#But earlier I had the revelation that I can write for myself and that somehow lightened the load kinda?

[indecisiveaesthetic]

Man to write is to be vulnerable isn’t it.

It’s to say “Here is a piece of my soul. Don’t be fooled by how beautifully it’s wrapped. Inside, I am unraveling”

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #45 | 12.02.24 ๋࣭⭑

well, this is more like a half devlog if i'm being honest

Hi everyone! Man, it's been a while since we last talked, huh? Somehow my last devlog to you all was end of August, and now we're all the way in December. It's crazy to know I was in my cave for that long LMFALSIDJF

I don't usually do devlogs starting the last two months of the year---usually because I end up getting busy, and with it being the holidays, I just give myself the devlog off as my one little "holiday treat."

This year, it's a bit different since I haven't given you all a devlog in quite a while. I have exciting and boring news to share with you all this month! First off for exciting news, as I'm sure you've all heard....

I'M A DOCTOR!!!!!!

That's RIGHT. The step away from Alaris was everything I needed to be able to crunch my dissertation and graduate this semester. To say it was painful would be a complete understatement. For context, people usually spend about 1 year writing and defending their dissertation. Since I last spoke to you all, I ended up analyzing, writing, and defending my entire dissertation in the span of about 2-3 months. Basically every moment that I existed as a living being was spent working on my dissertation (if I wasn't working), and even a month after I defended I'm in disbelief that I was able to pull it off.

But here I stand before you all, finally free from the confines of academia after a grueling 4 years.

I have worked on Alaris the entire time I've been in PhD school, and so there's literally no one here who knows me outside of being a PhD student. So it's crazy to enter a new chapter of game dev where I no longer have to balance work, PhD school, and Alaris. And instead, I can be a normal person that just balances work and game dev.

That being said...

I know I had told you all I would be back in the Alaris grind in November since that would be around the time when my defense would be. And while I've literally tried my damnedest to get back on the game dev horse, it's been a Fckn Struggle, everyone.

I don't think I realized how hard I was working myself until this past month rolled around and I entered recovery mode. Admittedly, I actually think I was working myself harder when I was balancing Alaris with work and PhD stuff than when I was crunching a 1 year dissertation project into 2 months. And this might not be a new revelation to some people---even earlier this year, I remember getting comments of like "wow, you're working so fast/hard!" "omg how are you getting all this done?" "you need to be nicer to yourself, i don't think you realize how much work you actually do" etc. etc.

But I think because I enjoy game dev so much, I didn't see it as working myself hard. Now, though, after getting some clarity and seeing how much that was affecting my physically, I really want to make it a point to take care of myself better and not push myself too hard (life is too short and healthcare is too expensive LMALSDF).

So, while this isn't me saying Alaris is going on hiatus or anything scary like that, I do hope you all can extend a bit more of your patience and understanding at least until the end of this year for me to get back into the swing of things. I have genuinely been thinking about Alaris a lot---the script and scenes I want to write, CGs I want to draw, etc. But I just haven't had the physical energy to do it.

I'm hoping writing this devlog will help me get back into the swing of things this month. But I do want to be transparent that the holiday season tends to get busy for me, so I don't want to make promises of working on Alaris at any kind of full capacity.

Luckily, a lot of Alaris is done. If you all remember, the only route that needs to be written at this point is Aisa's. And half of the routes have been programmed! While Etza and Kuna'a's routes do need to be cleaned up and edited, a lot of the foundational work, which is most time-consuming for me is done. So I do still hope to get Alaris to you all (at least the Central routes) in early 2025!

Thank you all as always for being patient and understanding. As I get back on the Alaris horse, I also hope to get back into answering your messages <3 Hope you all are staying warm and having a restful holiday season.

[writingsfromhome]

Echoes of the Night we Met

Request: Would you consider writing something based on one of these songs? „I’m not yours” Angus & Julia Stone or „The night we met” Lord Huron

A/N: I took Lord Huron’s song as a looooose inspo and just went with what came…hope it came out ok. Feel free to request any others :)

————————————————

Harry:

I've been searching for a trail to follow again.

I move my can from one hand to the other, the drink dangling from the bridge railing. Along the railing flakes of green paint give way to pockets of rust. I try not to read too much into that. Instead I focus on the soothing quality of the river below, always moving forward, always soldiering on.

YN liked coming here to think a lot when we were kids. That’s how I first noticed her, the girl with the curtain of hair hiding her face from passerbys. She’s look down into the river like it was whispering ancient words to her, mesmerized and connected. I wonder what she thought about all the time.

One day I asked. I remember the first night we met. It was just after 8, the sun was just about done setting. Summer was slipping away from us and we were both facing the start of a new school year.

“Hi,” I’d started off rough. She’d barely even glanced up. “Penny for your thoughts?”

That had gotten her attention. She had looked up through wisps of her hair and then turned to me fully. I didn’t know if she knew who I was. We’d grown up in the same neighbourhood all our lives but she didn’t go to the same public school I went to.

“A penny used to be worth a lot more,” she had said and I remember her brows raised slightly like she was surprised at what came out of her mouth.

“What?” I’d laughed, charmed by this awkward girl.

She shook her head, a shy smile brightening her face despite the oncoming dark. “A penny used to be like a lot more money so that phrase meant our thoughts were just as valuable. But now a penny barely means anything so…what does that say about thoughts in the 21st century.”

She was a nerd, and somehow the revelation of that made me like her even more.

“Can I summarize that answer in 140 characters? My thoughts are in tweets.” I tried to joke.

She snorted and covered her face. “That was kinda lame.”

“You laughed,” I had pointed out. “Plus you’re the one who just met me and delivered a lecture on-

“I get it,” she cut me off. “I was just caught off guard.”

“Do you usually deliver facts when you’re caught off guard?” I decided to join her, overlooking the water. Our elbows had stay a foot apart.

“Yes,” she said with humour.

“So if an intruder came into your house-“

“I would disarm them with a fact.”

It had take me a second to get the joke before I laughed. She had hid hers behind her hand.

“You have a nice smile,” I told her.

“Oh.” She had grow serious and avoided my gaze, staring out at the river.

“You can take the compliment.”

“I know,” she cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

“I’m Harry,” I finally introduced myself.

“I know.” She said again. “You volunteered at the community centre earlier this summer. The reading club?”

“Were you there?” I thought I would remember a face like hers.

“Not for that,” she had left it at that.

“What year are you in?” I had asked.

We began to talk and she began to relax. Slowly she faced me again, answered my questions and laughed at my jokes. I felt on top of the world. We barely register how dark it had gotten, the lights in the part casting us in shadows.

My breath catches in my throat as the memories wash over me as they usually did. It was torture, coming here to this bridge after a few weeks.

Y/N moved on. Moved out of this town and made a life out of travelling. I stayed and made a life here. On my bitterest nights I have to avoid thinking that I was left behind.

Not that it was her fault. We were both to blame how the relationship ended. But I didn’t understand why it still affected me this much a decade later.

I wish I had one night with her. Or go back to the night we met. If I could go back I’d tell myself what I should’ve done when I had her. And if that doesn’t work, then save myself the heartbreak and advise not to ride along.

Is it better to love and be left behind or never to have loved at all, the age old question circles my mind as it always did when I fell into this particular pit of despair.

10 fucking years. When was I going to get over her. I try to shut out the painful images that always came.

The softness of her, how loud her laugh could be despite her shy smile. The way she smelled when I nestled my face in the specific spot on her neck. Her eyes, the ones that I watched growing wearier throughout our relationship.

I replay our final moments together, the blow of every word that should’ve been left unsaid, the pain of tallying every unkept promise—the biggest being staying together, forever. Everything suffocates me.

I thought I could live a life without her but she lingered like a ghost with nowhere to pass over. Even if I managed to get over her, move on, she was like a thread that ran through me; a constant memory.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts as the bridge creaks with the weight of another person. I look up at the approaching figure and my chest squeezes tight at what I see. Who I see.

You:

The bridge stood as a silent witness to the passage of time, once gleaming in its steel it had been oxidized by rain and snow, worn down by wind and ice. Its timeworn pieces clang with every footstep that’s ever walked across, the secrets whispered by the rushing river below staying hidden from passerbys.

I listened to the secrets. As a teen this is where I came to get away from the small bungalow I lived in with my 3 siblings and parents. This is what kept me sane when times got tough at home, always leaning over the edge and letting the rushing of the river below whisper that things would get better.

It’s where I met Harry. Both of us naïve and 16. I wonder if he heard the same secrets I did.

For years, the bridge held our memories, preserving the echoes of a night long past. Just like this bridge we’d been worn down and away. Life circumstances, time, and heartbreak.

The air crackles as I step onto the surface of the bridge. He’s there, his perfect silhouette embodying the shadow of how I remembered us. How had so much time passed?

In the stillness of the night I walk towards him and hope I wasn’t making another mistake.

Harry:

Even in the dim light she was as beautiful as the first day I met her. Her hair was shorter, straightened and lighter than I remember.

“YN?” I had to be hallucinating.

“Harry, hey.” Her voice bristles slightly. That’s how I know she’s actually here, and not a part of my imagination.

“How…”

“My brother,” she goes to lean on the bridge rail but changes her mind last minute, wrapping her arm around her waist instead.

YN’s brother and I had become friends—which was weird since he was always YN’s younger brother. But he got a teaching job at the same school a few years back and he had remembered me. We got along well.

I had just left the pub with her brother. But what was she doing here? In town?

“You’re in town.” I state lamely.

“Yeah,” she turns away, out to the river. “Helping my parents with something.”

Her parents were selling their childhood home, I knew that from her brother. I wonder if she knows I know.

“It’s good to see you,” I say the obvious but truthful statement.

“Yeah,” she glances at me. “How are you?”

Now I look away, unsure how to answer. “Good. You?”

“Fine,” she says with a wry smile. We knew the other way lying.

“Really?”

“I’m here in this godforsaken town so yeah, great.”

It’s the first cut tonight; apparently being here was rock bottom for her.

“Still no room for second chances hey?”

She doesn’t respond but she stands taller. Annoyed—I could tell from her body language.

“Same old y/n,” I whisper under my breath. Fuck. I didn’t want to slip back into this version of me but I wasn’t expecting such a biting cold from this woman. I thought we could be pleasant before descending into old habits.

“Same old Harry.” She cocks a brow. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Y/N,” I sigh. I used to have all of her. I had to be better. “I’m sorry.”

Her mouth makes an ‘o’ and her eyes soften. She doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, hoping she somehow understands I meant it about more than just now. “I don’t understand why you’re here though. I was just thinking about…”

“I was in town. I was here earlier in the day actually. Hadn’t visited the bridge in a while, used to come here nearly every bloody day.”

“I know,” I chuckle. She was attached to it.

“My brother mentioned you when he got back from the pub. Said something about you being in your sad hour—you liked going to this park during it. He probably doesn’t know why but…”

“But then why come? Knowing I’m here?”

She shrugs, her hands coming up only to fall hard at her sides. “I don’t know Harry. I didn’t realize I’d come here to get the second-degree.”

“I was thinking about you.” I will her to look at me, it aches to look at her. She looks older in the same way I probably did to her. More mature. She looks beautiful. And so far away. “About us. I know it’s been a decade but some night I can’t get us out of my head. I did so many wrong things Y/N. I swear I’d do anything just to go back to the night we met. Before I had all of you.”

She sucks in a breath. Still doesn’t look at me.

I touch her elbow, plead inside my head for her to look my way.

“I needed you to be angry or apathetic. I thought I’d come here and see you never changed, and feel better about leaving us. Leaving this town.”

She finally looks at me, her eyes fill with tears and I feel myself crumble. I don’t know how I was going to wake up tomorrow morning after seeing her face like this. I couldn’t let her go. Somehow fate brought us back here.

You:

The night we first met, I had been stewing in anger staring at the rushing river and trying to stay out as late as possible. I didn’t want to go home. To my reality.

Dad had lost his job earlier this year and his new job paid less. They were pulling my brothers and I out of private school and into public. I had cried and begged—I had a year left couldn’t I just finish it off?

But they had been resolute. And I had been angry and heartbroken.

Until Harry had approached me. I knew him from seeing him around the neighbourhood. I was relieved when he said he didn’t notice me at the community centre where my brothers and I sometimes went for their free breakfasts. It had been a real struggle that year.

I had noticed him, he was really attractive and confident, but he’d also been really sweet with the people he was volunteering with. Especially the kids.

I guess he would be at my new school. Maybe I’d make a friend in him.

I hadn’t expected to fall for him after exchanging a few words. He hadn’t been weirded out by my awkward small talk or moody vibe. He had just talked to me, asked me questions about myself, and we’d laughed a lot. That’s what I remember.

But five years of friendship to lovers came to an explosive end. For ten years I ran away. Tonight I return to the night we met.

I wanted to stay on my high horse, absolutely sure that I made the right decision not forgiving him and moving away.

Now I don’t know anything.

Mom and dad were selling my childhood home, any ties I had to this place were unravelling, and now even the person I needed to stay the villain was apologizing.

“You travel a lot,” Harry touches my elbow lightly. I know he’s not ignoring what I said, just giving me a way to talk around it until I can talk through it. I forgot the little ways he could be kind. It tears a hole right through me.

