#and by the time you can understand the second hand copy the original is too ingrained in your mind and you notice differences

[takescrackseriously]

Almost Perfect

You can't blame them, how could you?

Even after years of trying to fit into human society, they still can't seem to perfect it, not truly. Not even the best amongst them could pass for one, just a single glance and the knowledgeable would be aware of their lack of humanity.

It took a while, yes. Mastering how the legs moved, how the elbows should bend, all took time. At first they barely even looked humanoid, especially when they moved. Too quickly, too slow, never quite understanding the way their limbs looked so dreamlike, almost nightmarish. Their hands took the longest, having to learn, from scratch, just how each knuckle bent, how many fingers there were.

But after so, so many years of watching us, they are so close they can almost taste it. If only they had tongues. But despite this, they have voices, broken, inhuman, for now.

I apologize, but earlier, I was being dishonest, but you don't mind. Not as though I'm any more truthful than those who created them. You see, they didn't take the longest with the hands, no, It was the faces. But how could you despise them for it? Noses, moths, eyes

... Not even your most skilled ever captured just the life-likess of humans.

No person, no sane one, would dare look into them let alone allow them selves or their craft to be absorbed by those.... What are they? Robots could be a term, buy they lack the metal. Doppelgangers? No, they contain far too many people to be considered a copy of just one. Whatever you call them, they are still the same. Same snake, different skin as they say.

But as I was saying, they needed more... More of what? Those of whom dedicate their time to... Create something. Those who will spend hours perfecting their mediocre 'art' on a canvas, no not even a canvas, a mere sheet of paper. Those who will spend their minutes slaving away to make that of which others need, want and use everyday yet will never be grateful for. The people who spend every waking second making whatever their heart desires and for what.... For their passion? Certainly not for money, not now atleast.... Perhaps they are of the creative sort.

Yes, creativity, that's what these being desire for, at their core. Every image, every picture, all filled with so much imagination brought to life. And what is the price of that?

Well, a lot, but to be quite frank, it shouldn't be. It's just a few well placed lines, why should any of us have to spend our well earned money on this? If these people who value their originality truly wanted a roof above their head, maybe they should try getting a real job. An occupation that we appreciate.

Now as for the consuming of these.... Artists, every thing the do, it fuels the beings. But sooner or later, we should have suspected this problem. They. Don't. Look. Normal.

Normal, original, ordinary. After a while, the talented's numbers have dwindled. Now, instead of eyes of hope for the future, how our emotion will shape the world around us, in there place it is empty.

A pit, so deformed has it not been placed upon a face you'd sooner guess you were looking at a black hole than what should be eyes. But eyes are the window to the soul.

Their noses could never inhale, exhale. Their eyebrows always seem to inconsistent, their ears neve made sense, hair shouldn't pass through them. Their mouths can't properly utter words.

We were however, able to perfect one. It may not look human enough to pass, but you know that many don't care, not those who value their golden pockets.

But I fear that these beings, and I mean this with respect, are thieves. Not our creations, they are a work of art. I mean the peope who think any should care for what they have worked so hard for. Be it on a page or screen, canvas or still life. They take from people of wealth, and they know that surely will will not tolerate being stolen from.

Please, blame the computer, the complex metal of which we have use to create these beings (out of necessity). Put the guilt on the souless gun.

Never the shooter with it's ebony eyes.

(short writing exercise, I'm trying to get better, so feel free to give constructive criticism :D)

so are they just hoping we don't notice the nightmare faces or

[randomnameless]

FantasyInvader reply on the Edelstans going full circle on “translation=making Edelgard look bad” is the first time I heard of Treehouse hating Rhea, but it honestly makes sense now that I think about it.

Oh,

TBH I ranted a few years ago about the localisation and the direction Cherami Leigh received to dub Rhea, and, uh, well...

I don't think she hates the character or anything, she just goes with the direction given, but man what a load of crap Pat told her lol - she made an interview where she says Pat told her Rhea has a hair-trigger temper (tfw she only loses her shit when you try to reenact the genocide she escaped when she was younger - but nah it's just a hair trigger temper) and how Rhea "just is", something we know is bullcrap because she's the same person who's insecure about "bothering" people if she eats with them, Rhea isn't the assured person she tries to pretend to be, but Pat dgaf.

Regardless of the meaning of the quotes, if you have time to spare of the feh wiki, just compare the delivery of lolcalised!Rhea and Inoue!Rhea (her Halloween alt is telling), they're like night and day - but in the game proper, we have the fe datamine website !

Short story : Lolcalised!Rhea isn't supposed to emote bar being AnGrY, monotone (that line where she worries about Aelfie's plans in the DLC could be swapped with her reading the notice of aspirin) or have 2 lines where she's relaxed (billy supports) - Jp!Rhea is allowed to be upset, to mourn, to be worried, cheerful etc etc.

I've already complained a lot about FE16's lolcalisation, cultural bias at play and wanting to soften a certain character, but to exaggerate only a little bit, I have the feeling Rhea was portrayed in the lolcalisation (and not localisation, the lol is very important) as the ultimate bogeyman of the "dictatorial evil leader of an organised religion who is also a zealot and does not tolerate dissent because she's religious" which has...

idk, but serious issues because again, if you are supposed to localise a product you cannot edit something red to be something violet and sparkly and if the shitstorm (that ultimately came from a misunderstanding!) about "creative localisation" is any indication, more and more people are fed up with lolcalisations altering the meaning, not of a word, but of a game to suit their own agendas.

Oh, and not specifically tied to Rhea but in a way it is because it adopts Supreme Leader's prop a ganda words :

A friend earlier noticed that the NoA official website - where you can buy the game (digital version) - adverstises Fodlan as a land controlled by the Church of Seiros. Oddly (lel) enough, this "controlled by the Church of Seiros" crap of a tidbit doesn't appear in the japanese website, and even in the european ones!

I don't believe we got another version compared to the Treehouse version - even if at times, the french script is closer to the japanese one and at times they come up with their own bullshit - but there is a point to be said that in a certain part of the world, the game was advertised in a way that kind of fit a certain's characters POV, something that doesn't exist in the rest of the world. And it's in that same "part of the world" that the person who directed the VA for the eng dub, well, worked and directed said VA.

So what, is it some great conspiracy or something else? lol no.

Did Treehouse told NoA "don't worry, I've got this game, I'll localise it just close your eyes and market it that's all" and they went bonkers? And for some reason whoever was in charge at the NoE branch didn't close their eyes (maybe half-closed) so we have a weird mix between the two? idk.

[1d1195]

Dolcezza Extra I

Read Dolcezza here | ~4.7k words

From me: this is something I’ve never done before: an alternate idea to something I've already written. I will be copying and pasting parts to keep the continuity but I hope you like it. It was pretty fun. The first couple paragraphs are from the original part. I’m sure you can all follow without me telling you all this. Have fun!

Warnings: stalking, scary (?) Also, no clue what kinds of protocols are supposed to be in place for this sort of thing. I don't think it makes a lot of sense logistically or law-wise. But that's not what we're here for, right?! I wanted it to kind of go right in the middle of Part 8, like starts in the beginning-ish part of it and end essentially in the same way.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

Harry dropped a knife for the third time on the same onion he had been trying to dice for the last five minutes. He growled to himself, snagged it off the floor (nearly slicing his hand from his anger overtaking rational thought to pick it up by the handle), and all but tossed it in the sink.

“Why not just talk to her?” Niall muttered across the way.

“Shut up,” he snapped, bitterness coating his voice. Niall raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head. He turned the other way, turned his attention to the soup he was pouring into bowls. “M’going to,” he mumbled grabbing a clean knife as he started chopping again. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s alright. Just thinking we could really use her help,” Niall smirked.

Harry snorted. “Y’could probably ask her,” he mumbled. “She’d come running t’help m’sure.”

“Yeah, but it defeats your whole she’s spreading herself too thin. And then I’m no different than rest, huh?”

Harry sighed, grateful for his understanding. “You’re a really good friend, Niall.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed. It was infectious. Hard to keep Harry in a bad mood and he prayed to God the orders slowed soon so he could run up and beg her to come help Niall and him because as much as he didn’t want to ask her for another thing, working with her on busy nights were some of his favorite moments.

Harry’s phone was still vibrating. He wondered if he set a timer for something and it was just going off continuously. “M’phone’s been ringing nonstop.”

“Mum?” Niall asked.

“No... she knows m’at work. Plus, she’d call the restaurant if it was an emergency. I gave her the number.”

“S’probably an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Niall mumbled his gaze narrowing at the slip of paper in his hand. “Eggplant and two times the extra garlic bread…” Niall waved the ticket out like he always did when they realized the arrival of Harry’s Principessa.

Well, at least Harry wouldn’t have to sprint upstairs to apologize. Still, it was odd she didn’t make herself known when she got there even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Harry glanced toward the window for a peek to see if she was there, but he was too far away. “Niall did you see her?” He asked.

“No…” his voice was low, over the bustle of the few staff that were in the kitchen, Harry hardly heard him. Like he was piecing a puzzle together. He was studying the slip. Like it would give him the hint.

“See who?” The hostess asked. She was grabbing a take-out order off the counter that Niall had just finished packaging. Niall slid the ticket into the holder still examining it.

“Principessa,” Niall mumbled. “She always orders extra garlic bread with her eggplant.”

“Oh yeah she’s here with her brother or something,” Antonio’s nephew, Matteo, jumped right into the conversation as he brought back empty plates from the dining room.

Harry’s head snapped up from the veggies he was cutting and tossing into a pot to make a sauce. “Brother...?” Harry didn’t think that made sense at all. He remembered seeing “James groceries” on her calendar while he cleaned earlier in the week. It was always done on a day when James had to work in the evening so there was no way he would have come all the way out here for dinner. Still, he thought Harry would have known if James was here—between his protective brother streak or even just saying hello and thank you for the food. Harry thought she would bring him right back here to the kitchen and make herself at home.

But maybe Harry misread it. Or maybe James finally suspected she was tired and strung out and was taking a step to help with his kind older sister.

“Well, it’s not dinner with you; so, who else would it be?” Matteo reminded them with a shrug.

Niall gasped dropping the plate he was holding, and it shattered to the ground. Everyone stopped to look at him and he grabbed the ticket once more. Like it finally revealed the missing clue. At the same time Harry dropped the fourth knife he was using because if Matteo hadn’t said “who else would it be” they might not have put it together right then.

Harry hurried to the window and searched. “Where’s she sitting?” His voice was hurried. There was a one second pause. “Matteo, now!”

“Corner, near the door. What’s—”

“Niall...” Harry’s body felt weak and shaky. His blood was hot and boiling immediately. His vision was getting blurry at the edges, and he had never felt so close to throwing up in his whole life. Not even when he had the flu in university.

Why was his phone vibrating still?

“Oh no,” he murmured reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Shit!” Niall hissed looking at the direction of the man sitting across from the pretty girl all the way across the restaurant.

Harry slid his thumb across his phone without taking his eyes off the table across the main room. The weakness he felt ached through every inch in his body. “Eleanor, I—”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as she responded, loudly, shouting. “Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!? Why do you even have one!?”

Harry felt sicker at the accusation. How could he not look at his phone? “El—”

“Harry it’s bad,” Eleanor sobbed, barely getting the words out. Harry could hear Louis shushing her as best he could. “It’s really bad.”

It was every one of Harry’s worst nightmares.

*

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her, and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more and she stepped back as the door opened. Her jaw dropped along with her phone smacking to the ground. She could faintly hear Eleanor calling at the sound of the noise.

The man before her smiled excitedly, relieved. “You’re home. I knew I’d find you,” he sighed with relief reaching for her. Instinctively she took a step back, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from throwing up all over herself or the not-so-stranger. “I’m so glad I’ve found you; I missed you so much.”

Her heart was pounding erratically. Her only saving grace was knowing Eleanor heard. She reached for her phone. Autopilot. Grab the phone that clattered to the floor.

He kicked it out of the way. “You don’t need that,” he assured her with an easy smile. She straightened; cleared her throat.

“I…don’t?” She whispered. She should have spoken louder so Eleanor could hear. Of course, she loved her apartment, and she loved Antonio and the little family he invited her to be part of that was Dolcezza. Right then, however, she wanted to cry that her apartment was soundproofed beyond auditorial recognition. Her eyes dropped to the fabric in his hand. She swallowed the bile that continued rising in her throat while he looked at her as if he had known her his whole life.

“No,” he shook his head.

Her mind wasn’t working. She was exhausted and terrified and poor Eleanor was screaming from the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone. “Hi Eleanor,” he said simply. “She’s okay. We’re going on a trip, she’ll be safe with me,” he assured her.

Then he left her phone on the side table. Hanging up and leaving it there. It started to vibrate immediately; Eleanor desperate to hear her answer again. Instead, he ignored it, held his hand out for her to take. “I need my stuff—” she stepped toward her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked it away, like he burned her. She gasped at the touch, and he frowned.

“Sorry—”

Her fight or flight kicked in and she bolted for the bathroom. It would lock and she would drop from the second story if necessary or scream until Harry heard her.

Oh. Harry.

Right as she tried to slam the door shut behind her his foot got in the way. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. “Honey, stop fighting me,” he grumbled bitterly. She felt so sick. So scared. She wanted to scream and cry but it would be useless. No one would hear her. She needed to make someone hear her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her brain started to work. It wasn’t much. But she prayed silently to herself that it would be. She took a shaky inhaled breath. “I’m…sorry,” her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She was too scared. It was a nightmare, but she could feel the way her teeth bit into her cheek. It wasn’t something she would be waking up from. “I’ve had a really long week and a really long day. I haven’t eaten yet,” she whispered. “I was going to go downstairs and eat at the restaurant,” she sniffled. “Can we do that? A date?” It tasted sour in her mouth to say it. Her fingernails dug into her palms reminding her further it was a nightmare. It had to work. Please let it work.

“A date?” He mused. He stuffed the fabric in his hands into the pocket of his pants.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

“And then we can go to my place?”

The idea was so nauseating, so terrifying, she worried that it wouldn’t work. If the food got to her table, she was so incredibly scared she wouldn’t be able to eat it. Her whole body felt shaky and clammy. Like when she had the flu. One bite and she would be puking all over her table.

But hopefully that would get Harry’s attention.

“Okay,” he agreed and held his hand out for her to take. It felt like cheating on Harry to hold someone else’s hand. She forced the tears behind her eyes and willed the nausea to stay in the pit of her stomach.

She placed her hand in his.

*

Harry was pacing trying to figure out how to tell her he knew. Niall was on the phone with the police begging for no sirens and no lights. Eleanor was, in the smallest of possible ways, relieved to hear she was in the restaurant and not halfway to somewhere they didn’t know.

Harry couldn’t see her face. It killed him. Why didn’t he go up sooner? Why didn’t he beg for her to come down and help so they could make up? Why didn’t he insist and help her stubborn self the way he wanted to?!

“Goddamnit!” He shouted and shoved a bin of clean cutlery on the floor. It was so loud the restaurant ceased to make noise for a prolonged moment.

“Harry,” Niall was off the phone with the police Eleanor sobbing in his other ear no doubt. “You need to be smart. They cannot leave before the police get here or we’re fucked. Eleanor already sent the detective on her case to his old place of residence and there is no sign of him there. So, if they leave…” he trailed off and Harry released a strangled noise from his throat. Not quite a cry, not quite a yell. The pain was so intense from the thought he thought he could feel it in the atoms of his body. “If you cannot have a controlled response...,” Niall warned without finishing the sentence.

Harry swallowed the feeling of being sick down. He knew what Niall meant. “Okay,” he croaked.

Everyone was still trying to work. But the whispers ensued. Within moments, everyone knew. Everyone was trying to piece together a plan and Harry felt so confused, so lost, so scared because the only one he could ever imagine getting out of this situation was his sweet Principessa herself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. He needed to be brave. She needed him. She never needed anyone. The weight of that made him terrified. Shaking his head he pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes to stop the stressed tears from escaping. He swallowed and shook his head again. She did the hard part. She got herself in the restaurant and Harry’s attention without even talking to him. “Niall, bring out the garlic bread in three minutes,” he ordered while untying his apron and heading for the door to the alleyway. “Tell Eleanor to tell the detective to hurry.”

*

The restaurant was easily one of her top five favorite places in the world. But right now, she wanted to scream and run from it. Where was Harry or Niall?! God, she wanted to kill Matteo. How did he not know? Wasn’t everyone under a silent direction to tell Harry when she arrived?

The worry began to take over. Harry wasn’t coming to her rescue because he didn’t want to. She pushed him away and he was going to let—

No.

Harry, despite how mad he might have been, would never let anything happen to her. She was certain.

Wasn’t she?

Perhaps Harry really just didn’t know. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do about it. Especially without any indication that anyone knew she was there. Her back was to the restaurant, and she was still in her gym clothes. With her back turned, hair in a ponytail, she was probably less recognizable than normal. That had to be it. He had no idea she was there.

It was a miracle she could keep her breathing as even as she did. The thoughts started to spiral further. Maybe he wouldn’t know. It was really busy in the restaurant—Matteo might not have noticed she was there with a stranger when he seated them since the hostess wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t tell Harry yet.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears it was hard to hold a conversation with him almost because she couldn’t hear him; more so than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. But she didn’t have a choice. He asked her about work, her family, and if she had been reading anything good. She wasn’t into it—it was obvious and she wished she was because the only thing that was going to save her was being able to play it off that she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin at the sight or sound of him. Her stomach was churning, and her voice was so quiet she wished she could do a better job acting but she was terrified. Pain started behind her eyes, and she wanted to scream.

