#ITS LOVES ILLUSIONS I RECALL!! I REALLY DON'T KNOW LOVE AT ALL!!

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top 1 craziest thing i've ever seen in my life

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The rock stars that were the base for SMTIV's moral representatives

Queen and Sex Pistols contrasting each other like LAW and CHAOS? It's more likely than you think.

Disclaimer: This is a post made for highlighting similarities behind the musicians and their music contributions to the SMTIV alignments they're inserted into; in other words, there's not an intent to necessarily argument that the characters were planned to reference them to the same extent explored here.

Brian May

Brian May (born 1947) is an English musician with a highly educated and overachiever background encouraged by his parents. He's most known as the lead guitarist and backing vocalist of Queen, which he co-founded with singer Freddie Mercury and drummer Roger Taylor. His guitar work and songwriting contributions helped Queen become one of the most successful acts in music history.

He's still active as of 2025 at the age of 77.

Politically, Brian May would reiterate that he always believed in compassion towards people and grew to loathe corruption, inequality and discrimination.

“I don’t like all this separatist stuff and you know this sort of illusion that we can all stand on our own, to me the future lies in co-operation." Blabbermouth

Brian May had a sheltered childhood where he wasn't really a kid that would argue with his parents. He recalls the love of affectionate (albeit overprotective) parents that would later become a hurdle in his music career: “Dad was mortified when I chose the band over finishing my PhD. He thought I was throwing away my education. [...] When Queen was taking off, we didn’t speak for nearly two years."

The rift had a devastating effect on his mother’s health as she desperately tried to make the peace. “It drove her to a nervous breakdown. I inherited my dad’s stubbornness and she couldn’t get either of us to budge. I still regret that I wasn’t more conciliatory, but Dad and I were just too much alike.”

May only found out later there was an underlying reason for his father’s initial dislike of his lifestyle. “Dad confided in me that when he came out of the RAF, he’d like to have taken off and joined a band. But he had me on the way and needed job security. I realised then that he’d found it hard to accept my choice because it was a dream he’d been forced to reject.”

After his father's death, his mother would confess that they had a difficult relationship. "But as a kid I had no idea, it just felt like a secure and loving home. She felt she’d just submerged herself in Dad, as wives did in those days."

Queen

Founded in 1970, Queen released their self-titled debut album in 1973. Despite not being an immediate success, they quickly gained popularity in Britain with their second album Queen II in 1974.

Both were concept albums set in a medieval fairy-realm that "follows a royal line's magical battle against forces of darkness".

Notice the obvious similarity to Kaneko's depiction of a seraph. In SMTIV, Seraph is an end-game boss in both Neutral and Chaos routes that prevents Flynn from further entry into Purgatorium, a maze divided into "Crowns".

Here's a song from Queen II.

A word in your ear From father to son Hear the word that I say I fought with you Fought on your side Long before you were born Joyful the sound The word goes around From father to son To son And the voice is so clear Time after time it keeps calling you Calling you on Don't destroy what you see Your country to be Just keep building on the ground That's been won Kings will be crowned And the word goes around From father to son To son Won't you hear us sing Our family song? Oh, yeah Now we hand it on But I've heard it all before Take this letter that I give you Take it, sonny, hold it high You won't understand a word that's in it But you'll write it all again before you die

Initially characterised for its combination of acoustic/electric guitar extremes and fantasy-inspired multi-part song epics, the band later became known for their anthemic songs which are a staple of sports arenas and stadiums the world over, with several songs being written with audience participation in mind, such as We Will Rock You" and "We Are the Champions.

Additionally, the main reason behind the name 'Queen' was clever marketing on Freddie Mercury’s part. The crest mirrors the multifaceted meaning of the band’s name as it resembles the Royal coat of arms of the United Kingdom.

Freddie studied fashion and graphic design so he thought ahead on the visual potential:

"I thought up the name Queen early on. [...] It was a very regal name and it sounded splendid. It’s strong, very universal, and immediate. [...] It lent itself to a lot of things, like the theatre, and it was grand. It was very pompous [...] I was certainly aware of the gay connotations, but that was just one facet of it." Freddie Mercury: A Life, In His Own Words

According to the same source, Freddie was also in good terms with Prince Andrew during their career and had "a lot of respect for royalty", declaring himself a patriot.

Brian May seems to share a similar mentality since he performed a guitar solo of the British national anthem God Save the Queen from the roof of Buckingham Palace as part of the Golden Jubilee of Elizabeth II celebrations in 2002 and accepted knighthood from King Charles in 2023.

By the way...

Here's the impact of Brian May in 1970s shoujo manga.

Left: マーシイは物理が苦手 Right: 恋のクッキング・タイム Some discuss that his figure also potentially influenced works like Rose of Versailles.

Sid Vicious

Simon John Ritchie (1957–1979), better known by his stage name Sid Vicious, was an English musician most famous as the second bassist for the punk rock band Sex Pistols. Ritchie grew up in a poor household with an absent father that provided no financial help so his mother resorted to selling drugs. His troubled family situation reached a point of being kicked out of home at 16 and getting accustomed early to drug addiction that came from his own mother.

In 1973, he befriended fellow classmate John Lydon "Johnny Rotten", who nicknamed Ritchie "Sid Vicious" after Ritchie was bitten by Lydon's hamster that was named after ex-Pink Floyd member Syd Barrett. Ritchie reacted by saying: "Sid is really vicious!". Lydon found hilarious that his friend could be harmed by his pet that he would describe as “the softest, furriest, weediest thing on earth”.

In 1975, John Lydon formed the Sex Pistols with Steve Jones, Paul Cook and Glen Matlock. Jah Wobble (a teen friend of Lydon and Sid) recalls these early years where the suggestible Sid would frequent pubs to watch the Sex Pistols as a dedicated fan and become shaped with the rebellious and drug-addicted behavior of the regulars.

In February 1977, Sid stepped into the role he felt he was born to play, replacing Glen Matlock as the Sex Pistols bassist.

The Sex Pistols

"The Sex Pistols' music was not formally groundbreaking, yet their simple meat-and-potatoes rock was filled with a power and aggression that was all but unknown in the mid-'70s, and the ferocious, sneering vocals of Johnny Rotten (as well as his pointed, accusatory lyrics) upended all expectations of how a rock frontman should look or sound. Even as the media treated them as pariahs, the potency of their music and their image spoke to an audience waiting for something different than the prog and soft rock sounds that ruled the charts in the 1970s, sparking a revolution that is still playing itself out." Mark Deming

The band gained widespread attention from British press after swearing live on-air during a December 1976 television interview. Their May 1977 single God Save the Queen, which described the monarchy as a "fascist regime", was released to coincide with national celebrations for the Queen's Silver Jubilee. The song was promptly banned from being played by the BBC and by nearly every independent radio station in Britain, making it the most censored record in British history:

God save the Queen Her fascist regime It made you a moron A potential H-bomb God save the queen She ain't no human being There is no future In England's dreaming Don't be told what you want to want to And don't be told what you want to need There's no future, no future No future for you God save the Queen We mean it, man We love our Queen God saves God save the Queen 'Cause tourists are money And our figurehead Is not what she seems Oh, God save history God save your mad parade Oh, Lord, God have mercy All crimes are paid When there's no future, how can there be sin? We're the flowers in the dustbin We're the poison in your human machine We're the future, your future

The band’s "(mis)manager", as they liked to call him, Malcolm McLaren, co-owned a clothing shop on King’s Road with his then-partner, designer Vivienne Westwood. A centerpiece of the punk movement and a kind of headquarters for the band, this shop was unlike any other at the time. Simply named SEX, it was a shock-and-awe clothing boutique of the latest fetish “anti-fashions” – chains, whips, rips, rubber wear, and all. Back when Sid was homeless, hanging out in McLaren's clothing store was how he spent time as he already had a penchant for fashion as a means of standing out from the crowd.

In The Filth and the Fury documentary, McLaren explained he wanted a group that seemed dangerous, but alluring, in other words, something to represent his store. “[I] launched the idea in the form of a band of kids who could be perceived as being bad.” Therefore the name Sex Pistols invoked an image of “sexy young assassins", with pistol as a double entendre for male body part.

Journalist Vivien Goldeman comments of a certain facet of punk where kids like Sid would "piss off parents on purpose" and camouflage their insecurities through edginess such as wearing swastika motifs for shock value (Sid obviously wouldn't be a Nazi as his dying love Nancy Spungeon was a Jewish girl).

With this intent in mind, their music manager would purposefully set the band into situations where chaos would broke in for scandals and sensationalism. Sid Vicious would be the most infamous example of the group, being chosen to play as a bassist for his looks and attitude while being encouraged to be drunk and disordely.

"Sid was offered up as a sacrificial lamb by the people around the Pistols. None of them would have gone over the top. He was their kamikaze pilot, and they were all too happy to strap him in and send him off." The Guardian

His romance-turned-tragedy with Nancy was another facet of this environment, with both being attracted by and ultimately aggravating their own self-destructive tendencies on the company of the other.

Even after the intoxicated accident that caused Nancy's death, Sid still couldn't leave his addiction and would reply in a cracked voice "I can't straighten up. I just can't be straight". For Sid, this grim reality was his basic nature and was going to kill him no matter the outcome, to which became reality when he passed away from overdose with only 21 years old.

In Jah Wobble's words, he embodied "everything in punk that was dark, decadent and nihilistic". Wobble would also reflect that even when Sid was still a bright kid, he would recall of "another side of him that was weird and brooding" thus realize his peer must already have been very hurt mentally.

Although their initial career lasted just two and a half years, the Sex Pistols became culturally influential in popular music. The band initiated the punk movement in the United Kingdom and inspired many later punk, post-punk and alternative rock musicians, while their clothing and hairstyles were a significant influence on the early punk image.

Sid Viciouses in Japanese pop media: Ren (Nana), Ritchie (Listeners) and Leon Kuwata (Danganronpa).

Queen and Sex Pistols' well-known beef

While Freddie Mercury is considered by many as one of a kind that broke molds in the music industry specially regarding rock masculinity, Freddie didn't want the Queen to be seen as revolutionary and never addressed publicly his own sexuality.

Queen drummer Roger Taylor has commented that Freddie wouldn't allow political themes and very early in their career they consciously decided that Queen's material would refrain from commenting on social affairs.

So understandably there would come a certain clash between them and a certain genre which Sex Pistols come from:

Queen's music couldn't have been further from the punk movement. In fact, the youth-propelled backlash of punk music and its iconography was very much seen as an antidote to bands like Queen. Of course, we're not just referring to the fact that the rock legends shared their name with Queen Elizabeth II, the focus of the Sex Pistols' snarling anthem 'God Save The Queen'. But Queen and their arsenal of songs that merged rock, opera, and unbridled theatricality was starting to be seen as snooty and elitist by segments of the youth population. As the decade unfolded, kids were in search of new meaning amidst the backdrop of political and economic turmoil, and punk music was the answer. No longer were musicians beholden to actually having to learn an instrument, they could just thrash out three chords on a guitar and vent down a microphone. What came of it was a cultural explosion that shook the foundations of music, art, politics, and society at large. However, Freddie Mercury wasn't too enamoured by the punk movement [...] Performing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans every night was where Freddie considered his best work to come from. On the other hand, he couldn't quite understand why punk bands insisted on keeping their audiences niche, harnessing the power of community in smaller venues. Freddie revealed: "I think everybody wants to be successful. I don't care what they say. I know there was a fashion with the punk movement or whatever." "They said, ‘Oh, we want to play to the small audiences because we're being intimate' and all that. Load of rubbish!" he spat incredulously. [...] It's no secret that Freddie wasn't an overt supporter of punk music and its associated members, likely because he and Queen were very much the target of their vitriol. There's the infamous scenario where he got one over on his punk detractors, namely the Sex Pistols' Sid Vicious when both bands occupied the same studio during a recording session. A smirking Vicious tainted Mercury by saying: "Have you succeeded in bringing ballet to the masses yet?". Freddie told one interviewer: "I called him Simon Ferocious or something, and he didn't like it at all." and dragged him out of the studio by his collar like a naughty school boy. Gold Radio 1 / 2

Of course, while the Sex Pistols was an important vehicle for newcomers to discover the punk scene and radicalize themselves, it's also relevant to bring the debate within the punk community itself surrounding the authenticity of Sex Pistols: they're judged by many as one of the "earliest industry plants" with their primary motive being of profitting over a bad boy image.

As far as their manager McLaren was concerned, Sid Vicious was perfect in assisting Sex Pistols' career as national and international outrages, not caring less about even his total inexperience as a bass player. Guitarist Steve Jones would go as far as stating "Actually we're not into music, we're into chaos."

What doesn't help much their image either is that (now ex-)frontman John Lydon himself would later state in a 2012 interview that he never considered himself an anarchist despite having a hit called Anarchy in the UK. John Lydon went as far as paying tribute to Queen Elizabeth in her death and show support for far-right politicians, to the dismayal of many fans and to fellow members of the band that are still active. Vivienne Westwood that was the mind behind the punk fashion utilized by the band also showed to be someone that could be on good terms with the monarchy over the decades.

At the end of the day, both Queen and Sex Pistols at the time "played their parts" in order to give what the people wanted to hear through different methods.

Queen played "within" the system. Sex Pistols played "against" it.

The third 1970s rock icon representative

Surprise, surprise! It wasn't only Law and Chaos that got representatives based off rock stars.

A certain Neutral-aligned character was inspired by a figure of great importance in the early Japanese punk scene.

We're talking about Fujiwara.

He is Makoto Ayukawa from Sheena & the Rokkets!

Sheena & the Rokkets, sometimes abbreviated as Shinaroke, is a band formed in 1978 by Makoto Ayukawa (1948-2023) and his wife Etsuko (1953-2015).

The couple, who were already parents to twins, were able to start their career together thanks to Sheena's father's support, who pushed Ayukawa to go and try his luck in Tokyo while leaving the kids under the care of Sheena's family.

Etsuko adopted the name Sheena after the Ramones' song Sheena Is a Punk Rocker. "Sheena & the Rokkets" come from "Rock + Etsuko = Rockets", to which Ayukawa gave an old-fashioned spin and the quirky spelling for "more rock style".

Ayukawa received a Gibson Les Paul Custom from a friend when Sheena & the Rokkets was formed in 1978, and played the same guitar for over 40 years since moving to Tokyo. He is said to be the only musician in the world who has achieved this feat, even at a Guinness World Record level.

Despite having no experience as a musician at all up until that point, Sheena's confidence in her high spirits and unshakeable mental strenght led the band in a good direction and became a pioneer of Japanese female rock vocalists.

