#Sid does writing

[my-name-is-siduri]

What I think ocean imagery means for a bunch of different bands

Pet Shop Boys: The ocean is unknowable, and that's what's scary about it. Who knows what's going on in there? What's going on beyond it? But that scariness is also alluring, and that's why everyone is obsessed with the beach. The beach is the cusp between known and unknown. Maybe we'll sail out...

Erasure: The ocean is unknowable, and that's what's fun about it! Who knows what kind of wonders are out there for us to discover? Maybe we'll find love out there! Let's dive in!

New Order: The ocean is freedom. No one can tell you what to do out there, but no one will give you guidance, either. You have to forge your own path, which is rewarding if you succeed, and fatal if you fail. Let's sail out.

Depeche Mode: The ocean is oppressive. It is merciless and uncaring, it suffocates and drowns you without a single thought. There are only horrors and darkness. But we're the type that likes horror and darkness, so let's dive in.

[my-name-is-siduri]

I hope you don't mind me expanding on this, OP. I have a few thoughts about this.

Like you said, the earliest sources we have about valravns* have different tones. I'll go over the three you've listed as well as one of my own:

1) The creature specifically referred to as 'valravn' does not appear until Valravnen, at least according to this source I found online. This is not to say that there weren't valravns before then (see point 4 below for some speculation about that), but we have no surviving records of them.

As I can glean from the internet, the earliest forms of Valravnen were created at some point during the 16th or 17th century, though I can't find the exact date anywhere. The first solid date I can find online is 1803, which is quite a bit later. In any case, in Valravnen we see a tragic figure that's been transformed into a valravn by a troll woman, a curse that has to be broken for him to regain human form. In some versions, the curse is simply broken by him helping out his sister and making a wish. In others, he has to eat either the eye of his infant niece or drink her heart's blood, in both cases killing her (although she is later revived). And in yet others, he remains cursed and never becomes human again.

While no doubt the audience feels sympathy towards this cursed valravn, we can already see that valravns are capable of very dark acts.

2) If you don't mind me asking, which noble family are you referring to? I've never heard anything about this and I am very interested in finding out more about them.

While I don't know what the context of this valravn coat of arms is, it should be noted that heraldic beasts have a wide variety of meanings and reasons for their depictions. Sometimes it's because the family wants to channel what the animal represents: a lion is used to show ferocity and nobility, for example. Other times, the depiction has a more practical reason. Perhaps someone's land is known for having many deer, so a deer is put on their coat of arms to represent 'we have a lot of deer on our land.' And in some cases, the heraldic animal is actually depicted negatively. Saint George's dragon, for example, is depicted on coats of arms as a representation of triumph over evil.

As such, it is not guaranteed that the usage of a valravn means the family is saying "we approve of this animal and think it's great." There are many possibly reasons for its inclusion and we'd need more context to understand why the family used it.

3) Danske Sagn: Som De Har Lyd I Folkemunde was first published in 1892, 99 years after the Valravnen date I listed above. You can read it online here. I assume this is what you meant by the third source you listed, even though it's from the late 1800s and not early. (If you meant a different text, please let me know and I'll take a look!) This is the book where we get the most used quote about valravns and the very one I have pinned to my valravn sideblog. Here's a translation:

If a raven eats the heart of an unburied king or chieftain that died in battle, the raven transforms into a valravn. This transformation gives the valravn great intelligence and superhuman strength, but it often turns them evil and manipulative as well. They are terrible creatures.

"They are terrible creatures." The passage does not say it's guaranteed they will become evil and manipulative, but I have to imagine that the use of 'often' implies it's fairly common occurrence.

4) We know that the themes and symbolism of intelligent ravens feasting on the bodies of fallen kings can be found throughout history. For example, the 9th century skaldic poem Hrafnsmál depicts a valkyrie speaking with a talking raven that has done just that. If we assume that Hrafnsmál is depicting some sort of proto-valravn, it's worth analyzing the poem:

[The valkyrie asks,] "What is the matter with you, ravens? From where have you come with gory beaks at break of day? Flesh hangs from your claws; the stench of carrion comes from your mouths; I think you lodged last night near where you knew corpses were lying." The grey-feathered sworn-brother of the eagle [raven] gloated and wiped its bill, and gave thought to an answer: "We have followed Haraldr son of Hálfdan, the young king, since we emerged from the egg."