“Yeah,” I had started working for a travel magazine a decade ago and then made it my own brand on social media. I got paid to travel which was a dream. And yet, it always carried an emptiness—like I was running away from a debt I never paid. “Do what you love right?”

“Yeah.” Harry had gone into teaching, he’d stayed in town, born and raised. It had surprised me finding out. “I can’t say I love teaching, but it gets me up in the morning.”

“I heard the kids adore you,” my brother had kept me updated on Harry when I asked. I think my brother loved him too—he definitely idolized him.

“Sometimes,” he smiles like he’s embarrassed but I know he’s not.

“It’s been ten years,” I whisper. Why was he still not over us? Why did it make me feel awful.

“I think I felt every year,” he says.

Me too.

“Wish I could rewind, go back to the night we met.” He says.

“So you could warn yourself?” I half tease.

“No. Y/n,” he rolls his eyes. “Just to remember what it felt like to-to…not have to worry about a million decisions, not have to worry about money and what’s for dinner and whether your car’s about to kick the bucket or whether you’ve got a serious vitamin c deficiency or it’s depression. Just…just to go back and remember what it felt like to…meet a cute girl in the park and wonder what she’s thinking about.”

“That cute girl was angry,” I remind him.

That had come out later, as we talked into the night. In the cloak of darkness when he’d expressed surprise that I was enrolling in his school and I had said some bitter response, he’s prodded in all the soft spots. Before I knew it I was crying in front of the very attractive guy. It was humiliating.

But he’d surprised me, with a gentle hand on my arm—a question that I’d responded with by tucking myself into his arms. It was weirdly not weird.

“I remember.”

“The girl’s still pretty angry,” I say quietly.

My mum and dad were selling the home. The place I thought I’d always get to call home no matter how many countries I went to and how many beds I slept in. I always thought the room down the hall would always be mine.

“Want to talk about it?” Harry asks.

“How?” I look at him. “How can you want to stand here and listen to me be angry? After everything.”

Harry sighs. It’s loaded. “Y/N I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Ten bloody years have gone by, many relationships and so many fucking new memories and yet I’m still haunted by the ghost of you. And I push it away and pretend I’m okay. But I’m not.”

“We were both so angry at the end,” I ignore everything he just said to say something else. Or maybe to respond to him basically confessing that he missed me. I was scared.

“I tried to make you something you weren’t,” Harry admits and hearing him say it out loud even ten years later burns. Like the flaking paint on this forsaken bridge, I’m rusty on the inside.

“And I was angry at the world but I took it out on you.” I reply with the same vulnerability. He deserved it after I came here wearing body armour.

He moves an inch closer to me and my body feels like it leans in like an automatic response.

“Why did you run so far?” He asks, it’s barely a whisper.

I feel the tears threatening to pour out but I hold them back. “Why didn’t you come looking for me?”

“I was mad,” his hand reaches out but before it can brush mine it drops. My heart drops with it. “And then I thought we were better apart. But really I was just scared.”

“Scared?” I was too.

“I had all of you and then most of you, some of you and then none of you. I didn’t think it could go the other way.”

It couldn’t. I think about the ring in my pocket, the one I took off when I left my parents’ front door to walk here.

It was a 3 year relationship begging to take the first step. When the proposal came I had cried with tears of joy.

“I don’t think it can,” I say and I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I rub it away.

He nods in defeat. “I just wanted to talk to you. Say sorry and be sure there’s nothing to go back to.”

“The way I treated you I…I wish I did things differently Harry. And I’m sorry. But I think there’s too much between us to go back to.”

“Yeah well,” he scratches the back of his head. “At least I know now.”

I want to take his face in my hands and kiss him, feel his familiar hands work down my body and hold me close. I wanted all of him, or some of him. I couldn’t. I could only have none of him.

Harry:

It hurts, being rejected. But now I know.

“Thank you YN,” I say honestly.

“For what?” She brushes away another tear. I wish I could do that for her.

“Coming here tonight? Closure?”

“Thanks for showing me people change,” YN says after some silence, her voice breaks half-way and she turns away.

Something else I’d be haunted by.

“Y/N,” I tug her arm and she unspools in my arms. She fits exactly as I remember, a whirlwind of emotions threaten to overwhelm me as her scent fills my head. She felt like a dream, slipping away while I still held her.

Still, I hold on tight, desperate to replace every y/n-related ache with this feeling right here. But just like sand in my fingers, it’s impossible to cling onto.

Y/N pulls away slowly and I feel like the river’s gathered up a big enough tide to swallow me whole. I want her to stay, to give me another chance, to put aside our history and see who we were now.

But I stay silent, the words caught in my throat and held back; she’d just reject me again. As much as I needed to, we couldn’t go back.

“I think I should go,” she whispers. I should ask her to stay, to maybe get breakfast tomorrow, to see her one last time.

Instead I nod, I just fucking nod.

She turns and every step she takes there’s a part of me that leaves with her.

When I can no longer see her I turn back to the river and cry one of my own.

I wasn’t haunted by the ghost of her, but by the ghost of what could’ve been. The echoes of the night we met bounce off the walls of my head and I scream into the night. It feels good, but the shadow of us stays in the farthest corner of my heart.

“It’s no fair,” I whisper to the river.

The river streams on, a low shushing sound muffled by the night.

Maybe, I think, Y/N would visit here once more—maybe soon. Maybe she’d look down into the water like she always did and when she listened for the river’s secrets, maybe it would tell her mine.

“I still love her,” I confess to the river.

But the river only moves forward.

[redrawthecolorlessworld]

Gift or whatever idfk what to title this

typical (unreliable title giver)thesia moment

———

I could see it.

The truth staring right back at me.

The truth about myself, about this world, about the Gods, about the people who were meant to be Gods...

They all showed themselves to me, and I somehow couldn't stop them.

So many questions raced through my head.

Was my whole life a lie?

Did I live for no reason at all?

What was even the point of doing all of this then...?

I wondered.

But I never got an answer.

The questions in my head disappeared, and the only thing that remained was one thought;

I want to—

———

Knock, knock, knock.

Aleph snaps out of his thoughts—the knock on his front door has brought him back to reality. He was so lost in the memory of that revelation, that he almost didn't catch that noise.

Nobody else is in the house right now. Nhelv went out with Credits earlier, and Destr0yer said she wanted to go out and have a quick walk to clear her mind, so it's just Aleph in the house now. Frankly, he also just got home from a long day at school—it was Teachers' Day, so he came home rather exhausted from all of the festivities.

Nonetheless, he decides to get himself moving, and quickly makes his way to the door, before opening it, revealing the person on the other side to be none other than Pupa himself. "Ah- Pupa! What brings you here?" He greets, offering the other man to come into the house. Pupa does just that, and as he walks into the house, Aleph quickly notices something in his hand.

"...What's that?" He asks, glancing down towards a plastic bag that Pupa grips tightly. Pupa looks down towards it, before looking back at the math teacher. "Oh. This is for you, actually." He answers, and hearing that, Aleph can feel his face heating up slightly. "O-oh...?"

Pupa then fishes the mysterious object out of the bag, revealing it to be some sort of...encyclopedia book...? "Oh my! How nice! Is this another gift from Pamolia? I thought she'd be giving me only one thing for today, haha." Aleph says, grabbing the book in Pupa's hand as quickly as he could, before inspecting the cover closely. He had probably already read the contents of a book similar to this, but it's always interesting to read it in a different writing style. It entertains him quite a lot—

"Oh, uh- no, actually. I got this for you. Not Pamolia."

—Ah.

To that, Aleph's face grows even more red.

"...Oh...um...you...you got this...for me...? S-specifically you...?" Aleph asks slowly, trying his best to keep his composure—though it seems like it's failing. Pupa averts his gaze from the other man, his cheeks flaring up to a bright shade of red too as he simply answers; "Yeah. Specifically me."

He then quickly adds; "With my own money too, so..."

"I see."

Aleph readjusts his monocle, before nodding at the butterfly's way. "Thank you, then. I'm sure I'll have fun reading this." He says softly, looking down to the book once again, tracing his fingers along the rather hard surface of the cover. Pupa just watches, before quietly sighing fondly. "Yeah. No problem, I guess."

...

"...Also, that thing is expensive- so you better take good care of it!"

"Oh- yes, yes. Alright. I'll keep that in mind~"

"Hmph. You better."

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 9: Writing Thoughts

Today was a really tough day and honestly, it’s way too early in the week for me to be having tough days. I’m not here for it. I pulled something in my leg so I was limping around on it all day pretending that it was going to get better, and I was also so weirdly tired I could barely keep my thoughts together. So, I still need to go shopping tomorrow boo.

I’m starting to look forward to my staycation starting next week… it’s still far off but I am almost optimistic about it.

Anyway, tonight I’d like to think about writing projects a little, because I was sort of thinking about them earlier but didn’t feel like I was getting very far in my own head. I probably won’t now either but at least I can run the train of thought into the ground.

I still have the end of my old Jonty fic hanging over me and I am just not thinking about it. I cannot leave this story this close to the end without finishing. That’s not an option. There are a variety of other stories I don’t want to leave unfinished or abandoned but this one in particular can NOT languish or go back into the vault. I’ve come too far. I think part of the reason I keep putting it off is that I am just not doing well recently and I want to spend my writing time/energy on a project that I’m really, really into (which is fair of me) and part of it is that I have only one scene and a pretty solid outline for it so like… it doesn’t seem urgent at all. But a third aspect is that I don’t know what T100 project will replace it. Perhaps a part of me is scared I’ll drop out of the fandom entirely at this point. Which would be fine except that, like… I really do want to write SGAU and also maybe some of these other ideas, you know?

My plan for a while now has been to move on to the Road Trip fic next, but… I don’t know. I’ve done a lot of writing about it but I haven’t actually started it, and I feel like I’m getting farther away from both an inherent understanding of it and an interest in it. Which happens. I don’t know. It’s not a big deal. Sometimes the fun part is the planning and the thinking and the notes. I don’t know. I feel like I’m eulogizing this silly little project. Like I have to justify dropping it but I will justify and I will drop.

But if I do decide not to work on it at the moment, what will I work on? I’ve been considering Kiss the Ring, a one-shot that has seemed fun to me pretty recently. Or do I want to seriously triage and go right into SGAU because it’s now or never on it, because I have to be prepared to drop out of the fandom entirely at any time? I am a person who is easily paralyzed by the tyranny of choice and I know this about myself so I try to plan things in advance in such a way that I simply do not have choices and that’s why I’m trying to get my ducks in a row here. Because what if I do finish the Jonty fic this weekend? What then? But I somehow feel as if I had so many more things I need to do first before I can decide on a next project—I’m not sure what, soul searching, note taking, note reading, meditating, mystic revelation, hard to say.

Ugh, it’s late. I got to crawl through tomorrow. It will be a long day. Maybe afterwards I’ll get more sleep.

[libmoopsychblog]

New semester, new me (I hope)...

I've had a lot of time to stare at my wall and re-evaluate the way that I tried to approach my first semester on the MRes course! But now I think it's time to do a bit of self reflection and to form an action plan for semester two so I don't burn out before graduation.

My experience of the first semester was challenging to say the least! Throughout my full life in academia, I've always struggled to stay on top of workloads and to start an assignment earlier than 24 hours before it's due date. At the start of semester one, I told myself that this would be the year for me: I'd convinced myself that a switch would flip in my brain and this year I would turn into the academic weapon that I was born to be. But it just didn't happen... Every submission in semester one was proceeded with a frantic rush up to the last second that was made ten times more stressful because of how much more difficult this work is to any I've had to submit in the past. Take the coding assignment as an example- I still have nightmares about how much my head hurt trying to finish that task on time!!

Whilst I've always been able to (somehow) walk out with good grades doing work in this way, it's just not a sustainable way to submit work at a Master's level. Not just because of the higher standard of work, but I've found 27 grey hairs coming through on my head since last November and I can't afford to dye my hair every week to cover them up. Joking aside, eventhough it makes me feel smart and accomplished to be able to write a 4000 word essay in 15 hours with no prior planning, I'm going to make sure that this is going to be the semester, albeit my final semester, that I become the academic success story that they write books about.

To give myself credit where it's due, I have constantly proven to myself that I can work under pressure. Pressure has always been my main motivator when it comes to submissions- I leave it until the pressure is at its peak to even begin thinking about writing. So at least now that when I get asked if I "deal well in high pressure situations" in a job interview, I know myself I'm not lying. But I have seen the negative consequences of this method on my mental health in the long run. I've constantly been in this cycle where I'll get mad at myself when I submit something because I know it's not my best work and this just can't continue.

When I think deeply about it, I think it is the constant passing grades that have stopped me from ever changing my ways. Why change a system that works, right? But I need to value my own mental health, stress levels and sleep more than I ever have. For me, it goes back to a classic theory I studied in A-Level Sociology- the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy. I have convinced myself that I am somebody who needs a looming deadline and peaked pressure and who cannot work on an assignment in small, manageable chunks so that is exactly the type of person that I have become. So from now, I'll take my whole academic career so far as a learning curve and break the beliefs that I have forced upon myself about the conditions that I need to work in.