Holding a baby who loves rock A cute mommy is going away By the time this child turns twenty, the world will surely be a better place So for a while, mommy and you Let's do our best, let's do our best When I see you laughing with rock, I always feel courage I made you because I loved you, I gave birth to you because I have love I've been told all sorts of things, But until the world turns with rock, Let's believe in humanity and do our best This world is still ugly, But someday it will change for the better There's no point in hating each other, so let's keep smiling, let's keep smiling When I touch you asleep with rock, My heart starts dancing by itself Because I loved you, you're here Because I have love, Tomorrow and the future will surely come with you Until we can talk with rock, let's love humanity and keep smiling

If you asked an average fan to describe the music of Shinaroke, you'd get the strong impression of a live band that combines blues-derived rock and roll with punkish beats, with Ayukawa's edgy guitar as the core and Sheena's husky, powerful vocals. However, their early albums were also influenced by techno and new wave, showing they had a curious and flexible attitude that embodied the free spirit of rock.

Ayukawa was also sensitive to the changes of the times by using computers before the Internet became widespread in the world and being one of the earliest examples of a band launching their official website, "Rokket Web", in 1996.

Examples where Ayukawa's influence is seen: Left: the heroine Madoka Ayukawa of Izumi Matsumoto's Kimagure Orange Road. Right: Ayumi Hatsuyuki (鮎見初雪) from Kamijo Atsushi's TO-Y.

In the middle of a busy schedule, Sheena fell ill and was diagnosed with stage 4 cervical cancer, but at her strong request, her condition wasn't revealed to anyone other than her family and continued performing live until two months before her death in 2015.

Many fans admire and feel encouraged to this day by Sheena for her positive mindset and stubbornness in continuing to follow what her heart set her to do:

"Sometimes we rise up, sometimes we sink down. However, no matter how lost she'd become, Sheena's words and actions were always positive and powerful [...] Her lifestyle as a vocalist who performed dozens of times a year, a mother of three daughters, and a woman who stayed close to the man she loves [...] was dazzlingly pure, simple, and full of love." YOU MAY DREAM review

Regarding future activities, Ayukawa stated that he would carry on his beloved partner's wishes and continue with Sheena & the Rokkets. Ayukawa continued performing as a three-piece with original members Nara Toshihiro and Kawashima Kazuhide (with Ayukawa and Sheena's third and youngest daughter, LUCY MIRROR, later joining the band as a main vocalist) until he passed in 2023.

Ayukawa would say, "If everyone listens to rock, there will be peace. There will be no wars." and "Even if I were to be reborn again, I would still love Sheena". That was his will that he wanted messages of love and peace to continue to be passed on to future generations through rock music.

Sheena and Ayukawa's energetic live performances over the years, regardless of major or indie, have been supported and loved not only by music fans but also by many peers and juniors and shaped the Japanese punk rock scene. Even with their front couple gone, the music of Shinaroke still lives on.

The nuances behind Ayukawa's image

When describing about his style, Ayukawa said "I may have a strong image of rock, but when I was a kid there was no such word as rock, so music lovers called it pop. The Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and the Kinks were all classified as pop. So Sheena & the Rockets' music is rock, but it also has the atmosphere of what is now called 60's pop." He was also close friends with the members of the Ramones, showing the influence of New York punk and London punk in the band.

Add that to nowadays' interpretation of the genre:

[...] Japanese punk rock has evolved into a distinctive blend of Western influence and Japanese precision. [...] Japanese punk culture is characterized by its meticulous attention to detail and a unique blend of rebellion and respect. Unlike their Western counterparts, Japanese punks often maintain a level of politeness and social awareness that might seem at odds with the genre's confrontational nature. This duality is evident in the way Japanese punks interact at shows, where they might thrash wildly in a circle pit one moment and politely bow to make their way through the crowd the next. Punk Rock in Japan: A thriving subculture of rebellion and precision

Relevant to the discussion is also the famous song My Way, described as "a song for those who have overcome, for those who are victorious." We have not only Sid Vicious but Ayukawa also partaking in it with their own interpretations.

And now, the end is near And so I face the final curtain My friend, I'll say it clear I'll state my case, of which I'm certain I've lived a life that's full I traveled each and every highway And more, much more than this I did it my way Regrets, I've had a few But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do And saw it through without exemption I planned each charted course Each careful step along the byway And more, much more than this I did it my way Yes, there were times I'm sure you knew When I bit off More than I could chew But through it all When there was doubt I ate it up and spit it out I faced it all and I stood tall And did it my way I've loved, I've laughed and cried I've had my fill, my share of losing And now, as tears subside I find it all so amusing To think I did all that And may I say, not in a shy way Oh, no, oh, no, not me I did it my way For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught To say the things he truly feels And not the words of one who kneels The record shows I took the blows And did it my way

Sheena talked about how meaningful it was for them in her book:

"Many people in Japan think that this song is a sentimental song that looks back on one's life, but that's not true! 'My way' means 'the way I do things.' 'My greatest pride is that I've lived my life my own way.' This is a song that only Sinatra, who has survived the cutthroat world of American show business, could sing. So everything is never someone else's fault, it's one's own. I'm always positive. I don't have time to complain. I get a lot of power from the audience. The stage gives me magic. There have been countless times when the band was in trouble, both mentally and financially. But I'm lucky to be able to continue, and I'm happy just to be alive."

Another interesting cover is the classic Japanese nursery rhyme​ from the Showa era called Kono Michi that can be translated as "this road" or "this way". Sheena and Ayukawa were fond of it as they similarly were by Frank Sinatra's My Way (going as far as saying it was the Japanese equivalent) and made an arrangement with a punk tune reminiscent of the Sex Pistols that was also a source of influence for Sheena & the Rokkets.

This road is the one I once traveled Ah, that’s right Acacia flowers are blooming That hill is the one I once saw Ah, that’s right Look, it’s the white clock tower This road is the one I once traveled Ah, that’s right I went with Mother in a carriage Those clouds are the ones I once saw Ah, that’s right Hawthorn branches are drooping

Kono michi's lyrics give the impression of a thin haze, with the predominant color of the song being “white”: the flower sung as “Acacia” being actually a white locust tree; the white clock tower; the flashback image of his mother in his childhood; the white clouds and the white flowers of the three terns.

The composer, Yamada Kousaku, was very fond of this song:

Kono michi is a song that reminds me of my childhood days. I couldn’t help but recall the nostalgic paths I used to stroll down with my mother’s warm hand pulling me along, and the faint feelings I had back then. [...] I couldn’t help but recall the faint feelings of those days. However, even such a famous song has been dropped from music textbooks, and more and more children say they have never heard of it.

Despite Ayukawa's and Sheena's dedication towards a rebellious and uncertain lifestyle specially for what's expected in the conformist Japanese society, they broke against the preconceived notion that "punk youths are anti-family and destined to destruct themselves" by not only giving value to their roots but also having a happy marriage with love for their three kids and support from family members towards their dream.

Now....

for our last topic..........

Let's talk about the predecessor that influenced all bands mentioned.

One that contributed significantly towards the counterculture of the 1960s that shaped the alignments of SMTIVA. Can you figure out who I'm referring? He's the

rock representative of SMT4☮️

The design motifs that envelop the jumpsuit of our sequel protagonist says it all: a peace symbol pin, an imperative anti-war message and the most explicit of them all, the lyrics of a certain song...

Imagine there's no heaven It's easy if you try No hell below us Above us only sky Imagine all the people Living for today Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion too Imagine all the people Living life in peace Imagine no possessions I wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man Imagine all the people Sharing all the world You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will live as one

John Lennon (1940–1980) was an English singer, songwriter, musician and political activist. He gained worldwide fame as the founder, co-lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of the Beatles. He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame both as a member of the Beatles and as a solo artist.

John Lennon was an only child and due to clashes between his parents, his custody was given to his aunt. Lennon commented about his family and his rebellious nature:

"A part of me would like to be accepted by all facets of society and not be this loudmouthed lunatic poet/musician. But I cannot be what I am not... I was the one who all the other boys' parents – including Paul's father – would say, "Keep away from him"... The parents instinctively recognised I was a troublemaker, meaning I did not conform and I would influence their children, which I did. I did my best to disrupt every friend's home... Partly out of envy that I didn't have this so-called home... [...] I would infiltrate the other boys' minds. I could say, "Parents are not gods because I don't live with mine and, therefore, I know." All we are saying (2000)

At the age of 15, Lennon formed a skiffle group, the Quarrymen. By the summer of 1957, the Quarrymen played a "spirited set of songs" made up of half skiffle and half rock and roll. Lennon first met Paul McCartney at the Quarrymen's second performance and asked him to join the band.

In 1958, Lennon's mother was killed by a car driven by an off-duty police officer while she was walking home. His mother's death traumatised the teenage Lennon, who, for the next two years, drank heavily and frequently got into fights, consumed by a "blind rage". At college he began to wear Teddy Boy clothes and was threatened with expulsion for his behavior, and was "thrown out of the college before his final year". Lennon's bond with McCartney whose mother had already died of breast cancer in 1956 became tighter from then on.

The Beatles

"The Beatles" was formed in early 1960 and completed the four-piece line-up with Paul McCartney, George Harrinson and Ringo Starr in 1962; that would remain until the group's break-up in 1970. McCartney said that the other Beatles idolised Lennon: "We all looked up to John. He was older and he was very much the leader; he was the quickest wit and the smartest."

The Beatles achieved mainstream success and sparked the "Beatlemania" phenomenon in 1963, gained international superstardom in 1964. By the end of the decade, the Beatles were seen as an embodiment of the era's sociocultural movements, exemplified by the sentiment of their 1967 song All You Need Is Love.

In the wake of Sgt. Pepper (1967), their eighth album, the underground and mainstream press widely publicised the Beatles as leaders of youth culture, as well as "lifestyle revolutionaries". The elaborate cover depicted the group as the fictional band referred to in the album's title track standing in front of a crowd of cardboard cut-outs of celebrities and historical people. The heavy moustaches worn by the group reflected the growing influence of the hippie movement while the group's clothing "spoofed the vogue in Britain for military fashions" with their brightly coloured parodies in anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment display.

Viewed as an embodiment of "the social, the musical, and more generally, the cultural changes of the 1960s", Sgt. Pepper conveyed the optimism and sense of empowerment at the centre of the youth movement. Critics have also identified loss of innocence and the dangers of overindulgence in fantasies or illusions as its most prominent themes, with its underlying philosophy attributed not only to the drug culture and freedom from parental control but also to the non-violent approach of the flower power movement, the latter being explored by Lennon in its most evident form through his solo career.

Political and religious views

Lennon met Yoko Ono for the first time in 1966. Two years before the Beatles disbanded, Lennon and Ono began public protests against the Vietnam War and would use the publicity of their own honey moon in 1969 towards promoting world peace.

They often combined advocacy with performance art, as in their "Bagism": by catching the attention of the masses with an outlandish premise, they would deliver underneath it a social and political message to the world, whether by covering their bodies with a bag in order to strip the viewer from prejudices or doing week-long bed-ins because "people should make love, not war".

During this period, Lennon released Give Peace a Chance, being quickly interpreted as an anti-war anthem and sung by a quarter of a million demonstrators against the Vietnam War in Washington on 15 November, the second Vietnam Moratorium Day. In December, they paid for billboards in 10 cities around the world which declared, in the national language, "War Is Over! If You Want It".

"Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it."

Among other types of activism, Lennon and Ono acted in solidarity for blue-collar workers, towards the release of those arrested for possession of marijuana and against British Imperialism by giving support to the IRA. They also attended several meetings of the White Panther Party, a far-left group against racism and capitalism.

God is a concept By which we measure Our pain I'll say it again God is a concept By which we measure Our pain I don't believe in magic I don't believe in I-Ching I don't believe in Bible I don't believe in Tarot I don't believe in Hitler I don't believe in Jesus I don't believe in Kennedy I don't believe in Buddha I don't believe in Mantra I don't believe in Gita I don't believe in Yoga I don't believe in Kings I don't believe in Elvis I don't believe in Zimmerman I don't believe in Beatles I just believe in me Yoko and me And that's reality The dream is over What can I say? The dream is over Yesterday I was the dreamweaver But now I'm reborn I was the walrus But now I'm John And so dear friends You just have to carry on The dream is over

In this song, Lennon chants a list of things he does not believe in, ending by stating that he just believes in himself (individuality) and Yoko (his wife). The final section describes Lennon's change since the break-up of the Beatles. While the Beatles were basically his family throughout the 1960s, he refers to Paul McCartney's 1965 Beatles song Yesterday, and states that he is no longer the "Dreamweaver" or "The Walrus", but just "John". The final line of the song, "The dream is over", has been seen as declaring the end of the 1960s quest for meaning. "If there is a God", Lennon explained, "we're all it".

While neither he or The Beatles explored the ground of proto-punk compared to other contemporaries, there's still fairness in considering that John Lennon espoused punk values before punk had begun to germinate; John Lennon made a statement in jest in a 1966 interview for Evening Standard that crystalised the anti-establishment ethos that would develop into a vital aspect of the punk spirit over the coming years: “Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink.” A perceptive opinion for even back then as religion was in decline owing to the advent of science, technology and music. However, he did not stop there. He opined that The Beatles were “more popular than Jesus”. This wasn’t all, either. He concluded that “Jesus was all right, but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It’s them twisting it that ruins it for me.” Some elements of society were so enraged that it lead to protests, death threats and to The Beatles being banned from apartheid-era South Africa. Lennon’s quip made such an impact that even after the Beatles called it quits in 1970, his solo work was also banned from the airwaves of South Africa. In the most sensational yet hilarious reaction to Lennon’s comment, the South Carolina Ku Klux Klan nailed Beatles records to a cross and set them on fire. Retrospectively, the furor that ensued in the wake of Lennon’s comments may seem ridiculous to the 21st-century reader, but it does hold some significance. A lot of the shift in opinions and attitudes would come via the punk movement of the late ’70s, and it is clear now that Lennon turned the anti-establishment feeling up a couple of notches. So fast forward to 1980, and John Lennon would unsurprisingly show himself to be a fan of the ground-swallowing punk movement. In an interview with Playboy that year, the former Beatles frontman revealed: “I love all this punky stuff. It’s pure. I’m not, however, crazy about the people who destroy themselves.” He was then asked by the interviewer to share his thoughts on the iconic Neil Young lyric, “It’s better to burn out than to fade away”, which was taken from My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue): “I don’t appreciate worship of dead Sid Vicious or of dead James Dean or of dead John Wayne. It’s the same thing. Making Sid Vicious a hero, Jim Morrison… it’s garbage to me. I worship the people who survive.” Lennon continued: “I don’t want [my kid] Sean worshipping John Wayne or Sid Vicious. What do they teach you? Nothing. Death. Sid Vicious died for what? So that we might rock? I mean, it’s garbage, you know. If Neil Young admires that sentiment so much, why doesn’t he do it? Because he sure as hell faded away and came back many times, like all of us. No, thank you. I’ll take the living and the healthy.” This statement is wickedly ironic given that later that year, Lennon was to be murdered by the religious fanatic Mark David Chapman, owing in part to his Evening Standard comments fourteen years prior. Although he was the world’s biggest rockstar, his legacy was really cemented by his tragic death, affording him a mythos that his bandmates did not have. His frank discussion of not making cult heroes out of the dead is something that society could learn a thing or two from, as we have a tendency to fetishise death, particularly within popular culture. Far Out Magazine

The U.S. vs John Lennon

Following the impact of Give Peace a Chance and Happy Xmas (War Is Over) on the anti-war movement, the Nixon administration heard rumours of Lennon's involvement in a concert to be held in San Diego at the same time as the 1972 Republican National Convention and tried to have him deported, as Nixon believed that Lennon's anti-war activities could cost him his reelection. The next month the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) began deportation proceedings, arguing that his 1968 misdemeanour conviction for cannabis possession in London had made him ineligible for admission to the United States.