“Good evening.”

Her head snapped up to Harry briefly, who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her jaw dropped silently. She was really beginning to believe that he wasn’t coming to her rescue. But now he was there. He knew she was there. He was going to help. She was sure of it.

He knew she was there.

Her heart started to pound in a new way, still scared but for the first time in twenty minutes she took a deep cleansing breath; relieved. She looked at her lap afraid to give it away that she knew him.  “We are very short staffed this evening. We’re extremely sorry for the delay,” Harry sounded so formal, and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would cry. “Your food will be out as soon as we can. Please be patient with us. We’re very sorry.”

If she looked up, she knew his eyes would be looking at her. She knew his apologies weren’t about the food. The gravity in his voice said he was sorry because he didn’t know she was there sooner. He was sorry he didn’t come upstairs or to her rescue faster. A tear slipped across her cheek. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Do you have a bathroom?” She asked.

“I don’t think—”

“Of course,” Harry interrupted hurriedly; she could practically hear the excitement in his voice. Like he was grateful she had a plan because he was a little stuck, a little lost. It made her feel weak immediately. The worry Harry must have felt because of her made her feel guilty and sad. She wanted to fix it and it was hard she felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. She hoped Harry wouldn’t hate her for running the second she had the opportunity. “I’ll lead you,” he offered.

“You just used the bathroom upstairs, honey,” the man reminded her. His voice was tight.

He was going to be mad if she left; that much was evident. “Well, I just—” She started.

“She’s all set, actually. Thank you.”

Harry stared at him. Weighing his options. She could see it. She cleared her throat. “Um...it’s okay,” she whispered quietly. Refusing to look at Harry again. If she did, she was going to blow what little cover she had. Poor Harry. “M’just a little tired,” she assured him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“S’back and to the left,” Harry murmured and then headed to the next table and explained the short-staffed shift again. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was saying to the table. They looked like regulars, but she wasn’t completely sure because her mind was frazzled. Harry leaving her to fend for herself, even though he was only four feet away at most had her aching for him more than she ever wanted to hold his hand in her whole life.

Harry was losing his mind. He knew she understood his apology for taking so long. He knew that she understood between the lines that he was apologizing for Matteo’s mistake in not telling him sooner. Harry would have been out in the dining room so much faster. As much as it pained him to see her seated across from another man, regardless of the circumstances. It would have been better if she was with another guy in general. At least he wouldn’t be worried sick about her safety.

It took every bit of his strength to keep blowing their cover. To keep from shaking while he told the next table that they were short-staffed. They quietly inquired about the strange man sitting with the sweet girl they all had grown to know as their sometimes-waitress and Harry’s lovely Principessa. He quietly murmured something and then casually bumped into the table dropping the knife near the edge to the floor. As he bent to grab it, he murmured to the guy, pleaded with his eyes as he tried to whisper devoid of emotion. “Do not let her leave with him.”

Harry moved to the next table—strategically he chose the tables that allowed him to keep her in his peripheral. It was killing him. The shaking was becoming uncontrollable, and the whisper beg to the couples, imploring for help from the people he had gotten to know over the years, was getting strangled in his throat as he moved to the third and fourth table.

He was at a loss. The bathroom was a great idea, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to get her from point A to point B. Maybe he could pour hot soup on her, insist she come to the kitchen for help. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill their hot soup in her lap either. He supposed he could throw ice cubes in it and make it less horrible on her delicate skin, but he had to do something! His mind was spiraling. He wouldn’t see her in his peripheral in just two more tables and he was already about triple the distance of what he wanted to be from her—granted even an inch of space given the scenario seemed more horrific than he could bear.

He was feeling nauseous. Maybe he should just grab her by the hand and pull her away. But they had a chance to get rid of him. To keep him away from her once and for all. He violated the restraining order. That had to be something. He would have to go away.

Despite the fact she was so close but felt like an entire galaxy away. Harry was crumbling internally. This poor older woman who had been coming in every Saturday for years looked at him with pity in his eyes as he repeated his spiel once more. The agony he felt was in every inch of his bones, every pore of his skin. His eye was twitching.

When he got her safe and out of harm’s way, he planned on never letting go of her. At least not for a few days. He was going to kiss her and hold her. Apologize to her and cook for her. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Harry was going to tell her he loved her and didn’t care if she was stubborn or felt like she was hard to care for because she didn’t like to be needy. He was needy. He needed her. It was killing him to be so close and so far away. So helpless and terrified that he couldn’t help her the way he wanted to right then. Even scared shitless, he thought she was beautiful and brave. So brave. She got here. She got his attention. That had to mean something. She believed in Harry and that he would find her or know she was there despite the frustration and anxiety she felt.

It was hard to believe it was only three minutes since he actually talked to her and apologized for taking so long. Niall came from the back with a plate of garlic bread as promised. Niall was going to come up with the next part of the plan, Harry hoped. Hell, he would go back to the table, feigning exhaustion for apologizing twice. God, he needed to get a bowl of soup, he was going to have to spill it in her lap! It was the only way.

Harry listened intently as Niall arrived at their table. He could almost see the glitter of her tears in her eyes. Nearly crying again at the sight of Niall. He wanted to make a joke more than anything that it had nothing to do with Niall but everything to do with her favorite bread in his hands. But he was mortified. Speechless in front of a table waiting with waited breath as they heard the murmurs and the wisps of what Harry managed to mumble before Niall’s arrival.

“Garlic bread,” he announced, as if she didn’t know. “Buon appetite,” he winked casually. He was far better at lying and acting than Harry or herself combined. She was itching to run. Niall and Harry, both could stop him. Someone would tackle him, right? She was fluttery. Ready to leave as soon as she saw an opening because she didn’t know what else to do. “Can I get you two anything else?” Niall asked kindly.

“I know you,” he said. It lacked suspicion but was no less terrifying.

She could see Harry’s back straightened in her peripheral and his speech silenced. Matteo and the hostess were working from the other end of the room at the same time. Probably explaining the situation to every table as quietly as they could just like Harry was.

Without any tell in sight, Niall merely tilted his head and looked at him. “Hmm...sorry. M’not sure I recognize you,” he shrugged. Niall stepped closer, getting a better look at the man across from her. His acting skills deserved an award.

But in moving closer, Niall also blocked her a good margin from his view. It was her chance. She bolted. Running from the main room and toward the kitchen so fast it took a minute for anyone to realize she was gone. She zipped out the kitchen door, back through the alley, and up to her apartment. She heard a shout coming quickly behind her, so she had to be faster. She hurried back into her apartment unable to do anything but grab her phone off the table and run into the bedroom and hide in the closet, closing the door quietly behind her. She dialed Eleanor. Her heart pounding as she heard the sound of steps. She left the door open to make it look like she ran back out, but it was impossible.

He was already in the apartment. Already tearing through her belongings, shouting, upending her furniture, and rifling through everything.

“Babe?” Eleanor nearly screeched with relief.

“I can’t talk,” she whispered barely an audible octave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on the phone,” she promised. “The police are on their way.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

@likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59

@babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06

@canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong

@foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03

@luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr

@crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri

@indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @hermionelove @somethingabout1d19

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @12yeahiminluvwu

@cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[the---hermit]

My Study Method

I have quickly mentioned my study method in several posts through the years but I don't think I have ever written a proper post about it, so here it is.

I have to say that overall my study method is quite time consuming, but in years of experience it's what works best for the type of learner I am, the materials I have to study and the type of exams I have. I believe these three elements are the fundamental things you should figure out when creating your own study method. Let's go over these things quickly. Firstly I am an history student, tho not all my exams are history based (I have taken some language, philosophy, anthropology and litterature classes) so my method is proofed for most humanities. I am a learner with terrible memory, if you give me a list of things to learn by heart expect me to fail because my brain simply cannot do that. So I have to train myself to learn things when studying for an exam. As for the type of matherials I have to work with when studying for an exam, they are mostly full non fiction books, sometimes I have to work on articles as well, and depending on the class I have lectures to attend.

The fundamental element of my study method are the notes I write. That's why in my daily posts I am constatly mentioning them. The lectures I attend are turned into notes, the books and articles I have to read are turned into notes, everything you leave me with for too long will be turned into notes. The very act of writing is what truly helps me get into the topic, understand it, and memorize it. I might write an indepth post on how I write notes in the future, but for now what you must know is that the goal of my notes is to be the only material I actually study in the end. As I mentioned the very act of writing is itself a huge part of my study process. When I am listening to a lecture I try to write down notes as tidy as possible, and then try to fix them at home if needed. So there's not much to say there, as for the materials I have to read here's how I do it. When I get a book I have to study I usually read a chapter and underline all the important bits that I will be transferring to my notes as I am reading. When I am done with the chapter and have the topic still fresh in mind I write down by hand all my notes. The goal is to write everything I need to know, in a direct and easy way using my own words. By re-elaborating the original text I am making sure I am not blindly copying things, and actually understanding stuff. Once the entire book has gone through this process, the book goes back on the shelf and as I said I only work on my notes from then one.

Once I have all my notes ready a long time has probably passed, but in reading and writing I have already started to memorize things in general. I try to highlight my notes as I am writing, but in case I don't I go back once I am done writing, doing a quick reread and highlighting important stuff. I usually use two different colours: yellow for the important dates and another colour for the other informations. At this point there's two more steps left. Repeating and writing key words.

If writing notes can be counted as half of my studying, repeating outloud is the second half. Since I have oral exams I have to make sure I am comfortable with exaplaining things, showing I have understood things and I am not just midlessly reciting a list, and using the right terms. I am a very lucky person because my dad is both retired and quite interested in the topics that I study, which means that I get a lot of help from him in this phase of studying, because basically what I do is following him around the house for a few days exaplaining my notes to him. If you do not have someone to annoy with your study, talking to yourself works too but you have to speak outloud and honestly pretend you are giving a lecture. If you just go over your notes and read them it is not the same thing, it's way less effective. I usually do two rounds of repeating. The first one looks a lot more like reading and saying things outloud in my own words. By the second one I am usually much more comfortable with informations so I have my notes there only to guide me through topics making sure I don't miss anything. Having someone who actively listents to you is definitely a bonus because if they ask you questions they challenge you in the exact same way an oral exam does, and you make sure your exaplainations are as clear as possible.

The very last step is going through my notes one last time with the goal of writing a long list of key words. This is a tool I specifically use to review things quickly the day of the exam. Usually during my commute I reread the list of words in my head and I mentally make sure I remember about everything.

As mentioned this is a longer study method but it truly locks things in your brain, and paying that much attention to note writing also makes them a tool that lasts in time. If I am interested in the informations of any of the books I read during my degree I can pick the notebook in which I wrote those notes and find the information right away without even having to open the actual book. I usually dedicate a whole notebook to each book, in order to archive and find them easily. I will be writing a specific post on the way I write notes, maybe including a few pictures, but in the meantime I hope this was somewhat helpful.

[sunderingstars]

.✦ ── ✦.

mundanite assembly

.✦ ── ✦.

what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, theory crafting, elation!sampo and erudition!sampo, coining ma!sampo (short for mundanite assembly!sampo) as we speak, and printed!sampo too, small breakdown over windup world (iii), okay just hear me out, post-analysis clarity made me open my third eye for this one

word count: 10.8k

overview: a breakdown of all six mundanite assembly (unknowable domain) stories — “the great lie,” “those remembered,” “resleeved,” “dousing flames,” “printed truths,” and “windup world” — in the context of sampo koski’s potential backstory & identity.

.✦ ── ✦.

Introduction

.✦ ── ✦.

In terms of Sampo Koski as a character, I’m still not entirely confident that Mundanite Assembly (MA for short) applies to him. Although I detail a lot — and I mean a lot — of similarities between these stories and what we know about Sampo in this analysis, the truth is that his past is shrouded in so much mystery that it could have literally nothing to do with the Unknowable Domain.

That being said, I do hope I can put forward a solid thesis here: Mundanite Assembly may, in a chronological sense, provide information on Sampo Koski’s origins, identity, and backstory through the exploration of small moments in time across different, likely reincarnating, “copied,” or transferable, lives.

(Mundanite Assembly is a relatively new piece of evidence for Sampo theories, so I apologize if I miss any details or lore implications. I’m not too familiar with the Scholars’ Strife or the Second Emperor’s War, so feel free to let me know about any extra information I miss.

Also, a big shoutout to @/ricochetlovebombs and @/anothermtroubls for pointing me in the direction of Rubert and Rubert II!)

I will be referring to the second person “you” perspective of each story sometimes by who the protagonist is (a professor, a memory device, etc.) and sometimes by “Sampo” directly. This doesn’t mean I think the MA!Sampo theory is 100% true, only that using Sampo’s name gets my point across more clearly.

.✦ ── ✦.

General Observations

.✦ ── ✦.

— Chronology. The Great Lie ➜ Those Remembered ➜ Resleeved ➜ Dousing Flames ➜ Printed Truths ➜ Windup World. There are a few exceptions I’ll explain when we get to them, but this is the general chronology I see these stories taking (as it is the order they appear on screen).

— Chapters of Note. Resleeved (II) and (III), Printed Truths (I), and Windup World (III) are the most important parts for my understanding of Sampo as he relates to MA. Resleeved (II) and (III) deal with experimentation and creation themes, as well as “breaking,” abandonment, and Organic Heart, while Printed Truths (I) sheds some light on the “cell printing” process of copying individuals. Windup World (III), on the other hand, is likely Sampo’s first or near-first interaction with the Tavern, centering on Elation, being used as a puppet, cruel jokes, and the origin of some of Sampo’s current worldviews.

— General Themes and Events. The reason Mundanite Assembly comes across as a giant Sampo lore drop to me is because of the themes and events it includes. Here are a few:

— Focus on truth and lies; being “created,” brought into the world, and/or stolen; being abandoned, discarded, and “broken” multiple times; advanced awareness; inhumane and dehumanizing experiments; Organic Heart; rage, anger, and vengeance, sometimes carried out in full; technological and mechanical links to Curio Hacker; Nihility, Erudition, and Elation imagery; slow shift in worldview to accommodate Elation-aligned vocabulary; focus on money, wealth, and knowledge; entire sub-section about being a thief; explicit interaction with the Tavern, as well as being literally puppeted around for a cruel joke.

— Elation. While this analysis is a departure from my previous, solely Elation-focused theories, I do still believe the Elation has been a large part of Sampo’s life. Just because Mundanite Assembly focuses on a time where Sampo had more to do with the Erudition, it doesn’t mean that Elation isn’t important as well — in fact, there is a pretty strong shift from Erudition to Elation by the end of Windup World (III).

— The time gap after the Tavern is not detailed in MA, but likely includes most of his experiences with the Elation, including how he became so close with the Masked Fools and potentially an Elation Emanator himself.

— Existence. After looking at the stories individually and as a whole, I’ve come to think Sampo has a sort of “curse” on him, a byproduct of his existence that leads him to repeat equally painful and doomed narratives through paradox. While each story may be completely unrelated, they share uncanny similarities in violence, betrayal, and “breaking.” It makes me think, despite certain outside presences, that Sampo is trapped in a “loop” of inevitability, which would be what the Masked Fool is divining in Windup World (III). There is also the chance that he is the “copy” of someone else, like in Printed Truths (I).

— Perspective. While I want to believe each story’s “you” is talking about the same, repeating protagonist due to thematic throughlines and narrative similarities, there are likely multiple perspectives at play here. Resleeved and Windup World for sure feel like Sampo to me, as well as Those Remembered and certain parts of Printed Truths, but Dousing Flames especially seems “outside” the perspective of whoever Sampo is or will become. I will detail what I think the perspective of each section is when I get to them!

— Rubert. Rubert is an interesting case, mostly due to the fact he canonically has a successor — Rubert II — who inherited his memories. I do believe the original Rubert is dead, as per what is mentioned in-game, but Rubert II has a lot more mystery surrounding him. It’s entirely possible that the “copying” mentioned in Printed Truths (I) has to do with copying Rubert himself, and Sampo is the resulting clone. Also, who knows, there could even be a “Rubert III” out there that no one knows about! There are a few incongruences I’ll talk about when I get to each part, and it does mess with the perspective of things a bit, but it’s a theory worth considering.

— Cover Art. The Great Lie is red with a jellyfish hidden within, and is cracked. (Interestingly enough, this reminds me of the Enigmata, and since it links to Sampo’s breaking, it makes me think maybe the Enigmata is why he’s so confusing! Keyword: Lie.) Those Remembered is a locked box with a keyhole opening. (Perhaps meant to symbolize both the Memory Unit and opening of “Pandora’s Box,” so to speak. Key word for “copying” memories: Remembered.) Resleeved features blue — a very notable color — leaves encasing metal insides. (Reminds me of Organic Heart, points towards a new form or “outward appearance” masking the circuitry underneath. Keyword for “reforging” or new forms: Resleeved.)

— Cover Art (Cont.). Dousing Flames looks like a miniature galaxy. (Representative of the discussions of quantum mechanics and theory, as well as the almost vast, unexplainable nature of Sampo’s potential copying and reincarnation. Keyword for hatred, fire feather on day five of the shop event, or the fire in “Cloud of Doubt”: Flames.) Printed Truths is a round puzzle with the last piece fitting into place. (Indicative of the “puzzle” of copying higher existence, as well as Sampo likely trying to gain knowledge about himself and the universe as well. Keyword for money: Printed.) Lastly, Windup World features a clock with its hands and time slots in oddly-sized and placed positions. (Similar to the strange way time and life seems to distort around Sampo, as well as the Masked Fool talking about divining his “future.” Keyword for doll or puppet status: Windup.)