The tone taken on here seems to be that the valkyrie is scolding the raven for its behavior ("What is the matter with you") while the raven seems to enjoy what it's doing ("gloated"). What the raven is doing is not something completely hated, it would appear to be something that the valkyrie does not entirely approve of. The raven feels no shame in what it's doing.

Now I do want to say this interpretation might be inaccurate. Another translation I found of this poem depicts the interaction more neutrally. I don't know what tone the original text takes on since I can't read it. But if the first source has held on to the original tone, it's worth including.

Now onto the point I'm trying to make here...

I fully understand the frustration with the way valravns are interpreted in the modern day. Believe me, I have some very choice things to say about the way that pop culture has interpreted for a lot of different folklores. Have you seen what people have done to Greek mythology? And don't even get me started on the treatment of indigenous folklore, it's outright disrespectful.

With that said, I do think there is a place for antagonistic valravns just as much as there is for sympathetic and neutral ones. I agree that making them 'evil' is grossly glossing over a far more nuanced tradition, but let us not forget that in several versions the Valravnen killed his own infant niece (even if he later revived her and it all worked out) and that our 1892 source called them "evil and manipulative" and "terrible creatures."

I think it's safe to assume that it was always established that valravns are dangerous creatures that are not necessarily on humanity's side. Does being at odds with humanity make them evil? Well that's a philosophical question far outside of the scope of this essay, so I'll just settle on saying it's fair for them to serve the role of antagonist in stories just as much as anything else.

(Full disclaimer, I will admit I've fallen victim to this in my own story. I do my best to depict the 'bad guy' valravn as having more of an alien, bestial mindset rather than just being pure evil, but I fear he comes across as just evil anyway oops.)

In conclusion: I completely agree that it's inaccurate to depict valravns as straight up evil bird bad guys, and I have full sympathy for your frustration with it. But, it is valid to use them as antagonists to stories and/or have them do less-than-savory things. Several sources from the 1800s and possibly much earlier depict them behaving as such.

*On the internet in English, anyway. It's entirely possible that there's more information out there, be it written or in someone's oral history. But I wouldn't even know how to begin to seek that out, and it would probably be impossible for me to do so anyway, as I only know English and am located in the US. I do my best, but I have limited resources. For all I know there's some Danish book that hasn't been digitally scanned out there that explains in detail how everything I've written above is wrong.

Hooooowww did people 1) hear the folksong Valravnen about a knight who's been transformed into a bird (likely an eagle, not a raven) and can only break the curse by killing a baby, 2) see that one (1) now-extinct noble family referred to their heraldic beast, a wolf/bird, as a 'valravn', and 3) read one single 1800s countryboy's explanation that valravnen is like an evil valkyrie, and SOMEHOW extrapolate from those three wildly unrelated sources that "The Valravn" (because it's never a folkloric concept with different interpretations, it's always a single specific creature) is a were-wolf/raven who haunts battlefields to drink the blood of slain warriors????

Please stop depicting 'the' valravn when you don't even know what it is, I'm begging on my fucking knees, I hate the way recent Danish folklore-inspired popculture has latched onto this figure and keeps depicting it in wilder and wilder ways😭😭

If you want a folkloric evil bird creature in your story please just use a fucking dragon or gammen. Use a damn cockatrice or vættehane, idgaf. Please just stop muddying the already-confusing lore of valravnen. The figure has been abused enough already and you are making my hobby as a folklorist very difficult😥

[valtsv]

i need to clean up more of my tsv meta drafts and post them i used to love posting tsv meta

[frogeyedape]

I am so unbelievably pissed off. FUCK HOAs

Oh, my trash/recycling bin can't be visible except on pickup day? Ok whatever fine I hate you but I can deal with this