In 1973, Lennon was ordered to leave the US within 60 days. In response, Lennon and Ono held a press conference at the New York City Bar Association, where they announced the formation of the state of Nutopia; a place with "no land, no boundaries, no passports, only people". Waving the white flag of Nutopia (two handkerchiefs), they asked for political asylum in the US. Soon after the press conference, Nixon's involvement in a political scandal came to light, and led to the president's resignation 14 months later.

In 1980, John Lennon was shot and fatally wounded in New York City. The killer, Mark David Chapman, was an American Beatles fan who claimed that he had been enraged by Lennon's infamous, much-publicized remark in 1966 that the Beatles were "more popular than Jesus", and by the lyrics of Lennon's songs God and Imagine. Despite advice by his lawyers to plead insanity, Chapman pleaded guilty to the murder, saying that his plea was the will of God.

After Lennon's death, historian Jon Wiener filed a Freedom of Information Act request for FBI files that documented the Bureau's role in the deportation attempt. The FBI admitted it had 281 pages of files on Lennon, but refused to release most of them on the grounds that they contained national security information. In 1983, Wiener sued the FBI with the help of the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California. It took 14 years of litigation to force the FBI to release the withheld pages.

The CIA and FBI spying on Lennon due to his left-wing activism and the actions of Chapman have led to conspiracy theories postulating CIA involvement in his death.

And to wrap it up...

Partnership with McCartney

From all band members, Lennon's most intense feelings were reserved for McCartney. In an interview three days before his death, he said: "Throughout my career, I've selected to work with... only two people: Paul McCartney and Yoko Ono... That ain't bad picking."

When McCartney and Lennon met as teenagers and began writing songs together, they agreed that all songs written by them (whether individually or jointly) should be credited to both of them. In Lennon's 1980 Playboy interview, he said of the partnership:

[Paul] provided a lightness, an optimism, while I would always go for the sadness, the discords, the bluesy notes. There was a period when I thought I didn't write melodies, that Paul wrote those and I just wrote straight, shouting rock 'n' roll.

Although Lennon and McCartney often wrote independently—and many Beatles songs are primarily the work of one or the other—it was rare that a song would be completed without some input from both writers. In many instances, one writer would sketch an idea or a song fragment and take it to the other to finish or improve; in some cases, two incomplete songs or song ideas that each had worked on individually would be combined into a complete song.

A Day in the Life, the final track of their 1967 album Sgt. Pepper, is one of their highest acclaimed songs done in collaboration:

I read the news today, oh, boy About a lucky man who made the grave And though the news was rather sad Well, I just had to laugh I saw the photograph He blew his mind out in a car He didn't notice that the lights had changed A crowd of people stood and stared They'd seen his face before Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords I saw a film today, oh, boy The English Army had just won the war A crowd of people turned away But I just had to look Having read the book I'd love to turn you on Woke up, fell out of bed Dragged a comb across my head Found my way downstairs and drank a cup And looking up, I noticed I was late Found my coat and grabbed my hat Made the bus in seconds flat Found my way upstairs and had a smoke And somebody spoke, and I went into a dream (Aah, aah, aah, aah) I read the news today, oh, boy Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire And though the holes were rather small They had to count them all Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall I'd love to turn you on

A Day in the Life was centered around drug use, being strongly informed by Lennon's LSD-inspired revelations, where the "concerned 'reality' was only to the extent to what had been revealed in the eye of the beholder by the drug. The separate song fragment by McCartney ("Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head ...") was used to flesh out the middle of Lennon's composition ("I read the news today, oh boy...").

It is a drug song, but not a drug song in the way that other drug songs have often been interpreted or misinterpreted. The narrator clearly finds the real world disturbingly mundane and meaningless and wishes to “turn you on.” He is disillusioned by the media, in terms of what it presents and how it presents it. The impetus was an article in the British press that Lennon read concerning the death of Tara Browne, a young rich society friend of the Beatles. Browne drove his light blue Lotus Elan at high speed through a red light in South Kensington and was killed instantly. Presumably he was tripping or at least Lennon assumes so. From this tragically commonplace incident comes a searing critique of the modern condition. The same newspaper also contained an article about the deplorable conditions of the road in Blackburn, Lancashire. The article stated that there were “4,000 holes in the road, or one twenty-sixth of a hole per person, according to a council survey.” Lennon matched this up with a reference to the Albert Hall and the war. Again the tragic mixed with the mundane. The middle Paul section is that of a man awaking from a dream and then falling back into one. The lyrics have a feeling and emotion not present in Lennon’s flatter emotionless delivery. The subconsciousness and mysticism of the dream world meets the real world and trumps it, albeit only temporarily. But that final chord suggests the conflict never ends. Nick Moyne

As Lennon stated in 1969, "We write how we write now because of each other. Paul was there for five or ten years, and I wouldn't write like I write now if it weren't for Paul, and he wouldn't write like he does if it weren't for me."

When reporters asked McCartney for his reaction to Lennon's death when it just happened, his response ended with "Drag, isn't it?". McCartney later said that he had intended no disrespect and simply was unable to articulate his feelings, given the shock and sadness he felt over Lennon's murder. Reflecting on the day two years later, McCartney said the following: "How did I feel? I can't remember. I can't express it. I can't believe it. It was crazy. It was anger. It was fear. It was madness. It was the world coming to an end. And it was, 'Will it happen to me next?' I just felt everything. I still can't put into words. Shocking. And I ended up saying, 'It's a drag,' and that doesn't really sum it up."

Paul McCartney would later open up about his friendship with John Lennon in an emotional interview in 2019, when asked if he still thinks about his late Beatles colleague:

"I dream about him. When you've had a relationship like that for so long, such a deep relationship, I love when people revisit you in your dreams. I often have band dreams and they're crazy. I'm often with John... I have a lot of dreams about John. They're always good." Sir Paul spoke of how he has often thought of his Beatles bandmate as the "villain" in terms of their friendship, but was reminded by a photo of the pair together - shared by Colbert - that "we were good friends". "Knowing really, we were, but there were so many rumours about it. That photo, when I saw that, it's like, 'Yes. We were friends.' It's a beautiful photo for me because it just reminds me of us working together and how cool it was."  Lennon, much like McCartney, lost his mother at a young age. The Beatle said that the tragedies bonded them together. "We both knew about that. We both knew that feeling," he said. "I never thought it affected my music until years later. Gold Radio

Epilogue

After reflecting on the parallels to the alignment representatives, some might think "John Lennon is linked to Bonds/Peace because he was a pacifist messenger, correct? What about Massacre/Anarchy? Where's its rep?".

the anarchist "punk" vs the pacifist "hippie"

The truth is, Lennon's ethical trajectory in his professional and personal life was, to say the least, troubled. Before meeting Ono, Lennon was aggressive towards people, including women. And as shown above, John Lennon also rejected religion, was sympathetic towards punk and had other themes that could be associated to what Dagda's ending represents.

It cannot be understated specially that John Lennon's political lyrics emboldened many musicians to be anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment, complementing with the growth of what would become the punk movement of the 70s. This is even more evidenced by Sex Pistols's John Lydon commenting of Lennon's song Working Class Hero that "for the first time in my life, I felt that this anger and frustration was real." and former Police member Sting saying, "It's because of John that we rock musicians can say anything."

One can reach the conclusion that John Lennon ultimately had the "seed" for both SMTIVA alignments, befitting our SMTIVA protagonist of dual nature.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Rose-Red Ruler.

Happy birthday, our most beloved Queen of Hearts.

May your smile be like a never fading flower.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A soft knock is at his door.

Riddle tears away from his current textbook--a volume of advanced potions, open to Recipe for Happiness. On the list of ingredients were faith, trust, a little pixie dust, and...

"Come in," he calls, letting the contents of the book fall from his memory.

His mother enters, bearing a tray with a tall pitcher and a glass. As usual, her hair is pulled back into a tight bun and she is dressed impeccably: a scarlet pantsuit, heels, black lace gloves, and a necklace drawn tight across her neck, creating the illusion of beading blood. Mrs. Rosehearts gives her son a stern yet warm smile.

"Happy birthday, Riddle. You're still studying, even on your big day?"

"Yes, mother. This will be the year I apply for internships, so I cannot afford to slack off in my studies. I want to ensure I am the strongest possible candidate for the law and medical internships I'm interested in."

She nods approvingly, setting the tray upon his desk. "It's good to be thinking about your future now--but be sure to take breaks when appropriate. I've brought you some Darjeeling, first flush. Its light and delicate flavor is perfectly refreshing for a sweltering day."

Mrs. Rosehearts starts to pour the chilled tea for him. Right as the aromatic, golden brown stream ceases, she lets out a small gasp. "Ah, yes--your schedule is open tonight, correct? Your father will be fetching a strawberry tart on his way home from work, and I've prepared all your favorite foods. You can eat as much as you like!"

Riddle's stomach flutters.

There are so many things wrong with what she has said, but he exclaims the first question to emerge in his mind.

"We're having a celebration? Together?"

"Of course we are. It's your birthday," his mom replies plainly. "Why wouldn't we celebrate our special little boy?"

"I... I don't know," Riddle confesses. For reasons he cannot explain, his head suddenly feels foggy. "I just can't recall the last time we did something like this as a family."

You've never seemed happy with one another.

He does not dare say it out loud.

Mrs. Rosehearts carefully regards her child.

"Certainly, your father and I have very busy schedules on account of our work at the hospital. You've immersed yourself in your schoolwork. It can be difficult making plans that align with all three of us--but we make time to spend with our loved ones."

Mrs. Rosehearts leans down and plants a feathery kiss on his head, a hand lovingly stroking his hair. So soft, so tender. She smells of roses on a bed of vanilla and amber, the same heady comfort as the exhilaration of collapsing, out of breath, after spinning in circles in the summertime.

The frantic thudding in Riddle's chest slows. He leans into her touch, her fragrance.

"Okay," he says quietly. A slight wetness prickles his vision. "I think... I'd really like that, mom."

He stays there, in her embrace, for longer than he thinks he should. The minutes are slipping away from him, but Riddle cannot bring himself to pull away. The cradle of roses is enchanting, spilling wool over his eyes.

He is completely, utterly, certifiably entranced.

Ding-dong!

Mrs. Rosehearts lifts her head. "Hm? That's strange. That can't be your father. He doesn't get out of work for at least another hour--and he wouldn't need to ring the doorbell, he has his keys."

"It is odd," Riddle agrees.

"Excuse me, it will take just a moment to check. Perhaps it's the mailman."

Mrs. Rosehearts gathers herself and departs. From the study, Riddle can hear the front door swinging open, followed by muffled chatter. Excited, boyish.

His mother's voice, raising.

Dread fills him.

He abruptly stands, his chair harshly skidding back with an unpleasant whine.

Riddle races into the hallway and to the foyer. He's not sure which is faster: his heart, or his feet? His mind struggles to catch up, to process everything--

The front door is ajar.

His mother, on one side. And on the other...

Two young men.

One with short hair in dark green and bright yellow eyes peering out from behind thick frames. He holds a hefty cake in his hands--a shortcake iced in whipped cream frosting. The strawberries piled on top shine like forbidden jewels.

Beside him is a boy with choppy bangs, a pair of feline ears bearing a plethora of earrings pokes out from his head. He has a lazy grin and disheveled clothes, reclining like a sunbathing cat against the first visitor.

His friends spot him before his mom does, and their faces light up.

"Uh-oh, guess the cat's out of the bag now," Che'nya giggles.

"Wh-What are you two doing here?!" Riddle demands. Not angry, but fearful. He nervously glances at Trey--Trey, whom his mother had angrily banished from their home until the end of time.

"We wanted to drop by and surprise you," Trey explains. He's too calm for this situation--especially when Mrs. Rosehearts is standing right there.

Any minute now, Riddle suspects she will explode. She will scream at Trey and Che'nya until she is a darker red than her hair. She will slam the door in their faces. She will threaten to call the police. She will--

"Riddle, you didn't tell me your friends would be joining us this evening!" Mrs. Rosehearts beams, stepping aside and waving for the boys to enter. "Please, come in! You can spend some time together before dinner.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Myaaa-uch appreciated!”

Trey and Che’nya cross the threshold with ease.

Riddle blinks. “But what about my studies…?”

“Studies? At a time like this?” Trey gives a light laugh. “We’re not at school, Riddle. You can relax a little. Just let me put this cake away and then we can all hang out, okay?”

“My father is already going to be bringing a tart later…”

“Oooh, double the desserts? Don’t mind if I do! I’ll swipe two slices of both.”

“Don’t be greedy, Che’nya! You have to save some for the rest of us, especially the birthday boy.”

“Me?” Riddle’s brows crease. “I…”

“It’s fine,” his mother coaxes. “Go and be with your friends.”

“Is that okay? Is that… really, really okay?”

Mrs. Rosehearts steps toward him, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes are dewey, and her face looks more gentle than he has ever seen it.

“Yes. This is your youth, Riddle. You only live once—so live this life to its fullest. If you could promise me that, then nothing would make me happier.”

“Mother…!”

Riddle tugs her into a hug. It is fast, it is fleeting, it is a flicker of light peeking through a keyhole. He opens that locked door and emerges on the other end.

He chokes out his response.

Two simple words, carrying all his hopes and dreams.

“I promise.”

And for the first time in forever, he smiles with all of his heart.

But beyond the happy boy, cheeks streaked with tears, beyond the door that divided him from the world... a shadow hides in the shade of a rose tree.

It looks on, and smiles too.

"... It appears as though Rosehearts has have found his happily ever after at long last, fufu. How wonderful.”

[sleeplesssmol]

More Stuff about Matilda Bouanich

Athletic

"SPDM kids are built different" theory confirmed. Just like Sonetto and Vertin, Matilda is also freakishly athletic. For Example, she jumps straight over a wall with no assistance. She's also very tough! She doesn't seem to be as resilient as Sonetto and Vertin (squishier and takes more damage) but even as she's bleeding, she will endure. Disclaimer: this ends up being an illusion but her taking on waves of enemies despite being bloodied says a lot about her character.