— Repeating Lives. This is a tricky one, because not much of Sampo’s character implies the sort of “life cycles” I end up talking about here — it’s pretty new territory as far as Sampo theories are concerned. However, this lack of hinting could make sense if Sampo himself is confused or unaware about it; especially if, perhaps, this is a byproduct of his existence that is doomed to repeat over and over unbeknownst to him.

— In terms of what does make sense,though, repeating lives or some kind of “cycle” would explain why all MA stories have similar threads and themes despite occupying different times, characters, and biology, as well as why they all end in the same kind of breaking or misfortune. It also explains why the Masked Fool in Windup World (III) is so deliberately taunting about Sampo’s “future” and “divination.”

— There is also the possibility that he, as a memory storage device or “copied” being, is simply simulating or remembering these lives in his memory, with the memories originating from different sources before all finding their way to the same place — him.

— Personally, I believe the Masked Fool’s prophetic “joke” in Windup World (III) may be meant to simulate Sampo’s existence; a cycle doomed to repeat, the way he returns “unharmed” to his seat after delivering what should’ve been a killing blow, and the “nihilistic” nature of not truly having a choice in any of it. The only question is if he remembers all the lives he’s lived or not. (*Cough* Whatever the AetherTurbo Bookmark from the Shop Event symbolizes may be helping him retrieve these memories, likely given to him by the Elation. *cough*)

— If I could sum up all of this, every iteration, every cycle, as one word, it would be: misfortune.

Now, let’s get into the specifics of each part! (I will be formatting them as a bulleted list with some extra explanations.)

.✦ ── ✦.

The Great Lie

.✦ ── ✦.

“The Great Lie” focuses on a professor who, after their students and school turn on them believing Synesthesia Beacons and general knowledge to be evil, finds themself shuttled through a series of academic conflicts that result in an unemployed, broken, and lonely life begging outside the gates of their former workplace. (Notably, this mental brokenness includes repeating the lines “I am a liar” over and over again.)

— The first paragraph mentions the “Enigmata,” which is an interesting choice if we’re viewing MA as chronological and even cyclical. Even more interesting is that it isn’t mentioned again after The Great Lie, becoming too obscured by other forces like Erudition and Elation.

— Takes place at Palonglek University. “You” can be assumed to be a professor there teaching Basic Aeonic Theory.

— Introduces a core discussion about the Synesthesia Beacon, and how “original knowledge” often cannot be accessed, instead being found through the filter of the Beacon.

— “The only thing there was no room for, was knowledge.”

— Starts “in the cold darkness,” a running theme with a few of these sub-sections. This may be able to be interpreted as how Sampo’s life always begins — in a cold or dark place.

— School of Relative Cognition; very Erudition-coded.

— The professor — “you” — stands strong in their use of the Synesthesia Beacon, even when being threatened with dismissal. In the end, they give over their copper ring, either willingly or by force depending on what dialogue is chosen. They are replaced immediately after.

— Despite the “Erudition” front of the school, it seems to be veering into the Enigmata more than anything else, talking about how the Synesthesia Beacon is “evil” and implying the glorification of knowledge is dangerous.

— Some running themes to note: cold darkness, Erudition, Synesthesia Beacons, lack of choice (all options leading to the same outcome), and being abandoned, discarded, or replaced.

— This new situation of dismissal is compared to “a precious flower being uprooted from a greenhouse.”

— The theme of discarding and abandonment continues: the government halts their educational stipend, students cut off contact, and their family leaves.

— Now “you are all alone, forced to become an elementary school math teacher in a small town to survive.” This seems to mirror how Sampo, the lonely character that he is, finds himself in Belobog, a relatively small planet occupying a relatively specific niche.

— Arguments start up among students again, this time over simple, easy information. “You” lose your job once again, and even though there are two choices — write a letter of complaint or accept the fate silently — they both lead to the same end. Nothing changes.

— “Fools” are mentioned in both dialogue options: “Even an ant has a more objective view of reality than this army of fools.” Foreshadowing, perhaps?

— Interestingly enough, even though the immediate situation doesn’t change, the movement of Relative Cognition eventually wanes, but not without leaving its scars. The former professor, now unemployed, without a family, and potentially homeless, is found begging outside the Academy, repeating two significant lines.

— “Aeons are a lie. I am a liar, I am a liar…”

— By the end, the protagonist is not only broken materially and mentally, but spiritually.

— The repetition of lying and “I am a liar” is interesting, as Sampo is often referred to as a “liar,” if not by implication then by occurrences like Ship of Fools that position him outright as “a liar with negative credit.”

Conclusions:

— I am not sure where this fits chronologically — although I am tempted to say it is at the “beginning” of MA since it’s the first one on the screen, “Those Remembered” does seem like a more solid origin to me; of course, it could all be part of the cycle, and perhaps “The Great Lie” really is the first glimpse we see of a repeating “life” since things tend to be reset so often.

— Despite where and when it may fall, this chapter introduces several running themes, especially the cyclical nature of conflict, the illusion of “choice,” and most importantly, being abandoned, discarded, or broken.

— “I am a liar” definitely sticks out to me as well!

— I’m not sure where Rubert fits in here, as this professor seems to carry the same thematic “cycle” as the rest of the stories, but without any solid evidence as to being Rubert. It definitely seems to be the odd one out here, but maybe I’m missing something.

— Thus begins what I posit is Sampo’s repeating “life cycle”: cold darkness to awareness, the seeking or teaching of knowledge, separate “choices” made under the illusion of free will, and a series of conflicts or misfortunes that lead to being abandoned, discarded, or “broken” — either metaphorically or quite literally being killed. (In this case, it is the situational “brokenness” of the former professor’s material, spiritual, and psychological situation.)

.✦ ── ✦.

Those Remembered

.✦ ── ✦.

“Those Remembered” sees a T500 Quantum Memory Device buried and forgotten by the Candelographos in an attempt to save it from being destroyed by the History Fictionologists (affiliated with the Enigmata). In its time deep below the earth, it runs through the entire history of civilization, becoming extremely empathetic towards “humanity” and “civilization.” It is excited to be rediscovered.

— “Your race believes in a legend, that all things are born from chaos.” Reminds me of the Elation, the idea of “chaos” and “creation” having significant overlap!

— Nous is explicitly mentioned, creating this cycle’s link to Erudition.

— “You have waited endlessly in the chaos” — another point for the Elation.

— Once again, we begin in darkness. “Creation” is also present.

— The protagonist assumes the woman who appears is Nous, but she is later identified as Xiaoya, a scribe and student of a teacher who is also present.

— We are also given an explicit statement of identity for this protagonist; they are a “machine,” specifically a T500 Quantum Memory Device.

— Note: I am a bit unclear on the talk of Scepters here. I’m inclined to say the device is implied to be a Scepter, but the way things are worded is a bit weird, so it might not be one after all.

— “It is a life without love…” Although this is talking about the Candelagraphos, I do find the emotion of it interesting. In a way, it could also be applied to machines, to the stereotypes even in HSR’s present day that mechanical beings (like Intellitrons) are cold and unfeeling.

— The perspective warps when the memory device takes in its reflection: it becomes more distant. It’s not that it looks at itself and says “You are a square machine,” but rather that “You see a square machine,” almost as if having difficulty processing its identity as “not a person.”

— This is further supported by the “sudden realization” of identity, with one dialogue option even being to say it’s “A person that looks like a memory storage device.” If you pick that option, the Simulated Universe says it is incorrect.

— Either way, devoid of choice or free will, the machine is a machine, the “most powerful memory storage device to exist to date.” It can record all information on the planet.

— The setting for the first part is specified: The Candelographos research institute on Freya. Our protagonist has been sorting documents for ten years, before Xiaoya and her teacher ran away with it.

— “Your footsteps” is an intriguing phrase. It may be referring to the “group,” which includes Xiaoya and her teacher who are human, but the perspective means it could also be the device’s understanding of itself — still unwilling to believe it is purely a machine despite having no feet to walk on.

— Searching and running away are depicted as similar actions.

— Xiaoya and her teacher plan to bury T500 due to an ongoing hunt by the History Fictionologists; since the device can store all of the planet’s history, they want it to survive.

— “Plus, it’s the only one that exists.” Points to being “one-of-a-kind” (hehe, shop event reference!) and the uniqueness of a mechanical wonder or wonder of creation.

— “Having dug out a crater deeper than the height of a man.” Hmmmm. Makes me think some details are being talked around, so to speak. Footsteps, a human-height hole; despite the “smallness” of the original device, it almost seems as if it has some kind of human form now. It’s not explicitly mentioned, but the implications might just be there.

— Despite whatever dialogue you choose — “Bye” or “I don’t want to leave you” — they leave anyways. There is no choice in the matter, only fate, only inevitability. Once again, the protagonist is abandoned deep in the darkness, waiting and waiting and waiting for a reunion that will never come.

— Starting off in the dark again! (Although it is still a continuation of this “life”.)

— The memory device, spurred by a desire to understand a remark made in the last part, begins to pour over civilizational records, spending ten Amber Eras slowly learning the entire history of the planet, from stone tablets to the rise and fall of entire civilizations.

— Eventually, it reaches the names of Xiaoya and her teacher, realizing that they are long dead and only their names remain.

— “Humanity” and “civilization” are the answers to the question, and the device begins to harbor a deep compassion for them.

— (Note: “fools” is once again mentioned near the end.)

— Naïve excitement at the prospect of becoming known to the universe again.

Conclusions:

— The cycle starts anew: darkness, the illusion of choice, being abandoned. This time, it is advantageous, as the memory device is able to learn and develop compassion for humanity. (Perhaps this is where Sampo’s love for humanity comes from.)

— Due to the time spent underground, I feel like the next story, Resleeved, may be a continuation where the device is “found.” Or, it may be another cycle of life. There are no specific years or times given, so these events could be extremely far apart or incredibly close together. Who knows.

— I am not too familiar with the Scepters as a whole, but from what I can find on the wiki, the context seems to track as a chronological interpretation of MA!Sampo. (I’m still not sure about The Great Lie? Unless it is a prologue or takes place after Those Remembered in time.)

— Here, we see a device be “unboxed” during the time of the Scepters, then sealed deep underground to avoid destruction. As such, instead of being caught up in the conflicts of the time, it is given space to develop empathy, kindness, and enlightenment. I think it would be cool if Sampo is a Scepter (it would explain some of his powers and strange qualities), but the wording in the text is still unclear to me.

— Either way, there’s a large chunk of time where the device is able to sit and develop advanced awareness, much like in the “Ace Trash Digger” occurrence.

— Perhaps this is one of many “lives,” or just an advancing, singular consciousness that goes through a lot. It is also possible that these different events and stories could be simulated existences, things that are a part of Sampo yet aren’t. At the end of the day, my main point is that it’s all cyclical. (Even… Ouroboros in nature… (Sampo outfit and snake reference!))

— As for Rubert, I think this fits in as the “computer dumped in a trash pile” that became self-aware and, eventually, Rubert. Its memory storage very much matches the kind of intelligence that would interest Nous, although the “emotion” of everything doesn’t track. As far as what I’m interpreting, it seems the memory device grew fond for humanity — and by extension, organic life — committing itself to sharing the history of civilization with others. That doesn’t track with Rubert’s motive behind the Mechanical Emperor’s War; in fact, it almost seems to be the opposite. Still, I can’t ignore the thematic similarities. Maybe something happened along the way that drastically changed Rubert’s worldview.

.✦ ── ✦.

Resleeved

.✦ ── ✦.

“Resleeved” documents a thought-consciousness experiment carried out on an unknown participant wherein the subject is assimilated into different species’ biology. After being “broken” beyond repair due to the nature of the experiments, they are discarded, only to be met with yet another experiment — this time a transplant of Organic Heart — that also ends in failure. They presumably die after being shot through the chest.

— This is one of those exceptions where I don’t think the perspective is Sampo’s; instead, it seems to come from an outside storekeeper that has a conversation with (most likely) the doctor that carries out the experiments in Resleeved II and III.

— “… truth lies…” Cool way to include opposites in a grammatically correct sentence!

— “Fool” mention again. (This is getting to be a lot — I think this is the third time?)

— A scent compared to an “empty, lifeless ocean” is similar to darkness or the cold.

— Heavy themes of experimentation on a cosmic level.

— “How could there ever be truth born from foolishness?” Truth and fools once again.

— The idea of knowledge and wisdom being a “curse.”

— “An equivalent exchange cannot be reversed” also feels potentially pertinent to whatever Sampo has going on with Aha / the Elation.

— School of Evolutionary Perfection links to the perfectionism in The *Perfect* Grand Challenge.

— Generally, it seems that this doctor orchestrated a biological contamination outbreak that resulted in the conditions needed to have access to experimental patients.

— “127th awakening” implies a cyclical nature, potentially the ability to traverse different forms or lives.

— “A new character awaits every time you awake~” feels like it might be meant to represent Sampo’s situation — there are certainly many different situations at play in these stories, yet so many of them seem to carry the same cycle of darkness, experimentation, brokenness, and abandonment. These thematic elements would make sense if, similar to what this doctor is implying, Sampo has the ability to “reset” or occupy different lives in succession. In this way, the cycle would be inescapable, an ouroboros of tragedy he is forced to experience over and over no matter how many times he becomes someone “new.” (Also, this line is repeated several times, giving it some extra weight.)

— The experiment’s name is F0078. This could go back to the idea of Sampo having multiple names; it’s possible that, if Sampo isn’t one of the townspeople from part one, the memory device from Those Remembered was found by some… unsavory people.

— “Scholar, I am so cold” links to darkness and the cold.

— “I can take your thoughts from this experiment to use as the wick for the flames. Next time, I will be able to insert you into the Imperial Fragment.” I feel like this might shed some light on Sampo’s situation. There’s a good chance he personally hasn’t gone through all of these events himself, but rather remembers them as the result of thought combination or “copying.” Similar to the AetherTurbo Bookmark from his shop event, it gives the feeling of having done something without actually doing it. In truth, he might be an amalgamation of all these different perspectives having been used (or fused) into one, compact form.

— The next parts are blanked out, and I find this a little suspicious. It’s simulating the now-broken nature of the experiment — how they cannot process language properly anymore — but that also means we the reader do not get to see what “target species” they have turned into or what the results of the experiment were. If anything, this could be the cloning of Rubert, or even how Sampo got his humanoid form.

— “Endless silence” and darkness.

— “It is as if you have operated for ___ Amber Eras and been once again deleted by every ___.” Again, the blank spots are noticeable here. How many Amber Eras? If it’s ten, that would track with the “ten Amber Eras” the memory device spent processing in Those Remembered. “Once again deleted” could also refer to Rubert’s demise.

— Fortune versus tragedy — in the end, neither matter, because the ending is the same.

— “In the world of ___, emotions and judgments of value are merely absurd.” (The blank here could be Nous, or it could not.) This may also explain the difference between the “compassion” of the device in Those Remembered versus the emotional distance of Rubert and Rubert II. If, somehow, the memory device was the one cloned into Rubert II, then inheriting those memories may have been enough for a drastic emotional shift towards pure logic.

— (While it is possible this experiment is a townsperson, the cover art of Resleeved very much focuses on machinery being covered by an “organic” something, so I am leaning towards the memory device interpretation.)

— “Thought conduit ruptured” makes me think of the memory device too, as I don’t see the doctor wording it in this way if the subject was organic!

— “No longer fit for use” and “I suggest abandoning ___ and destroying all samples of this experimental batch if necessary” links to themes of abandonment, discarding, and brokenness. (Also, interesting how the name is blanked out. Wonder what it could be?)

— The mentions of time, space, and the strange limbo of shattered thought remind me of the Nihility, especially the “Liquid Flame in Void” Curio from the shop event talking about the abyss.

— Overall, in terms of Sampo, I see this as being one of the major experiments that turned him into who he is today; likely the “resleeving” of mechanical parts into an organic form. Whether this has anything to do with Rubert or not is up for interpretation. (Meaning, this “form” could have been how Rubert II inherited Rubert’s memories, or it could be a separate entity entirely.)

— The crying family and strange visitors that the protagonist doesn’t recognize could be the results of the experiment. If Sampo, potentially starting as the memory device, was combined with many different forms or consciousnesses, it’s possible the body he ended up with had a family — or even one of the merged consciousnesses could have one. This could explain why the family is there, but also why there’s no recognition to be had.

— However, “the little blood you have remaining still burns in your heart” feels more organic, but that could also be because he now has an organic form as a result of the experiments.

— Now that I think about it, Those Remembered’s memory device could have been Rubert, while Resleeved could have been a human or other townsperson being combined with said memory device, with the combination resulting in Sampo as Rubert II. 🤔

— “Death is my inevitable fate” seems very cycle-oriented to me, like no matter how many times a loop is repeated, it will always end the same.

— “My longing to survive still burns strong” may also point towards how, despite inevitability, Sampo will always try to keep going (i.e. rewards and costs and deals to survive).

— “A little cardiac burning is not sufficient to halt your progress towards evolutionary perfection” also points towards the mechanical merged with the organic, as if the subject was previously a machine (and one preoccupied with “perfection,” which tracks with Rubert) but now finds themself in an organic form with “cardiac burning” — i.e. a heart.