So here we are: the all important action plan.

1: Dear Diary...

A diary! I don't know how it has taken me 21 years to come to such a blatantly obvious revelation. But from now, I'm keeping a diary dedicated to all things deadline, planning and uni related. This way I have to hold myself accountable to the plans I've made for myself and can never say I don't know when something is due because it's in the diary.

2: Going to sleep on deadline Eve.

No more all nighters the night before a deadline! I've made a pact with myself that my work has to be submitted early so there is absolutely no work to be done the night before something is due. This way, I can be all tucked up in bed early the night before like a kid on Christmas Eve... bliss.

3: Slow and Steady Wins the Race

A lesson that I should have learned in primary school when they used to read the book about the tortoise and that rabbit. All of my work will be broken up into manageable chunks that I can complete in the weeks leading up until the deadline, rather than it just being done in one go.

So there we have it, a concise three step action plan that'll (hopefully) make semester two an absolute breeze... I'll let you know how that one goes.

[traumxrei-archive]

【 noble gentlemen; octavinelle 】

— or, the noble gentlemen series, in which the genre of the world is historical fantasy, and you and the twst boys are citizens of a distant magical land !

word count: 2.3k

details: gn! reader, drabbles, can be read as romantic or platonic !!, warning !! mentions of injury (floyd, jade)

note: it's currently my birthday in my timezone, thus i'm unveiling the first of this new series >:DD we've gotta give it up for floyd, it was him who gave me the idea of writing a historical fantasy au, which led to me doing the rest of them sjdkfsjf

[ part one out of seven in the noble gentlemen series ]

Out of all the unconventional nobles that existed, you had to admit that the rumors of the “Heretic Leech” piqued your interest more than others. His interruptions at parties were always interesting to listen to, though you found yourself wary to actually be in his company.

Yet ironically, the first time you met Floyd was at a grand party. There was a loud crash, and a servant kneeling in front of a man, profusely apologizing. There were whispers around you, and you barely caught the words “Oh Sevens, he’s doing it again.” before the man grabs the servant by the collar.

His voice was low and menacing as he spoke, "These shoes are my favorite y'know..." You swallowed, half-terrified at finally meeting the madman everyone denounced.

The servant looked halfway to fainting when the man suddenly started giggling, "Ju~st kidding! They were my favorite, I don't like them anymore." The room reluctantly resumed its earlier festivities as he patted the servant, "Your face was so funny I couldn't help myself~"

Unluckily, he caught your stare and a lazy grin showed up on his face. "You wanna play too~?" He crooned, walking up to you in big strides. Oh no. No, no, no. It was no good to get involved with someone nicknamed the "Heretic Leech".

But before you could walk away, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the middle of the ballroom. He danced, haphazardly bumping into the others and grinning at you so brightly it was impossible to know what he was thinking and from that moment on, Floyd Leech started becoming a part of your life.

———

Floyd would always put on "performances" at any parties you two attended. These performances include tap dancing on the dining tables, as well as using his utensils to drum on crystalline cups. The others definitely don't appreciate it of course, but Floyd seemed to revel in the chaos that he created, smiling broadly at you.

"Eh~ Don't be such a spoilsport," He would pout, whenever you said that you saw guards coming. You actively weren't trying to spoil his fun, you just didn't want him to get arrested. (And as his sort-of-accomplice, you’d get arrested too.) But well...Floyd was the type of person that would think prison is fun.

———

Mood swings happen often with this troublesome noble, and a smiling Floyd can turn into a frowning one in an instant. Although it confused you at first, you've learned that it's best to ask him what he wants when he gets into one of my moods.

"Ugh, I promised but...I don't wanna see you," Floyd said shortly, refusing to budge from where he was sitting in the tree. You nodded lightly, circling the tree to somewhere where he can't see you. You asked him if it's okay if you stay here. More often than not if his first request is fulfilled he would halfheartedly agree with your request. If you accidentally fall asleep under the tree, you'd probably wake up to a smiling Floyd poking at your cheek; his previous bad mood forgotten.

———

Floyd got hurt. A lot. Whether it be from exchanging fisticuffs with other nobles or falling out of the trees he so often climbs, Floyd always has some form of injury or another. (Not to mention injuries from his blood-stained side job that he kept away from you.) He somehow mastered the art of unlocking your window from the outside, often inviting himself in just to show you his new injury.

"Hey, you'll patch me up right?" Once you gave him an affirmation, he smiled, squeezing you tightly. "Man, you're the best!" Yes, yes, you were the best. But also, how would you explain to the others in your household the concerning amount of money you spent on medical supplies? (And you often wondered where he got these injuries. Surely there weren't that many people who were eager to pick fights with Floyd…unless…? Were the rumors of the Heretic being an assassin really true?)

The name Jade Leech wasn't something unfamiliar. You've heard whispers that spoke of danger and death in darkened corners— a Reaper in all senses— and praises of an upstanding noble in prestigious gatherings. However, it wasn't until after the first meeting that you understood why people feared his name.

You had an unfortunate run-in with him late one night. And by unfortunate, you happened to be the sole witness of one of his assassinations.

You turned a corner. One second there had been a man in front of you, and in the next second, he had collapsed in a heap. You rushed to help him before a hand grasped your wrist.

The movement pulled you away from the body and a pair of mismatched eyes greeted you from the shadows. Your heart plummeted as you remembered the rumors, and you almost shivered as the man in the shadows spoke, "Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. If only you hadn't walked this way."

There was a sharp sting of something and your vision faded to black. When you woke up, you were safely tucked into your bed, with no recollection of how you got there. There was, however, a scented note on your bedside, "Do not run if you value your life." followed by the initials J.L.

Your attendant burst into your room soon after, "Master! Marquis Leech has sent you an offer to work with him!" And that was the start of your very dangerous employment with Jade Leech.

———

Jade obviously kept you on the more legal side of his business. But he still showed you hints of his more illegal dealings, leaving a bloody knife there, or a severed finger here. You tried telling him that it was unnecessary, not to mention unsanitary, and he blinked at you before bursting into laughter.

"My, so you aren't one to be easily scared, huh?" Jade smiled; something so disarmingly polite that it made you avert your eyes. "I'll have to keep that in mind for next time..." Wait...next time...? It wasn't until you spoke to those around him that you learn that the Jade Leech was fond of pranks. (That was, if you could call leaving people's body parts scattered around a prank.)

———

Jade Leech, assassin guild master extraordinaire, was a collector of rare plants. Your favorite part of your job as his new...assistant, was to water these plants in the greenhouse adjacent to his mansion. It was always damp and humid there, but you didn't mind, since you liked seeing the rarities that Jade ever so carefully grew.

"Are you fond of them?" Jade's voice startled you, and you looked up, wide-eyed, to see him standing not too far away from you. "Why don't you take one that suits your fancy? Oh, don't touch that one though. We use that to cultivate poison, fufufu~" You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but you decided never to touch any plants you didn't recognize. Especially the strange mushrooms you found growing on a log underneath a tarp. Those looked...especially dangerous.

———

Jade seldom got hurt, but the one time that he did, he sought you for help. It was no surprise to you that he knew where you lived, but it was definitely a surprise to walk into your room and find your boss bleeding all over your floor. In a panic, you almost called your servants but he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

"Ngh... Apologies for...the intrusion. Yours was...the closest... The wound isn't deep..." Jade took a shallow breath, and his eyelashes fluttered in the moonlight. "I know...how to treat it. Would you...help me?" You bit your lip as you nodded, grabbing a cloth to staunch the blood.

After doing emergency first aid, you helped him stumble back to his house. Someone who looked identical to him— his twin, your mind supplied— took him from your arms and told you to wait in the drawing room. You just prayed that Jade would be okay… (After a few sleepless hours, Jade was good as new with the addition of a new scar on his side.)

It was no secret that the biggest restaurants and bars were all under the Ashengrotto name. However, what caught your interest was the rumors of there being an information guild run by Lady Ashengrotto's son, a charismatic young man who created the guild from the ground up.

When you walked into the bar, you were surprised at how classy everything was. There was a buzz in the air as the customers laughed, drank, and dined. You tugged your hood over your head, making a beeline for the bar.

A silver-haired bartender gave you a smile as you settled into one of the high chairs, "What can we offer you tonight, dear customer?" You recite the words that others told you to say before: you can’t get something for nothing.

The bartender looks surprised for a moment before he recovered, "Because everything has a price. Let me lead you to the back, dear customer, and you can tell me what services you require."

When you tell him that you want to talk to the Azul Ashengrotto, the bartender laughed heartily. He turned to you, sliding on a pair of steel-framed glasses, "Well then, dear customer, you are now talking to the Azul Ashengrotto." He leaned forward, a charming smile on his face, "What kind of deal would you like to make with the devil?"

———

Azul was strange company. After your consultation with him, your contract stated that you are forbidden to seek him out. But it turned out to be quite the one-sided statement when Azul sought you out himself. You had to come up with various excuses for the people of your estate as to why Azul Ashengrotto was once again sitting in the drawing room for the nth time that week.

"What is it?" Azul's gloved fingers tapped on the table lightly. "Oh, are your people growing suspicious? Why don't you inform them that we have some business with each other?" As if it was that easy. Azul was supposed to be someone hard to reach, not someone who invited himself over to another's house almost daily.

———

It turned out that Azul would offer performances at one of his more high-end restaurants every once in a while. He sent you an invitation to one of these performances and well...it would be a waste to turn down such an invitation, right? Well, consider yourself amazed. His elegant playing and powerful singing voice had you at the edge of your seat.

"How was it, dear customer?" He had you escorted to his office after the show. "Did it match up to your expectations?" If you decided to earnestly compliment him, you'd find a strangely flustered expression on the usually unruffled gentleman's face. He would dismiss your observations as a trick of the light, but Azul Ashengrotto was surprisingly weak to praise. (He invited you to the next performance after that too. And the next one. And the next one—)

———

When Azul finally handed over a folder with all the information that you requested, it marked the end of your contract. You had paid half of the price in money, and the other half was to be repaid by favor of Azul's choosing. A dangerous way to repay something, you knew,  especially at the hands of someone notoriously scheming.

Azul carefully looked at the folder before flicking his eyes to your face, "Honestly, I could've delivered the information the week you hired me, but...you were a very amusing customer, so I got a bit too carried away." He smiled, something that touched his eyes for the first time, "My request to you is to keep in touch with me." Oh. That was a surprisingly sweet request. It was almost like—

"Oh, and let us rendezvous at least once a week," Azul chuckled. "The atmosphere at your house is very pleasant indeed." ...And there was the catch you were looking for. Well...it wasn't an impossible request. And besides, it wasn't such a bad thing to let the information guild master have tea at your house, right?

[ bonus: how do these nobles know each other ? ]

— Jade and Floyd are naturally related. The Leech family businesses and the assassination guild were passed on to Jade when he became of age. With Floyd having no interest in doing the paperwork, he chose to work as an assassin instead. And because Jade was often engaged in maintaining these businesses, he lets Floyd attend any parties or invitations on his behalf.

— The main reason Floyd gets injured a lot is exactly because he's an assassin for hire. (Only for the best price, of course.) Half of his injuries are attributed to the resistance he faces in getting to his target. In return, Jade bails him out of any trouble he gets into.

— The two love wrecking the rhythm of high society, Floyd in the limelight of day and Jade through the cover of night. You could say that they're two peas in a pod in that sense. (And their nickname was the Twin Reapers...it just goes to show how much influence they had over the aristocrats of the city.)

— Jade and Azul met each other through mutual interest, being the leaders of two very lucrative guilds. They both agreed to merge their businesses together— after a thorough contract was written, naturally. Now the two essentially run the underground world together.

— Although they both run the underground together, Azul preferred killing as a last resort. He thought that it's better to corner a rat and use it to your advantage before finally disposing of it when you deem it past its usefulness. (Jade has since adopted that mentality when extracting information...)

— As for Floyd and Azul... Floyd thinks that Azul's restaurants were cool, so he part-timed there when he wants to get out of social gatherings. Azul appreciated the sentiment, but he preferred to put Floyd behind the bar or in the kitchen to limit the trouble he can get himself into. (The taller got himself into trouble anyway, being the thrill seeker he is.)

thank you for reading !! i hope that you enjoyed these drabbles :D if you'd like to see more, you can check out my masterlist, or the rest of the noble gentlemen series !

[dixonlvr-online]

Cookie revelations

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader, Carol Peletier x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cookies! Realizing feelings! AAAHHHHH

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Even though Daryl isn't technically in this, I still loved writing it so so much.

Blood, guts, and gore. Flour, sugar, and butter. Two very different pictures, both evidence of a crime scene.

Where you currently stood was the latter scenario: in the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of your own making. Daryl had gone off with Aaron on a recruiting trip a few days prior, and since your shift at the guard tower wasn’t until later, you were bored.

It was weird, having the time to get bored. Your group had only joined Alexandria a couple of weeks ago, so you were still adjusting. Not constantly moving, or worrying about food and water, was great for your physical health. Your mental health, however, was taking a decline.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve, groaning when you realized it was covered in flour. You’d had the bright idea to bake cookies to fill the time. Carol had inspired you with her cookies at the party, and reminded you how much you loved baking in your old life. Unfortunately, you had always relied on a detailed recipe and proper ingredients.