Stupidly Fearless

Falling asleep at a train station, walking down a dark tunnel on her own, Matilda really is wandering into dangerous situations like a lost duckling. I love how Shamane, Kaalaa, and Kanjira adopted the little duck and became her guides. Also, reminder she is a baby at only 14. She's younger than Sonetto and Vertin, but she is equally as brave. She's also vulnerable because of this. Her wallet was stolen multiple times and she puts herself in precarious situations.

Milky Blonde

They describe her hair as "milky blonde" which is just really cute to me.

Generous

Matilda always had a big heart. We saw it during the break-away event when she helped Vertin escape because she wanted to help her friend, even if she had no intention of following Vertin herself. She also gave Vertin the earrings the kids used to communicate with each other during their plan. She still has that generous side where she will willingly give away things and volunteer to help others. Not wanting to dirty Kanjira's skirt, giving Kaalaa her crytal, and overall helping the group in anyway she can. There are so many examples in the event!

Serious about Divination

Just like she did for Sonetto, Matilda guides people in a gentle voice we don't normally hear when she is divining. She is also extremely talented. She talks about being a genius all the time, but its true. Kaalaa and Kumar are both impressed by her.

Other Skills

Matilda knows first-aid and carries around an SPF 1 Portable Contact Device that allows her to call for back-up. She's also a quick thinker. Her thought process isn't as streamlined as Sonetto's (she mutters to herself and stumbles sometimes), but she recalls her guides and teachings and applies them to her situations.

Appreciation

I loved seeing Matilda shine in this event and the last one. We see her make friends, bring up ideas, and just being a fun character in general. For example, her interactions with the sly Kanjira and the oblivious Jessica are hilarious! Her admiration for Kaalaa also shows another side of her. She is confident, but she recognizes brilliance in others. Shamane is just a treat in this event too. We must thank this man for looking after the duckling and the danger noodle (Kanjira is a snake). For all her talk, Matilda doesn't try to impose herself as a leader. Instead, we've seen her in the main story and in the events take on supportive roles. She's a good friend. Normally I'm all for pining, but I think the story is much stronger because it excluded it. This allowed Matilda to show more sides of herself. While I'm partial to events with my beloved Vertin in them, if she and Sonetto were in this event I wouldn't be able to appreciate Matilduck!

[daisys-reality]

Hello miss daisy, I just read something on your blog that mentions the fact that time isn't real. I just love this concept, I vividly remember reading similar stuff elsewhere, long ago. I'd love to read up on this concept more, could you please suggest resources, scientific, mythological, really anything. I am quite fascinated with the concepts of Time and Death.

Thank you,

Artyom.Dmitry

Time - is it real or just an illusion? - It is both.

Hi artyom.dmitry, I can't think of any specific literature from the top of my head right now that tals about these topics AND is worth reading. I would have to do some research first (I might add some suggestions to this post at a later time).

I'm not sure where you're coming from (mentally) - whether you're a part of the shifting community or not - and what level of understanding you have of those topics but I want to clarify that I'm a shifter and have been active in the spiritual/esoteric community for many years. So, my opinions and perceptions of this world have been influenced and shaped by this (just to give you head ups). You might not agree or see the things I do but that's ok. No one is being forced here to accept anything as their beliefs because there is no 'one general truth'.

So, I think there are two things that we should talk about. First, the issue with the concept itself but it's realness in this reality. Second, the concept losing its meaning and importance in the face of manifestation and reality shifting and therefore just posing as an "illusion".

But let's start from the beginning and let's recall what the original usage of the concept of time and therefore its reason for existence is:

As we all know the concept of "time" is human made. It is something we decided on and categorised into units like: years, months, minutes, seconds to understand our existence on this earth. We based this on what we perceived to happen in our closest environment (sun/moon=day/night time, moon phases = months, repeated changes of the weather = season & year,...). With the creation of this concept we had the intention to use it as a tool. A tool to improve communication between other humans, to improve the ability to plan (when to hunt, when to meet up again, when to go to sleep, when to do xyz) and to improve our understanding of what is happening around us because our life was so closely linked with nature - understanding the nature/earth was detrimental to our surviving.

So, creating the concept of time actually improved the life of our ancestors. We gave our life a structure. And where there is a structure, improvements can be made. We humans are eager to understand and analyse things with the intention to improve. In that sense we're greedy beings - always striving for 'more' and 'better'.

I think that our ancestors had a better understanding & feeling of this concept "time" than we do now. Ex., in many cultures different types of calendars (much closer linked with nature's rhythm) were used but once humans were able to communicate & connect on a more global level - the idea of generalisation & standardisation were on the rise (as further tools to improve life). And of course, capitalism is thriving on this. (We are even selling "our time" for money now!! This is actually crazy the more you think about it. We have been brainwashed by our own society to normalize this!) Time nowadays is not really based on nature anymore as it has been in the past and it's messing with our own human life experience. As nature changes (naturally, but obviously also because of global warming) we should have actually started adapting our concepts of time as well. But we don't. And probably won't any time soon. Because time is something integrated in so many other concepts and human made systems (or it's even even the foundation of those) that changing the concept of time would mean having to adapt everything else. And we all know how those humans on top of our systems (I'm looking at u politicians -_-) love to keep outdated systems alive (even if they don't seem to be as effective anymore) instead of being more innovative... just because of money, reputation and personal comfort... the world we live in 😞...

The concept of time that we have right now is linked to our reality that we percieve here - therefore it is is very much real. HOWEVER, as other realities may have other laws of physics they may also have different concepts of time. With reality shifting (and manifesting as well) you transcend this concept during the act of shifting (/manifesting) therefore it loses its importance and meaning as a "conditioning" or "restrictive aspect of life" -> Time exists as an effective concept in this reality but you are not limited to this reality's concept of time! We thinking that we are limited by it is a (self made) illusion. One a side note, the fact that we're starting to explore further abilities of our consciousness can be considered a sign of evolution. - I hope all of that made sense!

[yvesdot]

i'm basically venting on your inbox sorry but i can't take all this writeblr panic about copyright anymore. it's really drinking capitalist koolaid. now they're going after libgen just like it happened with the internet archive and does anyone actually believe authors are getting any money from all the readers that won't be able to use those libraries anymore to download textbooks and fiction and will just lose access to books because of poverty or accessibility issues? so congrats i guess because it's the only thing shutting down online libraries does

This is from a few days ago but I wanted to give you a little squeeze and say it is alright to vent in my inbox!! As you have probably guessed I am very sad about this too. I suspect I am more sympathetic, if only because 1) I was myself a bit of an anti-Internet Archive doofus as recently as two years ago 2) I think it is rather an inevitable function of the whole writeblr situation... the class interests, the temporarily embarrassed millionaire mindset, all the things we see everywhere in labor covered in a lovely "artists aren't regular laborers" sheen. So I think I "understand" where this comes from, enough that I feel pity if only because I can't expect the majority of people to avoid the pitfall, you know?

I'll go into more detail under the cut but you all must promise to be very very kind to everyone especially our anonymous friend or else I shall have to revoke privileges!

You have to be not only writing but performing the fandom of writing to run a writeblr -> you must have so much time and energy for it -> almost all white wealthy college students (raise your hand...) -> truly some of the silliest postings imaginable.

One must also recall the professed aims of the majority of writeblrfolk. Everyone talks about the spectre of 'hobby writers' but no one will admit to it; everyone wishes to gain an audience, gain respect, gain money... and traditional publishing is right there to offer its gifts to, apparently, the best and brightest.

Traditional publishing is a little like college, this way. For those of us who went we may recall the endless cat-and-mouse game of catch-the-cheater: the surveillance, the added stress on all students, the often public humiliation of those caught. It was all in service of a similar myth: that college is there for the pleasure of learning, that it uplifts those who most deserve its bounty, that life is a meritocracy.

I have always found this kind of silly. College is a class barrier, and I am extremely grateful for the privilege to have gone, passed, and gained a degree. I also had an excellent time while there. But I'm not everyone, and I'm not most people, and I was a bit of a Koolaid-drinker myself while I was in university, I must admit. (I taught two classes, and I had a grading system!)

But the same way most people in college don't really like it when you break through all the nonsense to the matters of fact, most people in the trad publishing biz do not like it when one stops believing that traditional publishing is a divine anointing of the worthy. One must never notice, much less point out, the way privilege or "the market" stacks the deck. We complain about "tropes" and "buzzwords" to avoid acknowledging it's all selling, all marketing, all business. Every book in the bookstore made it there because everyone in its path believed that it would sell, and they opened their personal or professional gate.

Now, when someone pirates a book—just like when someone cheats on the ridiculous three-question reading comprehension test at the start of discussion section—it cracks that illusion. This is not about merit and it is most certainly not about art. It’s a business. The publisher didn't publish you to pay you! They published you to make money! And they know that the less they pay you, the more they will make.

We've all worked retail before, right? (Not necessarily!) Of course publishers would pay authors more! Oh, of course they want to! If only that nasty shoplifter I mean pirate hadn't cut into our profits! Pay no attention to the men who hold the purse strings. All the trouble in the writers' world is individualistic, it is not systemic, we promise, you'll make so much money once you Wac this one specific Mole... Or at least you'll stop losing money. Because this is where it is, isn't it? The one flaw in the machine is when someone removes a screw. We can't question the nature of the machine to begin with. We certainly don't want to think about having to tear it down. But when a single screw is loose, well... we can do a whole lot of yelling at screws!

Alright. This has been a lovely little slumber party for me and my anonymous chattybiscuit. I have quite enjoyed myself. I actually did something I think is very funny up there and you're welcome to try to guess at it ("divine anointing of the worthy" is the center, though by no means the extent). I am turning reblogs off for this one for reasons which are hopefully understandable.

I've long wanted to do a sort of overserious "walking away from writeblr" style post (this is not that post, to be abundantly clear!), but I've waffled on it quite a bit because I worry it would be taken more negatively than intended—in part because I have most certainly not "left writeblr!" I worry about criticizing any aspect of online writing culture, because I don't want to push attention onto my fellow little guys even if they're worshipping the golden calf of the bourgeoisie (or whatever). I'm also very aware of being pushed out of writing spaces for perceived missteps, and I have no interest in provoking that, even if it's part of something I'd like to be a constructive conversation about the spaces we build and the attitudes which are normalized within them.

Therefore I try to avoid doing anything that could be mis/construed as "criticizing writeblr," in part because I don't have a lot of real or serious criticisms (about a Tumblr community!) and in part because I am very aware of how people often react when their sense of ingroup unity is threatened, and saying things like "publishing is a business" unfortunately is often interpreted to mean that anyone pursuing it as such doesn't care about art, doesn't deserve whatever artistic success or credential, doesn't make good art, whathaveyou. For that matter for my crimes I may well be sentenced to not believing in art! To not caring about books!!

So I've tried to balance my empathy for and agreement with the anon asker here (because gosh if this isn't me half the time) with empathy and well-presented points for the random observer; I hope nobody feels as if I don't respect them as a result. I do have some thoughts on what my Ideal Writer Space would look like, and perhaps I ought to write them out...

I really appreciate the audience I have here and the graciousness I have been shown over the years and I hope that, even if "the girl reading this" disagrees with me, you can show that grace by furthering the conversation and discussion rather than slapping me or our anonymous friend or anybody else. Let's keep the slumber party going. Thank you!

[apollotarot]

♓️🌝 The Most Majestic Tarot Spread For 2023's Full Moon In Pisces

Before diving into the Full Moon in Pisces Tarot Spread, explore Molly McCord's enlightening insights in her YouTube video "Pisces Full Moon - Integrating More of Your Intuition Into Your Responsibilities¹." We've distilled key takeaways from her discourse on the upcoming August 30th, 2023, Pisces Full Moon. Discover the interplay between intuition and responsibility and the significance of this celestial event in shaping our path.

Unveiling the Mysteries: Navigating the Pisces Full Moon of August 2023 🌕🌟

The Dance of Moon and Sun:

As the moon takes its position at seven degrees of Pisces, it directly opposes the Sun at seven degrees of Virgo. The moon reaches its peak brilliance during the full moon, illuminating aspects of our existence hidden in the shadows. Dive deep into your astrological chart, identify the presence of seven degrees in your placements, and open yourself to the cosmic messages being delivered. 🌝🌞✉️

Pisces Moon's Whispering Intuition:

The moon's placement in Pisces infuses the atmosphere with sensitivity, intuition, and a yearning for solitude. This is a time to embrace your internal world, listen closely to your soul's whispers, and trust the feelings that arise, even when they're intangible. The Pisces moon beckons you to connect with the essence of your being and honor the importance of quiet contemplation. 🌊🤫🧘‍♀️

Virgo Sun's Analytical Gaze:

In contrast, the Sun in Virgo brings forth its practical, analytical energy. Rooted in Earth, Virgo's energy urges us to adapt, analyze, and diligently attend to our responsibilities. This energy calls for a harmonious balance between intuitive Pisces and methodical Virgo, creating a synergy that guides us toward informed decisions and grounded actions. 🌍🔍💼

Saturn's Karmic Influence:

Saturn stands at the heart of this celestial ballet, stationed at three degrees of Pisces in retrograde motion. Saturn reminds us of our energetic responsibilities, unfinished tasks, and the karmic threads that need attention. The Pisces Full Moon aligns with Saturn, bringing forgotten matters back into focus. This conjunction provides an opportunity for self-awareness, growth, and releasing what no longer serves us. ⏳🪶🌱

Facing Uncertainty and Finding Guidance:

This cosmic convergence may stir feelings of uncertainty and even vulnerability. The moon's connection with Saturn might lead us to question our path, causing feelings of isolation and powerlessness. However, remember that this discomfort is a catalyst for growth. Embrace the energy as a gentle nudge from the universe, encouraging you to trust your intuition, even when you can't see the bigger picture. 🤔💫🚀

Embracing Humility and Wisdom:

Amid the uncertainty, the Pisces Full Moon encourages humility. Acknowledge that you don't have all the answers, and that's perfectly okay. The song "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell resonates with the essence of this moment, reminding us to remain open to new experiences and wisdom. Trust your soul's guidance, even amidst life's uncertainties. 🎶🌄🌠

"I've looked at love from both sides now From give and take and still somehow It's love's illusions that I recall I really don't know love Really don't know love at all."

