The kitschy, retro-fitted opener “Star Treatment” treats you to diatribes about monogrammed suitcases, rocket ship grease, and karate bandannas. It’s the introductory monologue to a dense, 40-minute rabbit hole of sex (the title track), drugs (“Four Out of Five”), and “warp-speed chic” on the lunar surface. The record is seemingly out of left-field for the band, but it’s the kind of art that draws from recognizable pop culture just enough to make it timeless, from the cheeky musings of Leonard Cohen to the current king of irony, Father John Misty. At this rate, the only thing that could improve this album cycle would be a Coen Brothers film adaptation. [AM] Key Track: “Star Treatment” 21. Caitlyn Smith – Starfire Starfire is only the debut album from Caitlyn Smith, but it’s a mighty impressive one. This Nashville singer/songwriter released an EP by the same name back in 2016, but this record feels more fully formed in every way. Smith shows off her (considerable) vocal chops while showing us all that she’s a hell of a songwriter to top it off. Similar to artists like Chris Stapleton and Lori McKenna, Caitlyn Smith is an artist who started out by writing songs for some of the biggest names in country music before making a big debut of her own. Not too many of the albums on my mid-year list stuck with me, but this one did. From the start, I was hooked, and that feeling stayed with me through the entire year. By mixing upbeat songs with ballads and shifting through a variety of moods, Starfire provides a good taste of what all Smith is capable of with her vocal range and her skills as a songwriter. It’s not all hits all the time, and it doesn’t have to be either. [DC] Key Track: “Don’t Give up on My Love” 22. Lord Huron – Vide Noir Vide Noir—French for “black hole”—is an apt album title for Lord Huron’s third LP. The lyrics are pessimistic, the band’s lush soundscapes have taken a turn for eerie, and just about every track references the stars, the moon, or some other aspect of the twirling cosmos. In the opener, “Lost in Time and Space,” we’re introduced to a woman who “went west to chase her dreams,” leaving the narrator to work his way through the depression and heartbreak that inevitably follows. Spoiler alert: Things get dark real fast. It’s not long before lead singer Ben Schneider declares, “If I don’t find her, gonna tie that noose.” It sounds bleak, but the indie rock group’s cinematic sound—complemented by a healthy helping of reverb and echo—draws you in to Schneider’s starry-eyed world. The waltzy “Wait by the River” (recently namechecked by Barack Obama as one of his favorite songs of 2018) makes way for atmospheric doo wop, while “When the Night is Over” is the perfect soundtrack to a late-night drive. After two hymnal, acoustic-heavy albums, Vide Noir is by far Lord Huron’s most ambitious work to date. Perhaps the band wanted to change course for their first release on a major label, or maybe it’s a result of working with some big names, such as Dave Fridmann (Tame Impala, The Flaming Lips) and Sonny DiPerri (Portual. The Man, Animal Collective). Either way, it’s nice to hear the band evolving as they incorporate more electric elements and explore new musical styles without losing their integrity. It’ll be exciting to see what they experiment with next—but in the meantime, turn up Vide Noir, look up to the stars, and ponder the universe that’s all around. [CG] Key Track: “When the Night is Over” 23. Deafheaven – Ordinary Corrupt Human Love Deafheaven has never adhered to the “rules” of black metal. 2013’s Sunbather should be enough evidence of that fact. Still, it’s striking that the band’s fourth LP, Ordinary Corrupt Human Love, acts almost in pure defiance of expectations. Not only is it the band’s prettiest, most lush record to date, channeling the aura of 90s favorites like The Smashing Pumpkins and Oasis, it’s also their most aggressive…just not always in the way one would expect. Opener “You Without End” is Queen disguised as black metal, while “Near” shows off a shimmering Slowdive-like intellect. But tracks like the fiery “Glint” and the colossal closer “Worthless Animal” remind listeners that Deafheaven still can flex that muscle when necessary. Ordinary Corrupt Human Love serves almost like a reintroduction to Deafheaven in 2018, a band that’s kinder and wiser but also at its creative and transcendent pinnacle. Key Track: “Glint” 24. The Sidekicks – Happiness