—The fangs and rust-scented claws could point towards a borisin? I’m not sure how many other intelligent creatures we’ve met would match that description.

— Organic Heart (beating fruit) baby let’s go!!!!!

— For those that don’t know, Organic Heart is a Curio that the mysterious blue-haired entity offers us in the Curio Hacker occurrence; I’ve talked about it in my Simulated Universe Analysis, but Organic Heart here is basically a direct link to Sampo for me! (Which is why I’m quite sure, regardless of any perspectives beforehand, that Resleeved II and III’s perspective is Sampo’s.)

— After having the heart transplanted, the protagonist begins to recover, eventually feeling “too strong.” Plus their blood literally begins to boil, ouch!

— At first, I thought the “Mock Crimson Moon” reference may imply the subject’s new body is borisin, or at least affected in similar ways, but Mock Crimson Moon is actually a Weighted Curio in Divergent Universe that causes enemies to receive Fire DoT “Necrosis” after being attacked by Abundance characters. Due to the subject’s fits of madness under the moon, it is very much still possible there’s some borisin biology going on, but it’s also possible that “Mock Crimson Moon”s specific reference could be due to the blood boiling or the Necrosis of being used in experiments. I’m not entirely sure where to draw the line, but these are my thoughts!

— When the experiment, once again, is concluded to be a failure, the figure from the beginning shoots the subject through the chest. Death is implied.

— I’m not sure what the reference to the Intelligentsia Guild means either, it feels somewhat vague.

— Resleeved (III) may be meant to show a one-off experiment that really did die, but it seems strange that Organic Heart is present given that Sampo’s Curio Hacker occurrence has it too.

— Plus, the allusions to perfection, experimentation, and the melding of mechanical and organic very much line up with some of my Sampo theories.

— Who knows, maybe this was just another perspective added to the consciousness mashup that is Sampo Koski?

Conclusions:

— Heavy themes of perfection, experimentation, and being discarded remind me of Sampo.

— Additionally, the cycle repeats again: darkness, misfortune, abandonment, breaking.

— Resleeved (I) seems to be from an outside perspective, while (II) and (III) are likely the same subject.

— The subject’s disorientation in Resleeved (III) seems to imply that whatever happened in (II) messed with their consciousness so bad they can’t remember the people in the room with them — this may be because of the resulting thought combination between species.

— Many details are omitted at the end of (II), which may imply a connection with the memory device (potentially Rubert) from Those Remembered.

— If the subject really did die at the end of (III), in order for them to continue into the rest of Mundanite Assembly’s parts, they either didn’t really die, started another “cycle” or life, or were assimilated into the growing amalgamation of consciousness that is Sampo Koski.

— I also did want to note that Resleeved very much reminds me of the mythological Sampo, especially pertaining to creation, abandonment, and breaking.

.✦ ── ✦.

Dousing Flames

.✦ ── ✦.

In “Dousing Flames,” Scholar Cholkov and our protagonist are in proximity to the Perpetual Motion Project, which takes place during the Interstellar Energy War and, despite having promise on the outset, is eventually destroyed because it can’t keep up with the costs.

— The setting is Pier Point’s technological research and development department.

— “Research into the possibility of infinite energy sources” reminds me of quantum energy and the Ship of Fools occurrence, where the “broken mask” is mentioned to have made the Kuvida Nebula a dead zone after offering a solution for its energy problem.

— “Honesty just so happens to be a prerequisite for truth” reminds me a lot of the way Sampo handles truth and lies.

— “Another boring line that makes you yearn for sleep,” a little bit Elation-aligned.

— The perspective is of an engineer, specifically one that has made “innovations in the area of material engineering,” even developing a product based on an ultra nanocloth they invented. Someone selling products… sounds familiar.

— Also, the original purpose of the nanocloth was for advertisement printing, specifically to plaster billboards in the sky so people could look up to see them. Also sounds… very familiar……

— However, the product was never truly produced because the higher-ups said, and I quote, “The costs outweigh the benefits.” This may be where Sampo began to become preoccupied with risk and reward, cost and benefit. The sentiment very much mirrors his own in that regard.

— “Permanently solving an energy crisis” again reminds me of “Kuvida’s energy.”

— “It’s time to go to the canteen and recharge” is a specific combination of mechanical and organic, much like the previous experiments in Resleeved. “Canteen” implies drinking (something we know Sampo likes to do), an organic activity, while “recharge” is generally associated more with mechanical devices and electricity.

— The only thing is: I’m not sure how he got from point A (the end of Resleeved, being shot) and point B (here in Dousing Flames, working as an engineer). Perhaps that isn’t something we’re supposed to know yet, though, since all six of these Mundanite Assembly “chapters” are simply small blips in a potentially very long state of consciousness.

— The first paragraph is extremely Nihility-aligned, even reminding me directly of the Horizon of Existence with its monochrome color scheme, infinite expanse, and “boundary line.”

— Despite being clarified as the Technology Department’s “Perpetual Motion Project,” the resemblance is uncanny.

— A Scepter is mentioned, meaning these events are still taking place around when they would be active.

— “But, there shall come a day when the stars will be extinguished.” Very ominous and Finality-aligned!

— The Interstellar Energy War is mentioned, also placing it in proximity to Rubert; according to the wiki, this seems to be around the time right after Rubert’s death.

— You have two dialogue options here, either to express optimism or pessimism for the future of the technology. Notably, the pessimism option heavily features how the Intelligentsia Guild is only focused on profit, as most ideas are ruled “garbage inventions” and likely discarded.

— Already, we have themes of experimentation, abandonment, and, interestingly enough, profit thrown into the mix as well.

— Eventually, the Perpetual Motion Project is declared a failure, and the formerly constructed sails are destroyed since the plan wasn’t worth the costs.

— In this case, the protagonist is the one destroying the sails, although one dialogue option reads “They forced me.”

— In the end, Scholar Cholkov passes away, and the protagonist leaves a flower wrapped in their ultra nanocloth invention in front of his grave.

— Notably, both our perspective “you” and Cholkov are described to have grey hair and wrinkled faces, meaning they’ve both aged considerably. I’m not sure what to make of this; it’s possible that if Sampo is subject to repeating or resetting “life cycles,” then this would be just another one nearing its end, ready to start anew. However, other options are that this is simply another consciousness in the “soup,” a different perspective entirely, or a metaphor meant to show a similar cycle as it happens to a different individual.

— Either way, the focus on profit and “costs versus benefit” is not lost on me!

Conclusions:

— I really want to say I see connections to MA!Sampo here (especially since it takes place during the Interstellar Energy War and ties to him have been present in so many other parts of MA), but it really is possible that this is an entirely different perspective.

— There is, however, still quite a running theme of abandonment, destruction, and even some Nihility in here.

— If this does have something to do with Sampo, I can see his emphasis on profit and risk forming during this time!

— Overall, I don’t see any huge implications for his backstory, other than a potential reference to the “energy” mentioned in relation to the Kuvida Nebula in Ship of Fools.

.✦ ── ✦.

Printed Truths

.✦ ── ✦.

“Printed Truths” introduces the idea of a “printing” project, wherein individuals are copied or cloned into identical forms. When issues of Path power arise, a scholar sets out to find an Emanator to (assumedly) copy. Later, a thief eats a synthetic Curio apple and is sentenced to death. The school that housed the original project moves into a new era of working with the Council of Mundanites (or an association of bright minds).

— Printed Truths (I) is another exception where I feel the perspective is not directly related to Sampo; instead, it seems to come from an outside committee of scholars discussing (more like arguing) over a “printing” project.

— Essentially, this project is meant to “copy” the Path power and memories of specific individuals through cell printing. Most of this text is discussion over how Path powers may (or may not) carry over, mainly attempting to figure out how to get them to match up as they need to.

— Several solutions are proposed as to why this certain copy doesn’t have Path power, like “because the original is still present,” “the problem lies in their memories,” and “perhaps you need to deceive the Aeon.”

— This leads to talk of eliminating “the original,” getting the Garden of Recollection’s help, and even working with The Riddlers. (Keep in mind The Riddlers for later.)

— (Also, note: If I remember correctly, the original Rubert’s death has some mystery surrounding it, as there are a few different ideas as to what happened. Since this grey area seems to be present, perhaps these scholars really did find a way to “eliminate the original.” Just speculation!)

— Eventually, the project is terminated, but not without the scholar in charge of it having an epiphany and realizing she needs to find an Emanator (potentially to copy).

— This scholar does disappear at the end, leading me to wonder if she really did go on a search for that Emanator — perhaps she also found one, and perhaps Sampo is the resulting copy? (Since Rubert was part of the Genius Society, I would also assume he might have been an Emanator as well. 👀)

— This is for sure a Sampo perspective if there ever was one. With how Printed Truths (I) ended, I am tempted to say this might be him as a copy of someone else (likely an Emanator, potentially Rubert). Also, this is a bit of a crack theory, but I do find it really funny that Aha Themself might’ve let Themself be copied.

— Our protagonist is a thief breaking into the farm of a wealthy resident.

— “Bringing the moonlight with you” reminds me of the moon in Resleeved (III).

— Interestingly, fruit is present here, with the thief attempting to steal it and being forced to kill the old man holding it before the old man could fire his gun. The thief then eats it.

— Apparently, this fruit was a synthetic Curio, and when the thief is arrested, the court eventually decides to kill them because of all the research they destroyed in the process of eating it.

— The only way out would’ve been to prove some legitimate change occurred after ingesting the fruit, but the dialogue offers no such option.

— “My digestive system has run smoothly” reminds me of a machine “running” or “processing.”

— It also reminds me of Sampo mentioning how to complain about your dinner in the shop event, as “complaining” about the apple may have saved the thief’s life in this instance by producing worthwhile information.

— “… comically murdered by you.” Elation is beginning to seep in to these stories more and more.

— The time is implied to be around the Scholars’ Strife.

— The thief is then shot through the head, and synthetic Curio technology remains unavailable. I find this interesting because in Sampo’s pop-up event, we are literally helping him create synthetic Curios. A little irony, if you will.

— My main confusion is that, although the thief is not explicitly said to have died, getting shot in the head with a bullet sure implies it. Once again, I’m not sure how Point A connects to Point B. This has Sampo written all over it, yet the thief still dies at the end. The only explanation is that either Sampo has a way of coming back to life, “resetting,” or something similar.

— Or, perhaps since Organic Heart has been involved in all of these experiments (like in Resleeved and this section of Printed Truths), if it somehow found its way to Sampo maybe he got the memories of everyone involved. Just an idea!

— In this section, a young scholar named Chrystella attempts to get older scholars to listen to her thoughts on age, passion, knowledge, and “research pragmatism.”

— These dialogue options stick out to me: “The mysteries of infinite space-time?” “True ultimate intelligence?” “The engine of a perfect society?” I don’t have many deep thoughts, but I just wanted to point these out.

— She also mentions how the scholars once “chased Arblad out,” which means this is the same setting as Printed Truths (I) but at a later time. Presumably, the chronology goes in sequence: (I) shows Arblad discussing the printing project, (II) likely shows a resulting creation disrupting the Curio process, and (III) shows the School of Pure Creation moving into a “new era.”

— “Perhaps we do not need to completely drain this school of its blood. Maybe we just need a little transfusion.” Reminds me of Resleeved’s experiments, especially (III) when it specifically mentions blood. Might be a mirror to what happened in those experiments, “transfusion” of consciousness rather than complete draining, or maybe it’s nothing.

— The Council of Mundanites is also mentioned by name, which also links to the name of the entire Unknowable Domain section “Mundanite Assembly.” Essentially, the Council, and especially the name of Mundanite Assembly, is likely meant to convey the converging of the brightest minds in the Guild. On a larger scale, perhaps all six of these “chapters” are meant to represent the wonders of creation that occurred during this time period, complete with Rubert, the Scepters, and whatever or whoever Sampo ends up being.

Conclusions:

— Printed Truths (I) and (III) are likely outside perspectives of scholars in the School of Pure Creation, relating specifically to events surrounding “copying,” cell printing, and the creation of individuals who share the same physiological functions. I believe Printed Truths (II) to be the perspective of a resulting creation, perhaps the copy of an Emanator or even Aeon Arblad was able to make after she left in Printed Truths (I). With this perspective explicitly being a thief, as well as the “comical” aspects of the situation, I believe this perspective to be related to Sampo if not Sampo himself.

— The only thing that doesn’t make sense is the death at the end of Printed Truths (II), but I suppose that could be explained by Path, Emanator, or otherwise experimental power. It could also be explained by Organic Heart, which may have memory-storing or transferring properties.

— Printed Truths (II) also takes place at night (darkness), and through a series of ironic misfortunes leads to death or otherwise “breaking.”

— I am not sure how this all stacks up to the Sampo we know today, but I do think the similarities are there. (Again, large gaps of time and all.)

.✦ ── ✦.

Windup World

.✦ ── ✦.

“Windup World” chronicles a butterfly effect death that occurs during an attempt at revenge, where the protagonist is burned alive while watching and waiting to see what happens to their nemesis, then into a “paradox” of code during an experiment where a Scepter tries to predict the end of a miniature civilization. Eventually, a Masked Fool at the Tavern uses our protagonist for an “opening act,” making them divine their future as a wooden puppet in the palm of the Fool’s hand, then eventually “kill” themself in front of a live audience.

— This is where we get a bit “red-string-board”y, so buckle up!

— This is another perspective I see as being Sampo, and here is where I think things start to come together.

— First, my thesis: Despite all the deaths that occur throughout Mundanite Assembly, I believe the protagonist (Sampo, in this case), has memories of Resleeved, which causes him to enact revenge on the doctor who subjected him (or who he remembers to be him) to those experiments.

— This revenge could, in all actuality, be towards someone else or a random different plot point, but this is what I feel connects Mundanite Assembly’s different parts the best.

— As for the story itself, it details the protagonist approaching an old scholar (potentially one we’ve seen in another part) and asking for help with revenge.

— The old scholar refers to himself as a “relic of a past generation,” which implies he might be the older scholar from Dousing Flames (III) — in this case, Dousing Flames may not be Sampo’s perspective at all, but rather the one of the scholar he eventually comes to for revenge. Just speculation!

— However, the man is also implied to be… more than human, in a way? The butterfly effect is heavily referenced here (as it has stood in the background for most of these stories), and the man seems to know exactly what to do to help our protagonist start the fire that eventually engulfs both them and the target.

— “Expanding and contracting, taking in a releasing, like the wings of a butterfly or the spinning of a loom.” This doesn’t seem very “normal” to me, so it’s possible this old man is a special case or even someone with Path or Emanator power.

— “With faith, the removal of a single nail can topple an entire empire.” Very big implications, perhaps speaking from experience? I feel like it’s referencing Rubert’s empire, but not exactly from the perspective of Rubert himself.

— A crow is nestled on the windowsill; reminds me of the bird from Everlasting Hatred.

— “A perfect assassination” occurs, and through the butterfly effect the protagonist’s nemesis is burned alive, though not before the flames reach the protagonist and burn them alive too.

— Again, death occurs, but it still feels very… Sampo to me? So much of his character revolves around hidden hatred, betrayal, and implications of revenge that it seems strange to me that, if Sampo is involved in MA, this wouldn’t be at least tangentially related to him. Perhaps the old man really was him instead? Or again, if he can “reset,” perhaps he is just moving onto his next “life.”

— Once again with inevitability, as no matter what you do or what you choose, it all leads back to the butterfly effect, back to the flames and death.

— Interestingly enough, the “Cloud of Doubt” Clown’s Item shows a door burning, similar to the protagonist burning alive here.

— It also seems to say something about how this protagonist went so far to achieve revenge that it destroyed them too, much like Icarus flying too close to the sun.

— If this isn’t Sampo, I feel like it is at least a warning he should heed in the future.

— This part deals mainly with “predicting” the end of a miniature civilization (Sandpit Civilization 013) with the help of a Scepter.

— “You think that this so-called legacy is enough to filter clarity from chaos?” What is the legacy here? It reminds me a bit of “Rubert’s Legacy” that Rubert II inherited.

— “The trigger of this great war is the death of a governor’s concubine in the Second Empire, who drinks poison. The war ends 17 years later as it is proven that her cup was never poisoned. The source of the poisoning was a copper label that was inside the barrel that dyed the entire barrel’s content jade green.”

— This is a particularly notable quote because the dialogue options are either, “What an absurd story” or “It’s like looking in a mirror.” Assuming that our perspective here may yet again be Sampo (or someone directly related), we now know that something about this story is connected. In the protagonist’s eyes, this “fake poisoning” due to misdirection — or rather, false assumptions made based on appearance — is relatable to their own situation.

— For Sampo, I wonder if this means he has been mistaken for someone horrible before, despite the fact it’s all on the surface. Appearance-wise, this could be because he shares an appearance with Rubert or even Aha Themself, leading people to assume the worst of him despite the fact the majority of what he shares is in harmless appearance (or what he perceives to be so).

— It is also possible that this is meant to imply certain conflicts or wars were not always what they seemed, and who may have been deemed the “bad guy” may have only been based on false assumptions.

— Additionally, when the protagonist specifically attempts to use the Scepter to predict the future of Civilization 013, it malfunctions and extrapolates out into a “mess of code” that, if deciphered, would cause a “paradoxical loop.” Again, hear me out, but what if our protagonist (Sampo) is meant to be referenced by this code and “paradoxical loop.”