Integration of Spiritual Wisdom:

This full moon sheds light on integrating your spiritual self into your daily reality. Let your intuition and inner wisdom become guiding lights, aiding you in navigating the complex energies swirling around. Your spiritual muscles have been developing, urging you to embrace your intuitive gifts and use them as a compass through the storms of life. 🌟🧠💡

Balancing Practicality and Spirituality:

The harmonious dance between Virgo and Pisces, practicality and spirituality, invites you to be responsible with your energy and intuitive insights. This energy is a call to action, a push to address pending matters and trust your internal compass. Consider seeking physical, tangible support for your journey as the angelic essence of Pisces embraces you. 🤝👼🌄

Conclusion:

As the Pisces Full Moon graces the cosmos, it reminds you to trust your intuition and inner wisdom, even amidst uncertainty. Embrace the dance between the practical and the mystical, and find solace in the unknown. This celestial event encourages us to release what no longer serves us, honor our responsibilities, and navigate life with humility and spiritual strength. 🌕🌌🔮

Reference:

McCord, Molly. "Pisces Full Moon - Integrating More of Your Intuition Into Your Responsibilities - 2023 Astrology." YouTube, uploaded by Molly McCord, August 20th, 2023, https://youtu.be/3ucCVMPwMEo.

🌝♓️ Full Moon in Pisces 2023 Tarot Spread

Now that we know the profound energies surrounding the upcoming Pisces Full Moon, let's delve deeper into its mysteries with a specially designed tarot spread. This spread is crafted to illuminate the hidden facets of your existence, guide you through the dance between intuition and practicality, and empower you to embrace uncertainty with humility and wisdom. Each card is vital to unlocking the insights the cosmos wishes to reveal during this celestial event.

Are you ready to embark on a journey of self-discovery and cosmic alignment? Shuffle your deck, lay out the cards, and let the celestial dance guide you through this transformative spread.

Card 1: The Dance of the Moon and Sun

Question: How can I illuminate hidden aspects of my existence during this Pisces Full Moon?

Card 2: Pisces Moon's Whispering Intuition

Question: How can I best embrace my sensitivity and intuition during this moon phase?

Card 3: Virgo Sun's Analytical Gaze

Question: How can I balance practicality and intuition in my decision-making process?

Card 4: Saturn's Karmic Influence

Question: What unfinished tasks or karmic lessons should I focus on during this Pisces Full Moon?

Card 5: Facing Uncertainty and Finding Guidance

Question: How can I navigate uncertainty and vulnerability with grace and trust?

Card 6: Embracing Humility and Wisdom

Question: How can I embrace humility and trust my inner wisdom even in uncertain times?

As you lay out each card, remember that this spread is a cosmic tool guiding you through the complexities of this celestial event. Allow the tarot's wisdom to merge with your intuition, creating a bridge between the earthly and the ethereal. Your path is illuminated, and the universe's whispers are ready to be heard.

[inland--empire]

Here are the lyrics, which i had at hands for.... Normal reasons:

"Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere I looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun They rain and snow on everyone So many things i could have done But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down and still somehow It's clouds illusions i recall I really don't know clouds, at all

Moons and Junes and ferris wheels The dizzy dancing way that you feel As every fairy tale comes real I looked at love that way

But now it's just another show You leave them laughing when you go And if you care don't let them know Don't give yourself away

I looked at love from both sides now From give and take and still somehow Its loves illusions i recall I really don't know love, at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud To say, "I love you", right out loud Dreams and scheems and circus crowds I looked at life that way

But now old friends, they're acting strange They shake their heads, they say i've changed Well something's lost but something's gained In living everyday

I looked at life from both sides now From win and lose and still somehow Its lifes illusions i recall I really don't know life, at all"

This makes me explode. Holy shit you are so right.

[dookasx]

Stalker 2 Nov 22nd Journal Entry

My experience in Stalker 2 is staying strong, I'll skip explaining the tense shootouts I took part in as Day 1 was largely dedicated to that subject. However I'll just use this as a blanket note that I took part in a lot of those kinds of situations.

None of them were as dire as my tactical takeover of the Eastern Checkpoint. However, that isn't to say no struggles were had! I still am using pretty shoddy equipment so there's no chance of run and gunning my way through The Zone for quite a while. That alone demands, I put some effort into all of these assaults.

Relatedly, I'm finding that the enemies in Stalker 2 absolutely love using grenades. This may be a symptom of the game's apparently rather broken AI systems and director (it's not bothering me yet as a player so my apologies if I don't talk much about this). It also may be caused by my absolute insistence on using cover and attempting to maximize my safety in an encounter. Regardless the end result is that I'm finding myself not allowed to rest on my laurels in engagements. If I'm taking it optimally, I may be able to avoid a situation in which they're lobbing bombs at me, but in all other cases I'm finding that I need to stay on my toes 24/7.

What I want to focus on for today, is a point of interest I found and my solid little adventure spent picking it apart. It started with me spotting a handful of electric anomalies, as I approached my echo detector started blipping which meant I knew I had to see what was up in hopes of finding an artifact. In my attempts to follow the trail to the treasure, I started getting yelled at by a fellow stalker. Apparently he got himself stuck in the field of anomalies and needed to be guided out of it. I indulged, and helped him out. It was a fun little diversion from my hunt and he rewarded me with an entirely unrelated artifact for my trouble.

Continuing the hunt, I came upon a little building. Thinking maybe I'll find the artifact I'm looking for I entered said building and didn't find what I was looking for. Instead I came across a safe of loot, locked behind a panel that required a code I didn't know. This set me on a secondary hunt within the same little area.

After some effort I found the code, looted the stash, then kept searching around and eventually found the initial artifact I was looking for.

The point of this little story is to illustrate the kind of thing that I really enjoy about these games. Sure, the whole thing was scripted, GSC clearly expected players to stumble into these events probably in this order. However, that doesn't detract from what made me as the player feel like I was solving the puzzles of the world.

I was presented with a micro sandbox of things to do, and got to do them in a natural feeling order. That feeling is what matters above all else. If the illusion of emergent discovery is maintained while playing the game, then the game is doing its job entirely well. And in that moment I was fully immersed, completely excited after each new fold emerged in my time spent at the Electric Field.

And potentially more important, depending on who you are as a player. I came away from this plenty rewarded. Two artifacts which sold for some good cash, and a nice stockpile of general supplies.

That's only one of the many interesting PoIs I found today. It may not even have been the most noteworthy, I can recall a handful that may have been more exciting, but made for worse stories. This session was when I first left the Lesser Zone, and am slowly making my way into the meat of Stalker 2's world. Though based on the map I see, there's going to be a helluva lot of meat to chew through, and so far this meat tastes very good.

[tihgnari]

๑ [ 06 ] you're thinking of groot, aren't you?

word count: 990 / tw: cursing, violence (?)

the arts and sciences building's study hall used to be your favorite place in the whole university. its windows are always open to let the cool breeze inside during the summer, and you adore the silver christmas lights the staff sets up every winter.

you especially loved how eating in the study hall wasn't prohibited. you recall a certain memory from last year when you and xiao got banned from the library for the rest of the school year for eating instant ramen during an all-nighter's study date session.

you sighed.

"what's gotten you sighing and looking out the window like you're a second lead in a romance movie?"

your glare doesn't exactly work on hu tao, who thinks you're as threatening as the cute pet she has back home with her parents.

she dumps her bag on the table before staring at you with narrowed eyes. "if i know any better… you're thinking of groot, aren't you?"

a few students turned their heads in a totally not judging way at your table. you blink, flustered, not because of the embarrassment of feeling other people's stare, but because "groot" is merely a pseudonym and you know perfectly well she's not talking about the plant-like character from guardian's of the galaxy.

your cheeks heat up and you avert your eyes back to the window. "am not! i'm just thinking about how izumi and i are gonna work things out when we clearly dislike each other."

"dislike is an understatement. that leech absolutely hates you."

and just like that you fell into your usual banter with hu tao. there's 30 minutes more until xingqiu and xiangling are done with their AM classes, so you and your best friend busy yourselves with some readings before the daily lunch date with the shade throwers (and xingqiu).

it wasn't until the clock struck 12pm that hu tao shut off her laptop and cleared her throat, pinning her eyes on you, praying xingqiu and xiangling doesn't arrive until after she's had this talk with you.

"so," she starts, getting your attention. "what really happened earlier?"

you stiffen, the cool exterior shattering for a nanosecond until you're composing yourself again.

if hu tao didn't have years of being your best friend under her belt, she never would've noticed the discomfort in your eyes. you mask your emotions well, she'll give you that, but hu tao knows you like the back of her hand. it was one of the things xiao lacked when you were still dating. unlike hu tao, xiao can never read you no matter how hard he tried, and maybe that's one of the reasons why he left you.

"i already told you what happened –"

"and i want the truth."

you and the brunette fell into a staring contest. a battle of stubbornness as you stare each other down, willing the other person to give up. but alas, being stubborn is a talent hu tao has possessed since you were little kids.

you narrowed your eyes. leaning back against the chair with your arms crossed over your chest. "what gave you the illusion that i didn't tell you the truth?"

"a little birdy."

"what's their name?"

"big bird."

"that doesn't even make sense!"

you groan, burying your face in your hands as hu tao smiles innocently.

"alright! fine…" your voice drops to a whisper. "xiao shoved me into one of the tables and – wait, why don't you look surprised? you already know didn't you?"

hu tao shrugged. "i don't know… do i?"

you almost flipped the table.

"are you mad?" you ask, packing your laptop inside your bag.

"more like insulted because you actually thought you can get away with lying to me. me – you're ultra mega super duper best friend!" she sighed, pinning you with a stare. "don't sweat it. if anything, i'm more angry at xiao for laying a hand on you."

"he didn't –"

"nasty bruise you got on your arm there, where'd you get it?"

you huff, looking away as you tug the sleeves of your hoodie down.

you see a flash of blue hair and you nod towards the entrance, signaling hu tao as you sling your bag over your shoulder. "come on, the rest of the gang's here."

you return the eager wave xiangling gives you with a fond smile before looking back at hu tao, who's chucking the rest of her things into her bag.

"promise me you won't do anything rash? if you get suspended again, i swear to god –"

"i won't. i promise."

she sighs, putting up her pinky.

you stare at her suspiciously before tangling your pinky with hers. you weave through chairs and tables, making your way to the duo standing by the entrance.

"for the record, i don't believe you."

"oh, please! when have i ever let you down?"

you roll your eyes, muttering about that one time she ditched you in the convenience store back in your home town and was forced to pay for whatever she took off the racks.

too immersed in your story-telling, you fail to notice hu tao has stopped walking in the middle of the study hall. by the time you spun around to see her reaction, she was half-way across the room, walking towards–

"no, hu tao wait –!"

"xiao, you fucking moron!"

crash!

the study hall went silent.

you open your mouth to reprimand hu tao, still half-stunned over the stunt she pulled but a certain cherry-haired girl had beaten you to it.

"HOW DARE YOU PUNCH MY BOYFRIEND!"

GOOD 4 U » previous : masterlist : next

a xiao! genshin impact social media au!

๑ summary — lesson learned! never challenge hu tao when you're drunk bc you'll just lose and now you have to post a thread of all your exes as songs from olivia rodrigo's hit debut album sour … or: "yn desperate much!" "yn still loves xiao? yikes! doesn't he already have someone new?" "stop ruining my relationship u bitch!"

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift review, Fearless (Taylor’s Version) – Wisely not trying to rewrite history

Swift’s re-recorded versions of her 2008 album is a timely reminder of some of the best pop songs committed to record

4/5 STARTS

By Alexandra Pollard

Taylor Swift has made a point, not a new album.

In order to wrestle it from the clutches of Scooter Braun, the singer-songwriter has re-recorded, word for word and note for note, 2008's Fearless.

It is a complicated backstory, but the crux of it is this: when she was 15, Swift signed a 13-year deal with record label Big Machine that gave them ownership over all her future master recordings. When she was 28 and one of the biggest pop stars on the planet, she signed a new deal with a different label, and Big Machine sold those rights to Scooter Braun, a man she claimed had bullied her for years.

Since 2019, Braun has had ownership of and control over Swift’s first six albums. “This is what happens when you sign a deal at 15 to someone for whom the term ‘loyalty’ is clearly just a contractual concept,” she wrote in a lengthy Instagram post at the time. “And when that man says ‘Music has value’, he means its value is beholden to men who had no part in creating it.” And so Swift announced her intention to re-record every single song that Braun now owned.

She has begun with her second album, Fearless. Pointedly named Fearless (Taylor’s Version), this is not a new take, remix or reimagining. Tracks such as the Romeo and Juliet-inspired country ballad “Love Story” and the lilting pop song “You Belong With Me” remain almost exactly the same, each banjo note, guitar chord and harmony painstakingly reconstructed. I had wondered if she might use the opportunity to tweak things here and there – “You Belong With Me” aims very un-2021 barbs at a love interest’s current girlfriend – but wisely, she has not tried to rewrite history.

This is the perfect moment for Fearless (Taylor’s Version): there’s no time like a pandemic to be given a dose of nostalgia, and it’s nice to have a refresher of some of the best pop songs committed to record. Even the six “from the vault” tracks that didn’t make the cut first time round feel oddly comforting. “We Were Happy”, with its strings, wistful guitar and lush harmonies (courtesy of Keith Urban), is just lovely. “Mr Perfectly Fine”, meanwhile, slots perfectly into the late-Noughties country pop vibe, helped along by the fact it was supposedly written about a months-long relationship with Joe Jonas (on Instagram, his now-wife Sophie Turner described the song as “not NOT a bop”). These new tracks allow Swift to unleash, for old time’s sake, that “mortally wronged-in-love” persona she wore so well but has quietly retired. She’s recruited shiny young popstars Olivia Rodrigo and Conan Grey in the album’s marketing campaign – a canny reminder that she is the godmother of Melodramatic Teenage Feelings.

When she was 57, Joni Mitchell re-recorded “Both Sides Now”, a song she wrote at 24. No longer sung in dulcet tones but in a husky rasp brought on by a lifetime of cigarettes, lines like “I’ve looked at life from both sides now/ From win and lose and still somehow/ It's life’s illusions I recall/ I really don't know life at all” took on a newfound poignancy. It would be a stretch to say the same has happened here, because Swift’s voice has remained almost exactly the same, but there is certainly an added layer to songs like “Fifteen”. “Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now,” she mused back then, at 18, and again now, at 31. “Back then, I swore I was gonna marry him someday/ But I realised some bigger dreams of mine.”

Only occasionally has something been lost in the re-recording process. Perhaps it’s because she has grown weary of it after thousands of renditions, but “Love Story” somehow lacks the wide-eyed spark of the original. If there's a discernible difference, it’s that the build of the middle eight is a little less steep and a little less triumphant. But I’m splitting hairs. Swift has done what she set out to do.

There is a long history of women being locked into bad record deals that come to feel more like prison sentences: TLC; Kesha; Megan Thee Stallion; Toni Braxton; Kelly Clarkson. Maybe Swift is doing this for them, too. Bring on the next five.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

[stardustincarnate]

TOGETHER FOREVER // Asra x Reader

ASRA + A NON-BINARY MC

WORD COUNT: 2541

GENRE: Fluff

Water.