Weekly inspections?????? FU FU FU FU FU

SECOND NOTICE ALSO WE'RE CHARGING YOU MONEY TO SEND YOU CERTIFIED MAIL OF THIS TOTALLY LEGIT TOTALLY SECOND NOTICE OF WHAT IS ACTUALLY A VIOLATION cue me: checks notes. Hmm. My recycling bin was. on the curb. on recycling pickup day. You know. The day it has to be out. The day it is motherfucking ALLOWED TO BE FUCKING OUT AND VISIBLE.

so. 1) not a violation

I have sent them the trash AND recycling pickup schedules, which are DIFFERENT, btw

I have disputed the fact of the violation

I have disputed the linking of this "violation" to a previous violation MONTHS AGO--their "first notice" in this case was a "Courtesy Notice" LITERALLY 5 MONTHS AGO and they've done so many inspections since then and my bin CLEARLY WASN'T OUT IN THOSE INTERVENING MONTHS so WTMFH

So I am posting like a crazy person here instead of sending the absolutely deranged email I almost sent (I did send a slightly less deranged version with the disputes, and requesting a hearing)

OMG. It has been. Less than one hour since I learned this fun fun news. My bin was out YESTERDAY, y'all. YESTERDAY. I am going to blow a gasket

[mlmgaze]

daniel waking up to marius kinda starting to press into him and, after getting his bearings, his first move is to ask sleepily if marius had another dream about daniel getting hurt. marius says no, and after a second daniel asks if marius had a dream about armand getting hurt. and marius just freezes (because of course obviously that's what it is because marius dreamed again about armand going into the sun and he wants to feel comforted and reassured but armand isn't here and daniel is and daniel is still blood of his blood and *i am dragged away by the guards)

[my-name-is-siduri]

Today's noodlepigeon post: the pre-Red Vox days!

Red Vox Before Red Vox

Vinny started playing guitar in 2003, and started writing music in 2004. He and Mike met in college and bonded over a mutual taste in music, including rock bands of many styles and eras, but especially classic rock and grunge.

Vinny was part of a few small bands at this time. He often played guitar for and with his high school friend Bill, even playing bass for Bill as his first gig. Eventually, Vinny and Mike formed a band of their own: Davy’s Grey. Mike was on drums, and Vinny took the role of vocalist, guitarist, and primary songwriter. A mutual college friend of theirs, Phil, played bass.

Davy’s Grey was primarily a live band, performing sporadic shows before recording seven of their best live songs and compiling them into the 2009 EP No Cigar.

Davy’s Grey was a formative time for the future Red Vox members. Several songs written during this period would make their way onto Red Vox’s earliest releases, including Trolls and Goblins, which was later recorded as a charity incentive in 2015, and Long Lonely Night, the penultimate track on Red Vox’s first full-length album. Several songs off the Red Vox EP Blood Bagel also came from this era; its Bandcamp page credits Phil with “witnessing the real Blood Bagel playing some of these songs with us back in the day.”

Davy's Grey disbanded shortly after the release of No Cigar, beginning a five year period of little musical activity from its former members. Mike took on various drumming gigs, though little came of these ventures. Phil became a solo musician and producer. Vinny primarily focused on his YouTube channel and streaming on Justin.tv, later Twitch.tv – he would, however, release his solo album Sibilants in January 2011, and Odds and Ends, a short collection of Davy’s Grey demos and solo demos, in December 2011.

All the while, Bill – a pianist/keyboardist, vocalist, bassist, guitarist, and probably some other things – was busy playing and writing music. In 2008, he joined the Seconds along with Joe Pecora. The Seconds released their first album Slip Away in 2010 and their second, final album Monstro in 2013. Bill released his solo album Villain in 2010 as well. All three of these albums were recorded, mixed, and produced by Joe. Joe himself played in quite a few local bands – notably, the Sweathogs, which would later evolve into Happy Anarchy (for which he also recorded, mixed, and produced). All of these projects took place at his studio, the Red Room, in Staten Island, NY. Vinny has described him as “a local legend,” a well-earned moniker.