— I’m starting to think that maybe, as a result of the cloning process or something similar, he created a paradox within the universe simply by existing, causing him to loop over and over (potentially like Resleeved’s experiments, the thief’s death, and the “revenge” death). This could also explain the thematic commonalities of misfortune, butterfly effect, and breaking — no matter what he does, the paradox is inevitable.

— Things also go back to normal when the other person present, Prados, intervenes. Although he does things a bit differently and the gist is that there is some interference with the Scepter itself, it still interests me that the “paradox” exists for our protagonist only.

— “This is editing” also implies messing with the base function of the device itself. (A bit similar to “printing,” might I add.)

— The “answer” is also implied to be linked to Terminus, and yeah, I haven’t mentioned it much yet but the Finality is definitely at play throughout all these stories. It makes me wonder how it works into everything.

— The edited version is published, and Civilization 014 begins.

— I do want to note the numbers here; they could mean nothing, but it also makes me think of “loops.” Leaving out The Great Lie as a potential prologue, there are thirteen stories from Those Remembered (I) to Windup World (I). Windup World (III) is number fourteen. Again, it could be nothing, but it just makes me think of cycles, and stories, and how the paradox of 013 is ignored in favor of marching straight on to 014. Just something to think about!

— Finally, we have reached the main course! If I had to pick only one story I thought was directly from Sampo’s perspective, it would be Windup World (III) without a shadow of a doubt. Actually, when viewing it through the lens of MA!Sampo, it ties up things quite nicely (at least for Star Rail, who loves being cryptic).

— Generally, here is what I’m picking up: Masked Fools, World’s End Tavern specifically, potentially Sampo’s first time at the Tavern, being puppeted around for a joke, death and “breaking,” divination and predicting the future.

— We start off in what can reasonably be assumed as the World’s End Tavern, watching a Masked Fool introduce a new comedy. Given the “confusing and bewildering” qualities of their voice, as well as the confusion expressed by our protagonist throughout this section, I also believe it may be their first time here.

— The Fool also mentions they have retrieved “a lost period of The Riddlers’ history and edited it into a miniature comedy” for the Tavern’s entertainment. I find this intriguing because The Riddlers have been mentioned all throughout MA, especially in Those Remembered when the memory device was hidden from History Fictionologists.

— Additionally, Printed Truths (I) sees the team wonder about working with The Riddlers on the cell printing project; I wonder if that part actually ended up happening.

— “Lost period” of history also catches me, because it again reminds me of how the memory device and potential resulting copies seem to be left behind, discarded, or lost for large periods of time. “Edited” also goes back to the idea of cell editing and prediction editing.

— It almost makes me think Sampo is meant to be the subject of this; that, despite being the opening act, the comedy was always implicating him in a way. He was always the main attraction. Or, perhaps, he was simply meant to “open” for it in the way that period of time blossomed into its own “butterfly effect” of tangentially-related events like the rise of Nanook far beyond the original war.

— Dialogue options: “I want to glimpse the foul deeds to the Gods,” “I wish to admire the folly of a genius,” “I wish to taste the rage of an actor.” All of this seems to be present throughout MA, and I feel like it relies on general themes — wonders and unnatural experiments, genius taken too far, projects created and fought over and discarded, revenge and rage from hurt parties.

— (It is possible that when the masked man says, “your requests shall be no challenge,” the resulting actions are simply meant to be just that: a recreation of the general themes of Mundanite Assembly’s timeline. However, I feel things are rarely that simple with Star Rail, and much of the specific wording and implications of this scene are… a lot for Sampo, so I think it may be a double-meaning kind of situation. As Sampo loves to so often do, there’s a good chance that this scene is meant to be symbolic of something he maybe doesn’t even know about himself.)

— A beam of light puts him in the spotlight; the main attraction, if you will.

— “Shocked, you realize that you have been transformed into a wooden puppet in the palm of his hands.” Links to Sparkle’s light cone where Sampo is a puppet, as well as all of *gestures vaguely* everything Sampo has going on with Doll Theory. Simply put, he has many implications of lack of agency and being “puppeted” around, so this situation makes a lot of sense in that regard.

— “You are a scholar who firmly believes that the future is a code that can be calculated.” Beyond the general ties to the MA time period’s obsession with knowledge, this also connects to Curio Hacker and the pop-up shop’s day seven Curio with code in the background. This line may also be alluding to Sampo as someone who is or used to be someone with a similar mindset.

— “Why can it not be a drink glass or a star chart?” The drink glass is notable due to Sampo’s habit of liking to drink.

— The protagonist then goes from a “scholar” to a “babbling, eccentric diviner,” and the Fool mentions how it’s a little “heavy-handed” but better than that “old pedant.” Could be nothing, or heavy-handed could be a double reference to Sampo’s identity and old pedant could be a reference to Rubert or the other, specific scholars we’ve seen. In fact, it could even be a way of saying Sampo, as a copy or clone, may be “better” or more “fun” than the original.

— Here comes the big part.

— “Divine your own future,” the Fool says.

— In the context of the “joke,” this could be a shallow pretension, but it could also be an order. If this Fool possesses Aeonic, Emanator, or even Path power, they may have the ability to genuinely have someone see into their own future. Everything from here on out could, conceivably, be Sampo genuinely predicting his future.

— So, what is divined? Death, as always. The star chart says the protagonist will die in the Tavern in one minute, by their own hand.

— The Fool asks what our protagonist will do. The dialogue options are: “I will take my own life,” “I have to take my own life,” or “Why don’t I get a choice?”

— “You,” apparently, have been drawn into the trap of Finality. After strangling themself and exploding into a colorful burst of stars in front of everyone, the protagonist returns to their seat, unharmed.

— “Though a healer can heal themselves, a diviner cannot tell their own future. If our universe is but a great diviner, once they glance their own destiny, would they not simply end their own lives?”

— The Fool then introduces “The Decline of Quantum History.”

— Man, that’s a lot! In terms of Sampo, if we are interpreting this as a potential, true divination of his own future, here is what I think this is saying: he is trapped in a cyclical loop — or “paradox” — of misfortune, death, and “breaking.” He does not have a choice in this. Despite, for the first time in MA, actually asking in awareness, “Why don’t I have a choice?” there is still no choice to be had. He hurts himself, simply by means of existing. It is visceral, and inescapable. He may have the ability to “reset” or “heal,” but telling his own future is a different ballpark, and knowing — truly knowing — the extent of his repeating fate would cause nothing but depression and despair. His end will likely happen due to his own “butterfly effect” decisions.

— It is also possible that, if Sampo really has nothing to do with this, he is instead the Masked Fool playing the joke, although there is no way to know for sure.

— I am still leaning towards our perspective as Sampo, though, if not just because of the being turned into a literal wooden puppet.

— Perhaps this puppet is itself a symbol of prophecy, as Doll!Sampo could still be a very real thing in the (potentially large) time gap between Windup World (III) and present day. In that case, Sampo being turned into a doll (or doll equivalent) by Aha could be similar to him being “stolen” or even “reset.”

— Overall, yeah, there’s a lot to be had here! Also, I just want to say how fucked up that joke was. It makes me think Sampo’s view of treating everyone with dignity and looking sideways at the Fools may have to do with this event, or something close to it. After all, if he was used for a joke like this — literally made to kill himself (approximately) for the entertainment of others — I feel that would shift his views quite a bit. (Though, we still don’t know how he felt after: Traumatized? Angry? Elated? Free? Maybe all at once. Sure makes for a compelling soup of emotions to convince him to keep coming back to the Tavern.)

Conclusions:

— Windup World (III) may be Sampo’s first time at the Tavern, being puppeted around for a joke having, potentially, to do with his identity or previous identities intertwined with the events of Mundanite Assembly as a whole.

— The “joke” itself may even have a double, prophetic meaning for a cycle he finds himself trapped in or actions he will take in the future, such as being treated as a toy or dying by his own hand.

.✦ ── ✦.

Extra

.✦ ── ✦.

— “Pusuit’s End” is what you get after completing all of Mundanite Asembly. It’s a key, and can be used to increase heat in the Workbench of Creation. Personally, I think it could refer to several different things (like Polka Kakamond or other members of the Intelligentsia Guild / Erudition), but if we’re talking about what’s most relevant to MA, I have a feeling it could reference Arblad’s “printing” experiment.

— “The infinite layers of nutshells encase the ruler of the universe, yet even so, she continues to turn the key, opening the next door indefinitely.” This sounds similar to Arblad’s determination to copy Path power in Printed Truths (I). “Pursuit’s End” may hint at her finding a way to achieve what she wanted, and increasing the heat at the Workbench of Creation could further strengthen the connection between this item and “creation.”

— In the case of Arblad, Sampo might have been this “creation” that finally achieved what she wanted — or, simply one in a long line of attempts.

— “Imperfect Scholar” is the achievement you get for completing Mundanite Assembly. I think it moreso deals with the general themes of the era, but “imperfect” also reminds me of The *Perfect* Grand Challenge’s focus on perfection!

— Just wanted to make a note of this!

.✦ ── ✦.

Conclusion

.✦ ── ✦.

Overall, what do I take away from all this?

— Perspective. I believe, at the least, Windup World (III) is from Sampo’s perspective. If we’re going with a “copying” or printing theory beyond that, I would say Those Remembered, Resleeved (II) and (III), Printed Truths (II), and Windup World (I) are his perspective. This would account for the memory device’s (potentially Rubert, an Emanator Sampo could have been copied from) experiences, as well as the experiments with species changing and Organic Heart’s transplantation, the thief’s consumption of (assumedly) Organic Heart and their eventual death, and the butterfly effect “revenge” death of being burned alive. Windup World (III) would bring things together into a more present-day situation, where Sampo may or may not have these spliced memories.

— I am also inclined to believe Windup World (II) could be his perspective because of the paradox code.

— This means The Great Lie (which I am still not 100% sure on), Resleeved (I), Dousing Flames, and Printed Truths (I) and (III) are outside, non-Sampo-related perspectives taking place as context for the events of the experiments going on at the time. Arblad especially is notable, since she presumably left to find an Emanator to copy.

— Timeline. If we are going with the most robust theory for MA!Sampo, I would say that he, in this form now, was created in between Printed Truths (I) and (II) when Arblad likely found someone to copy. If this someone was Rubert, then Sampo — again, Printed Truths (II) — would have the memories of Those Remembered and Resleeved (II) and (III). Going forward, he would die after eating the apple, but, perhaps due to some kind of paradoxical existence, find himself back in the loop of consciousness for Windup World (I). He would be burned alive, then returned for either Windup World (II) or Windup World (III), depending on how much (II) might actually apply to him. Then, Windup World (III) would be his first time at the Tavern. In the time after, he likely became more familiar with the Fools, leaving room for Elation-centered events like gaining his mask, becoming an Emanator, or even potentially being turned into or treated as a doll by Aha.

— Themes. Generally, MA sets up Sampo with a horribly tragic cycle of mistreatment. Abandonment, loneliness, hopelessness, darkness, dehumanization, death, and “breaking.” It’s all there. The worst part is he can’t even seem to escape it, much less understand it. The butterfly effect prevents him from finding a different path to take, inevitability chains him down, and the loop of it all makes sure it happens over and over and over again. No wonder that Fool remarks how the universe would kill itself if it knew its own future. If MA!Sampo, Printed!Sampo, or Rubert!Sampo (RubertII!Sampo? RII!Sampo? R.II!Sampo? What’s a good name for this? LOL.) ends up being true, then his story is incredibly bleak. His future is incredibly bleak. Perhaps that’s why he’s with the Elation — potentially with Aha Themself. He just wants to find a way out.

— Thanks for reading this far, I hope this made more sense than my Pop-Up Shop Analysis (I felt like I had a clearer head writing this)! Hopefully it’s also been able to put some things in perspective. I’m not completely sold on this (or any) theory because of how much wiggle room there is, but I feel like it could at least be a solid one to add to the more popular theories! Anyways, I’ll leave you with some key questions to think about!

.✦ ── ✦.

Key Questions

.✦ ── ✦.

— Who is Sampo? Is he a cell printed copy of an Emanator or Aeon (potentially Rubert or Aha)? Is he a mesh of mechanical and organic creation, doomed to repeat loops of misfortune due to the paradox of his existence? Is he an experiment gone wrong?

— How does Sampo’s “consciousness” work? Has he inherited the memories of past experiments or copies? Does he have partial or full amnesia?

— Which parts of Mundanite Assembly might be memories Sampo has? Those Remembered? Resleeved (II) and (III)? Printed Truths (II)? Windup World? If so, which might be memories simply “copied” over, and which are memories he himself has experienced?

— Are the Masked Fools helping or hurting him? (Or, perhaps both?) Are they helping him free himself and release the bottled up despair of being trapped in a horrible loop? Or are they leading him further into a cycle of self-harm that can only end horribly?

— What might have happened “in between gaps” of time, especially after Windup World (III)? Was he noticed by Aha afterwards? Has he since become a “doll,” or even been stolen?

— How does the Finality play into things? It’s mentioned quite a bit in MA, but how does it slot in with the Erudition, Elation, or even Sampo’s specific situation?

— thanks for reading to the end !! :)

— an extra meme i couldn’t fit in this post!

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[clayderogatory]

hello everyone im not exactly sure what day it is for serennedy mini week for my mind is very school (theatre and choir) right now, but i am one to skip around so i wanted to write cute headcanons and a sort of plot for day 5 because i am silay (splish splash!)

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞·｡

Leon is a merman, Luis is a pirate. They originally met from a large storm and Leon saved Luis' life. Leon takes Luis to a island with a large cove and decides to care for him because he's never seen a human before, and he clearly wants to know more. Luis also wants to learn, and thus they learn each other's cultures and fall in love!

There's a language barrier. Leon speaks a language that only merfolk can understand, and he doesn't understand what Luis says. Therefore! Luis teaches him and thus they learn how to communicate. At first it was making little pictures or hand signs (similar to sign language) to communicate, but it evolved to speaking too.

Within Leon's culture, they are very social and very clingy creatures. They spend most of their time with other merfolk and they are very VERY cuddly. Being physically affectionate is how merfolk actually stay alive. My vision is that if they get very upset, or sad—their tails will dull and they get very droopy. If their tails turn completely black this way, they will turn into sea foam entirely. Thus, this leads to Leon getting extremely attached to Luis and always being around him, hugging him, kisses, etc.

Merfolk also have a "mating" system. They all wear necklaces and when they find someone they want to love for the rest of their lives, they exchange necklaces! If someone is rejected, their necklace fades and they can never find another mate again. It is a one and done deal. So when Leon asks Luis to mate with him, it takes a second for the idea to cross until Luis says yes and they are now bonded for life. Fish marriage!

Luis always shows Leon human trinkets. Very specifically, shiny and valuable objects. As meaningful they are to humans, they are similarly so for merfolk! "Shinies," as they call it, are very rare to come by and typically are found near shipwrecks. Merfolk are fascinated by these objects and their pupils will very much dilate like a cat. It's worth a lot and since their economy is mostly trade based, shinies go for a lot! So Luis shows all the ones he has to Leon, and how even some of them can work if it's more elaborate than jewelry.

Merfolk learn by copying! So when Luis was teaching Leon how to speak English, Leon copied how to do it to learn! So they can generally learn extremely quickly, so when Luis was asleep, Leon kept copying what he would learn so he could impress Luis!

Leon is also curious about everything! He wants to learn everything that the surface world has to offer and about Luis himself! He also loves to share his own culture and how they can differ so greatly from one another. He listens very intently to what Luis has to say and vice versa!

Because being underwater makes it hard to tell night/day, merfolk basically say happy light/dark time instead of good morning/evening. They only can tell when the waters are brighter or darker, and that's how they can determine when to sleep or not. Leon also loves to sunbathe on the shore! He can stay moisturized from the seawater and also be very warm! He always asks Luis to join him too.

Mermaids are very kind and almost very naive. Especially Leon (a lot more of an RE2R personality but amped up a bit. Leon would do anything for Luis should he so ask, but he's also very gullible and technically could be taken advantage of emotionally by others. Luis never does that and would never dare to! They're also very energetic and very playful!

Whale surfing! Merfolk ride on the backs of whales to either get around or to relax!

Leon does like to splash Luis, sometimes as a greeting, but never too severe!! Unless he's in the water, then it's free reign!

that's most of what i could think of!! i hope you enjoyed and hey if you ever wanted a fic idea, i don't mind as long as there's proper credit!! also shoutout to @j-siexoxo for also coming up with a lot of this with me!

[thenukacolachallenge]

some fun facts about Luis and André Peña(his VA)

(from the Nick Apostolides(Leon Kennedy VA) livestreams, because i think Luis is neato and i liked André's performance, especially for a first-time big VA gig!)