You’d gone to the pantry to gather ingredients earlier that day, but Olivia had explained the rationing system and you’d had to make do with some substitutions. You’d heard the possibility of substituting applesauce for eggs, so you’d grabbed that. Except now, you had no idea what to do with it.

You stared down at your bowl of mix. It was way too watery, and somehow, it was yellow. You didn’t even want to know how that happened. You sighed, leaned into the counter. If only Daryl were here to see this. He’d have a field day, you thought.

The creak of the front door sounded, followed by footsteps. In walked Carol, hand raised in greeting until she saw the mess in front of her. You watched her bite her lip, holding back a smile, before she couldn’t take it anymore and laughed.

You fake scowled at her in response, but even you couldn’t help but laugh along with her. You must be a ridiculous sight, all covered in flour and milk and whatever else you’d managed to spill. 

Carol wiped a tear from her eye. “Wow. I didn’t think I’d see this today,” she laughed. You gave her a sheepish smile.

“It’s been a long time, okay? I’m out of practice,” you said. Carol walked over and peered into your mixing bowl. She took a moment to survey your setup as well, nodding her head in approval at the ingredients you’d chosen.

“You’ve got the right idea. You bake much before?” she asked. You nodded, though it lacked conviction.

“I used to, a little. It was a hobby more than anything. I never got good enough to be…off book,” you explained, gesturing to the mess as if it were evident.

Carol smiled. “Well, I’m sure we can fix this. Let’s see what we’ve got…” Carol got to work grabbing ingredients and adding them to the mix. She explained what she was doing as she went, giving you some helpful tips while you listened intently. Finally, the cookies were mixed, scooped, and in the oven, a timer set to go off when they were done.

“So,” Carol chimed, washing her hands, “what’s the occasion? Or did you just feel like baking cookies?” You smiled.

“Honestly, I just don’t know what to do with myself. I have guard duty, sure, but only for part of the day. I feel useless the rest of the time,” you said, exasperation creeping into your voice.

Carol nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way too. The sweet old lady act gets you far, but it also gives you nothing to do. Why do you think I’ve been trying so many new recipes?” she mused, taking a seat beside you.

You sighed. “I wish I was out there with Daryl. At least then I’d be doing something useful. It was so…simple, out there. I mean, it was hard, but we only had one task: survive. Here, back in the ‘real world,’ everything’s so complicated,” you said, anxiously picking at your fingernails as you spoke.

Carol listened, nodding along. You could tell she understood what you were saying, could feel the difference like you could. The surprising toll it took on you was eating away at her too. She reached for your hand.

“This type of living is overly complicated, yes, but we have to remember some things. One, these people don’t know what it’s like out there. They’re weak,” she said, “and we’ve gone through a lot more than they have. It makes sense for us to be bored, to feel useless. We’re being forced to adapt to their way of living.”

You smiled at her, nodding as she spoke. You didn’t like to join in with Rick and Carol when they diminished these people’s experiences, but you couldn’t help but agree with some of their sentiments. These people had no idea what life was like out there, the hardships you’d faced. It was hard to connect with people who could never understand.

“Here’s the most important thing,” Carol continued. “We’re still here, alive, and we get to be here, within a civilization. That comes with responsibilities, yes, but also choices. We can choose who we want to be here. Who we want to be with. What we can do.”

You furrowed your brows, her words sinking in and forcing your thoughts inward. Who did you want to be? Who did you want to be with? How could you know these things about yourself when you’d been moving day-to-day for so long?

You thought back to the prison, the last time you were all “safe” and “within a civilization.” All the time you’d spent there, hunting in the woods, keeping watch in the tower, laughing around the bonfire. And who’d been beside you the whole time.

“Carol,” you interrupted, “when are Daryl and Aaron supposed to get back?” Carol grinned, instantly getting your meaning. She turned to read the clock on the wall behind her.

“They should be back any time now, actually,” she said. You smiled, squeezed her hand, and stood up.

“I’ll see you later, okay? We can taste test the cookies this evening,” you called, already at the front door. You didn’t wait for a response, just took off down the road.

There, at the gate, was Daryl Dixon, riding in on his motorcycle. Your best friend since the prison, the person you’d spent countless hours talking and laughing with, the man you’d come to love more than anything.

If this was your life now, then so be it. If you were given choices, you knew which path to take.

He was your choice. Who you wanted to be. Who you wanted to be with. Daryl was your answer to everything.

[lone-rhapsodist]

I can't sleep, so I thought I might as well write something down. There have been a lot of changes in my life lately and they have had a bit of an impact on the project, as well as, well, everything else. I have moved in with my girlfriend, my commute has gotten longer, I have been trying to settle down and establish some work-life balance but it's been hit and miss so far.

The project has been okay. Lots of lovely conversations with my collaborator, but it's been slow, mainly because I'm finding it so hard to focus and write. However, the conversations have been very promising and there's definitely something to build on for the future. Also yes, it's 'collaborator' in the singular now, sadly, but it's okay. We work well together, so I don't mind -- as I said, I'm quite happy with how things have been going!

I feel like I've had a bit of a revelation tonight, and that is that I should start treating this more as a job and less as a "let's see what happens" kind of thing. Mind you, I don't want it to become a job as in "we need to get the reports ready by Monday for the presentation on the budget" or whatever, but I would like it to be more regular, and I think treating it as a daily habit rather than a "wait for inspiration" kind of thing might help.

It is also kind of true that this is, to an extent, an extension of my job. I mean, without giving away too much about myself, I do work in the sort of job where I am effectively divulgating the subject and getting more adepts, I mean, more people interested in it. I was rereading some of my past posts earlier (as I said, I can't sleep) and I noticed I once used 'school' to refer to my job. So yeah, my cover is pretty much off. I am a teacher. Surprise!

And as I expose you, reader, to such a shocking revelation, I realise that my desire to reveal my identity is actually part of a much bigger need to share more about myself and my life. I don't know how to say it, but essentially, I have not been well lately. I have been feeling quite depressed because of work, and it's been having an impact on pretty much everything else in my life. At times, I have wanted to write about this on here, but the fear surrounding the mortifying ordeal of being known has prevented me from doing so, and for good reason.

Lately, however, I have been focussing more on taking care of myself first, and I have realised that the need to share whatever is going on in your life with others can also be seen an act of self-care. So, as part of my aspiration to work more regularly on the project, I think I should also start blogging more regularly in general. I mean, since my job and my project are so clearly interconnected, it simply follows that I should not feel ashamed to talk about things that are going on my life, insofar as they are relevant to the project and its progress, or interesting and worth sharing, or even just entertaining.

I mean, as you can tell from the length of this post, I have a certain facility with writing about my thoughts and the like, and so I am sure that doing more of this will help with my other project-related writing too. Heck, I have been writing poetry lately, and even that has been helpful somehow! So, I am sure this will be useful too, sharing my thoughts and what not. Also, this type of writing ties in well with some reading I have been doing lately about the history of the essay -- I am thinking in particular of Montaigne. I would like to write something about this at some point. And I would like to share my poetry too, if I feel so inclined.

Furthermore, I do hope that another benefit of this new habit of daily writing, as well as more work on the project, will be shorter posts, because monster posts such as this one are really not ideal for something like Tumblr. I mean, as much as I love to just word-vomit on the page, I must confess, it is kind of a struggle to write this stuff -- I mean, my thumbs are already hurting from all the typing. And if it's hard for me to write it, it must be impossible for you to read it. So yeah, I do hope that more frequent updates will result in shorter, more readable posts, more engagement, more interaction... and most importantly, progress. But we'll see.

I've got to get up for work in about two and a half hours, so I should probably try to get some sleep now. Thank you for making it through this, you're amazing! Bye-bye for now, stay tuned, and take care!

[notsowrites]

Untitled 3x01 Coda #2

I truly loved all the Forlex in the episode, and the Miluca scene was so soft - but hello?? RNM?? Where is my Malex? I demand to be fed. So I guess I will just have to write it my damn self.

----------

Alex watched as Michael's truck pulled into the junkyard, grinding to a halt next to his SUV. They hadn't spoken since he'd gotten back, and it was probably time. Especially with everything that'd happened with Forrest, the revelation about Deep Sky and his subsequent decision regarding them... it was a lot to process. He'd lit the fire pit when he's arrived, knowing it might be a while before Michael returned, and had settled into one of the chairs, enjoying the cool breeze of the night and finally allowing himself a moment to think about Forrest. 

A moment to wonder if he's made the right decision, if he should have gotten on that bus. If down the line somewhere he was going to regret the path that he'd now set himself upon. He couldn't stop thinking about Kyle's advice, about the loneliness and isolation he'd be getting himself into by allowing himself to be recruited into their ranks.

Michael looked tired, that much Alex could see even through the darkness. His curls were wild, like he'd been running his hands through them for hours, his black cowboy hat nowhere to be found, and Alex wondered what he'd missed in the 12 hours since he'd been back in town.

"Didn't expect to see you here." 

No, Alex thought, he wouldn't. It wasn't like they'd left in a great place either when he'd made the decision a year ago that he was going to clean up his father's mess so he could finally move on, move past everything regarding his fucked up family history.

"Didn't expect my night to end up here either," he replied, trying to sound friendly, and knowing he wasn't completely succeeding.

Michael stopped next to one of the empty chairs, taking in the lit fire, and nodded, his hands tightening on the metal of the back. "And where did you think you'd end up?" 

Alex shrugged, looking away. He didn't know how much he wanted to tell Michael - did he tell him he'd been thinking he could make a good go of it with Forrest? That he almost got on a bus out of town with him?

"Have you ever heard of something called Deep Sky?"

The laugh Michael let out cut right through to Alex's core. He could feel the anger, the frustration - every bit of Michael's emotions as he dropped into the chair in front of him. 

"You've got to be kidding me."

Michael pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and took a generous sip, shaking his head. As Alex watched, he realized how good alcohol sounded right about now, and maybe that was what he needed to do, despite the beers he'd had at the Pony earlier with Kyle.

"Is that-" 

Michael narrowed his eyes at him. "It's acetone." 

After another moment, Michael stood up, tucking the flask away and pulling open the door to the trailer, disappearing inside with a slam of the metal door. Barely a moment later, it was opening again, Michael reappearing with two bottles of beer in his hand, holding one out for Alex. 

"Thanks. It's been-" he sighed, realizing it was inevitable he'd be telling Michael everything that had happened to him. "It's been a night."

"You wanna talk about it?"

This was still new territory for them. Even after all the time they'd spent together uncovering the truth about Michael's mother, Alex couldn't deny his absence over the last year had probably hurt Michael. It hadn't been that they hadn't talked, hadn't had stilted, awkward phone conversations as he'd dug into Project Shepherd and his father's involvement, reporting on anything he might think Michael found useful. But talking, really opening up to one another, was still something they didn't do.

"Do you want to hear me tell you that I almost left town with Forrest?" 

Michael shook his head. "But you're here." 

"Yeah," Alex agreed. "I'm here."

"So what happened?" Michael immediately followed up, taking a sip of his beer. 

Alex bit his lip, carefully considering his words. "There's an organization called Deep Sky - they want to recruit me. And there's a part of me - the part that has been involved in trying to figure out what Project Shepherd was doing - that wants to let them." 

"But?" Michael knew him too well. 

"But," Alex continued, "it would mean secrecy. It would mean cutting myself off from everyone." 

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

"That's why I'm here, I guess," Alex realized. "I haven't. And I didn't really know - I still haven't decided." 

"I'm not making that decision for you, Alex."

"I'm not-" Alex stopped, feeling himself get annoyed at Michael inferring that he was unable to make the choice himself. "I'm not asking you to."

"Then what, Alex? Why come here and tell me all of this?" 

He watched as Michael finished off the beer in his hand, dropping the bottle to the ground and taking flash back out from his jacket.The words were stuck in his throat, to tell Michael that there was a part of him that wanted to do this for him. For Michael. 

"This could be my chance to learn things my father never could.” He paused, knowing he had to answer Michael’s question too. “And because I still want you to know." 

Silence fell between them immediately, and Alex noticed the way Michael's shoulder relaxed slightly, and he fell back against his chair. 

"I came to the bus stop today," Michael said, his voice quiet, his chin tucked into his chest so he couldn't look at Alex. As if the words he was saying were something he didn't want to admit, didn't want to talk about. Alex didn't understand it - in all their years together, Michael had never held back from him. "I thought-" He cut himself off, and Alex watching him shake his head, looking away, making sure he couldn't catch Alex's gaze.

But Alex needed to know. Michael had been there? At the bus stop? Had he been so focused on Forrest that he hadn't noticed?

"I saw you," Michael continued, "-you and Forrest. So I left." 

"You could have said hi."

Michael shrugged. "You looked busy."

All those years ago, when he'd left Roswell for basic as a scared and angry seventeen year old, he's been furious that Michael had gotten himself arrest and locked up. That he'd had to leave town without saying good-bye. It had been a deep hurt that had lingered for years with him, something he couldn't understand. Why had stealing hubcaps been more important?