Bill and Joe with the Seconds. First image: Bill on far left and Joe on far right; Second image: Bill on far right, Joe immediately to his left.

Joe (second from left) with Happy Anarchy at Red Room Studio, SINY.

Vinny and Mike reconvened around 2014, deciding to dust off some of their old songs to record. Bill introduced them to Joe, and this simple idea would soon balloon into an album taking a year of their lives to record and costing thousands of dollars to make. What could go wrong?

[magefelixir]

my life after leaving the scream fandom

[bisexualdinahlance]

Trying to get my thoughts together to make a post about rivals jackparse in a world where Jack went to the draft after his 1-2 years in recovery and their messy not break up that becomes a real break up turns into a legendary rivalry until they are forced to make nice during some international event or asg or a trade. Maybe Grilled cheesby shit talking to the press and blaming each other for injuries shit -> becoming friends/friendly at worlds type of narrative.

[my-name-is-siduri]

Sense of Time - Cricket Wife connection?

While they don't sound too similar musically, Sense of Time and Cricket Wife seem to have similar lyrical themes. I'd go as far as to say Sense of Time is a companion piece to Cricket Wife in some ways.

"Time has stopped / The air is still / Nothing moves / or ever will / Present tense / is future past" to "No sense of time / Not even night and day" and "No sense of time / No perfect tense" Both of these songs call attention to grammatical tense when describing distortions in time. (I wonder if a stealth pun is going on there, that time not working properly for the narrator is making them feel tense?)

"I can't remember / why or when / they brought me here" to "but I couldn’t remember where I was / or if we’d said goodbye" The memories of the songs' narrators have also been distorted. They've both forgotten how they ended up in the situations they found themselves in.

"Bones and blood / and anxious anger / replaced in space / by girlish laughter" to "In these imminent dark ages / if you find it too bizarre / and nothing / seems to make sense any more / just remember who you are" Not exactly one to one, but both of these sections invoke a similar image: the bleak present gets swept away by happy memories of the past.

"He packs his bat / They're off together / And that was that / and is forever" to "I wondered if I’d died / and found a world / where living and dead / were walking side by side" Again not entirely one to one, but depending on your interpretation of what the cricket wife and husband's situations are (such as if the cricket wife is alive but dreaming of being with her dead husband or if she's in the process of dying and is being greeted by him), you could describe the married couple going off together as the living and dead walking side by side.

I don't think these songs are narratively connected per se. But they have so much in common that I feel like they could thematically connected somehow. Or something. This song has taken over my personality for the next few days

[my-name-is-siduri]

Genuine answer: You should get into the Pet Shop Boys because their music is good, not because of any label attached to them. Neil has expressed some dismay before at the fact that they've been typecast as "gay music," as he believes that music should just be considered good by its own merits. After all, they've written several songs from the point of view of a woman in a heterosexual relationship, and many more are written with ambiguous gender. They've also written many, many songs are not about homosexuality at all, instead commenting on the politics of the era or historic topics. They have a rich discography and history as a music group, and I invite you to listen to it all, not just their gay songs, and find a love and appreciation for the full myriad of topics they have poured into their 40 year legacy.

Meme answer: yes you should be obsessed for the gay come join us

I've seen things™

[ahogedetective]

[ CALM ]: sender tackles the receiver to the ground in an effort to both restrain and calm them down. @91cmspoilers shuichi deserves to rage.... as treat and izuru would calm him down uwu

{ Reasons To Tackle! }

@91cmspoilers !!!

Now... as a detective, Shuichi was naturally going to have people who dislike him: mostly close friends or family of people who were suspects in the cases he's handled. They didn't care about the fact that they deserved to be in jail: rather, would want to take their anger out on Shuichi. This would unfortunately be the case, when he was stopped by this guy slightly older than him, who happened to be the younger brother of a man who was guilty of aggravated assault against a food service worker.