Hours It’s been a cliche for a while to say that the best songs are always depressing. Hell, there’s even a shirt for it! Happy songs just can’t give you that same feeling. But, while The Sidekicks themselves indulge that trope, with frontman Steve Ciolek telling listeners, “Summer sang a sad [song] and it felt good to sing along,” they also seem determined to disprove it with their fifth full-length. It’s called Happiness Hours, and it is an unabashedly sunny pop-rock album. The cover depicts a bright field of yellow and and pink flowers, and the songs themselves are filled with tales of drinking lemonade, going dancing, and summertime drives (accompanied, of course, by your favorite mixed CDs). All the happiness is almost saccharine, but The Sidekicks sell it. The result is perhaps the band’s finest hour, a bright light in a garbage year, and a testament to the solace one can find in music, be it sad or happy. Happiness might not come in hours, but it definitely comes in forty-minute, twelve-track records. [ZD] Key Track: “Don’t Feel Like Dancing” 25. Underoath – Erase Me Underoath returned to the rock scene in a big way in 2018, coming back from a lengthy eight-year hiatus to deliver a stellar album. From the thrilling opening notes of “It Has to Start Somewhere” to the closing breaths of the tender ballad “I Gave Up,” Underoath uses Erase Me to take full advantage of the renewed interest surrounding their band. This is an accessible yet dynamic collection of songs, and it sounds poised to ring in the next few chapters of the band’s already storied career. They earned their first Grammy nomination for the hard-hitting first single “On My Teeth,” and other accolades and critical acclaim made the comeback that much worthwhile for this Florida unit. Underoath had teased a new direction pre-hiatus with Disambiguation, an album that introduced a clean vocal approach from frontman Spencer Chamberlain. The band has only evolved further on Erase Me, which boasts more shared vocals between Chamberlain and Gillespie, not to mention terrific harmonized vocals in songs like “Wake Me.” Simply put, this is a record that should not be written off or taken lightly as a minor blip on the radar. Instead, mark 2018 as the moment that Underoath regained their composure and brought a new sense of direction in their already brilliant sound. [AG] Key Track: “On My Teeth” 26. Lucy Dacus – Historian Lucy Dacus has a bolstering voice that feels like her music has been in your life for years. It’s that warm quality that transforms the already-great songs on Historian into songs you want to revisit, over and over again. “Night Shift”, the album’s opener, sees the 23-year-old Dacus mend the pieces of a broken heart. The song is in turns biting (“you don’t deserve what you don’t respect”) and empowering (“in five years I hope the songs feel like covers/dedicated to new lovers”), and it’s just part of what makes Historian special. This is a dynamic album by a spirited young artist. It begins with a breakup, and ends with the death of a loved one. Somehow, Lucy Dacus ties these two entirely different themes together into the same story. She thrillingly embraces dry humor and vibrant guitar licks; she consistently gives her songs time and space to breathe; and she outdoes herself every single time she opts for unreserved, jaw-dropping honesty. Both on Historian and as part of the supergroup boygenius (which also features Phoebe Bridgers and Julian Baker), Lucy Dacus has proven that she’s a masterful storyteller and a songwriter to watch. And I’m all in, ready to follow every step of her journey. [MV] Key Track: “Night Shift” 27. Matt Nathanson – Sings His Sad Heart Matt Nathanson has written what is ostensibly a break-up album. It touches on themes of lost love, longing, regret, and moving on. But mixed within this common musical ground, we find a songwriter at the top of his game. These songs are impeccably crafted and together create a collection of “sad” songs that feel built to be played loudly on a long drive on a sunny day. That’s not a combination that always works, but this album is proof positive of the magic that happens when it does. I’ve liked a lot of Matt’s previous albums, and a few have even grown to be regulars in my listening rotation, but this is the first album of his that grabbed me immediately. Subsequent listens only confirmed that Nathanson had captured something special here. This