And what could he even say to that? That Michael had shown up in that way - was he trying to right the wrong of that day more than a decade again?

But they weren't - they weren't anything anymore. Except maybe friends.

"We broke up," Alex replies instead of telling Michael he wanted him to be there at the bus stop. Instead of admitting that Michael is the only one he's ever wanted to greet him when he's returned to Roswell. Because Michael is the only person who has ever made Roswell feel like home, like he could be happy here.

"You and-" 

Alex nodded. "That's how I found out about Deep Sky." 

Michael glared at him, processing his words. "He was using you?" 

"No!" Alex shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Silence fell between them, the only sound crickets in the distance and the fire crackling between them in the pit. It felt nice, it felt comfortable. He wanted more of it, he wanted to do this more often. 

“If I do this,” he starts, a plan devising in his mind. “I don’t want to be cut off completely. That much isolation - it can’t be good.”

Michael nodded. “So what are you going to do?”

“If they’re as desperate to recruit me as Forrest made it sound, maybe I don’t have to.” It was possible he knew, to have his own demands for his cooperation. Especially if Deep Sky was this interested in him. Perhaps he could have communication with someone, perhaps he could negotiate his won way to not be completely cut off from everyone. “I don’t want - I don’t think-”

The words stuck in his throat. Why was it so hard to say the things he wanted? He wanted Michael to be the one he told his findings to. Anything he may come across that would help him understand his own history, his people, where he came from - Alex wanted to find those answers for him. 

"I meant what I said, you know," he continued, finding his voice finally. "About being friends."

"About starting over?"

Alex nods. Because that's always been their problem, hasn't it? He knows everything about Liz and Maria and Kyle from their birthdays to the favorite foods and drinks but he didn't know all those little thing about Michael. And it feels important somehow that he find them out. That he really learn who Michael is.

Because if there is one thing the past two years has shown him is it's not going to change anything between them. He's always going to love Michael.

He doesn't quite understand it, what it is about their connection that is so strong that even now, even after everything they've been through, that they're still drawn together. And maybe he can find answers with Deep Sky.

But what he does know is that he wants Michael to be the one at the bus stop waiting for him next time. Wants to know that Michael is there.

What he doesn't know is how long it may take for them to work their way back, but it's not something he plans on jumping into. Not with the fight with Forrest still so fresh.

But one day, maybe some day soon.

[grass-and-citrus]

@Disney, why do you do this to us

Here's a post where I ask the question: "Who at Disney thought this was a good idea and signed off on it?" Sorry, this might get a bit long lol!

Today, I received a book I ordered called "The Art and Making of Artemis Fowl", as one can tell from the title, it's one of those sorts of books that documents the production of a particular film. I was already going to make a post about little tidbits in this book that (unintentionally) reveals a bit about the messy production of the Artemis Fowl movie. 

However, I became sidetracked by a particular page in the book that left me a bit baffled, and I decided that it warranted its own post. The two images here of both taken from page 154 of the book, where hair and makeup designer Carol Hemming writes about the work she did on the movie. This section does happen to touch on some of the, eh, cosmetic changes made to the characters, and some of the comments come across as odd to me at the very least, to problematic at worst, depending on how you interpret it. There’s a lot to unpack here, I feel!

In the first section, we’re already off to bad start in the first sentence with the use of “exotic” to describe the diverse cast of the movie. Carol goes on to explain that the reason they gave Butler white hair and blue eyes was because of the remains of “Cheddar Man”, a fossil of an ancient man found in England. However, a lot of the details given are incorrect when I looked into this myself. For one, Cheddar Man was not a 100,000 year old fossil, but instead more like 10,000 years old, so off by a magnitude of 10 times there! Secondly, from what I read, the scientists believe that Cheddar Man likely had dark skin, dark curly hair, and green eyes, though they can’t be certain, of course, with how old the sample is. So, using that as justification to give Butler white-blond hair and unnaturally saturated, bright blue eyes is certainly an interesting Choice™ they made. 

Frankly, I have always thought that if they wanted to make Butler black that they should have full embraced Nonso’s natural features, including his black hair and brown eyes. Altering his appearance in the way they did perpetuates that trope of giving POC characters more euro-centric features to “stand out” more. I mean, think of all the fictional media out there with dark skinned characters that have blond/silver hair or where asian characters are often given random streaks of bright hair dye. Of course, those design decisions aren’t necessarily offensive on their own, but one has to make sure they’re being mindful of their reasoning behind things, ya know? At the very least, they could have be more subtle, they changed Tamara Smart’s (Juliet’s actress) hair to be blond and it didn’t come off as unnatural, although if it were me I would have left her hair as its natural color too!

This second part is what really got under my skin, though. Carol says that in her research that she saw there was a wide variety of depictions of fairy folk in terms of skin tone and eye color, but that she tried to “show similarities between Artemis and Holly” and that they “share a subtle similarity of look that hints at a shared beauty and intelligence.” Um, let me know if I’m reading too far into this, but this makes it sounds like they felt the need to make Holly white, and appear very similarly to Artemis, so that they would relate to each other more? Did she have to look white to be seen as beautiful and intelligent? They already wrote in that odd addition to the story of them bonding over shared father related trauma, did they also need to look like to get along?

It seems she’s trying to say they wanted to show how the fairy people are very much like humans and have many similar traits and behaviors, but why does that have to involve making the fairies appear like Europeans? I don’t know, this whole part is very weird to me, especially with how this was a change from the novel and how Carol Hemming acknowledges that Celtic depictions of fairies can have a large range of diversity. But somehow, Artemis and Holly both being white is diverse according to her statement? Maybe it’s just so poorly worded that it sounds bad?

What do yall think of this? Maybe I’m over thinking a bit over here, but something just seems off with the reasoning given for their design decisions! There might be someone more informed than I am on these sort of issues that could share their thoughts!

Transcription of the images below the cut for those who need/want it:

First image: “Apart from the many curious and exotic characters in the film, there are human who become entangled with the inhabitants of the fairy realm. Nonso Anozie, playing Butler, was keen to have a different look from what he felt was his usual screen persona. The inspiration for Butler’s highly individual look came from new scientific research, published early in 2018, based on the one-hundred-thousand-year-old fossil remains of a man who once lived in the West Country of Britain. Known as Cheddar Man, the fossil possesses DNA suggesting that- contrary to earlier theories- the first modern Britons were dark skinned with curly hair and blue eyes. Fired by this revelation, Nonso was given blue contact lenses and white, tightly curled hair. ‘We shaved Nonso’s head,’ says Carol, ‘and, rather than a wig, his hair was laid on piece by piece- an operation that required three or four makeup artists working as a team.’    

Second image: “As for Artemis, Carol rook her cue from the fact that, as the story unfolds, a kinship develops between him and Holly Short. ‘During my early research,’ she says, ‘I explored many depictions of Celtic fairies and reference the popular imagery of blue- and green-eyed fairies with skins tones of alabaster through to dark. I tried to show similarities between Artemis and Holly and again, some diversity.’ As a result, the two protagonists, later compatriots, share a subtle similarity of look that hints at a shared beauty and intelligence. There is, it’s clear to see, much more to fantasy film makeup than just thousands of elf ears!”   

[patchesthegothictramp]

Feather Seeker and the Okinawa Jail

So anyone who’s been talking to me knows Feather Seeker is a game that’s perked my interest from the get-go, and I’ve been thinking of talking about it for a while. Now that I’ve been able to replay Royal and play Strikers, some other things have come out in the meantime and I’ve been paying more attention to additional media, I want to make a meta post about Feather Seeker, the Okinawa jail from Strikers and it’s connection to Akechi specifically. Be warned, this ended up being a very long post.

Let’s start with just getting a few questions out of the way:

Isn’t it just a mini game made to raise your stats?

Yes, absolutely, it’s optional and honestly if you don’t care for playing the video games it’s easy to miss. I don’t think it was honestly intended to be some massive breakthrough on a character’s backstory but rather an Easter egg that gets you to think about it.

It’s just about Neo-Featherman, there’s references to it in all persona games, so why is this one different?

It’s not different. There’s been plenty of times when Easter eggs have led to something bigger in this game, even specifically featherman ones. There’s an episode of Featherman that describes exactly what happens in the 3rd semester, where a character loves another so strongly it brings them back to life. Now whether you want to apply that to Futaba and her mum, Ren and Akechi or whoever it still fits- there’s an entire semester where at least one character loves another one and wishes them back to life through Maruki’s power. So having another piece of media, like the Feather Seeker game, be another allusion to something else isn’t entirely unjustified.

Feather Seeker is just detailed cos it’s about Featherman, why are you comparing it to other games?

See, here’s the thing and why I needed a second playthrough to make sure I was right about it. Feather Seeker is the odd one out. All of the games have some kind of plot or something going on (except for Golf sim but y’know... it’s a golf sim), but they’re all very, very basic things. Train of Life is just board game with very simple characters, the Goemon game has you just walking through hell but doesn’t really go more in depth with characterisation. Whereas you find out so much about what’s going on with Gray Pigeon and Osagiri in Feather Seeker that it feels a little… weird to simply ignore it. Do I think that the simplest answer, that they just wanted some plot in there for fun, is the right answer? Honestly I think that’s highly likely. But it’s the boring explanation too, it’s easy enough to just write any kind of intrigue like that, so whether what I’m writing about was intentional or not, I still want to discuss Feather Seeker and see people’s own thoughts on the possibility that it could be more than just a basic game.

So with that out of the way… let’s get into it.

First, there’s establishing who’s who. I can pretty confidently say that Gray Pigeon is Akechi in this entire metaphor. This one is the most obvious for multiple reasons, first of which being that it’s the exact same costume Akechi gets in the featherman outfits DLC so there’s the direct correlation there. Beyond that, Gray Pigeon is a character who awakens to a new power and wants to become a hero of justice, just like the feathermen, the hero’s he’s heard about before. Ring any bells?

Also the final revelation of Feather Seeker is that actually the Feathermen see Gray Pigeon as their enemy, who ends up sacrificing himself so they can keep fighting.

Which brings me to discussing who Osagiri and the Feathermen are. Given the timeline presented, I don’t think it’s possible for them to be one specific character or even group of characters. I think these aren’t supposed to be characters, but rather the major influences in Akechi’s life. Osagiri is a scientist (possibly Wakaba, I’ll get into that later), but also the one who pushes him to do bad things. Osagiri starts by training Gray Pigeon to become one of the Feathermen, the good guys, but eventually ends up manipulating Gray Pigeon into trying to kill them. Osaigir at the bare minimum has to be two people- the cognitive scientists who were able to uncover more thanks to Akechi’s escapades in the metaverse and the people who pushed him to commit crimes- the conspiracy.

The Feathermen, at the end of the game, have to be the Phantom Thieves- they’re the ones Gray Pigeon/Akechi ends up sacrificing himself to save but… that can’t be possible. Gray Pigeon’s journey starts with him gaining a new power and wanting to use it for good like the Feathermen do and of course the Phantom Thieves weren’t an inspiration for Akechi to do what he did. I think then the Feathermen are what Akechi aspired to be- the heroes of justice who fought the bad guys.

I can’t lead myself to believe that at 15, Akechi thought of this overly convoluted plan where he would help Shido to become prime minister only to then ruin him, there’s way too many factors in this that could change. I think originally Akechi wanted to avenge what happened to him and his mother, make sure that the man who wronged him would face justice. That’s what the Feathermen would do, right? They fight bad guys. Translating it from Feather Seeker, Akechi was angry, furious even and that rebellion woke hm up to Robin Hood, the embodiment of justice for him.

There’s plenty things that point to Robin Hood being first, his placement when Akechi awakens to Hereward on 2/2 being in the same spot as everyone else’s, the fact that for all of the other Thieves their third tier personas are different versions of their initials personas and that applies to Hereward/Robin Hood and that the trend of initial/second awakening personas is that the first is a fictional who was considered a criminal (Robin Hood) and the second is described in game as a ‘mythological trickster’ (Loki).

Here is where I want to get to the Okinawa jail and why I didn’t post this theory/metapost sooner.

I mentioned earlier that Osagiri could have been in some part Wakaba, Futaba’s mother, and when I initially wrote this I didn’t have all that much to go off of. There’s concept art in the original p5 artbook of Wakaba experimenting on someone. There’s no context given and it’s sort of the odd-one-out. Of course, human subjects would have been necessary to study the cognitive world but this research is so under wraps it seems it’s almost impossible to get. There’s no military connotations anywhere so why is it such a secret? Well, illegal human experimentation would certainly be a good reason to keep this away from the public. They must have figured out somehow that killing a shadow can cause a lot of damage, even death, to a person, we know that from the research notes, but Wakaba was a scientist, working in a lab, she must’ve done experiments that weren’t entirely legal.

Here I wasn’t sure because accusing Wakaba or anyone of illegal human experimentation was a pretty big reach but the Okinawa jail in Strikers shows us that illegal human experimentation is something that was used for cognitive research. I don’t think that Akechi was experimented on there or that was where Wakaba worked, there’s no indication of it but… Konoe and Owada seemed to build on the work that Shido and his scientists began. That being said, I think the Okinawa lab is a continuation of that human experimentation, with whatever lab Wakaba worked in being its predecessor before Shido probably shut it down to prevent it from ever being discovered. Which is also why he had Wakaba killed- the research was only meant for him and no one else.