He felt his older brother 'didn't deserve it', as that worker 'started it, first'. But that hadn't matter, as Shuichi was trying to explain to him: that the man could have simply walked away, but he instead, came back and attacked the worker with a heavy glass bottle. This angered the guy, who started slinging even worse insults at Shuichi. Insisting that 'detectives like him', only care about 'making themselves look good', that he's only 'useful' for 'ruining innocent people's lives with no remorse'. Those words, were especially a knife to his stomach. Reminding him of the awful things he used to think of himself, back when he solved 'that case before the police did.' Those horrible thoughts of feeling he was the monster like this guy was making him out to be.

"S-Shut...shut up..." And then he took it even further: mentioning Izuru. Or rather, "that boyfriend of his": mockingly stating how maybe one day, he'll have to arrest him for some kind of crime. How Shuichi will have 'no remorse' doing so. How his 'precious boyfriend' will see him for the kind of person he "truly is".

"Shut up, shut up, shut UP-" And it wasn't as if Shuichi could even get away from this guy, as he practically had the detective backed up against the wall, furiously gripping his collar. Not even the malice in that man's eyes, could compare to the sheer anger in Shuichi's. And before he can even dare to threaten him, Shuichi finally snaps, yanking that man's hand away and shoving him back.

"SHUT UP!!! Shut the fuck up! You don't... know SHIT about me, nor Izuru!! So don't you DARE speak ill of him!!"

He couldn't remember the last time he's ever been this angry. But he couldn't stand it any more: having his skills as a detective mocked, these assumptions about his character, and worst of all: having his loved one talked about like this. But before he could be the one that grabs the guy's collar-

"?!" He finds himself tackled to the ground. "Ah?!" Finding his wrists pinned to the ground, his eyes were still clouded in anger while he squirmed around, until he finally realized: it was Izuru who tackled him to the ground, restraining him. "I...Izuru....!!!" His body was still shaking from fury, and panting heavily and shakily. But seeing that it was him, seeing his face: "........." Was a relieving presence, and was helping him calm down. Some of the anger in him dissipated, and he wasn't trying to squirm anymore. Oh how he wished he didn't have to see him like this... "Izu...ru..I-I....th-this isn't..." This isn't usually me, he wanted to say...

[void-botanist]

sid & avis or sid & horatio?

Help me with my boy lol

Sid & Avis part 2 :3

I did part 1 over here but these two have a lot going on:

She knows way more about him than he does about her, because her policy has long been to be beholden to no one. If he asked, she'd probably tell him, but he rarely asks (he's caught up in his own stuff for sure but also if Avis doesn't feel like telling him stuff that's her business). She was also there for his teen years and got to experience firsthand parts of his life that in hers she'd rather forget. I guess the only time she's more communicative is when she's sailing with someone, because not only are they in the same space for days or weeks at a time, they have to coordinate what they're doing. Sid doesn't know the first thing about sailing, though, so she also has her work cut out for her. She struggles a little bit with him not being like her and not approaching his parents as a couple of emotional freeloaders who should be thrown out on their asses. But when he says jump ("help me figure out how they've been lying to me") she says how high ("get in the boat we're going to Diobos"). Unfortunately, if he doesn't say jump, she's not always around. She never has been, but he low key thought that when they got back to Rade she wouldn't just keep sailing off whenever, because she wouldn't be avoiding Emma and Donovan. Isn't she supposed to be his emotional support? Whereas she knows he has that handled with his whole weird friend's family.

Sid & Horatio

Horatio adores Sid, and this is only somewhat because he's had 16 years of non-contact to build him into a concept of the ideal friend. Sid surprise coming to live with him is THE most exciting thing that has happened to him, maybe ever. While he considers Marcus equally as much a best friend as Sid, he and Sid have a much longer history, given that they went to school together until Sid moved to Ensaum. Sid finds Horatio comforting, but in his current exhausted state, also tiring as fuck. As he uncovers things about his parents he also slightly resents Horatio for having perfectly good parents (and an extra bonus dad??) because why couldn't he have some too? Aside from being constantly distracted by work, Horatio also isn't really sure how to help Sid, because of a lack of personal experience and because he doesn't want it to come through that he's a little disappointed that Sid is not the same upbeat person he was even in his letters. Unfortunately what he feels is a minor disappointment in the situation Sid easily magnifies into a broad personal attack, and neither of them realize they are not on the same page. He also feels like Horatio does not truly grasp the tragedy of him having lost all of Horatio's letters. Still, despite all of the challenges, Sid feels that being here with Horatio & family is the most like being home he's felt in a long time.