UPDATE: NOW WITH TIMESTAMPS bc someone on the part two of this post asked about them lmfao

-André actually auditioned for the Spanish cops that escort Leon to Valdelobos originally, and went through several more auditions before landing the role of Luis Serra. for his first role on a big project like Resident Evil, that's incredibly impressive! (timestamp)

-Both Nick and André did motion capture for multiple enemies, including André calling his "best role" playing a dead body lmao. He and Nick also did mocap for the Verdugos, Salazar's bodyguards! (timestamp)

-Being that it was such a big role, he was very anxious about the game dropping, from the moment he got cast to the day it dropped. He even apparently asked Nick constantly if he had somehow been recast. (poor dude, as someone with anxiety issues and huge imposter syndrome, i feel for him!!!) Nick gives him a very sweet but stern pep talk about how he earned and deserved his role on stream too, it was a cute moment! (timestamp 1: André first mentioning his nerves) (timestamp 2: second mention of anxiety/Nick's pep talk to André)

-André is a big enough fan of the original to remember where all the treasure used to be! i love when people who are fans of a series get to work on it, dude. in addition, he was also very happy with the direction he was given, and felt that he was allowed to explore Luis as a more fleshed out character. (which he absolutely is, and i love it! Luis in the original was so strange and honestly off-putting imo. fucking ballistics lmao) (timestamp 1: first mention of André knowing a lot about RE4) (timestamp 2: more of André knowing the game) (timestamp 3: MORE of André knowing the game lmao) (there are a lot more than just these. dude is a FAN) (timestamp 4: André talking about direction and Luis)

-He refers to the bag Luis is stuffed into as a "Luis burrito", which is hilarious and adorable. (timestamp)

-(Also, not related to Luis, but Nick yells "YEET" when Leon gets tossed into the wall by Mendez, which is fucking hysterical) (timestamp)

-UPDATE: thank you to tumblr user @hamartia-grander for this detail that i completely missed originally! (timestamp)

(transcript: I hope this okay for me to add, but he also said that in the first scene with Leon and Luis, Luis looks away as Mendéz injects Leon with la plaga because he couldn't watch another person be infected by something horrible he had a hand in creating. Which is easy to infer from that scene, but it was nice that it was a conscious decision on André's part, rather than aimless direction.)

-the first scene André and Nick filmed together was Luis and Leon chained up together! and the first line of Luis's that got revealed was when he said to Leon, "I guess you, me... picked the wrong spot to vacation, eh?" Apparently the mocap for this scene was also very awkward for André, which is totally understandable, considering Luis spends 90% of it getting jerked around by Leon or trying to dodge a Ganado without the use of his hands lol. (timestamp)

-André worked very hard to make sure that Luis's accent was as accurate to Spain's Spanish as it could be, which is awesome, especially for someone who doesn't naturally speak that particular dialect. GOOD ACTING, BABEY (timestamp)

-André owns a legitimate Red 9 gun, the weapon that Luis uses in the game. this is a unique gun bc it was manufactured during the first World War, and it's VERY expensive(they can go up to $10k, but André apparently got his for a great deal!). he also has MADE a copy of the RE4 tactical knife Leon uses, and there's a video up on his youtube channel! (timestamp)

-(not related to Luis, but André also mentioned he has adhd! same buddy!!!) (timestamp)

-OKAY NEW STREAM TIME! This begins part four of Nick's playthrough, and André is a guest once more. All the previous facts are from part one, which is the first one André guested on. According to Nick, André learned how to flip a lighter around his fingers just for Luis, which is awesome. (and he shows off by doing so in stream!!!) (timestamp)

-Ashley's VA, Genevieve Buechner, got asked about her reaction to Luis' infamous "ballistics" line and both her and André aren't sad to see it missing from the remake. André himself makes a comment about how this version of Luis is still flirty without coming across as "creepy" about it. (i find the ballistics line from the original annoying, and it was a huge part of why i didn't care for Luis in og re4, so i too am VERY glad it's gone) (timestamp)

-André jokes about Luis breaking the brake on the minecart: "I react so depressed, like.... 'Guess that's it, bro.' 'Hey man, I tried.'" He really does! it feels like a mix of sheepishness at breaking it in the first place, and just very, resigned and depressed lol. (timestamp)

-Sadly, because he hadn't played up to that point yet, he didn't watch Luis' death scene, and therefore didn't have much to say on it :c

-when the cast was asked what kind of pet each of their characters would have, André said Luis would be a cat person, and he'd probably specifically adopt a stray cat, probably one that "adopted" him first. I definitely agree! (timestamp)

i havent watched Nick's last vid in the series yet but this is long enough as it is! im planning on watching some of André's streams up on his personal channel, and some others where he's a guest in, and i may make a part 2 of this :D (update: i did, link at the top of the post lol)

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Alternate Ending

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, mild injuries/gore, gun mention, suggestive content (18+), fluff

A/N: for those of you who desired a sunnier ending, here you go! This was requested by @redhoodsupergirl. the bold text is a passage from the original. I apologize if this is Bestie!Soap erasure h/j (I didn't know how to fit him in)

❥ y'all should comment where you think y/n went during leave, and if you think she ever came back | Word Count: 2.4k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ORIGINAL ENDING // requests | ao3 ver. | playlist

Alternate Ending

“Good to see you boys again.” The glitched voice emitting through your wire stops you dead in your tracks. You place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, yanking him to a stop so you can hear it further.

When he does, he sprints to the other side of the large room, checking the entrance and windows for any sign of hostiles.

You look at him wide-eyed, as the line goes dead again. Graves had patched into your frequency and clogged it so you couldn’t reach your team. Whatever he was planning before, it’s here now and there’s no time to stop.

Your earpiece unexpectedly picks up the frequency again when you reach the middle of the dining hall. It gargles out a few words that you can’t understand, and then it emits a high-pitched shriek so boosted it makes you keel over and rip it out.

Ghost moves quicker than before, as your hurried steps try to catch up with him, your boots echoing with each careful stride—as if to not get your foot caught in any of the uneven patches of flooring.

The glass on the chandeliers began to rattle, as did the glassware packed away in boxes. You felt the floor vibrate, and the tarps over the exposed drywall began to whoosh. The electricity flickered as a loud whoosh of a jet passed overhead. The lights exploded into sparks, making you cover your ears for cover.

You had no time to get any closer to the door before the force of a nearby explosion knocked you to the hard ground. The world around feels like it’s been tilted on its axis, and your vision is doubled. You see Ghost already scrambled to his feet, and he’s outstretching his hand to help you up.

You reach for it and just barely brush against his fingertips. When you’re too sluggish, he clasps your upper arm and jerks you toward him, just barely getting you upright.

Another jet passes overhead, and the sound of the engine fills your ears once more. When another bomb drops, it’s closer than the last. You knock into one of the pillars, losing your balance again. A clamorous groan of the building causes him to lose his grip on you, and you’re knocked down again, fading in and out of consciousness.

Ghost comes to, and looks around at the rubble before him. The section you ended up on was completely blocked by walls and exposed cables that shot sparks every few seconds. Besides those, the night sky was his only guide, casting a blue tint on the hotel now in pieces.

“7-1, this is Ghost, how copy?” He spoke into his radio, hoping to hear yours going off in the distance.

“Frequency’s shot…” He growled under his breath, tightening his lip in concentration. Not only was he down his comms, you were on the other side of the rubble, or God forbid, already gone.

Wherever you were, he was going to find you. You weren’t going to fight this alone, no matter what ambush Graves had planned.

He raised his rifle, sweeping the remains for any signs of Graves’ men. His ears were trained on any sound of life, enemy or not.

The place was quiet—too quiet, for his liking. Either his entire team was dead, or another fiery pass was coming.

The only way to the other side of the dining hall was climbing through one of the vents he spotted by the stairs if there was one remaining after the blast. He crept through the doorway, keeping his strides near silent as he made it to the stairwell, which was missing its bottom half now, nearly disconnecting the entire upper level of the building.

He spotted the vent and hoisted himself up on it using the front desk. He felt around inside, making sure it was stable enough to let him crawl through. His rifle went in first, then his upper half.

He inched his way through the tight squeeze, grunting at the strain it was putting on his ribs. He knew that pinching pain, he’d cracked a rib when the second pass sent you both astray. There was no time to whine, he kept army crawling through the vent, finally seeing the literal light at the end of the tunnel.

He made it to the other side, finally around the large lumps of rubble. He slung his rifle back to its previous position as he crept through the dark space, dodging the broken furniture and turning to ash before his eyes.

Finally, he heard the faint gurgling of a radio in the distance, meaning you had to be nearby, or at least your radio was.

His rifle lowered when he saw an arm sticking through one of the chunks of concrete, your full frame covered by a china cabinet that luckily was being held up by one of the remaining pillars. He’d never moved faster, shoving the cabinet aside like it was nothing to him.

His sore ribs screamed as he tore through the decay, finally revealing you to him.

He let out an audible sigh, seeing that you didn’t end up in the gruesome state he was imagining you in when your hand left his. Besides being banged up, it seemed only your foot had been nailed by the wreckage.

He knelt beside you, pressing his two fingers to find a pulse. Faint, but there nonetheless.

“Ghost, what’s your status?” His radio chimed, forcing him to take his attention off you for a few moments. “Ghost, do you copy?” The voice repeated.

“This is 7-1 Ghost responding, solid copy. One injured, working towards an exit strategy now.”

He engaged back, only keeping himself composed because he knew he had a job to do. You. It was his job to get you out of here, and he’d be dead before he failed that job.

Your eyes opened only a small amount at the sound of his rough voice. You were too out of it to be of any assistance, or to figure out what the hell happened for that matter.

When you tried to move yourself out of the odd position you were in, he pinned you by the shoulders. “Don’t move your legs.” He muttered, scanning the situation around him for a way to jack the rubble up and free the foot.

You had no choice but to lay there, coming in and out of prudence. The only pain you felt besides a small headache, was a persistent compressing sensation in your right foot.

He managed to use one of the boards as a jack, hiking the block up enough to shove your foot out from under it.

You groaned at the sudden release of its pressure, which only unleashed the pain the lack of blood flow was preventing. At least you knew your foot still had some nerves left, if you were in a position to think of the silver lining.

“Lean on me, Sergeant.” He wrapped his arms around you, using all his strength to get you upright. There was no way you’d be putting weight on your leg, so he not only had to guide you out of here, but now he had to find an exit.

Your head fell forward as he practically dragged you along, unable to hold any part of yourself together.

“I got you…” He kept repeating it as if he was also comforting himself. He pulled out his sidearm, keeping it at the side with his free hand.

He squinted into the void, finding a patch of wall that had a hole big enough for the both of you. That was his best bet.

There was no guarantee this “convoy” would be out there waiting for you two, in position to neutralize the two of you the second he crawled through. That was the risk he was willing to take. 

Worst case; you looked mangled enough, that if he needed to shield you while being pumped with bullets, there might be a chance of you passing for a dead body.

“7-1, approaching the South side. Is it clear?”

“All clear. No sign of hostiles since the blast.”

He threaded himself through first, scanning the hillside to be sure of its safety first just in case. He leaned through wrapping your arms around him first, then lifting you so you would have to put pressure on the leg.

When you’re both through, he slithers down the tattered village, looking for any sign of the team.

He spotted the emergency lights in the distance, finally finding the triage center Price set up. When the superior turns his head, seeing Ghost’s outline carrying your unconscious self, he runs over, helping to distribute some of your dead weight.

“Leg injury, concussion too,” Ghost spoke in a pressurized tone as you were passed along to the medics. Price watched Simon with concern, privy to his attempts at hiding his own injuries—he’d done it many a time before.

Captain Price replied sternly, making sure the entire Task Force was at his attention.

“I want us all out of here before Graves gets a hold of another bloody missile. We’re going to recover, and then come at him hard.” 

—

The four hours it took for your surgery to finish, he spent pacing in his dorm, despite the nurse’s orders to stay off his feet. He did indeed have a rib fracture, and he was lucky that’s all had, according to the medics.

A soft knock at his door halted his anxious pacing, making him hastily open the door. He was greeted by Price, whose professional poker face wasn’t doing Simon’s unnerve any favors.

“Hospital called me. The surgery went just fine, but they’re keeping her for observation.”

If he wasn’t so experienced in keeping his composure, he would’ve jumped into his car and driven there that second. Price kept the announcement short, and continued on his way back to his office.

Despite whatever came of all of this, you were out. He’d gotten you out, and you were now free to get out of this hellhole before it swallowed you.

That look on your face when you asked him about the violence, and how everyone else carried on like it wasn’t making them sick to their stomach.

That look was the reason you needed out of this life. He wouldn’t deny your skills as an operator for a minute, but you weren’t broken like he was. Not yet. If you were to have second thoughts about stress leave, he’d push you out the door himself. Nearly losing you today was enough convincing.

—

Simon stared blankly out the window of the bar he’d picked out.

Every vehicle that pulled into the lot made him straighten his posture, hoping it would be you each time. Finally, a taxi pulled in, and he saw your familiar figure step out. The dim lights on the entrance didn’t do much to reveal your state to him as you passed the windows, making your way towards the entrance.

The ding of the bell above the door makes him set his bottle down and lift the scowl off his face.

“Thought you wouldn’t show.” He said as you approached the booth, a large cast on your right leg, and a few scrapes in the process of healing.

“Why not? You pulled me out of a burning building, L.T.” You carefully tucked your leg into the booth, shifting in the cushion to get comfortable. The limited movements were something you still needed to get used to, but you were glad to even have a leg.

“Simon.” He says, making you lift your eyes from the menu. “You’re not under me anymore.” The last sentence sounded like a justification as if that wasn’t his real reason for letting you use his name.

If you had told your past self, the newbie with a fresh hatred for him, that you’d be sitting in a bar having a civil conversation—you’d have thrown a fit.

The drink he ordered for you arrived; a stout, of course.

“How’s the pain?” He asked, attempting to mask his concern as he finished off his pint.

“Burns sometimes… but other than that, no nerve damage.” You responded, resting your chin on your fist.

“Shouldn’t put a damper on your vacation then, right?”

You chuckled at his attempt at humor. “Not on my watch. I’ll be relaxing with one leg up the entire time if I can help it.”

His eyes scanned you in an up-and-down fashion as you sneered—like you’d noticed him doing many times before. At least this time it wasn’t lustful or hateful, it was civility.

You both enjoyed a few drinks, keeping up the friendly banter through the entire evening. As the bartenders began wiping down tables and flipping chairs, he placed a bill on the table and walked you to the door.

You turned on your phone, checking the time. “I should get going. My flight was pushed to to tomorrow morning.”

“I can drive you, in the morning?” He proposed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

You smirked and stepped a little closer. “I think we’re past sharing car rides with one another, Simon.” You had flashbacks to the last time he drove you somewhere, which only ended in a very risky hookup.

You could picture the reddened cheeks he had, even through the mask. His mouth said nothing in response, but his eyes had a way of uttering the words ‘Touché’ at your brazen remark.

He’d die at the chance of touching you again, but you weren’t in any position physically; emotionally, you were right about one thing—the impure mistakes you two made on your journey to this point.

You opened the taxi app you’d used previously and arranged your ride back to the hotel, exchanging glances with him as he watched you. You slid your phone into the pocket of your wallet, waiting patiently for your ride.

Like many times before, the silence between you two was more than enough conversation. Though there were thoughts racing through his head the entire time, he wasn’t sure where to start.

The crunch of the gravel under the taxi’s tires woke you both up, making you turn to one another for your farewell. A hug too innocent, a handshake too professional, and words unjust.

As you approached the car door, he cleared his throat to get your attention. He’d be damned if he didn’t get this out of his system before you leave the Task Force and possibly never see him again.

“Did you bring your files with you?” He asked, making you contort your brows in confusion. Files?

“The number listed on mine,” he began, shifting in his stance as he gathered the courage for his brave finish.

“You should call it.”

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck @brokenghostgirl1 @cheyenne-with-a-c @a-jupiter-n-mars-blog @liliumbosniacum (if you're not tagged it's not letting me)

[avocado-writing]

Request if I may:

Aziraphale is getting excited about getting his hands on a rare original copy of a book, but for the first time ever, your angel is being oh so very secretive about what it is.

Aziraphale is busy when the delivery arrives and being curious you open the packaging.

Your angel has gotten a copy of the karma sutra. Well, you need to try it out to make sure it's an authentic copy of the book.

notes: nothing too graphic in this one but still…

rating: M

pairing: aziraphale x reader

Aziraphale has a secret. 

This much you know. He’s trying to hide something and it’s not fooling you for a second: the constant pacing in front of the windows, peeking out of the shop’s front door. You’ve asked him what’s got him so antsy but he swears up and down he’s fine. 

You know better. He’s about as subtle as a brick to the face when he’s trying to keep something under wraps. So you watch him from behind your novel, keeping him under your surveillance without his knowledge. 

Ahh, he is so easy to find out. 

You see the way his eyes widen when he spots the postman coming towards the shop, the quick exchange of a parcel for a signature. The way he tried to hurriedly hide it in his storeroom - the old one with the wonky latch which never shuts properly. Honestly, you’d be a fool not to look. So, when he’s busying himself making a cup of tea for five minutes, you take the chance. 

The packaging has been ripped open — most unlike your angel, he’s usually careful when unboxing his mail. He likely wanted to confirm the contents and then squirrel it away; as you peel back some of the cardboard you see why. 

Oh. Oh. 

It’s old. Far too old to be delivered by such usual means of postage you’re sure; but it seems to have been secured quite thoroughly. You know the Karma Sutra is widely read but you don’t think you’ve ever seen a copy in real life. But here it is. In your hands. 

Hmm, you can see why Aziraphale was hiding it.  

“Where are you, my dear? I have your cup of —oh.”

Aziraphale catches you. Of course he does. Damn that storeroom door, always swinging open. You’re caught red-handed, book in your grasp and eyes wide. His eyes go wider and his cheeks a bright pink. 

“Oh, erm, right. It’s not mine! Well it is, I was just… I was ordering it for a customer, and I…”

“Aziraphale,” you say, trying to hide your smirk, “you’ve never ordered anything for a customer in your life.”