Beyond what we see in Feather Seeker of Osagiri/sometimes Wakaba experimenting on Gray Pigeon/Akechi, we’re also told (albeit this is of course biased information), that he only targeted people he deemed deserved it but… Wakaba is the odd one out here for the most part. Okumura was hardly a good person and the principal decided covered for a sexual abuser, most of the others were survivors except for accidents which are mostly uncontrollable and unpredictable. Wakaba however, like Kobayakawa and Okumura, were targets that were supposed to die, Akechi intended to kill them. How then was Wakaba a bad person? Illegal human experimentation would explain that, especially if it was done on Akechi himself.

So then, Akechi was experimented on by Wakaba. I don’t think he was fully informed about what he was doing either. Gray Pigeon certainly wasn’t. Akechi was still trying to be a good person, using his power for his own vengeance yeah but I don’t think murdering random people was part of his initial plan at all. I think that Feather Seeker also emphasises just how little he knew about what his actions were doing. How would he know what his effects of shadows are on the real world? He could only know that from the scientists, from Shido. Of course he did find out, eventually, and that rage he must have felt about being used and lied to gave him the power to awaken to Loki, as Futaba puts it, the representation of his anger. It’s only then that he forms his plan, to get back at Shido for all of this, not just him abandoning him and his mother but for using him for his own means as well.

And we know how the rest of the story goes.

The overall story presented in Feather Seeker, as I see it, is this: Akechi awakens to Robin Hood, and realises that his anger is no longer a hopeless endeavour, he can use it, show that he’s useful and get acknowledged by his father. Shido sees this, sees that he can use this power and subjects him to experimentation, as someone who can actually survive the cognitive world and even have an impact on it. Wakaba sees what he can do, tests him but he’s never told what he’s done. He’s manipulated through praise and lack of information. One day he does find out, he realises this wasn’t getting him any closer to vengeance or getting acknowledged by Shido, he’s just another test subject being used by them. He’s angry, he awakens to Loki and now with the unique power of psychotic breakdowns, Shido recognises him and hires him as his assassin.

Granted this is all just my own theory, I think there is a lot pointing us to at least something similar but of course I also think this is wishful thinking as well. At this moment, my biggest wish is that Atlus makes a game that actually delves into what happened to Akechi. All the explicit information we have is given to us from biased sources, ie. Akechi himself, and it’s really the only question I have left for persona 5’s continuity.

[cycat4077]

Stuck-On Cheese

Summary: Sometimes “the best intentions are fraught with disappointment.” Set during summer 2016 (S17). Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: ANGST. Relationship troubles. Couple’s fight. Telling the squad. A cuss or two. Words: 1844  AO3: here

Part 9 of the Changes verse - but it can be read as a one-shot too.

A/N: I really, really like this one. I honestly felt that this plot was necessary to progress their relationship. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you like reading it too :)

Sonny’s gonna love this! There’s an extra little bounce in your step as the thought runs through your mind.

Entering the squad room again feels so nostalgic. It’s where you met Sonny, and for that, it will always hold a special place in your heart.

Carefully clutched in your arms is the purpose for your visit – a bag of Tupperware housing a steaming slice of Mama Carisi's lasagna. What's special about this particular batch however, is that you made it.

After Sonny phoned you earlier in the day saying he wouldn't make it home for dinner, you called up Mrs. Carisi and she gladly dictated her infamous lasagna recipe to you. You thought making one of his favorites, complete with delivery, would be the perfect surprise!

Marching towards Sonny’s desk, you greet all the familiar faces. Despite not having seen them in a year, Sonny’s incessant stories made you feel as though you had been around every day since you left.

“Hi, Fin! Hey, Amanda! How’s Jesse?” you rhyme, cheerfully. But instead of having your friendly addresses returned, you’re met with puzzled looks on confused faces.

Then you see Olivia. She emerges from her office to lean against the doorframe, surveying the bullpen and your arrival.

“Uhh…nice to see you…?” stammers Rollins from where she sits at her desk. But you can tell from her inflection that she doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Your voice grows meek. “Is Sonny here? I…brought him supper.” You turn to glance at each and every face that surrounds you, yet all turn up with blank stares.

The world starts to spin. Your throat tightens. Your stomach churns. You feel the thud of your pulse hammering in your ears.

Does no one know? Did he not tell them that we’re together? It’ll be a year in November!

Rollins’ voice slices through the silence. “We figured Carisi was dating someone but we just didn’t know who. It makes sense that it’s you though since you seemed to hit it off pretty well.”

You can barely make out Fin's retort through the ringing in your ears, but the words I told you so and, pay up, Amanda come across loud and clear.

Your body draws itself close in attempts to make yourself small. You wish you were anywhere but here. This revelation feels like a huge slap – except your face doesn’t sting, your heart does.

Why wouldn’t he tell them? You question yourself. Why? Why? Why?!

Lieutenant Benson repeats her words, dragging you back to reality. “He's in an interview right now,” she gestures to the two-way mirror behind her, “but I can get him for you if you’d like.”

Your brow furrows. The Lieutenant’s voice is laced with…with…pity! While you whole-heartedly respect her, you hate being pitied.

“No…No,” you say firmly. Everything is a daze. Anger bubbles up inside you.

You toss the lasagna on Sonny’s desk a little too forcefully, mumbling out a good to see everyone again, before turning on your heels to leave.

It’s surprising that you’re able to make it to the subway since your vision is blurred by tears. You try your hardest not to let them fall, dabbing the corner of your eye with your pinky to soak them up. It feels as though you are on autopilot, somehow getting off at the right stop and making your way back home – well, Sonny’s apartment, you suppose.

You enter, lock the door and fly past the kitchen. The supper dishes sit abandoned in the sink, cheese hardening on the casserole. But none of this even crosses your mind as you head straight for your bed.

The tears now flow freely, doubt preying on your mind like a raven plucking at roadkill.

All this time and not even one mention of me?  Sonny had been so excited to introduce me to his family…All the ‘I love yous’. Is it because he’s afraid of moving too fast?

Time slips away while you drown in your thoughts and so, when Sonny’s keys jingle in the door, it causes you to startle. That sound once filled you with excitement and would lead you to greet him with a giant hug and sloppy kiss. Tonight though, you have no will to move. Your body feels heavy, yet hollow and you shrink under the covers, pulling your knees to your chest.

You hear a clunking noise belonging to Sonny setting down his things and locking away his gun. Your heart rate picks up. You wish he would just leave you alone, but of course you know that won’t happen.

Your intuition is confirmed by the shuffle of feet crossing the apartment, drawing near to the bedroom door. The nob twists and the door creaks open. Refusing to look, you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the inevitable.

"Doll?" the familiar voice says. A few seconds pass before you feel the foot of the bed dip. Sonny softly speaks your name.

This time you cautiously look over. Your eyes are puffy and your face is tear streaked. You shift in place, sitting up ever so slightly to face him.

Sonny's features are wrought with distress. He hates seeing you like this. "Don't cry, please," he begs.

But instead, you snap. "Don't cry?! Why? Is it normal for someone's boyfriend to keep their relationship a secret for almost a year?" Sonny opens his mouth to speak but you talk over him, emotion pouring out. "You spend most of your life with these people; people who are so important to you, yet don't even think to mention the person you 'love'." Immediately you know that the air quotes are a low blow. Sonny winces. "What, keep me a secret in case things don't work out? Or…or maybe you just enjoy living a double life!"

"No!" Sonny protests, his voice tainted with frustration. "That's not it at all!"

"Then what is it, Sonny?!" Your anger is at full peak. "I told you about my insecurities. I told you that I've been led on before and just how much it hurt me. If what we are is just some trial period, I need to know. I...I can't waste time loving someone if they don't love me back. I just can't. Not again." Defeated, you let the tears flow, unable to control them.

"Doll," he urges. "I love you. I truly ‘n honestly do. More than anythin’ in this world! I meant everythin’ I said to you before. You're the one person who I can be myself around ‘n who loves me for everythin’ I am. You're the most important person in my life ‘n it's for that very reason why I haven't told people at work about you!" Your face crinkles in confusion. "We see some pretty fucked up cases." His language shocks you. “Yates, for example. Psychopath. We're their enemies, ‘n because they're so…so...so fucked up in the head," he raises his voice, "they'll stop at nothin’ sometimes. Hell, even Lieu got kidnapped ‘n tortured a few years ago! One little vulnerability,” Sonny snaps his fingers, “’n they've got their in. A way to manipulate ‘n get revenge. And I can't have you be my collateral." Desperation rinses away the anger in his voice as he sits there on the edge of the bed before you.

You stare in shock as he exposes his greatest vulnerability. His blue eyes are pleading, needing you to understand. "If there's no trace of you at work, then no one can ever harm you. No one can ever take you away from me. Please understand that."

This is all so sudden and confusing and, despite his rationalizing, it irritates you. “I don't want to be protected from you, Sonny!” you argue. “I know your job has risks. You've accepted them and by being with you, so have I. Liv and Amanda and Fin are all so important to you, so why keep me from them? I can't live like that. What if, God forbid, something did happen to you?” your voice strains. “How would I know? Second- or third-hand news from one of the other Carisis? How do you think that makes me feel? Maybe I am insecure about whether or not I deserve love, but I've gone all-in when it comes to loving you. I need to know you've done the same."

Sonny groans in frustration. "I have! A long time ago ‘n I've neva looked back. I wanna share all the good things with the squad ‘n tell them how in love I am. I wanna tell ‘em everythin’ about you. I want your picture on my desk, on my phone, in my wallet. But I'm scared. Hidin’ you has been the only way I can make sure I don't lose you. But...but if you want...if you're okay with the risk...Okay.” Sonny exhales. “I don't wanna push you away. I need you more than you could ever know.”

His words go straight to your heart. “I don't want to fight, Sonny,” you concede. “I just felt so...humiliated when I walked in there today and no one knew why. Like I was some cheap, secret fling."

Sonny hangs his head, voice growing soft. “I'm sorry. I shoulda told you about them not knowing. I shoulda told you why. I just didn't think. Please,” he looks at you with those big blue eyes, “I don't wanna fight either. Will you be able to forgive me? Is this somethin’ we can overcome?” You can see how scared he is. His jaw flexes and he swallows nervously. Sonny truly is worried that he’s created a rift between you that's too great to mend.

But you nod out a ‘yes’ because you love him and he loves you. His intentions were in the right place even if he didn't think about how it could affect you. The blame however, is neither all his to own. You instantly jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst. It’s a trait you've always hated yourself for, having gotten the best of you too many times in the past.

“I’m sorry too,” you admit, trying to convey your sincerity.

Offering you a gentle smile, Sonny inches closer on the bed, opening his arms. You shift forward and he wraps you in a warm embrace. This is where you belong.

Fresh tears escape your eyes and dampen Sonny's shirt. He tilts back to look at you, blue eyes soft and loving. You reach up, caressing the side of his face and he leans into your touch. Slowly Sonny bends his head and kisses you, lips offering silent apologies. And in your kiss is forgiveness.

When you part, a sniffle escapes you. "I've gotta go and wash those dishes, otherwise the cheese will never come off."

Sonny lets out a lighthearted laugh. "C'mon, doll. I'll help you." He then stands, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

The evening passes with the sound of clinking dishes and sloshing water filling the tiny kitchen as the two of you work in tandem to wash away what remains of the stuck-on cheese.

---

Feedback is loved! And let me know if you wanna be tagged :-)

Part 10 here

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space orcs, “Revelation.”

Hey guys, I had a bunch of trouble writing last night for some reason, but I managed to get something out, so I hope you like it :) 

“So what do you think, am I more of a Han Solo type or a Captain Kirk type because you know if I am being honest it really depends. I think I would like to think of myself as a Han Solo type, you know dashing and sarcastic, the hero you want to have come in to save the day, but Captain Kirk I can also see. You see I make dumb decisions sometimes and get everyone into trouble. Oh oh oh!! wait ! How about Captain Malcom Renylds. I feel like he is just enough of an idiot and just enough of a badass to work, what do you think detective?”

The Detective groaned loudly and took a long slow breath, “Admiral, listen to m-”

“You know I was also thinking about other parallels. You know how about that old animated movie Titan EA. I think I kind of look like Cale, and Sunny acts just a bit like Stith, you know, the angry chick with big legs. I liked captain Korso of course, just for simple aesthetic reasons, than he had to go and be a bad guy, but damn that redemption arc was surprising and well timed, at least I think, others may disagree.”

“ADMIRAL VIR I-”

“You know I have seen every space related science fiction movie and TV show that ever existed, and I am totally cool to keep talking. I mean I have to pass the time somehow until my lawyer gets here. You see my mother always said I liked to talk. I talked early, in fact, my brothers don’t like the fact that I talk so much, they say I talk TOO much, can you believe that.”

With an angry yawl like a Cat who just got their tail stepped on, the detective rose to his feet, hands to his head, “That is IT, that is IT. We will continue this interrogation LATER.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the room muttering to himself the entire way, “I need a break.”