Flowing water, molded into ballerinas, swaying to the slow, dreamy rhythm of a harp, by a skilled magician, surrounded me as I stood in the middle of a vast, colorful oasis. It took me a while before I realized that I was in Asra's gate. How did I end up being there?

The plants sprung to life, engulfing me, filling my vision with a dancing of warm colors that reminded me of him as I closed my eyes. I could feel the phantom of warmth embrace me, and when I opened my eyes, I was greeted with those deep and sincere purple eyes of his.

The world seemed to have slowed down, every action taking some time as if it was to savor the moment. I found myself loosely wrapping my arms around his neck as he caressed my other cheek, and I leaned to the feeling.

I could see Asra's magnificent aura combining with mine, making a beacon of blinding light that went up to the sky.

His tender touch never fails to send me flying over to the moon, both our magic combined as if speaking to one another, my heart reacting to his own.

He pressed his forehead against mine, a blush creeping up his face.

"I love you."

-

With that, I had unfortunately awoken. I yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, soon realizing that Asra was not beside me anymore. The smell of my favorite soup wafted out from the kitchen to the bedroom, causing me to blearily walk towards it. The sleepiness soon ebbed my system once the smell got stronger. Asra wasn't aware that I already woke up, so I sneakily went on to hug him from behind, earning an adorable gasp from him and making me chuckle.

"[MC]? You're awake. Did you have a good sleep?"

I nuzzled his fluffy hair. "Mhm I suppose. I had a really good dream."

"Oh? Why don't you tell me about it."

"We were in your gate. But it didn't look like before.. it was more magical that time. Well, just us doing some romantic things.. Involving magic too!"

Asra let out a chuckle, "Why don't we make it real then?" He turned around, giving me that playful look of his. I grinned. "Ooh, I love the sound of that."

Soon, I found myself being fed by him as we ate our breakfast. Faust kept on squeezing us alternatively. She seemed excited about something.

"[MC], what do you say we go out for a trip today?" Asra asked, wiping off some remaining soup droplets on my chin which I hadn't noticed.

"Where will we go?"

"I thought about bringing you to the magical realms, but then I thought of something better." He casted a wistful look on me. "Let's forget about the realms for the mean time. Let's just explore the city. What do you think?"

"You know I'm up for it! But you'll have to let me take a bath first!" I chuckled.

"Take your time. I won't mind." He playfully winked at me as I headed towards the bathroom.

Some time later, we arrived at the city market. Vesuvians were partially rowdy and quiet. Though some even came stumbling near the two of us, but it was alright. Asra held my hand tightly as I saw him grinning at something— or someone. The market seemed a bit more playful today. Maybe that's why he decided to take me here? The fun in the atmosphere was tangible, especially when I heard the strumming of guitars— and the next moment, all I knew was that Asra and I were dancing in the middle of the street, accompanied by some other couples until the beat had stopped.

It was fun while it lasted. It's as if my body had a mind of its own when I let myself dance to the rhythm. I didn't care about anything else other than the joyous music. I knew what felt right, and it felt right to let myself sway to the rhythm with Asra. Abstract magic bubbled around the two of us. How I love feeling that way.

However, right after the dancing session, the world suddenly dissipated into nothingmess. I was left all alone in a dark, fathomless land where no one seemed to hear me. No Asra... no Faust. I tried to connect to them using my magic, but something was intercepting it. No no, I didn't feel something ominous despite the situation. So what, exactly, was stopping me? I called out to my magic once more, and there I felt a recognizable aura somewhere. Asra's. He was nearby, I could tell, but it's as if he was hiding behind a veil which I didn't know where to find. I was in distress, but then something dawned me.

Asra must've been playing tricks with me. I should've known from the beginning. Ugh, I am so going to get that rascal! I let my magic surround me, and then I was back at the market— but I was alone. If he was pulling a prank on me, I'd give him credits for the effort of making  the crowd disappear too. I clicked my tongue but later on grinned. What kind of prank was it? I got a little excited to know what to see at the end of the tunnel.

"Asraaaaaa!"

I called out for the nth time. I was aimlessly walking that I didn't realize I already bumped to a hulking figure. The smell of Myrrh...

"Muriel! Have you seen my sneaky magician?" 

He looked away as soon as I met his eyes. He didn't reply. He just walked away. I followed him with my eyes but then he stopped his tracks, reluctantly beckoning me to join him. And I did. And I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. Asra really did execute a massive prank for me because the whole Vesuvia seemed empty of people. I was beginning to get confused when I still didn't see anyone, but when we turned to a corner, leading to which I presume is the docks, an enthralling scenery surprised me.

My fellow Vesuvians were scattered on the side. The middle was empty and I supposed I would be walking there, and I was right. I let out a confused noise when they suddenly started singing all together. Their voices were harmonious that it somehow made my heart feel lighter than it already was. I could spot a few familiar faces.

Selasi, our favorite baker, then came up to me, handing me something. I was surprised that it wasn't bread but a bouquet of my favorite flowers. I thanked him, but before I could ask furthermore, he hastily ran back to the crowd.

"Muriel, what's going on?"

What did I expect? He didn't even turn around. I guessed I wouldn't be having any answers until I see the mastermind behind all of this.

I spotted Aisha and Salim in the crowd. They gave me a meaningful smile, a sly look on their faces. I smiled back and proceeded to walk down the center even if I had no idea what was happening. Their attentions were all on me. It made me feel overwhelmed, as if I was the star of Vesuvia. And jeez, was the Countess and all the other courtiers somewhere in the crowd?

Speaking of, I soon found Nadia standing in a corner. Her elegant figure stood out the most. I was taken aback when she walked to me, and I received a bouquet of flowers once again. She gave me a playful look and then weaved herself through the crowd. I soon spotted Portia, and she did the same thing to me, winking afterwards. 

And by the time I had reached Julian standing in the middle of the docks, my arms were already full of bouquets, but he gave a blind eye to that and proceeded to put another bouquet on top of the rest that I could barely see what's in front of me. And as I expected, the strain in my arms made the bouquets fall to the ground. I regretfully looked at them. But just as I was about to pick them up, Julian intercepted, swaying his long, lanky arms that almost hit my face.

"Whoops! No no no no. We can't have our main star doing the work here, can we?"

He flashed a shameless grin and started picking up the bouquets. I didn't argue and instead chuckled. Then as I lifted my gaze, I finally saw Asra, standing at the edge and giving me a look as if to tell "I'm expecting you."

He smiled at me as I ran into him, completely forgetting the fact that he's at the edge. One slight move and he would fall into the water. But something unusual happened. 'Asra' bursted into fizzy bubbles and tiny butterflies that soon engulfed me, making me giggle. And once they gave way, I was greeted by a bunch of tiny ballerinas which emerged from the water. They were careful not to get too close and drench my clothes. My smile grew even wider as I recalled my dream. There were also dancing ballerinas surrounding me, but bigger. Asra must had taken note of that to pull the trick off.

I pivoted, seeing 'Asra' give me another bouquet of flowers. But they were much larger than the ones my friends had given to me. The other half was drenched though since it was given to me by the water in which Asra shaped himself to.

"[MC]." I heard a boisterous call, making me turn around for the nth time, and that time I finally saw the real Asra. Solid and radiating an immense aura of magic. Joyous but somehow perplexed. I threw myself at him, and we bursted into giggles.

"My, my.. You really know how to pull a trick off your sleeves. Is this really the real you, or are you just another one of his illusions?"

"I'm the real one you know," His airy voice tickled my ears. There was a playful tone in his voice. "Want me to prove it?"

"N-Not in front of everyone!" I flushed but eventually cleared my throat. "Uhm, mind explaining yourself? Please tell me what's gotten into your mind to do this."

He only gave me a smug look, but later on evaded my gaze as a blush crept on his face. The crowd had already stopped singing. They were silent and watching us as if expecting something huge to happen. I looked at my friends, who were only giving me playful looks. I frowned, but then it hit me. 

Or I might just be assuming things. It was just a massive prank, right? Asra didn't do it because of...

"[MC]."

"Yeees?"

"I.. You know how much I care for you.. Right?"

I heard someone in the crowd squeal.

"Yes. You told me about it when.. when we were at the fountain... during the most recent masquerade." I blushed as I reminisced the scene. It made my heart flutter when he told me that he loves me. It filled me with joy. We've been through a lot...

"We've been through a lot of adventures ever since we defeated the Devil. And I treasure the memories that we keep on making... I find it better to go on adventures with you by my side rather than going alone," He looked at me and smiled. It was my turn to look away due to our faces' proximity. "You showed me a different perspective of the world, [MC], and I can't imagine living a life without you anymore. I feel like as long as we're together, we'll be able to overcome anything." 

My heart erratically beated as he said those words. A mixture of Aww's and other complements came from the crowd, but Asra didn't seem to mind. He was staring at me. And only at me.

"I love you, [MC]. And I'll keep on loving you.." He widened the distance between us a little, kneeling down and as if searching for something in his pocket. I didn't know how red my face was at the time. I felt like exploding.

He really was doing it.

He was proposing to me.

Asra stopped his search and shyly looked around, but he was somehow distressed. 

"Now where did I put it...." He looked down, facepalming. "Faust, where are you? I told you not to play with it."

At the mention of her name, Faust slithered towards him, something shiny in her mouth. Asra chuckled and scolded her as she took refuge in his sleeve. Then, he averted his gaze back to me, his eyes gleaming with hope and love.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, [MC]. And I hope you do too... Will you marry me?"

He showed me the ring that flashed the colors of the rainbow before my very eyes. Milliseconds after he said that the crowd started cheering and squealing, and I didn't even utter my answer yet, and I couldn't due to all the noise. Portia took care of it though.

"HEY! Did we actually hear what [MC] said? QUIET!" And the noise dissipated. 

The more I looked at Asra, the more I realized how nervous he actually was. Even with a brave facade, I could still see through him. We were blushing so bad as he waited for my answer. But I felt like I couldn't speak at the time. I was overwhelmed with euphoria that I couldn't bring myself to utter a single word or even move. It took me a few seconds to calm myself, responding to his question with a smile.

"D-Do you even have to ask?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it is! Yes! I'll marry you!"

Asra stood up with a wide, genuine smile as he put the ring on my finger. It was filled with an intricate design, the pattern carved meticulously. I was so amazed at how detailed it was. I looked at it with awe. I couldn't believe what was hapenning. I might've swooned.

"Good. I was beginning to think you wouldn't.."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know." Asra laughed, pulling me into a kiss. His magic surged into me and when he pulled away, he immediately took me in his embrace. The crowd started cheering once again that I could barely hear myself over it.

"Did you make the ring?"

"Yes. Did you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" I flushed against his chest.

"The ring only?"

"Psh, of course you too! I love you, Asra!"

He chuckled and intertwined our fingers. I blushed even more. If I could explode, I already would've.

"I love you too. I loved you ever since."

"Asra! Stop making me blush.."

"But I was just stating facts! Right Faust?"

"Right!"

He really couldn't fail to make me blush, to create butterflies and grow flowers inside me, and to make my heart feel light and filled with pure bliss.

We were engaged, and I couldn't wait to see what the future stores for us.

The future that includes him and I, completely contented with each other's presence.

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 20 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-19 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is exclusively 18+ and explicit. This chapter includes references to, and descriptions of, abuse from a parent. It is no more extreme or explicit than any other chapters, but please exercise caution.

Words: 5.2k update, 98.1k total.

If you would like to be added to my taglist for updates on this project and / or others, please fill out this form!

You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

"I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, 'I exist.' In thousands of agonies - I exist. I'm tormented on the rack - but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar - I  exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

You blinked your eyes, and as they opened to the sights around you, you came to the realization that you were sitting on a beach; coarse sand shifting against your body, a whipping breeze moving through your hair, and navy blue waves crashing against the shores, setting off a cascade of ivory foam that exploded around you like fireworks. Yes, you were unmistakably by an ocean. You weren’t sure how you had gotten here — wherever here was — so you looked around for any clues that you could find.

You were in the same clothes you had been in on Nevarro. They were dirty — was that sand, or dust? What were those dark stains?

Dragging your palms through the coarse grey sands beneath you, you discovered there was nothing within your immediate grasp that would offer any clues; but you could feel stinging pinpricks across your body as the salty air blew against you. Looking around, your head swiveling, there was a sharp ache in your neck — but you pushed that pain away, needing focus on finding something that would give you some insight about where you were and what was happening.

Looking onwards, you saw that there were fearsome navy storm clouds rapidly approaching the shoreline you were seated at, and your eyes scanned the horizon nervously; you anxiously listened as the waves roared, almost like you had heard Din roar many times before.

Din.

Where was Din?

Your curiosity and worry was momentarily diminished as you felt something unexpected and wet fall against your warm cheek. Looking up, you understood that you were not crying, that the wetness on your face was not of your own doing. The roiling, dark clouds above you had now unleashed their freezing torrent, and the raindrops fell onto you with a steadily growing frequency that threatened to soak you through to the core within minutes.

You pushed yourself up from the sandy beach, brushing your stinging palm onto your pants to try and clean them off, before turning to try and find something in this unfamiliar landscape around you that may offer shelter. You had weathered many a storm, and knew of the aching cold that it would bring to those who were left exposed.

The landscape turned out to be not entirely unfamiliar — there were certainly many things out of place, but simultaneously recognizable in an irrefutable way. In the distance, through the fog of the rain, you could see what appeared to be your childhood home. The stone house was nothing spectacular or impressive, and it was quite small, but you would’ve recognized the pattern of those dark, moss-covered stones anywhere. You had spent many hours being forced to stare at the stone wall, after making the cat levitate, or talking to the pretty stranger woman in the marketplace who spoke a language that nobody else could understand. Somehow, you had come back to this place, to a home that was never really home.

As you shivered, the freezing rain running in rivulets down your body, you understood that you were being forced to make a choice. Sit here in the torrential downpour of rain, endure nature’s impersonal barrage; or seek shelter in the one place that had never truly been a shelter as it should have been.

You felt your heartbeat pick up speed with every fat raindrop that landed against you, their impact becoming steadily more and more forceful. Your thin jacket wasn’t holding up against the power of the storm, and with a shaking breath, you took a step towards the stone house. After all of these years, surely it was empty. Surely the inhabitants had changed, despite the resilience and timelessness of stone. This wasn’t really even your home planet — it was some amalgamation of memories and dreams from Eadu and Chandrila; it simply had to be.

The path to the house was a familiar one, although you knew that the home had never been close to an ocean — this absolutely must be some sort of dream, to bring together this combination of gorgeously torturous imagery — and as you drew closer towards the door with every step, you said a quiet prayer to whatever gods or Force that may accompany you, that the house from your memories would be empty. Your hand connected with the weathered and damp grey wood of the door, and you pushed your whole body weight against it, recalling how the door always stuck against the frame whenever it rained — which was often.