[arttheclown]

i don’t know if i want to main-tag this because i have no interest in fighting with disney adults or rabid shippers or w/e but since i’m on the topic, fidget is just… really treated badly by the GMD fandom in general. his presence is just Erased or he’s reduced to being a non-person who doesn’t get to say or do much beyond lingering in the background in fics. when he IS involved, i’ll sometimes see people infantilizing him (as if he isn’t shown drinking, going to burlesque shows or implied to be a hired killer). it would be one thing if he was just a funny side character but he does play a very active and prominent role in the film. his presence is integral to ratigan getting what he wants/needs, they clearly have Some kind of relationship even if it’s just a working one… and people just. idk. they cannot be bothered with fidget and as someone who found him to be one of the most endearing and compelling characters in TGMD it makes me sad

[my-name-is-siduri]

oh my sweet summer child you have no idea who Neil "My fascination with Russian and Soviet history occasionally leaks into my lyrics" Tennant is

Here's a list of the most overt ones (borrowed from geowayne, you can find way more there):

West End Girls - "From Lake Geneva to the Finland Station" as well as the early version of the song having the line "Who do you think you are, Joe Stalin?"

This Must Be the Place I Waited Years to Leave - at the end of the song there's a small sample of a Stalinist show trial speech

Happiness is an Option - "This is neither old nor new" referencing a Russian poem by that name

Silver Age - the nickname I gave Neil at the top of my reply is borrowed from him explaining what this song is about. "Silver Age" is an era in Russian history from the 1900s to the 1920s or so and it's about just that

London - "We came from the far North, summered in Crimea" and the rest of the song is about these immigrants trying to make ends meet in London

They wrote an entire film score to Battleship Potemkin

Numb - here's the music video

Twentieth Century - "Well I bought a ticket to the revolution, and I cheered when the statues fell"

Integral - literally 1984

Hell - references several Russian figures

Bolshy - Google translate reads several Russian phrases throughout

The Dead Can Dance - the entire song is about prisoners sent to gulags returning to their families

Kazak - music to Cossack dance to

while it isn't out yet, the upcoming EP Lost looks like it's going to be Russian references aplenty

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[nekovmancer]

I love you, it's ruining my life

bunch sad taylor swift lyrics always has me breaking my own heart writing fanfiction *sighs* guess this is my debut in the gf fandom as a writer !! hiiii

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, established relationship, language, angst

“You are the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made.”

The words still echo even when the sentence is already finished, growing faint as the seconds pass by but never fading at all; still on the back of your mind, replaying over and over again as if they were part of a broken record.

Once spoken, that fucking phrase couldn’t be swallowed back, less forgotten. God knows how long it would take for them to be gone for good, and not a haunting whisper to follow you through your worst nightmares; one of them now becoming reality.

But that’s not the beginning of your history with Ford. No, it's the end. 

Feels like carving the epitaph on a tombstone. In memory of a love which once lived greatly, now may rest forever in the cold embrace of death. Quote, the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made, unquote. Should you credit Ford Pines in the end? The motherfucker who just put the final nail on your coffin?

You wish you could tell him to shut the fuck up and leave you alone, pretending this won’t be anything but another stupid fight you will manage to forget tomorrow. Maybe you could’ve, if you weren’t too occupied with your hollow chest, asking yourself where did you heart go — or if it was too broken to even manage a last beat.

"What the hell did you just say?" you don't even have the energy to shout back at him. It all comes out in a whisper, one that is not enough to fit your anger; less your sadness. Sometimes, you've got to recognize a lost battle. Yet, this one changed the course of a whole fucking war, one you were exhausted to fight. 

So there you stood: the loser. Feeling small and insignificant as one of the particles of dust hovering in the thick air between you. The body count so far: your home, your engagement, your love, your heart. And the last thing you could ever lose, a loss to mourn for all of your days, was already slipping through your fingers.