Adam Vir watched him go with an expression of pure innocence on his face as the door closed, only to morph into an expression of devilish amusement not dissimilar to that of the grinch in his original animated form. He leaned back in his chair resting his hands behind his head. The Detective had seen fit to undue his cuffs as it might make him more cooperative. The irony being that he would totally love to cooperate if someone was willing to cooperate with him, and actually believe his story.

He cleared his throat wishing he had accepted the drink of water offered to him earlier. He had been talking for about five hours now, straight. Apparently a filibuster isn’t just something you can use in politics. It is apparently a very effective way of driving young and inexperienced detectives insane.

He smugly leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Interrogation techniques were designed to work on the guilty, or, if done wrong, on the slow, but he was neither of those things. Granted he was kind of an idiot, but he was more of an idiot in the way of his idols like captain Kirk and Malclom reynolds and less of an idiot like every disney villain’s cronies. He was smart just…. Selectively.

He cracked an eye as the door opened opposite.

At first he expected to see the detective ready to go another round already, but instead a group of Drev guards walked in. He smiled his best winning smile at them and rose from his seat, “Back to the cells boys.”

The Drev didn’t say anything.

He tried a different tactic, “Zhad chal dana tsa najastich.” May the sun watch over you: A traditional, and respectful, Drev greeting 

The two creatures pulled up in their tracks.

“Tsa Dzhal cheeych” You speak Drev

“Yid.” Yes 

His little greeting had the desired effect, and soon he had the two Drev warriors conversing like two Rundi at a political debate. They laughed together as they walked down the halls of the precinct.

Still in Drev, the three of them continued to converse, Adam talking animatedly, “So then I told him that I can’t hit kids right,  and he was all like. Then you can fight me.”

“What happened.”

“Got my ass beat. You don’t just challenge a sentinel to open combat as a rookie, and you know, at only six feet tall.”

The Drev chirped with laughter, coming around the corner to nearly run face first into the Detective who was open mouthed and staring, holding a fresh mug of coffee before him. The Drev’s laughter died down seconds to late, and the man narrowed his eyes, glowering at them.

“What are you doing?”

Adam turned to look at the other drev, “Tin Najastich.” watch this.

HE turned to look back at the Detective, “Ne’e j’ya eeneenat nehtehich.” He can’t understand us.  He didn’t do much, but he could tell by the face the detective made, he had done it right. 

It was a little trick he had learned from Sunny, a Drev dialect that tended to cause breaks in the middle of words as if adding a apostrophe, while simultaneously pronouncing all the ts and ks as clicks, the ts as a forward mouth clicks and the ks glottal clicks at the back of the throat. Either way, it was like putting on a thick southern accent to confuse an alien translator, and it seemed, it simultaneously worked for Drev.

The Drev began to laugh and babble at each other in the dialect as the detective sat there in frustrated anger, “What are they saying!” He demanded.

Adam frowned allowing his face to go straight as he deadpanned, “I wouldn’t know. I am xenopobic and would never dane to learn an alien language, you know, like Drev, or Vrul, or.” he leaned towards the Dredv, “I am currently working on learning tesraki.”

The Drev continued to laugh as they pulled him back towards his cell.:

Adam grinned and waved at the Tesraki guard as he walked past, “You know I have it on good authority that stock prices are about to go way up for holywood inc. They are working on becoming intergalactic. I would suggest getting on that bandwagon”

The Tesraki looked surprised, but grinned and waved at him as he was moved into the other room.

Behind him, the Detective was practically blowing steam out of his ears as the door slammed shut.

***

The human glanced over at Krill for the fifteenth time eyes wide in an expression of barely concealed terror.

Krill would have rolled his eyes if his eyes could roll.

Catching the look, Sunny frowned and leaned in, “You did threaten to eat him.”

Krill scoffed, “I don’t even have TEETH sunny, how was I supposed to eat him!” He turned to glance over at the man who was still giving him a bit of a side eye. He frowned, “Well, I suppose blending him up and turning him into a meat smoothie could work.”

It became pretty evident in the next few seconds that they hadn’t been speaking quietly enough, at least when it came to the comment about a meat smoothie.

Krill waved him off with a hand, “Oh just ignore us, now when is this meeting supposed to take place.”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Sunny tilted her head back, looking overhead at the darkened sky and approaching rain. 

It was just beginning to drizzle when the man nodded and pointed forward into the darkness, “There.”

Sunny squinted hard, just barely able to make out a shadowy shape slipping through the darkness.

Sunny nudged him forward, “Well, go on. If you do this for us, I won’t let captain cannibal hurt you.”

WIth that urging, it didn’t take long for the man to vanish off into the dark, boots slapping on the wet concrete.

Krill turned to look at her in annoyance, “Its only considered cannibalism if you eat your own species.”

“Whatever,” She muttered, moving into a low crouch and slipping into the shadows off to the side. She managed to parallel the movement of their man for a few streets by ducking behind dumpsters and concealing herself within dark alcoves. At one time in her life she might have considered such actions to be heretical against her beliefs, but her opinions on such things had changed as of recently, and she continued to inch forward through the darkness.

Besides, this was about saving Adam.

Didn’t matter what she had to do, she was going to do it.

The human was close now stopping a few feet away from the shadow. The way the rain fell, it almost concealed the two figures as they spoke. Any bystander just passing by might not have noticed them, but Sunny was not just any bystander.

As the two figures disengaged, she had eyes only for one.

The human, likely scared out of his skin went sprinting off into the darkness likely thinking about krill and his meat blender, but his escape didn’t matter to Sunny. She could find him later if she had to, they had his name after all. What they didn’t have was knowledge about this strange hooded figure in black. The one who had paid the humans to incriminate adam, and themselves by proxy. 

Sunny didn’t know much about stealth as a general rule, but She, still, somehow managed to make it up the street without being seen, tailing the small dark figure. That was her first clue, whoever it was was either a very short human, or not human at all. Now that didn’t really narrow things down as there were several species who could fit into that category, burg iotins even some rundi, or a finnari to name a few. Not that she would ever assume a finnari of doing something like this.

She watched as the figure slipping into one of the large buildings, door shutting quietly behind it. She might have worried about losing the tail if she hadn’t already considered that, and lowjacked the package.

She crouched in the darkness her hands resting on the ground before her, eyes narrowed,

A soft rustling behind her, and she turned nearly jumping out of her skin as a figure scuttled from the darkness, its movements disjointed and aggressive.

“SHHH!” Krill hissed

She snorted fuming, “What the fuck, krill you scared the shit out of me.”

“What, why.”

“Oh I dont know, maybe it has been your recent pension for violence, or the fact that you keep talking about eating people, or your uncanny ability to sneak up behind me.”

“You know, I find all of this to be very insulting. You can stab people in the face, and adam can threaten to punch people in the trachea, but the moment I do something that is even slightly off color, it bothers everyone, and then people get all uppity.”

Sunny sighed, pulling her hood up over her head to block out the deluge, “Generally Adam and I don’t threaten to eat people, Krill. That is the difference.”

“Well no one ever told me there were rules.” He said, gripping onto sunny’s cloak as they inched forward into the darkness, following the signal towards the dark building. They didn’t take the same entrance as the cloaked figure, instead going for a more discreet entrance, finding themselves in a maintenance tunnel lined with pipes and power boxes.

The only illumination they got was afforded to them by the glowing dimness of red lights above and the occasional emergency strip. Somewhere, a distant roar alerted them to the presence of some sort of generator. 

They moved up the hall in near silence as the rumbling continued, and Sunny was forced to stop a few times, listening to the distant echoes of footsteps up the hallway though none of them ever came close enough to cause a real problem.

KRill followed at her back.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the maintenance corridors, following a set of slim metal steps upward and into a nice, tiled hallway. The make was very modern for Tesraki, emulating human style which was rather popular in the galaxy these days, and signified wealth despite the fact that humans were hardly the wealthiest of species.

Fake plants, or maybe real ones --sunny didn’t know-- lined the hallways as little fountains of water trickled through artificial streams on the floor.

The aesthetic was rather pleasing, giving an almost outdoor field inside a city that hadn’t seen green in over a thousand years.

They were almost to the end of the hall when sunny went very still freezing in her tracks fast enough to cause krill to plow into her open back.

“What are you doing.” krill hissed glancing over her shoulder, pausing when a pointed finger motioned him to the target.

“No. That can’t be right.

“I am afraid it is.” ***

Adam woke that night not knowing why.

It was almost as if he had hard a strange noise somewhere in the darkness, but when he sat up, the only thing he could see was the glowing blue/purple wall of the containment field.

He tried rolling over and going back to sleep, but something just felt wrong.

Eventually he forced himself to sit up and look around. In the galaxy, human intuition was nothing more than mere myth, but, despite what others said, he believed in it, and wasn’t about to ignore it’s prodding as it moved him up towards the edge of the containment field to peer into the darkness.

His eyes were almost immediately drawn to one of the other cells -- the one where his attackers had been staying--. Squinting past the glowing surface and into the darkness, he thought he could sense movement.

It was at that moment, that the containment field went down, and he was left blinking into the darkness backing away into his little field of light. When nothing happened, he inched forward and out into the darkness.

Had the containment field malfunctioned?

He took another step into the darkness before turning on the infrared on his mechanical eye and flipping up his eyepatch.

He immediately froze in palace gasping in shock.

“NO!”

[shrimpemotions]

Happy wedding day! I couldn’t resist writing something incredibly sappy for the new husbands.

i am loved, i am loved (1.6k words)

----------

As Dancing Queen blares from Charlie's speakers, Dean fights his way through the crowd of somehow-still-partying-at-two-AM dancers, beelining for the freakishly tall man heads above the gyrating hordes. Really, he lost focus for just a second to get some water, and he turned to find his husband had been whisked away from his side to dance again. And by his own brother, which is just the worst kind of betrayal. When he gets to them, Sam and Cas are more flailing limbs and wild laughter than any real moves (a far cry from their earlier dancing, which looked downright choreographed. Dean's convinced they went behind his back and hired someone, no matter what Sam says). Everyone around them is giving them a wide berth, which is probably the safest move, but Dean is on a mission, even if his frustration is already melting away. Heart full to bursting, he drapes himself over Cas's back and kisses his cheek.

"Hey there, sunshine. Havin' fun?'' he asks. Cas tilts his head to meet his gaze, and his already-stunning smile grows wider.

(continued under the cut)

"Hello Dean," he says warmly, and fuck, if that doesn't send Dean soaring, head right up in the clouds with no clear path down. "Are you here to dance with us?"

Dean shakes his head.

"Think I want you all to myself," he whispers in Cas's ear, delighting in the way Cas's eyes darken. It's a Herculean feat to tear his gaze away when Sam clears his throat.

"Hey, Sammy! I'm stealin' Cas," he says, and Sam pulls a spectacular bitchface.

"Y'know, he's my brother now, I think I have a right to dance with him."

"And he's my husband, so I win," Dean retorts, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

Sam sticks up his middle finger, even as his expression softens. Dean just laughs, stumbling off the dance floor with his arm around Cas. The overwhelming joy of the day has rushed to his head, which is pleasantly floaty and right on the edge of dizzy (being drunk on love, he thinks somewhat giddily, is much better than being drunk on alcohol). His throat hurts from singing, his eyes sting from crying, and his feet ache from dancing, but he doesn't think he's ever felt so happy in his entire life. He can't stop looking at Cas, at his husband, drinking in his shining eyes and wide smile. This is how Cas should look every day: blissfully happy, with all of the weight lifted from his shoulders. Dean's going to do everything he can to keep that look on Cas's face for the rest of their lives.

As the song changes to something slow and crooning, Cas releases a drawn-out yawn. Dean can't help his fond grin, and he kisses Cas's temple.

"Bedtime for handsome husbands," he says playfully (and definitely not selfishly. This has nothing to do with how badly he wants his husband's full, undivided attention). But Cas pouts, twisting in Dean's arms so that they're face to face. He stumbles a bit, nearly falls, but Dean catches him. He always will.

"One more dance," Cas says, eyes going wide, and. Well. Dean has always been weak for those eyes.

"One more dance," he agrees, gathering Cas up in his arms. 

Cas beams, somehow brighter than before, as he presses their foreheads together and winds his arms around Dean's waist. He whispers warm endearments and quiet praise inches from Dean's lips, sharing both breath and love. It's all sappy as fuck, and the Dean of before (before Cas, before this whole family they've built from the ground up) would have scoffed at it all and tried to distance himself before someone saw them. The Dean of today savors it, basks in it, and presses himself even closer. They've earned a lifetime of chick flick moments, spectators be damned (and after their vows, there's really no more soul left to bare to these people anyway).

Eventually, the song draws to a close, and another takes its place. Regretfully, Dean pulls away from the embrace, already missing it. But Cas is yawning again, and it's beyond late. They share a glance, and Cas nods: time to leave.