The door gave way as a particularly strong gust of wind blew against you, and you tumbled into an achingly familiar scene. The hearth across the room held a dying fire and red-black coals; the cots positioned around it were covered in the same green and grey blankets you had once wrapped yourself in; and the chest full of family valuables and heirlooms was tucked away in the corner, protecting the assorted quilts, books, and ceramic items that had been collected and protected throughout the years.

A sense of unease and comfort settled upon you simultaneously, almost as if the weight of a still-damp blanket had beed draped across your shoulders. Heavy, possibly well intentioned, and yet still unwanted.

It seemed to be blessedly empty, this memory of the house you had once known, and you were exceptionally grateful for that. The thought of a reunion with anyone from your past life, whether you were dreaming or awake, made your stomach clench in fear. Stepping through the entryway of the small house, you saw your father’s coat hanging by the door; it was weatherproof, as he worked endless hours on this rainy, desolate planet, and you were certain that if you were to pick it up it would still smell like him. Strong soap, a hint of tobacco, and an earthiness that could never be scrubbed out of the fibers, or the soul.

This isn’t real, you reminded yourself. This scene wasn’t really real, but the sensations felt as though they were, so you forced yourself to reach out for the jacket that would offer you warmth and protection from the storm. You felt tears prick your eyes as you shrugged the oversized coat onto your small frame; it was exactly as you had remembered it; and somehow it almost felt as though it were still warm. Retreating further into its protection and coverage, you stepped back out into the storm that was bettering the coast; your previous worlds of Eadu and Chandrila merging into one.

As you surveyed this unnatural scene, continually trying to rationalize and remind yourself it was a dream, you saw a familiar glint of silver — a glint of beskar. A scream tore itself from your throat as you bounced on your tiptoes, trying desperately to catch Din’s attention through the swirling debris that the powerful winds had whipped up. You could just barely see the thin line of the visor turn in your direction before your attention then turned to the small green toddler that was clambering across the sand dunes, the duo making their way towards you through the ceaseless rain.

You felt your heart leap at the sight of these two, the odd duo that you had come to love more than anything in this galaxy. You tried to run towards them, but as your muscles strained you felt as if there were an impossibly heavy weight cemented to you, holding you back from reconnecting with your true family. You fought harder and harder against the weights that held you down — and as your body fought back against this unseen power, you watched as Din and Grogu somehow begin to move even further away from you.

Arms reaching out desperately, you cried and clambered your way towards them, but for every step you took, you were dragged back threefold. Your muscles screamed in agony and exhaustion, your throat was raw from screaming their names — and yet they were still receding into the horizon, bodies eventually disappearing entirely behind the grey dunes and their grasses. This was a dream, but watching your family disappear could only be described as a nightmare.

And then out of nowhere, as you cried out for your companions, a wrinkled hand came swinging towards you at full force, landing across your face with a startlingly familiar impact that stung and smarted in a way that you hadn’t experienced in years. And yet, despite the respite from violence that Din had given you, you would’ve recognized those hateful hands anywhere.

You looked up into the aging face of your mother, hateful and wild, terror in her eyes — it held the same look that you had seen on the day you had run away; and your heart seized up in a paralyzing mix of fear and sadness, the same way it had the last time that you had seen her. All these years later, and you would still run from your mother. For all the growth, all the talents, all the forgiveness, all the skills you had developed — the instinct that had been beaten into you won out, and you felt adrenaline course through your bloodstream like gasoline to a fire, telling you to run like hell as you had once before.

As the fear and grief churned within you, the storm around you began to worsen as well. The crests of the waves grew taller, crashing with increasing ferocity; the stinging rain was now mixed with hail that threatened to break skin; and the winds that whipped around you threatened to knock you clear off of your feet.

“Well would you look at that,” your mother hissed, stepping away from you. “Ever the disaster, even now. All you bring is destruction!”

You shook your head, knowing this was a dream, knowing that what she said wasn’t true. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t right. You were only dreaming — you were really at home in the ship, wrapped securely in Din’s arms. This too will pass, you reminded yourself.

Though you knew it was only a dream, you wondered why did the sands and her words still sting, as the wind blew them into you? How could it still burn, knowing that no true pain was inflicted upon you?

Your mother looked towards the same horizon that Din and Grogu had disappeared behind, and you followed her gaze. “And of course, you’ve run off with whatever man gives you the slightest bit of attention — you clearly haven’t learned your lesson, stupid girl — wonder how long it’ll be before he has to start beating you like Orron did. Like I did.”

Her impossibly cruel and hateful words hit you with a breathtaking force, and you felt a concerningly familiar hatred and anger boiling within you, just as it had when you killed Bragant. Yes, you had killed Bragant — that truth could not be denied. You panicked at this sudden surge in emotions — you needed to control this, you needed to be in control, you didn’t want to lose yourself to that terrifying, encompassing darkness ever again —

And the very world around you began to violently shake as you fought back against the darkness, as you fought back against that thick, black, boiling hatred — you threw every ounce of yourself into pushing it away, wrenching your eyes shut in concentration, shutting out the painful image of your mother and her stinging, cruel hands. This evil, choking darkness felt as heavy and overwhelming as it had on Nevarro, but this time you fought it just as hard as you had fought for Din’s life on Bardotta. You were not going to let it win, you were not going to let it overtake you and drown out the humanity and love that you had so carefully cultivated. You could feel yourself screaming though the unyielding pressure and weight of the darkness, but as you clung to the smallest thread of light, you felt the vitriol and violence slowly begin to recede.

And then you saw Din and Grogu, reappearing on the storming horizon, fighting to cross over the shifting grey dunes to you.

They had fought to come back to you, despite the hurricane that you had created here.

Somewhere deep down inside, you had truly come to believe in their love and their dedication to you; and you had let go of the ideas of your mother, that you were nothing more than a source of pain and destruction. These two were living proof that you were capable of good things, that you were worthy of being loved, that you were capable of creating love and light, and growing something worth fighting for.

The thunder and crashing waves began to quiet, as the hint of a smile quirked your lips upwards. Your mother continued to stare in horror and disgust; you saw her mouth moving with hateful words, but you could no longer hear her voice. The torrential rain slowed around you, until it was barely a mist that settled across the landscape before you, and you felt the weight that had held you frozen in place slowly begin to lift. You stepped forward tentatively, your gaze moving past your still-screaming mother, to rest on the two that were now climbing down the last grey, rain-spattered dune.

You continued to step forward with rapidly growing confidence, until you were running at a breakneck pace, leaving your old cobblestone home behind — your heart was moving at lightspeed as you approached Din and Grogu, and as you came closer, you practically launched yourself into Din’s arms, colliding with the ice cold beskar with no regard for the bruises it would inadvertently press into your skin. As you wrapped your body around his, tears streaming down your face, the two of you somehow slipped — bodies tumbling, you landed on top of him in the sand, a laugh coming up from your chest to join the tears that had been brought to the surface.

You pressed your face into the cool beskar breastplate, your chest heaving with emotion; something was pressing into your arm, and you looked up to see that Grogu had climbed up onto the tangled pile of limbs, coming to rest between you, and he was making happy gurgling sounds that warmed your heart. This was your true family, these were the ones that you loved unconditionally, the ones that loved you back just the same.

The sound of the waves eventually disappeared, a silence settling around you; the winds slowly ceased to blow, and the sand that the three of you laid on disappeared beneath you, as the scene around you was wiped away and replaced with the scene of your true home — the Razor Crest.

***

You felt two strong and familiar hands on your shoulders, their grip insistent as they shook you from your sleep, as they shook off the dream that you had found yourself in just moments ago. Your eyes opened slowly, working to focus on the thin black visor that was in front of you — but something prevented you from focusing fully, and as you continued to blink you felt tears escaping from your eyes, rolling hotly down your cheeks. Your eyes flitted back and forth across the visor, as if you could see anything behind it, and you touched a shaking hand to your warm and swollen face that was covered with the dampness of tears. You must’ve been crying.

Din pulled you in close to him, sitting you up in the small bunk as your frame rested against his chest; he ran his hands through your hair, breathing deeply as he held onto you. “Are you alright? You were — you were crying, in your sleep. I couldn’t get you to wake up from it.” He sounded breathless, worried, nervous.

You nodded, your cheek brushing against the side of his freezing helmet as you worked to quiet the whimpering that was coming forth from you, and steady your shaking breaths. “It was just a dream,” you whispered, distantly recalling the storm that you had fought back against.

Din remained quiet as he continued to hold onto you; after all of the turmoil and upheaval of the past ... however many days, the two of you clung to each other even tighter, having experienced a taste of the devastation and terror that would accompany any separation.

Your breaths and heart rate slowed and became more steady; the ship was just as it had been before you and Din had fallen asleep against one another. You were safe, you were home. You pulled away from him slightly, wanting to reassure him that everything was alright. Your hand rose from your side to rest against the sharply angled beskar helmet. “I’m okay, Din, I promise. It was just a...”

Your voice faded off as you saw the utility jacket that dwarfed you. Your eyes widened in incredulity as you slowly extended your arms in front of you, seeing the sturdy weatherproof material move as your body moved within it.

“Just a dream,” you whispered, not wanting to scare Din, or have to try and explain something that you had no explanation for. You would address this new mystery at another time. You pushed this newfound mystery and worry to the side, focusing on the man in front of you who had remained by your side through all of the chaos.

Chaos, that could not remain unspoken. “Din,” you started, shifting to face him better. “I know what happened... with Bragant.”

His sigh crackled through the modulator as he moved to bring you back into his chest, but you resisted. The truth of this couldn’t be denied any longer, and you would have to confront this reality and assess how it would affect your future.

“Bragant was a bounty. He was a criminal. You won’t be in any... trouble, for what happened. Karga offered to... pay. If you want.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to wrap your mind around this information, trying to wrap your mind around everything that felt both insurmountable and invisible at the same time. “I hadn’t — hadn’t even thought about any legal consequences.”

“The Marshall assured me that you wouldn’t face any.”

You nodded, feeling grateful that this piece had been resolved before you even had time to worry about it. “It’s not only that, Din — when I was there, in that alley — he said things to me, awful things,” you paused, as you noticed your voice was shaking, and you fought back against the tears that rushed to your eyes and the heat that was rising in your throat. “When he said those things, I got... I got so angry. Angrier than I had ever been, angrier than I ever knew I could get. And I... I lost control.”

“You defended yourself against a violent criminal.” Din’s voice droned through the modulator. He was stating a fact, but this fact didn’t cover the whole truth of the matter. There was more to it than he wanted to acknowledge, but you had to.

“Din,” you spoke up, your voice holding an insistent edge that quieted the protests of the historically stubborn man. “Din, I killed someone. When I didn’t mean to. I lost control, back there, in that alley — I understand that killing may not seem significant to you, but it does to me, that was a lifethat I took —“

Din pulled away from you abruptly, a bit harshly. “You think that killing others doesn’t affect me? Is that what you really think of me?” His voice was louder than you had ever heard it before, and it cracked with strain and frustration; you could hear the hurt through the modulator. “Do you think that I enjoy it, like some sadistic bastard? Do you think that I don’t carry the weight of every single life I’ve ended?”

You cowed at his brazen display of pain and frustration, and an instinctual part of yourself pulled away from him, your legs and arms retracting inwards to protect yourself. You felt a hot wave of tears crashing into you, and you buried your head in the crook of your elbow, not wanting to upset him, not wanting to make this worse than it had to be.

“No, Din, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You whispered, your voice breaking; you weren’t sure if he even heard you as your face was hidden from view, buried within your arms. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever fury may follow.

It stayed silent for several moments, the tension and emotion rolling thickly off of the both of you; the air felt heavier, and each breath required more effort to draw the weighted air into your lungs. As you slowly came to the realization that nothing horrible was going to happen, came to the realization that Din was nothing like the ones who had come before, you lifted your head up from your arms to confront this emotional scene... but without violence. You had never experienced conflict without violence before; you didn’t know how to handle it, but you knew that you loved Din and trusted him.

He was now standing in the cabin rather than seated directly next to you; his body was facing yours, and yet his head was turned away. This was an intentional choice on his part; his body language spoke volumes, and he knew that every inch of positioning was intentional. And despite all of the beskar, despite all of the weapons, and despite all of the mental walls that he threw up against you — you could still feel how your careless words had cut him deeply. You had hurt Din, and you had to confront that. You had to acknowledge that, and work towards repairing this.

You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

As you rested your head against the unyielding, cold steel of his breastplate, you pressed your hands even deeper into him, trying to convey all of your love and sorrow through touch alone; you hated that you hurt him, that you ever caused him a single moment of doubt. “Din, I’m so sorry,” you sighed. “I was — I wasn’t thinking, when I said what I said before. It was crass, and careless, and completely untrue. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. The best man I’ve ever known, and I’ve never even for a moment thought you were anything less than that.”

“Your measure for good men is concerning.”

You couldn’t tell through the warping of the modulator if he was being sarcastic, and making a joke; or if he was still smarting from your earlier words.

You pursed your lips, nodding against him. “You’re right. My gauge for a moral compass is a bit broken, a bit biased. But you have been the brightest spot in my life, the brightest star in my sky, and I want you to know that I think you are a better man than you give yourself credit for.”

You could sense a change in the beat of his heart, could hear it echoing against the beskar you were resting against. His posture shifted as his arms came to wrap themselves around you, drawing you into the familiar lines and curves of his body. You sighed in relief, melting into him, trusting that he had accepted your apology and forgiven you.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly that the modulator only barely altered the true sound of his voice. “I know that... what happened, was hard for you. You’re sweet, and kind, and that’s... one of the many things I love about you.” He was quiet for a moment as he pulled you in tighter, nearly lifting your now-freezing feet off of the ground. “I want to do whatever I can to help you.”

You nodded against him, a few tears escaping as you knew that you had his understanding and his support; and that was all you needed to trust that you would be able to navigate this uncharted territory together. You weren’t alone in this; you had Din and Grogu, and the three of you would find your way through this new challenge, as you had found your way through many before. You pulled away from his strong grasp, trying to gaze into the black and blank visor, needing at least some illusion of contact and connection. “I just... Din, I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve read books from at least 10 different planets, from 100 different cultures, and I haven’t got a single clue about how to manage this or what I can do to be better.”

Din stayed silent, as he often did, but you could feel the way that his fingers pressed more deeply into your body, imparting a sort of comfort that only he could give. You could feel his concentration as he contemplated what to say next; he had never been rash or rushed with his words, and it was one of the many things that you loved and appreciated about him.

“When I was traveling with Grogu, we crossed paths with a… Jedi. Ahsoka Tano.” Din paused, understanding the weight of the information that he was sharing with you. “She... said she couldn’t train Grogu, because he was too attached to me.”