Just one last battle to thrive: the tears threatening to flood through your eyes, which you were trying hard to keep for yourself. Ford does not deserve them, not anymore, not when he doesn’t show a single trace of remorse.

You knew he meant it, and that was the very reason it hurt so bad. Sometimes, retrieving the knife from the flesh just meant more pain. You should’ve let it there, rooting in between the bones of your ribcage instead of opening a fresh wound. 

"You've heard me quite well." 

Your throat goes sore, unspoken words scratching it, trying to climb out of your mouth. The last sparkle of a long gone flame lights up, enough fuel for you to bite back. "Right. So I am the mistake, while your freaking muse-"

Sadly, the great amount of bad words on the tip of your tongue didn’t have a chance to be spoken.

"Do not bring Bill into this again,” his words cut you off; more bleeding to stanch on the way.  Ford was responsible for the hollow inside of you, a quiet torment bursting out to destroy what was left from the previous catastrophes. Lies pouring from lips which once kissed you so dearly and now couldn’t even speak in your favor. “It was never about him, any of it."

"It's always about him!” frustration wins, and a restless tremble finds your fingers as the volume of your voice grows louder. It hurts to speak, to think — existence itself feels excruciating. Your last strings of hope were now cut, disappearing into nothingness. What’s left, you still don’t know. “There's no you and me, not anymore. Not without Bill, not without the portal.”

A shredded breath has your whole body shaking, your cue to remember breathing; unevenly as it may be, you still need it to survive, no matter how your frenetic heartbeat tells you’re going to the very opposite way. Whenever your anxiety hit such a peak, Ford would be the one by your side. Now, he was standing on the opposite corner of the room, staring at you as if you do not belong there.

In this, you both could agree. It’s been so long since you’re no longer part of his equation, but an unpleasant variable Stanford, the genius himself, can’t solve, which would end up better erased; long forgotten. 

“Fine,” you barely manage a mutter, rubbing your temples to ease off the ache pulsating through your skull. Someone could have hit you with a hammer and the pain would be softer. “Fiddleford is already gone, and now you want me out of the picture,” you capture your lower lip between your teeth, grazing the soft skin. The taste of blood somehow leaves your mouth less bitter, still not enough to stop you from actually being bitter. “Maybe it will give you and your triangle partner enough space to shove that stupid machine up your ass.”

He’s outraged, of course. Bill has become his everything, dethroning you from that spot you once thought was granted forever. How dare you speak so low of him? His muse, his mentor, his… fuck, to think of finishing this sentence is makes you nauseous. 

Storming out of the room with Ford hot on your trails, you let a few tears find their way out. It’s fine as long as he can’t see you crying, nor hear your strangled sobs under his own voice. You don’t want him to be a testimony to your misery any more. It’s terrible already the whole house seems to have eyes staring at you from every wall.

If Bill was actually watching, you can bet that fucking triangle is damn amused.

Your own thoughts are too loud for you to hear what Ford is saying, or best, vomiting at you. Yet, you can distinguish the screaming is there as you lead the way to what used to be your shared bedroom. 

God, when you’ve come this? 

The love of your life now inhabits the skin of a stranger, and you can’t bear his shit for longer than you already did. You could’ve endured anything for your Ford, but that wasn’t him. Where did he go? When did you lose him for good? But it’s a little too late to ask yourself these questions, and you know the damn answers already, so it’s pointless to keep the torture of knowing the truth.

You feel the urge to crash every small piece of triangular shaped decoration on your way. They are everywhere, in every damn corner, even in the pattern of the curtains when not resting upon the furniture — standing in the middle of your family pictures, among vases with dead flowers, a cemetery of memories from better times.

You stop your tracks for a while just to wander your eyes on some of them, lips trembling to conceive a faint smile at the sight of the portraits. One displays you and Ford outside a newly built shack, smiling from ear to ear as your faces are pressed together so tightly his glasses went crooked. If you squint your eyes enough, you can see a red blur in the bushes just behind you — a little gnome hiding just in time. 