As they stumble out of the room, smiling and swaying into each other, Dean is entirely too wrapped up in his husband to notice much else. He misses Crowley climbing up on a table, microphone in hand, while Ash chases after him; Jo and Charlie laughing together in a corner, sketching something ominous-looking on the floor; Benny and Meg causing some sort of loud chaos by the bar; Claire and Jack teaching Emma TikTok dances at the edge of the dance floor. He will hear all these stories later, with incredible exaggeration and embellishment. For now, all he cares about is Cas.

The walk back to their room should be short, but they keep stopping, every few steps. First, it's Cas kissing Dean's cheek, a short peck that shouldn't steal Dean's breath the way it does. And Dean can't let that go unanswered, so he kisses Cas's nose in a near-taunt. Cas retaliates by pressing a line of kisses to Dean's jawline, and then Dean can't take it anymore. He pulls Cas close and kisses him soundly, with all the love that's been building and building in him since he first caught sight of Cas at their ceremony, haloed by sunlight and shining with joy. Sure, they've kissed countless times today, but it will never be enough for all the love he holds, overflowing and pouring into every action he takes. The dam he'd built to protect that love so long ago has been cracking since he first met Cas, and now not a trace of it remains. He's free. 

When they separate, the raw emotion on Cas's face is enough to take Dean's breath away. 

"I love you," Cas says, and Dean closes his eyes, takes a steadying breath. It still seizes him sometimes, the memory of that beautiful face, damp with tears, disappearing into a black nothingness. Fear wraps its cold fist around his heart, the vise worse than any attack Billie sent his way, and he grips Cas tighter, anchoring himself. Cas is still here, and nothing is going to take this away from them. They're allowed to be happy. This is real.

"I love you too," Dean whispers, and Cas's answering smile is enough to quiet any remaining fears. Their fingers entwine, and they walk on together. 

But when Dean reaches out to open their door, Cas places a gentle hand on his wrist.

"Wait," he says, head tilting. 

"Hmm?" Dean starts to ask, but then he's being swept up in a pair of strong, warm arms. He shouts (he does not shriek) and grabs onto Cas's neck. Holy shit he's still strong. "What the fuck?"

Cas's eyes glitter with amusement, and a small smirk is tugging at his lips.

"Is it not traditional to carry your spouse across the threshold?" 

Dean snorts and buries his face in Cas's neck to hide his blush.

"You callin' me your wife?" he grumbles into Cas's skin, reveling in the shivers he receives in response.

"If you truly wish to be limited by heteronormative gender roles, I will put you down. Otherwise, I am carrying my husband, who I love with all that I am, across our threshold." There's an audible smirk in Cas's voice, which is hot as hell. And, fuck, Dean's been hearing it all night, but being Cas's husband will never get old. What on earth can he say to that?

"Okay," he manages to croak out.

"Well then," Cas says, shouldering open the door, "welcome home, husband." 

Dean almost opens his mouth to protest that this hotel room isn't exactly home, but then he catches sight of Cas's smile, and that train of thought halts in its tracks. Cas is here. Right now, it is home. 

Cas, of course, is still Cas, so he takes advantage of Dean's distraction to dump him on the bed. And Dean is still Dean, so he pulls Cas down after him, both of them twisted up and laughing freely. 

"We should really sleep," Dean says halfheartedly, suppressing a yawn. His hands are still tangled in Cas's jacket.

"Mmm," and Cas kisses the corner of his mouth. When he draws back, he has one eyebrow raised, and he looks so serious it nearly sends Dean into a fit of laughter. "To be continued?"

"Tomorrow," Dean promises, because they have nothing but time, and he seals the deal with a kiss.

When they make it into the tiny bathroom, they squish in beside each other at the sink, and they giggle like giddy teenagers every time their elbows knock. They brush their teeth in near-unison, grinning every time their eyes meet in the mirror. Toothpaste drips from Dean's mouth, but he can't stop smiling, especially when Cas lifts his left hand and lets his ring catch the light. After a few seconds of breathless adoration (they're married, Cas is his husband, he married an actual angel) Dean imitates the motion. He places his hand over Cas's so their rings tap with a quiet clink. They share an awestruck look in the mirror, and Dean lets the peace of the moment wash over him. This is real, he reminds himself. We're real. And the warmth of it carries him all the way into their shared bed.

"Hey," he whispers, nose to nose with his husband, limbs tangling. 

"Hello," Cas whispers back, his amusement palpable even in the darkness. 

"We're married," Dean says wonderingly. 

"We're married," Cas echoes, voice heavy with emotion. He leans in, and kisses Dean in a way that can only be called reverent. His hands shake where they brush Dean's skin, and Dean catches them to still their quaking.

"We get to have this, Cas," he says softly, punctuating his statement with a kiss to Cas's knuckles. "For the rest of our lives."

"For far longer than that," Cas corrects. Dean breathes in, and pulls his husband close.

"Forever," he agrees, and lets himself succumb to sweet, dreamless sleep.

[the-blue-fairie]

An Extremely Personal Look at my Disconnect with Frozen 2

I’m trans and I’ve been closeted for so long that being in the closet has begun to feel like a futile routine, an inescapability born of my own weakness.

That’s... not how a post about a Disney film usually starts, is it?

But, like the title of my post says, this reflection is personal. I’m allowing myself to be vulnerable.

Because of my life experience, I’ve connected deeply with the character of Elsa over the years. I suppose that’s not a surprise. Elsa’s powers can serve as a broad metaphor for aspects of someone’s identity that others can stigmatize - whether that be read as gender, sexuality, anxiety, or depression. Part of the reason Elsa became so incredibly popular in the first film is because her struggle with her powers could reflect so many various people’s struggles with their own identities.

Frozen 2 actually leans into that broad metaphor of Elsa’s powers reflecting personal identity - a part of oneself that is unique but beautiful in its uniqueness. The lyrics of Show Yourself reinforce this, telling Elsa that “you are the one you’ve been waiting for all of your life.” So I should love Frozen 2. I want to love Frozen 2. There are things I absolutely do love about Frozen 2.

But I have a complicated disconnect with the way the film approaches the origin of Elsa’s powers.

 The film makes Elsa’s powers a gift from the spirits - and also suggests that they are a gift for Iduna because she saved Agnarr’s life. By introducing the idea that Elsa’s powers originate not because of anything to do with Elsa herself but because of an event that happened before Elsa was even born, the film kind of undermines the metaphor of Elsa’s powers reflecting a key aspect of her identity.

Identity doesn’t work like that. I’m not trans because of other people’s actions. My trans-ness is a part of me. It comes from me. It wasn’t decided that I was trans so that my mother could have a “reward” for her own righteousness. If some divinity did bestow my trans-ness upon me, I would be disturbed to find out if they didn't do it for my sake - if they did it because my mother did something and I was only an aspect of the equation insomuch as I related to her...

To me, that thought isn’t empowering. And it still wouldn’t be empowering even if my mother were as loving as Iduna - because it would tell me that I’m only a vessel...

There’s a difference between saying, “Elsa is a gift because Iduna’s good deed was rewarded with her,” and saying, “Elsa is a gift simply because she is who she is, Elsa is a gift by simply existing.” One is conditional and one is unconditional. One uses Elsa to prop up Iduna’s actions and the other loves Elsa for herself.

(Also, I’d argue that a better gift for Iduna’s goodness would be to let her see her family again. Why cut the Northuldra off from the world when the fault was solely Arendelle’s? I’ve seen some people speculate that Arendelle could have wiped the Northuldra out after Runeard’s death and the mist protects them, but what does that reading make us think of Agnarr if we assume he could be complicit in genocide? Why “protect” the Northuldra in a way that will negatively psychologically impact a generation of them? Why let them suffer? No, that rationale doesn’t make sense to me. The whole mist scenario smacks of the “both-sides-ism” of white writers - but that’s a discussion for another time, a discussion I’m not really qualified to comment on in depth. I need to return to Elsa.)  

The interesting thing is, after introducing the concept that the spirits gifted Elsa’s powers to celebrate Iduna’s nobility, the film doesn’t really bring up that angle again. Instead, it tries to frame “we made you a gift for someone else’s sake in a scenario where your individual identity is irrelevant because you did not even yet have a consciousness” and “you are a gift by being you” as being the same thing. But those two things are not the same.

Before F2, Elsa continually frames herself based on what she can do for the sake of others - even at the expense of herself. Clearly, with Frozen 2, the filmmakers wanted to have Elsa come into fuller self-acceptance and love herself for being herself - but that isn’t quite what they wrote. By making Elsa a reward for her mother and defining her powers based only on how Elsa relates to her, the film itself frames Elsa based on what she can be for the sake of others - while disregarding Elsa’s own selfhood and identity. Elsa’s self-identity is so immaterial to the decision to give her powers that it happens before she is even born.

I know the film may not have intended this, but it ends up validating Elsa’s negative thought processes in the act of nominally ‘refuting’ them. All because of those few lines trying to explain why Elsa has powers.

Show Yourself tries to fix this by basically brushing aside the “you were a gift from the spirits for Iduna’s actions” revelation and focusing on Iduna and Elsa’s familial connection and love. This is why Show Yourself is so much more amazing than the earlier revelation and an admittedly breathtaking scene. The focus becomes “you are the one you’ve been waiting for all of your life” - you are a gift to the world simply by being you - and that is so much better than the earlier revelation, but the damage of the earlier revelation has already been done.

Now, the film has two slightly different interpretations of the word “gift” that it tries to use interchangeably - in spite of the fact those two interpretations subtly contradict. The film never comes back to the “gift for Iduna’s good deed” element. It doesn’t establish that what happens in Ahtohallan is an expansion of that or an emendation to that. It doesn’t address the dubious implications of it. It just brushes it aside, never to explore it again.

Indeed, as I’ve said in other posts, if you take out those few lines from earlier, you lose the internal narrative contradiction and the film actually becomes stronger.

So why are they there at all?

I think they’re there because they give a seemingly simple, external explanation for why Elsa has powers. Show Yourself is more focused on what being at peace with yourself means to Elsa emotionally (that’s why it’s better, in my opinion), but the “the spirits gave her powers because of her mother” lines are there because the writers felt they needed to give a direct explanation of Elsa’s magic.

Here’s a hot take, though: Elsa’s powers work better without an explanation. The fact she was just “born with them” in the first film was part of what led to her broad appeal. It allowed countless people to latch onto her because - people who society deems “other?” We’re just people. We’re ordinary. We’re human. We just are. The first film understood this - and for all of Elsa’s magical abilities, she was allowed to just be. And the lack of any lore surrounding Elsa’s powers meant that scores of different people could identify with Elsa. Her powers were vague enough that they could stand in for any unique aspect of an individual’s identity. The point wasn’t where they came from; the point was what they meant.

But after the first film came out, I kept seeing the refrain: “Why do they never explain Elsa’s powers? That’s a plot hole.” it isn’t a plot hole. It isn’t a plot hole any more than not explaining how the Wicked Queen in Snow White got a magic mirror is a plot hole. Something being unexplained isn’t a plot hole. That’s not what “plot hole” means. But I can understand why the writers, after hearing things like that for years, felt like they had to address that explanation.

And in doing so, they tried admirably to connect that plot point to an internal journey for Elsa - and created some absolutely beautiful elements within the film - like Show Yourself. Although, in this post, I’m documenting flaws I see in Frozen 2 and my own disconnect with it, I want to stress that I respect the artists and creatives who brought the film into being and I value their work.

In the process of their efforts, however, they inadvertently opened up internal contradictions within their own narrative; opened up unfortunate implications when it came to their commentary on colonization; and opened up unfortunate implications when it came to their discussions of individuality and identity.

As I have said, there is much I admire about Frozen 2. And I know that my words here come from a very personal place. If Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2 works for you, you’re valid. This isn’t a takedown of Frozen 2. None of my more critical posts about Frozen 2 are. I don’t want to take anything away from you. You’re valid.

It’s just that my perspective is valid too. I know, there are scores of critiques of Frozen 2 and some of them are absolutely terrible or just plain racist, but I hope that as you read this, you’ll understand that my perspective comes from the heart and that I’ve done my best to support it with examples from the text of the film. I hope that you’ll read this. I’m writing it to be heard - because I feel like my perspective gets drowned out a lot, regardless of the posts I make. Flashier positive posts draw one part of the fandom’s attention and flashier and more toxic negative posts draw another part’s attention.

I’m just trying to express my thoughts in a cohesive way, trying to be heard and trying not to feel guilty. (Because I do feel guilty writing posts like these. I get scared that people resent them or that I’m spoiling other people’s fun - even though more toxic people make much more incoherent arguments and they don’t feel guilt, while I try to support all my claims.) I feel like I’m relentlessly apologetic to others, always begging, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, always... feeling guilty for even having a perspective like this. As though I feel there’s something wrong with me for simply having a perspective. As though I’m scared it somehow invalidates all the good things I’ve said about the film elsewhere or will make people hate me.

(Not to connect everything back to my being closeted, but I feel like that entrenches a guilt in me that manifests even as I talk about innocuous things like fandom opinions). 

But I just... want to speak. I hope that’s not bad, is it? And I hope this post finds a receptive audience. I know it’s personal. I know it’s heavily informed by my own personal experience and perspective, but I hope it’s nuanced. And I hope people will read it and, even if they approach the film differently than me, understand. 

Thank you.