specific style, right between pop and a little alt-country, seems so ideally suited for his talents and voice. [JT] Key Track: “Mine” 28. Twenty One Pilots – Trench It’s been quite a year for Twenty One Pilots. After a summer of cryptic teasing and numerous fan theories, the duo released their biggest and arguably best album to date in Trench. The album spans fourteen tracks that blend multiple genres, taking the signature sound this band does so well and elevating it to new heights. The now-Grammy-nominated single “Jumpsuit” is the perfect opener, setting the tone for the rest of the album. The lyrics of the song reflect the new levels of stardom and success that the band has experienced since being catapulted into the spotlight with their previous effort, Blurryface. “I can’t believe how much I hate, pressures of a new place thrown my way, Jumpsuit, Jumpsuit cover me,” Tyler Joseph sings. Tracks like “Levitate,” “Morph,” and “Pet Cheetah” showcase the duo’s rap/hip-hop side, while “Bandito” and the album closer “Leave the City” represent the slower piano tracks on the album, the latter leaving things up in the air on what’s next for the band. “Smithereens” is a fun song with tongue-in-cheek lyrics, reminiscent of “Tear In my Heart” from their previous album, and dedicated to Joseph’s wife. “Neon Gravestones” is a somber track that tackles serious issues about mental health and suicide, all while looking for hope in the celebration of life. And “Chlorine” may be the catchiest song the band has put out to date. [EW] Key Track: “Chlorine” 29. Lori McKenna – The Tree Lori McKenna is one of those artists who has spent a lot of time throughout her career writing hits for other artist. Her latest smash is “Cry Pretty,” the lead single and title track from Carrie Underwood’s latest record that she wrote with Underwood, Hillary Lindsey, and Liz Rose. However, it’s McKenna’s own music that stood out most to me in 2018. I have to credit Craig Manning for pointing out her solo work to me. Admittedly, I didn’t listen to McKenna until her previous album, 2016’s The Bird and the Rifle. Her style is markedly more subtle than the hits she writes for some of country’s biggest stars. The Tree exudes emotions of all kinds from the acceptance of people getting older to the pain that comes with being angry, all the way to poignant nostalgia for home. It’s a solid record and if you’re looking for some good country music that doesn’t feel mainstream, this album is a must listen. [DC] Key Track: “People Get Old” 30. Fall Out Boy – Mania “We were never supposed to make it this far,” sings Fall Out Boy frontman Patrick Stump in the first verse of “Young and Menace.” In a lot of ways, it is pretty astonishing that this mid-2000s pop-punk band has survived this long, or that they’ve continued to reinvent themselves. However, since their hiatus, Fall Out Boy have kept on cranking out quality hits and memorable albums that keep their fans coming back for more. Their latest album Mania continues this pattern of reinvention by keeping the trademark elements of their sound that made the band famous in the first place. Fall Out Boy experiment with R & B elements on the crooning track “Heaven’s Gate” and crank up the guitars on songs like “Last of the Real Ones.” From stadium-ready anthems such as “Champion” to the synth-laden beats found in “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea,” there really is something for everyone to enjoy on this album. As shown on their stop-gap of an EP in Lake Effect Kid, Fall Out Boy are never short on great ideas, and I look forward to seeing what the next chapter holds in store for the Chicago foursome. [AG] Key Track: “Last of the Real Ones” --- Note: A playlist of all the “key tracks” can be found on Spotify and Apple Music. --- Contributor Key * [CM]: Craig Manning * [JT]: Jason Tate * [DB]: Drew Beringer * [JB]: John Bazley * [TG]: Trevor Graham * [MV]: Mary Varvaris * [AA]: Anna Acosta * [AJ]: Aj LaGambina * [AM]: Aaron Mook * [DC]: Deanna Chapman * [CG]: Chrisanne Grise * [ZD]: Zac Djamoos * [AG]: Adam Grundy * [EW]: Eric Wilson --- Individual Contributor Lists * Jason Tate * Craig Manning * Adam Grundy * John Bazley * Mary Varvaris * Zac Djamoos * Trevor Graham --- Please consider supporting us so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/features/articles/the-chorus-fm-staffs-top-albums-of-2018/

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