Suddenly, it becomes harder to keep the tears away as reality hits you hard. Those times are gone, and nothing you could do would bring them back to you. 

“You don’t understand,” you can hear Stanford clear as day now, as if you had just emerged from underwater and abruptly became aware of your surroundings. Ford has been repeating this same bullshit nonstop from what? Weeks from now. Nedless to say you were fucking tired of such a nonsense accusation. “The work I’ devoted my life to is about to change the whole world for good and you can’t even-”

Your turn is so abrupt that Ford stops himself from finishing the sentence, swallowing a gasp. “Listen to me,” biting your lip to not curse at him, all of your strength is dealt into the final blow — more like a last resort. “You think Bill is about to make you someone as if I didn’t spend the last years seeing you as my fucking north already,” he’s a little taken aback by your sudden burst out, you can tell by the tip of his ears going pink. “I did everything for you, Stanford. Your dream, your house, your anomalies… and what the fuck you did to me in return? Not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as me for months?” shit, saying it aloud only made it sound more pathetic than it already was. “Or having the nerve to accuse me of not understanding you after everything I gave up to be with you in this shit hole of a city?” 

Ford's response was nothing but silence. Of course it was. What could he say on his behalf when you’re damn right? This time, though, you wish you didn’t.

But you waited for him to say something nonetheless. Anything would do, really. Worse than his rage, his hatred and the damn obsession for his muse was the indifference he has been meeting you with.

The meanings of you have been changed in his dictionary long ago. Did it matter now?

Every move of his was strategic, closer and closer to a checkmate — his dream coming true. And if you were to be sacrificed so he could win… well, a side effect. As long as his king was safe, pawns were pawns.

You’ve just taken too long to realise it.

“Don’t you think you can come crawling back to me after this,” it’s a statement more to yourself then to him; a reminder to not let him inside your heart again after all the damage Ford has done. “When your false god gets tired of toying with you, when your ego stops being enough to feed your delusion, I won’t come back to pick up whatever’s left.”

You stare at him — at Stanford’s eyes. He’s perfectly still, aside from the dramatic rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath he takes. While your eyes silently begged him to change his mind, to take back what he just said… his did not show any emotion but resolution.

Ford is a man of science. He would never affirm something with such a conviction if he wasn’t absolutely sure of it. And as it seemed, he thought of you as a mistake with certainty enough to say it out loud and keep his mind until the very last minute.

“Fine.”

So this is it. The end.

“Fine it is,” you wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, dampening the sleeves of the sweater you’re wearing; which is actually Ford’s. You debate whether to leave it behind or keep it with you while packing your things.

Ford doesn’t stay any longer after this. No goodbyes were said, and his last glance upon you earns a cold shiver running down your spine. You could’ve spitted right into his face and he would still be less mad than he was at the moment, thanks to your audacity of blaming Bill on the failure of your relationship. 

It’s not like Ford needed you, or anyone else at the matter. He had gifts you failed to comprehend, and a view where you were the one crawling back to him as soon as the portal was completed.

Delusion upon delusion… which of you were the worst?

You were left alone, but the whole house was watching silently — every triangle window had an eye of its own, and the dark corners somewhat got darker, casting enormous shadows around you.

Ford must be down at his lab, in the company of his muse… fuck, you don’t want to think of them and whatever they did when you’re not around. Which now would mean pretty much every time. 

It’s a bright summer day outside when you leave the shack, but not even the warmth of the sun seems to be sufficient to dispel the coldness clinging to your bones.

Your fingers are still trembling since the whole fight went out of track, and so they stood while you were folding your clothes slowly, still thinking that things would change by some miracle… and now, as you open the door to your car.

You tell yourself to not look back, and shit, it's not easy; especially when your own mind don't shut the fuck up. For the hours you spent wandering around the city, you leave the radio on the highest volume and keep the cool. You come and go until you’ve reached the "you’re leaving Gravity Falls" sign.

With nowhere else to go, you throw your engagement ring out of the window and speed up to God knows where. As long as it’s far, you suppose you’ll be fine.