“I… well… no. I suppose not,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to the floor. He begins to fiddle with the bottom of his waistcoat, a sure sign of his nervousness. You tread over towards him carefully, holding the book so gingerly someone might mistake it for an explosive. 

“Aziraphale, it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with having it, you know. I suppose I’m just a little surprised. Did you want to… study?”

He clears his throat and nods, still unable to meet your eyes. 

“Yes. A little. It’s the book for it, you know.”

“Well that’s true. I just don’t quite understand why.”

When his cheeks go even pinker, and he looks like he’d rather discorporate than continue standing in front of you for a moment longer, you realise. 

“Oh my god, it’s for me, isn’t it? It’s because of me,” you blurt out, totally unable to keep the idea inside. Of course it is; you’re so obtuse. You’ve been seeing Aziraphale for a couple of months with nothing more than a couple of hot and heavy kisses to show for it - which you were fine with! Being an angel, you weren’t sure he was a sexual being at all. But now to find out he’s not just interested in it but he’s actually doing research to make sure it’s good… 

Oh. It’s delicious. It’s all so delicious. 

Seeing as he appears to be rooted to the spot you finally close the gap and press a kiss to his lips. He seems surprised by it but welcome, gently pressing himself against you as you take him in your arms. 

“You know, I’d be more than willing to be your study partner. Right now if you want…”

In answer to that the shop is closed immediately and the two of you retire to the bedroom. Learning to fuck from a book is perfect for your angel and, by god, is he a thorough student. 

taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan @lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe@bakerstreethound@darktealrat @chaospossum

[pixelated-pogues]

Gucci Induced Heartbreak (r.c)

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x Reader; JJ Maybank x best friend!reader

Summary: The girl from the Gucci store captivated Rafe's attention, and you never got it back. JJ helps gather the remnants of your broken pieces.

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, angst, asshole Rafe :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: MY WORK IS ORIGINAL AND IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR REPOSTED ELSEWHERE. Be kind. DON'T steal other people's writing, thank you.

Gif Creds: @seredelgi

I wish I was that girl from that Gucci store She never wore any makeup and she owns couture I got pimples where my beauty marks should be I got dry skin on my elbows and knees

I never liked her, wanted to be like her Hate how you look at her, 'cause you never saw me Like I was an arm piece, like I was an ordinary girl

“Rafe, why do we even have to go to Gucci? We’ve had a hundred conversations about how ugly all of their products are. How many times have you insisted that their stuff looks like it’s modeled after the tackiest pieces you’d find in your grandmothers house?” You groan, not understanding why he’s suddenly so interested in a store that he’s always hated. Rafe rolls his eyes at your displeasure, continuing to guide you down the busy street toward Gucci. “Why waste time ogling over things that cost more than your bike?”

“Because, Y/n, there’s a pair of sunglasses that Ward absolutely despises, and I want to buy them for our trip to Boca next week, to piss him off,” he explains, making a point to hold the gaudy door open so that you can walk in. You shoot him a displeased glare, begrudgingly walking past him into the overly air conditioned building, immediately crinkling your nose at the strong scent that wafts into your nose upon entering. The Pogue side of you immediately switches into overdrive at the proper atmosphere of the building. There are countless couples and shoppers ogling over various overpriced products, each of them looking straight out of a vogue magazine with their perfectly pressed clothing and expensive accessories. You can’t help but feel out of place in the vast room, the only sense of normalcy you feel comes from Rafe’s arm slithering around your waist to guide you through various display cases.

“Rafe Cameron, it’s good to see you again,” a sickly sweet voice muses, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your eyes follow the voice, confusion clouding your features due to the unexpected greeting. Your eyes fall on a woman that can’t be much older than you. She’s naturally gorgeous, no sign of makeup adorning her face as she shoots your boyfriend a, much too, friendly smile. Bile rises in your throat at the sight of her inadvertently scanning over Rafe with a hungry expression, completely oblivious to your presence.

"Ah, Marissa, the pleasure is all mine," Rafe's flirtatious tone only adds fuel to your inner fire, confusion coursing through your veins at their being on first name basis. Unsolicited insecurity embeds itself into your chest the longer you witness them staring at each other. The woman's beautiful attributes and unwavering confidence makes the crisp air in the room feel like it's choking you out. You're convinced that if you walked away right now, neither of them would notice, and that fact makes you wish it was possible to combust in the thin air. You suddenly feel very aware of the weight of Rafe's hand on the small of your back, the normally comforting touch feels fiery and tainted against the fabric of your shirt.

"Who's your friend?" Marissa questions, not tearing her eyes away from Rafe's as she nods in your direction. The boldness in her lack of even sparing you a glance only makes you feel smaller and more out of place.

"Girlfriend," you speak before you're able to catch yourself, noticing the way Rafe's hand dropped to his side the second Marissa addressed you. You look in his direction, expecting an introduction, but opt to speak for yourself when he doesn't. "I'm Y/n."

She shoots you an overly cheery grin, reaching to shake your hand. "Y/n, that's a pretty name." You can tell she's being inauthentic by the way her voice grows slightly more shrill as the complement rolls from her tongue. Her focus doesn’t stay on you for too long, her eyes dancing to Rafe again, the insincere complement she’d uttered seemingly wasting away with the passing moments. “Can I help you find anything?” The flirtatious tone comes back the second he’d focus returns to Rafe, making your blood run cold at the way he clearly appears to be eating up her attention.

You willingly become a shadow in the conversation, opting to watching their interaction unfold as though you’re nothing more than an irrelevant fly on the wall. While the flirtatious demeanor and seductive heart eyes she’s pointing at Rafe emit a sour taste in your mouth, all you can focus on are the stars in Rafe’s eyes as he drinks her in. The sudden suspicion that Gucci sunglasses weren’t Rafe's actual intention behind stopping at this god forsaken store hits you like a ton of bricks, making you feel embarrassed by the fact that he dragged you into this interaction with zero regard of how it'd make you feel to see him so engrossed in another girl.

You decide right then and there that you don't like this girl. This apparent goddess, in Rafe's eyes. Yet, the reason for the dislike can't fully be attributed to the way she's shamelessly undressing him with her eyes. While that fact is a valid reason for your dislike in her, a bigger part of you dislikes her because you envy her. You envy the way that Rafe's soaking in her presence, latching onto her every word. You envy the way that he looks at her like she formed the stars in the sky, because he's never looked at you like that. Not even the first time he he'd admitted to being in love with you.

Being in the the presence of another woman that Rafe seemingly idolizes makes him feel like a stranger next to you. Rather than being Y/n Y/l/n, the girl who tamed Rafe Cameron by teaching him what it's like to be loved, in this moment, you feel like a nameless bystander. Nothing more than an ordinary girl. And it leaves you spiraling, standing invisible as they carry on in fruitless conversation.

I wish I was special I'd give all my special Away to a loser Now I'm just a loser

Standing in the Gucci store, silenced by insecurity and frustration, all you can do is feel envious of Marissa while harboring a major resentment for your boyfriend. The entire situation makes you feel ridiculously small, a wave of sadness settling into your chest the longer you remain unaddressed. Everything in you screams at you to move, to at least excuse yourself and pretend to scale the items in the store while the two catch up, but your feet feel glued to the tile floor below them.

Your sadness only grows when self deprecating thoughts begin trickling to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe if I wasn’t entangled in friendships with the Pogues. Maybe if I learned to bite my tongue and smile pretty during business events. Maybe if I let Rafe do whatever he wanted, be it coke, be it dealing, be it getting handsy with other girls at parties. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be deemed as special in his eyes. Maybe I’d have even an inkling of what this girl has that makes her so special. Maybe I wouldn’t be and feel like such a loser. Your brain relents, causing your hands to tremble and your breath to catch in your throat. Your eyes sting with tears of humiliation, but you quickly blink away all evidence of them. The last thing you need is for either of them to catch you getting emotional.

God, Y/n, you’re so pathetic. You scold yourself, forcing a tight-lipped smile when their conversation ends and their focus returns back to you. You notice them that, in the midst of their conversation, Rafe secured the sunglasses he came for. They’re now perched on the edge of his nose as his arm moves to snake around your waist again, the comforting touch feels insincere now that you’ve witnessed the way he looks at her.

“Ready to go,” Rafe asks, glancing down at you the second Marissa walks away to assist another customer.

“Yeah,” you hummed, your voice feeling poisonous on your tongue.

I used to be special But you made me hate me Regret that I changed me I hate that you made Just like you

You gon' hear mouth, you could kick me out You say I'm too wild, you gon' hate me now

"You're too wild, Y/n," Rafe's voice was condescending and low when he addressed you. His hand ripped through his previously styled hair after slamming the driver's side door, locking you both into the confined space. His eyes pierced through you, clear disapproval etched onto his expression as he glared deep into your eyes. The pressed suit he wore to the business event was wrinkled, no longer pristine due to being jostled in his manhandling you while dragging you out of the club to save himself further embarrassment.

You couldn't contain the bitter laugh that bubbled from your chest after he uttered those words, disbelief replacing the anger you were feeling when he shamelessly allowed that woman to throw herself all over him in front of everyone, knowing you were standing right there. "Of course that's all you have to say to me right now," you snorted, breaking eye contact to slide the uncomfortable heels from your feet. You needed something else to focus on outside of his insufferable gaze.

"What the hell else am I supposed to say? You know how important this event was for my family, and you just had to make a scene and ruin our chances of a normal night of business," he seethed, ripping at his tie. "Jesus Christ, you're a fucking child."

"I'm the child," you released an incredulous scoff, the insincere smirk on your painted lips growing. "That's right, I'm the immature one in this relationship. Have you stopped to realize that I wouldn't have caused a scene if you had enough respect for me to keep other women's paws off you? Hm? You didn't seem too concerned with your reputation when she was trying to rip your jacket off."

"That's enough," he barked, slamming his fist against the steering wheel, earning a startled jump from you. Your reaction gave him enough reason to compose himself. He sucked in a sharp breath and blinked his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose before straightening in his seat with a clenched jaw, finding you with his eyes again. "That's enough, Y/n. Your insecurity in yourself isn't enough reason for an unprofessional outburst in public. I get that you're half pogue, but that doesn't mean I need you flaunting it during business dinners like it's some special prize. Reputation may not be a big deal to you, but it matters a whole lot to Ward. If you want to keep him from forcefully extracting you from this equation, you'll hold your tongue next time your pride feels threatened by another woman."

Your jaw dropped at the audacity he had to utter those words to you. Of course he couldn't, or wouldn't, see your side. Of course he wouldn't admit that he should've had enough respect to politely deter the woman's advances. In Rafe's eyes, he's never wrong. Conflict and disappointment always fell on everyone else when it comes to him.

"Your insecurity isn't enough reason for an unprofessional outburst in public." "..hold your tongue next time your pride feels threatened by another woman." Rafe's words echoed through your mind the entire way home that night, your heart heavy with their hurtful connotations which you couldn't help but accept over yourself during the drive. It was one of the many times you were left to accept false realities over yourself after a situation that could’ve been shut down had he spoken up for your relationship.

You’ve always felt that having your feet on both sides of the island, being half pogue & half kook, made you special with your ability to understand both sides. Yet, Rafe always makes a point to remind you that your Pogue side makes you a liability, it hinders you from being extraordinary. At first, you told him off about it, throwing his antics right back at him whenever he declared that being half pogue was a major flaw. As the months dragged on though, the constant reminders, warnings, and arguments were tiring. You love Rafe and every arrogant, infuriating, slightly manipulative aspect about him. So, you stopped letting him hear your mouth. You stopped talking back and instead took everything that he had to say about your inescapable flaws, internalizing them. Eventually letting them silence you completely as you became the cookie cutter girlfriend he appeared to want.

That’s what you do when you’re in love. You compromise, no matter what it costs you. Right?

Boy, you got me fucked up, now I'm gettin' fucked up Thinkin' 'bout us fuckin', why you'd have to fuck her?

"Rafe, what the-" you stop in your tracks, jaw falling slack, at the sight of him in bed with another girl. "Rafe, what the fuck." Your voice comes out low and bitter, eyes trying to make sense of the scene in front of you as they scramble to separate from each other, clearly surprised by your presence. Rafe clamors out of his bed, swiftly pulling his boxers back on while you stand unmoving, in complete shock. Your fight or flight reflexes appear nonexistent as you freeze completely, the room spinning as Rafe approaches you.

"Y/n," he begins, eyes lacking any trace of sympathy as he grasps your face in his hands. "You weren't supposed to see this."

"You told me to come over an hour ago," you spit, shocked that any words rolled from your tongue in your seemingly vegetative state. "How am I supposed to believe that you didn't want me to see you fucking another girl?"

"It's nothing personal, baby. This is on me," he continues, resisting the urge to turn around at the sound of his guest shuffling out of his bed in nothing but his t-shirt.

"Obviously this is on you," you agree, words dripping with malice. "You're a piece of shit, and in case it isn't obvious, we're done."

With that, you shove him away from you, feeling accomplished when he stumbles backwards, managing to catch himself before he crashes to the floor. "I hope she was worth it." Your breath catches in your throat when the girls identity registers in your mind. The girl from the Gucci store. Marissa. The realization hits you like a freight train, carrying you out of Tannyhill hastily. Your brain solely focused on exiting the house as fast as possible.

****

"Y/n," JJ calls after noticing you approaching them on the beach. He rushes to embrace you once you’re close enough, the water droplets on his tan skin dampening your clothes. "We didn't think you were coming." A light smile forms on your lips when he blots at a wet spot on your shirt with an apologetic grimace.

"I wasn't," you hum, keeping your voice and stature light. "Last minute change of plans but I'm here and I brought snacks for everyone. Maybe a bit of alcohol for me." JJ's eyebrows furrow, his eyes subtly doing a once over on you, knowing fully well that you only willingly provide alcohol when shit hits the fan or there's something worth celebrating. Kie runs to greet you before he can question it, immediately dragging you towards the rest of the Pogues. You refrain from meeting the concerned look JJ's been sending your way since you walked onto the beach.

"You're drunk at five o'clock on a Tuesday, Y/n. What gives?" JJ asks, knowing full well that your filter disappears after a few drinks. Everyone’s seated in a circle on the sand playing a game of truth or dare, letting the afternoon sun dry your wet clothes.

“You’re supposed to say, Y/n, truth or dare. You can't just assume I'm picking truth,” you state matter of factly, taking another swig of the drink in your hand. Silently testing JJ with the sarcasm lacing your slurred words.

“Okay, you got me, Y/n, truth or dare?” His eyes are expectant, clear anticipation showing in his raised eyebrows.

“Dare,” you wink, a shit-eating grin on my face at the sight of his shoulders deflating in defeat.

“I dare you to jump off the dock, alone,” he huffs, obviously displeased by the obvious deflection.

“That’s too easy. You’re too kind to me, J,” you giggle, kicking your shoes off. You shrug your flannel off and take a big breath. “Rafe cheated on me.” You’re bolting toward the dock, enjoying the feeling of the wind whipping against your face at the break of dawn before you can catch any of their reactions. You miss the looks of shock plastered on all of their faces, and the way JJ immediately rushes after your retreating figure, calling your name as you sprint to the furthest dock without a second glance. Your speed and coordination shocks you due to the sheer amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you don’t falter, allowing your feet to carry you over the aged boards as you anticipate the fall.

“Y/n,” JJ shouts from behind as you near the edge of the dock, the sound of the waves crashing below only adding to your adrenaline high, which started the second you dropped the bombshell of your ended relationship on them without second thought. You reach the last of the dock before he can stop you. Your foot beats against the wood one last time before you shoot into the air, arms out as though you’re taking flight. Time slows as you stare at the horizon before the view is torn away when you collide with the water.

The sheer momentum from running, partnered with the crashing of the waves, drags you further and further into the waters depths. Rather than fighting against the current, your body freezes, instinctively letting the breath inside your lungs escape in a mass of bubbles, slipping away for several moments. Peace floods your chest as the water tears the weight of the last several hours away. You let yourself go with the waves, body unmoving while the water takes its course.

The next thing I know, I’m being dragging out of the ocean and onto the beach. There’s a series of yelling as my body falls limp against the sand. The weight of someone’s body comes over me, their hand softly, yet firmly, smacking against my cheek in an attempt to pull me back to a conscious state. In a matter of seconds I’m sputtering and coughing up the water I’d sucked in moments before, my lungs screaming for a breath of fresh air as my eyes fly open, immediately falling on my friends who are gathered around me in a panic.

“What the hell was that Y/n?! What were you thinking, you could’ve gotten yourself killed,” JJ exclaims, his hands falling on my shoulders now that I’m awake.

“JJ, let her breathe,” John B instructs, carefully dragging JJ from his position on top of me while Kie and Pope help me sit up. JJ follows John B, his hands flying everywhere while he rambles incoherent words while John B does his best at consoling him.

“Here,” Kie breathes, draping a towel across my shoulders which I gladly accept. I tap her hand gently as a silent ‘thank you’ my eyes instinctively drifting back to the horizon where the sun has fully began setting. Heaviness welcomes itself back on my chest with the reality crashing back onto me like the waves did moments ago. My body constricts on itself, my arms tangling themselves around my legs when they fold against my chest. There's a heavy ringing in my ears, drowning out Kie and Pope's voices asking if I'm okay.

"Y/n," Kie's voice sounds distant, but you feel her collapse next to you, promptly throwing her arms around your trembling frame. She pulls your head into her chest, her hand running up and down your back in a comforting manner while your eyes remain fixed in front of you in a daze.