Your lips quirked up in a smile, a small laugh coming from your chest. “She wouldn’t want anything to do with me, then.”

You heard Din chuckle quietly, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you knew he was not holding any grudges. “No, she wouldn’t train you either. But she told me that there is a planet, that has a... rock, that is important to the Force. Or to the Jedi. She said that by sitting on it, Grogu may be able to connect with other Jedi in the galaxy.”

An eyebrow raised up in suspicion at the story he shared. “Sitting on a rock will help us find another Jedi?”

Din shrugged, and you could imagine a clueless and befuddled look existed behind the beskar. “I don’t know. All of that magic — sorry, Force — stuff seems impossible to me. And yet I’ve seen it.” He gently tucked away the strands of hair that had fallen into your face, his hand coming to rest at your chin, lifting your gaze back to his anonymous one. “It seems too simple, just going to this rock — but it may be the best option we have.”

You nodded, resting your head in his large hand, enjoying the warmth of the contact. “I want to talk to Grogu first, though. I want to make sure this is something he wants too.”

Din nodded in understanding. “I’ll give you some space to clean up, and then we can meet Karga and the Marshall in town. They’ve been looking after the kid. We can talk about the bounty pay, and then set a course for Tython.”

You reached up to squeeze his gloved hand gently before turning to retreat to the fresher, to try and wash away some of the stress and the pain of the past several days. Your head felt as though it was swimming, or spinning, or both, with all of the upheaval that you had experienced; and as you shrugged yourself out of the weathered, industrial jacket that had somehow made its way onto your frame, you felt even more disoriented. You gripped the edge of the steel sink tightly, taking deep and slow breaths until you felt steady enough on your feet to turn on the water of the shower. You shrugged out of the rest of your clothes, your muscles still aching with exhaustion.

The blistering hot water rolled down your skin, and you worked to clear your mind and return to the meditative state that Ixxith had once taught you. Your body went through the motions of cleaning, your mind going peacefully blank and quiet. You couldn’t solve any of your problems or overcome the complexities while in the shower; so you saved that stress for another, more appropriate time.

When you had finally scrubbed away the last of the grit and grime that clung to you, feeling like a new and whole person, you dressed yourself and met Din outside of the ship that you had been encapsulated and recovering in for days. The sunlight felt harsh on your skin, but you welcomed the sensation that you had gone so long without. Stretching your limbs out into the open air, you smiled confidently over at Din, hoping that the confidence and bravado that you projected would eventually sink in and become more real.

He placed his gloved hand onto the small of your back, and you could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into the vertebrae of your spine, holding you up and encouraging you forward, just as he had so many times before. It was a quiet kind of support, but the weighted silence and intentional touches spoke more than any texts or volumes could, and his love and confidence made you stronger and more empowered than any Force training could.

Whatever happened next, on Nevarro, on Tython, on any other far-fetched planet in this galaxy, you knew without a doubt that you would face it together. You would face it with the kind of love that could only have grown in the quiet places of the ship, in the cold of hyperspace, between those who had been denied love and yet held an extraordinary capacity for it.

Taglist: @knivesareout @tanzthompson @stageleftlauren @greatcircle79 @bdavishiddlesbatch

[chemsexholmes]

But now its just another show and you leave em laughing when you go and if you care don't let them know don't give yourself away I've looked at love from both sides now from give and take and still somehow its love's illusions that I recall I really don't know love really don't know love at all tears and fears and feeling proud to say "I love you" right out loud dreams and schemes and circus crowds ive looked at life that way oh but now old friends they're acting strange and they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed well something's lost but something's gained in living every day

[colemacgrathtkz]

Where two shadows meet

Disclaimer: No gush. No mush. Just angst.

Previously. Next

----------------------‐----------------------

[The next day after being sent away, human realm]

The morning after being cast out, Luz woke up to the an empty room. She had hoped the events of last night were just some nightmare. Feeling the dried tears on her face told her the truth. She must've cried herself to sleep. She'd been waiting for the smallest chance of the portal reopening. Any opportunity, no matter how small, she refused to miss.

None came and hints of dawn were peeking through the windows.

She picked herself up and headed for her old house. The empress cloak still wrapped around her. She wondered, how would she explain this to her mother?

When she approached the street, a flyer caught her eye.

A missing persons poster with her picture on it. Plenty of them were scattered throughout the neighborhood.

She ran towards the side of her house and peered in.

Her mother, weary and worn out, sat at the table with a phone at hand. Were her eyes red from crying or staying up all night?

Luz was about signal her mother to her presence.

Not yet.

She caught her reflection in the window. Her pupils were glowing red. Stumbling back, she couldn't face her mother like this.

Sprinting away, not caring about what direction.

Hours later, Luz would return when she knew her mother was gone. She snuck in to take whatever cash she could and pack up a new bag.

Camilla Noceda: "Who's there?!"

Scratch that, Camilla hadn't gone to work yet. Luz grabbed what she had and bolted out of the house. From that day on, she had to make her supplies last.

[Six weeks later]

Luz had been wandering the country. She had tried shelters. But she had made her stays brief. People had tried to figure out, where was she from?

The worst part came from her "condition". Lately, she kept waking up in different parts of the city. Clumps of money or random items could be found alongside her. Usually with a note that said, "Take this with you". They were written in her handwriting. She refused to obey the beast inside her. However, her stubbornness meant she refused any resource that came from the empress. One in particular, the empress cloak that kept appearing in her bag.

Her travels left her funds dry and uneasy about the future.

One night, she didn't have any strength left. Her nightmare was moving to its next phase.

She found herself in her old room. A shackle made of light lead out the door. She stepped out into the hallway. The chain trailed to the right. But it became pitch black futher down. A second chain came from the abyss into a door across the hall.

She wanted to know where this would lead.

Stepping through, she dreaded that this was Belos' old throne room.

Stop...fighting

The empress stepped out from the other side of the room. Dressed in her cloak, the metal mouth mask was new. She twirled her finger and closed the door behind Luz.

Let...me.

Her majesty gestured to her mask. The voice was so muffled, it might has well have been a whisper. Luz didn't really notice it until now.

Luz: "I don't really know what..."

Empress Luz: "Check...it."

The empress pulled on her end of the chain and zipped to Noceda's side. Luz fell over, leaving the empress towering over her.

She didn't know she could make such a scary glare.

Empress Luz (pointing to pockets): "Check!"

Luz didn't waste a second and found a key.

Empress Luz: "You... willingly... give."

She handed her the key, as she stood up.

The empress removed her metal mask, relieved.

Empress Luz: " That's better. We have something to discuss."

Noceda just wanted to leave this nightmare.

Empress Luz: "This nightmare is very real. You leave... when we settle this now!

That's right, I can feel what you're thinking."

Luz Noceda: "What do you want? This is just a dream, right?"

Empress Luz: " You've no doubt noticed, I've been taking control while you sleep. Regrettably, our body has become deprived of rest. We're malnourished and becoming worse. You have to listen to me now!"

Luz: "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!"

Empress: "And our mother with us?"

Dread silenced both of them for a moment.

Luz: "What did you do?

Empress: " I've been a spectator, until not long ago. Neither of us have seen our..."

Luz: "My mama! Mine!"

Empress: "Our mami. I haven't seen her since you ran. I haven't done anything to her. That's what you've got to understand. I care about our mama, like you."

Luz: " You're a curse from Belos."

Empress: "Wrong! I'm not you, but at the same time, I am. From the moment Eda took you on, you were a witch with a dark side. When you killed Belos, you released his unnatural power. I wasn't made by it. It just gave me a voice. I'm a genuine Luz Noceda! I'm a part of you, just like you're a part of me."

The empress sat down on the throne, resting her head in her hand. She revealed a key under her cloak.

Empress: "I can give you the key out of this room. But these shackles on our legs are different story. These are the chains Amity gave us. Which is why, you're going to do what I say."

Luz scowled at this doppelganger. But she began to recall everything that happened since that night.

Luz: "What are you talking about?"

Empress: "Our fates are tied. But you're the only obstacle in our way. You've been frustrated and angry since we were cast out. I've been gaining control because of this. You were able to hold me back, at first. But your control is ticking away. Ironic, isn't it? We're both at our weakest, regardless."

Luz: "Let me out!"

The empress held up her restraint.

Empress: "To do what? Walk until we collapse? Hardly sleep anywhere? Fending off the streets? We're exhausted and knocking on death's door! If we continue on like this, our mother will suffer, too."

Luz: "You're lying."

Empress: " You haven't forgotten our last moments with Amity, right? She knew that would be the last time she'd see us. Mama didn't know that moment on the curb was hers. If they even find our body, can you imagine her face when they do? Haunted by the guilt for the rest of her life? Never knowing anything other than sending her daughter away? That's the fate that you're headed for. But I'm offering a different course."

Luz: "Stop beating around the bush and tell me!"

Empress: "While you've been asleep, I've tried to learn all about magic on this side. This chain could be an unexpected key to getting everything. I want everything you do. I want to give our mama an easy life. I want Amity at our side."

Luz: "Revenge on Lilith?"

Luz felt a familiar rage rising. But she didn't know why. She hadn't thought of Lilith until just then. That's when she understood her connection to the empress.

Empress: "Maybe I was hasty about that? But I know you haven't forgiven her for what she's done. I am you, after all. She got her sister back while we've got nothing. She's cursed her own sister and used us as a human shield. She gets to be with Eda. Meanwhile, you beat Belos and can't even go back to mami."

Luz: "It's because of you. All of this is your fault!"

Empress: "Us. Tell me something, does mama love you or me?"

Luz: "Me! I'm her daughter. You're just something I picked up on the Isles."

Empress: "So, she never met me? Yet, she sent you away to be someone else. It's not my fault you can't be with her. My existence isn't the reason you can't face her, is it? It's because you're too much, even for her.

But what about Amity?"

Luz: "You made me watch you terrorize everyone. You didn't leave her a choice."

Empress: " I gave her everything. She had our trust and love. But when she cast us out, she knew it was you. She was talking to you."

Summoning illusions, that night was replayed in front of them.

Empress: "When she was holding the staff, she knew it was you. Like you said, if she wanted to keep you, she could've. But once again, you were too much for her to handle.

That's two loved ones that cast us...sorry, you away. Should I even mention the others? Eda, King, Willow,  and Gus? They loved you, too, didn't they? But that wasn't enough, was it? You might hate me, but they fear you, too. They didn't stand up for you, either. Their love didn't save you. Those were your final moments with them. Your love for them wasn't enough to keep you together. "

Noceda was silent, letting those words sink in.

Empress: "Right now, I've got a plan. As I've explained, refusing to work alongside me won't help anything."

She tossed the key over to Luz.

Empress: "Right now, you've got two choices. You can keep fighting me and lead us both to our deaths? Or you can stop trying to hold me back and work towards getting it all back?"

Luz walked slowly towards the door.

Empress: "If you want to waste what's left of your energy on the former, I can promise you this. Our last moments won't be yours."

Luz: " You'd like it if I disappeared, wouldn't you? Just like me?"

Empress: "Our body can't go on like this much longer. By the time you disappeared, I wouldn't have much longer. Even if I made it back, they wouldn't trust me. I wouldn't even get the chance to atone. Despite what you think, we need to work together to make this work!"

The two stared at each other. The existence of magic, witches, and demons didn't make this any less weird.

Luz: "You said, we can have it all. How do I know you don't mean, just you?"

Empress: " We were living out our fantasies on the Boiling Isles. Mama thought they were holding us back from reality. But magic is a reality. You're holding me back because you think I'm a monster of tyranny. How are you so sure you're not wrong? Like mom? Luz Noceda is the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. That's the reality she never saw. But we can show her that. Together, we can make her proud. With me, we can have everything. With you, we might be able to share it?"

Luz fidgeted with the key in her hands.

Empress: "If you unlock that door, you're agreeing to embrace my plan. There's no other way to put it. But neither of us have much other choice, anyways. It'd be a new level of dense for you to refuse just because."

Luz inserted the key into the hole. She wanted to know something before turning it.

Luz: "How would being back on the Isles help mama?"

Empress: "Remember Belos last words? This world has much to offer. So much power. It is our job as humans to fulfill our destiny. It's our turn to fulfill ours. I figured out what he meant. I even improved on his day of unity. We'd have more than we could ever want. Prosperity that'd never run out, no matter how much we shared. We can and will give our family and friends what they deserve. Happiness. A life where our mom would never cry again. Amity wouldn't ever hide who she really is. No one would ever have to cry again. But that life only comes if their fearless Luz steps up. Belos' fate sealed ours. But it wasn't so we'd have nothing. Our fate is to claim everything, together."

Luz: "You're laying that on pretty thick, aren't cha?"

Empress: "I know, every day since we've been back, you've felt powerless. This is a cruel fate to live through. But, if you think about it, this is still your time to shine. Just like in those PG fantasies of yours, Luzura! At your lowest, will you rise back up? Like any chosen one worth their salt? I suppose, the only one who would know you didn't; would be me."

Luz Noceda, the former good witch in training, finally turned the key.

The empress finally cracked a smile.

Empress: "That's the right decision."

Luz woke up in an alleyway with a hot dog lying next to her.

The empress Luz appeared as a hallucination. She gestured towards a dumpster nearby. Inside, Luz found a baseball.

Empress Luz: "I've been storing that close for a while now. Until we get our strength back, we should keep it on us, at all times."

Luz picked up the hot dog, wrapped in aluminum, and began digging in.

Feeling large wads of cash in her pockets, she made her way towards the streets.

Luz: "What now?"

Empress: "Take a look inside the store next to you. I think you'll find our heading."

She peered through the window of a book store. Right there, a shelf filled with the newest release.

From the author of the "Good witch, Auzura".

Empress: "Build up your strength and work on not being recognized. If something becomes too hard for you, I'll step in. Remember, we can fix this together!"

Luz pressed her forehead against the cold glass. That phrase was a poignant reminder of how far away she was from who she used to be.

The empress placed one ghostly hand on Luz's shoulder.

Empress: "It's okay. If anyone could do this, it's us. It's always Luz Noceda."

She returned to the alley to pick up her things. While she finished her breakfast, the empress fixated on the shackle on her ankle.

She knew what buttons to press. Physically, Luz Noceda was being brought to pieces. Emotionally, she was demoralized by the cruel twist of fate. She had become so numb, the empress knew all she had to do was wait. Wait until her spirit was an easy blow out.

Now, in every sense of the word, Luz Noceda was broken!

Author's note: I wanted to show how these two might have "compromised" on working together. I once asked the creator of the "Broken!Luz AU" about the empress as a character. I've tried to stay as close to the creator's vision for her, as I could. But that brings me to this point. My additions to the AU are non canon. Take them with a grain of salt.