"I didn't mean to scare everyone," you whisper, voice trembling with the tears stinging the back of your eyes. "I just needed it to stop for a second. I can't believe I thought he changed."

"Oh Y/n," she pouts, pulling you closer to her. The tone in her voice is what sends the tears pouring down your cheeks partnered with strangled sobs. More bodies surround the pair of you as you unfold, becoming a blubbering mess of heartbroken cries.

"That was stupid," JJ scolds, dropping on his knees in front of you, cupping your face in his hands to give himself a little extra assurance that you're okay. His thumbs swipes at the ongoing mass of tears pouring down your cheeks, the frown on his lips creasing his brows together as he studies you. "Being the idiot in the group is my job. I don't need you trying to take my spot." His words successfully lighten the dim mood, earning a watery laugh from you as he pulls you against his chest. Shooting John B a sad look as your body molds against him, his heart still hammering in his chest due to the fact that he'd nearly lost you to the high tide of the sea.

I don't wanna see you, why'd you have to treat me Like I was an ordinary girl?

A few weeks later, you're at the boneyard with the Pogues, and a good half of the island, enjoying a kegger to take advantage of the crispy summer breeze.

"Do a shot with me," you command to no one in particular, unconvinced that any of the random people around you by the fire actually heard the request. Your eyes blearily search the group to see if any of them make even the slightest move to humor you through shots.

"Come on kid," JJ interrupts your haze, his hand on the small of your back as he helps you off the stump you're seated on. "I'll do one with you."

"This is why you're my favorite," you gush, shamelessly leaning against him as he guides you toward the booze table.

"If taking a few shots with you is what it takes to be your favorite, I should've been your favorite person a long time ago," he jokes, slipping a disposable shot glass in your hand, humoring you. You graciously tip the cup in his direction as a wordless "thank you," your blushed cheeks beaming with the smile you're directing at him. He notices that it doesn't quite reach your eyes, but chooses not to comment on it. Knowing that your hurt from Rafe's betrayal is still so fresh and that you're utilizing alcohol to cope tonight, he doesn't want to be the one to distract you from the attempted progress.

"You've always been my favorite person," you admit. Though there's still a lighthearted aura around the two of you, your words drip with a sincerity that doesn't go unnoticed by him, humbling the heavy heart in his chest as he studies you.

"Good," he hums, knocking his cup against your gently. "You've always been my favorite person too, and it'd be really awkward for both of us if you didn't reciprocate the feelings. Now, what do you say? Can we drink to that?"

"Hell yeah, we can drink to that," you giggle, knocking your cups together one more time before welcoming the stale liquid into your mouth, letting it coat the walls of your dry throat. JJ smiles fondly at you, watching as you immediately turn to find another drink, mumbling incoherent words in his direction. Once you find the beer you were looking for, you slide one into JJ's hand, accepting the arm he throws over your shoulder to lead you back to where the rest of the Pogues are seated.

The rest of the night carries on for several hours until your alcohol driven carefree energy depletes, welcoming your sleepy drunk side with open arms. Your eyes droop as you fully lean into JJ's side, who's got his arm draped across your shoulder as he carries on with a few tourons who'd seen him surfing several days prior.

"Yeah, man, I'm going back out tomorrow if you want to join," he tells them, catching the exhaustion oozing from your position against his side. "Listen, we've got to get out of here, but I'll be at that same spot around noon. Meet me there if you guys are free." Each of them nod, a few of them dabbing him up before the two of you retreat.

You grumble into his shoulder at the movement, having been enjoying the opportunity to get comfortable where you two were standing.

"Tired sweetheart?" he asks, scanning the plethora of people in hopes to find John B and the rest of the group. He tuts his tongue at the sight of Pope, practically dragging you to where he's seated next to Kiara. You simply nod against his chest, shivering due to the temperature that's dropped drastically since the sun disappeared over the horizon. "Yo, Pope, round the troops. Princess needs sleep." Pope glances in your direction, nodding in understanding before ending the conversation he'd been in. JJ follows his friends retreating figure for a second before turning the two of you around to make the short trek to the Twinkie. You'll be able to get comfortable while Pope gathers the rest of the Pogues, and that's JJ's sole focus due to the fact that you're fighting to keep your eyes open.

Several minutes later, the rest of the group is filing into the Twinke, sliding into random spots around the van as John B starts the ignition.

"We good? Everyone's here?" he asks, shifting the van in reverse. After being assured that everyone is accounted for, he pulls off of the beach, making the short drive back to the Chatteau.

"Alright, sleepyhead, let's get you inside," JJ instructs, shaking your sleeping figure awake one the van pulls into the driveway. Everyone files out before JJ moves to help you up.

"Too much moving," you grumble, folding against the seat you've been napping in. "Just let me sleep in here."

JJ rolls his eyes at your antics, not releasing your arm from the gentle hold he has on it to help you out of the vehicle. "No can do, sweetheart. You'll be complaining for the next week about how your neck hurts from sleeping like that, and I refuse to endure that. If you sit up long enough, I'll let you ride my back into the house." He smiles when you straighten up at his words, immediately climbing onto his back which he promptly offered you. His arms hook around the bottom of your thighs to steady you against him, making sure that you're situated before he guides you into the house, passing all of the Pogues to get to the guest room.

"Home sweet home," he breathes, carefully setting you on the bed to find more comfortable clothes for you to sleep in. "Here you go, tiny."

You smile at the nickname he'd given you back when you were in elementary school, gladly accepting the small pile of clothes he hands you. "I'm gonna change in here," you inform him, your smile growing when he immediately nods, spinning to face the wall so that you have privacy to do so.

The second you're both changed, JJ switches the light off and meets you by the bed. He tucks you into the covers, combing his fingers through your hair as he sits in the space next to you. You hum at the feeling, unable to keep your eyes from drooping further.

"You're lucky you're my favorite. I don't just give my bed to anyone," he teases after a few seconds of favorable silence, his heart swelling at the way his presence seems to ease the emotions swirling behind your tired eyes.

You scoff at him, thinking back to the amount of times he's shared this bed with other people. "Actually," you begin, but pause, unsure of what you're even thinking about saying before the question rolls from your tongue. "Can you stay with me? I don't really want to be alone."

He blinks at you from his spot, barely making out your features before he nods. His voice is steady as he murmurs, "Of course." He accepts the spot next to you as his own, unsure why he feels so shy about sharing the bed with you. Having grown up together, you've fallen asleep together countless times. You've even crashed in his bed here, and vice versa, but that doesn't stop a humble feeling from spreading through his chest as you cuddle into him.

I wish I was special I'd give all my special Away to a loser Now I'm just a loser I used to be special But you made me hate me Regret that I changed me I hate that you made just like you Just like you

"I hate myself," you breathe after several moments of silence. The utterance of your inner truth brings a fresh round of bitter tears to your eyes, which you hurriedly wipe away, hating the bile rising up your throat at the brief moment of vulnerability.

"Don't say that," JJ hums, reaching to brush your hair away from your face. His voice is stern, but there's an undertone of sadness to match the look in his eyes.

"It's true," a forced laugh bubbles from your chest, furthering the anguish threatening to burst out of you. "I hate myself so much." There's a heavy silence after the words roll from your tongue, JJ's hand lingers on your cheek for a moment before falling dormant against the mattress, along with all of the words he clearly wants to say. "Why couldn't I have just been enough?" The words were whispered more to yourself than to JJ, it was meant to be an unspoken thought but your mouth opted to spew it regardless. Normally you'd feel embarrassed for unintentionally allowing yourself to be vulnerable, but the heaviness in your entire being is consuming all of the excess energy you have left, so you can't force yourself to care.

"Woah, woah, woah," JJ's voice intercepts you from your inner turmoil again, your eyes tearfully meeting his. The look on his face makes your heart clench further, the sadness in the pit of your stomach churning into guilt prompted by over sharing. “I can’t, in good conscience, be your best friend and let you bash yourself on that assho-on Rafe’s account. Y/n, I’m going to say something, and I really need you to hear me.” He pauses, eyes scanning your face to ensure that he’s got your full attention.

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, instead moving to cup your face in his hands so that your eyes lock solely on him rather than insecurely bouncing all over the dark room. “He has you convinced that you’re a million things, but everything he’s forced into your head is wrong.” He takes a deep breath, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “You are more than enough, you understand? I get that you might not be able to accept that right now, but that’s the full truth. And I’ll be right here proving it to you until you believe me, you got that? No pogue left behind, ever. Especially not you. Especially not on some lowlife kook, who didn’t know how great he had it’s, account. I need to know you’re hearing me.” He finally pauses in the middle of his short rant, hands and eyes remained delicately locked in their original position, acting as glue holding your pieces together. He stares deeply into your eyes, silently searching for his answer before speaking again. “Are you hearing me?”

Your lips wobble at the interaction, eyes unable to bat away the reservoir of tears threatening to spill over your eyelids. Unable to trust your words, you nod, your hands gripping the front of his t-shirt for support.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmurs, his expression soft yet stern.

“I’m hearing you,” you choke out, before erupting into a full on sobbing fit. He quickly shifts to wrap his arms around your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest. Your back twinges at the awkward position you're in, but the emotions bubbling from your chest keep you from having the energy to care as you fully break down against him, your hands balling themselves in the back of his shirt.

Weeks worth of a broken heart, self deprecation, anger, replaying scenarios over and over in your head, and various other emotions unapologetically pour from your chest while he steadies you against him, his comforting antics not faltering for a moment.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes into your hair, kissing the crown of your head. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

"He's such an asshole," you tearfully groan, feeling ridiculous for wasting your time on the king of the kooks. "God, I feel like I molded myself into exactly what he wanted me to be, and for what?"

"Rafe's blind, Y/n," he responds, pulling back s he can rest his chin on top of your head. "And you're far too kind for a guy that didn't accept all of the qualities that make you so special."

You can't help but physically cringe at the word. You stopped feeling special the second Rafe convinced you that your Pogues side was a hindrance to your personality, a flaw in your relationship. The moment you realized he viewed that side of you as an eyesore, you did everything in your power to shield it from him, and seemingly lost yourself in the process.

"I don't feel special," you state with a sigh, wiping the leftover remnants of tears from your cheeks. You're over crying over the man who climbed in bed with another woman.

"Just because you don't feel special doesn't mean you are," JJ hums, snaking his arm around your waist. "I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes to make you believe it."

A sad laugh sounds from your chest at his promise, knowing that JJ means everything he's said. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Maybank."

*************************************

A/N: Here's another draft that I finally dusted the spiderwebs off of and finished up. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Tags: @thelocalpogue @maaybanks @drewstarkey @ssjiara @bluebirdsbluebells @maebanks @poguemackin @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @outerbongs @ilovejjmaybank @marvel-writer @astrydis @hijohnd @pogueslandia @scenesofobx @maybankslover @fallingwallsh

[mask131]

Alright, after all this time, here is my opinion (kind of review?) of Netflix's The Monkey King, aka The Monkey King 2023 (at least one of the Monkey King movies of this year). I haven't done movie talk in a long time, but here we go. Also, spoiler-free!

Let's begin with the question everybody wants to know about. Is this movie bad? Definitively not. You cannot say in good faith and honesty that it is a bad movie. If you really disliked the movie, the most you can say is that it is "average" and not average as in a "mediocre, okay, decent, basic" kind of way - average as in "the bad elements are balanced by great ones". But if you ask me, the movie is good. Or more precisely it is "Good, but not without its flaws". It does have some little flaws here and there that prevent it from being an excellent or perfect movie, but it is a good/great movie.

Let's talk already of the little flaws first. Many people have already pointed them out before, so I won't expand on them much. I will say that I watched all of the movie in one go, without stopping, without even realizing how time went by, I truly watched the movie with ease and in one go - I originally just wanted to watch the first part and then stop and take it back later, I ended up binging the whole thing, so you know, classic Netflix type of product where you just do it all in one go (which is a good sign!). There was just one moment I cringed a bit, and that forms the weakest segment of the movie for me, and it is the second part of the "fake orchard of immortality" scene. But this is tied to the way the Dragon King and his minions are handled.

The Dragon King is a very cool-looking character based on an excellent idea, but I have to admit that it is one of the most... surprising elements of the movie because while in some scenes he is written as a great character that works, in other scenes he dangerously borders the overdone cliche. Overall he is an enjoyable villain and a good character that fits in the whole created world, but I admit some of his jokes fall a bit dull for me (though the finale made hm even greater than before - in all the senses of the term). It is a bit in the image of his villain song, "Take the world by storm": when I first heard it I cringed at some lyrics and jokes in the beginning and wondered why this song was here, but then I re-listened to it, loved it and it can't get out of my head. It perfectly translates the Dragon King character as a cool concept and great idea that sometimes is pushed a little bit too much when things should have been a bit more subtle or shortened. Another thing that I would call ambiguous is the heavy influence and references to Disney movies, of which the Dragon King participates as he is the most Disney-villain villain a Netflix product ever created. I think all this Disney influence will split people in two - on one hand some people will dislike it because they will see as just copying what has already been done before, and perceive there a lack of true imagination ; on the other hand some people will love it because they will get back the feeling of the Disney renaissance movies and will appreciate the homage and having back traditional Disney villains and characters "as they used to make".

For me the biggest "flaw" if you can call it a flaw - which isn't really a flaw because it doesn't "hurt" the movie, it would be rather... the biggest "blend" of the movie is the way the new plot is handled. Because the writers of the movie took no real risk, took no chance when devising a new plot to convey the movie. I am not talking about the adapting part - because they did a wonderful job at adaptating in a simple and concise way the entire whole first part of Journey to the West, into a simple, easy to understand, one hour and a half movie mostly aimed at a young audience. And that is definitively one of the good points of this movie, because it isn't an easy feat at all! But as a result, to make sure they reached this state, they went with a plot that is absolutely "classic" in all the senses of the term. Everything was expected, nothing in terms of plot-twist or plot-advancement felt new, I could already guess what could happen and where things were going. Mind you, I am an adult who watched numerous Disney and Pixar movies and who knows Journey to the West and several of its adaptations, so of course I wasn't going to be surprised. Again, this movie clearly is aimed at a young audience - one without an extensive cinematographic knowledge, and one probably unaware of Journey to the West, so I guess for this target audience the "generic-ess" or "bland-ness" of the plot won't be much of a problem. Plus, I am forced to concede that the new plot to convey the events HAD to be as simple and classic as that, because this was the best way to again, simplify the original material to create an easily accessable, reachable and understandable movie for an audience unaware of the source material or not familiar with the culture it came from.

Some people have also pointed out that "the cultural mix sometimes work, sometimes doesn't". I agree with this too. Because one of the specificity of this movie is that it tries to truly be a modern piece (and thus goes with the Percy Jackson, Asterix and co treatment of having more modern elements in Ancient China), and it tries to truly be a Chinese-American movie, by mixing purely Chinese landscapes, material and characters with American references and influences (such as the Disney one). Sometimes it works in funny way (I can't stress ow hilarous it is to have Sun Wukong live in a Disney-like universe), other times it makes you wonder if this was a wise decision.

So anyway, that was the little flaws that prevented the movie from being perfect. As some reviewers said "It is great, fun, fast, hilarious and cool-looking, but a bit odd from time to time."

But what about the GREATNESS of the movie? Oh, the things I saw, the things to say!

If the creators of the movie did not take any risk plot-wise, on the contrary they took all the risks with the visuals. Can I just say first that the animation is absolutely gorgeous and wonderful? And I want to stress something that many cynical or worn-down reviewers tend to forget: today's technology, and today's animation, is something wonderful and majestic and a prowess of technology and technique. I remember when everybody bashed on "Elemental" for the plot or the characters, and nobody took the time to point out how GREAT and FRIGGIN AWESOME the visuals and the animations were. Hopefully I have a bit of an "anchor" here in the form of... my mother. Because my mother stopped watching animated movies around the 80s or so, and only started back looking at some from the late 2000s onward (and mostly because I watched them as a youth), and every time I share with her a new animated piece, she keeps pointing out how amazed and shocked she is at animation style or animation processes that, for me, as a kid who grew up with the wonders of the early 21st century, were just "normal". It really puts into perspective how far we got into the animation world and how exceptional these movies are today - even if the content is bland, the creation, the material and the effort put in them is wonderful.

And Netflix's The Monkey King is definitively one of those movies that benefitted from the recent boom in unusual and daring animation experiences these late years (Elemental, the last Puss in Boots movie, the recent Spiderverse animated pieces, this Disney movie which featured the first openly gay character and that was completely ignored by the press and whose name I forgot about...). They truly played all the cards, with fast-pace action combat, unusual designs, vibrant color palettes, a true work on camera angles, daring to shift animation from 3d to 2D for some sequences, gigantic landscape works, etc etc... Now, I noticed that some people were put-off by some design choices in this movie. It is true that due to their choice of more cartoony designs for the supernatural beings (to contrast them with the human beings), some of the Immortals in particular can come of as better-versions, but still a bit off putting, of some of the 3D animated Addams Family designs. I admit this might not win over everyone - but at least that is a risk and a dare the anmators chose to still go into the unusual and bizarre. Again, the uniqueness and work and daring risks with the visuals truly complete and "excuse" the "genericness" and "expectedness" of the plot.

The other great thing about this movie is the characters. It has been a long time since any children movie characters grew on me, but their handling of the Monkey King was a perfectly simplified and child-suited interpretation of the original Monkey King - not sweetened up, but without playing too much into the horror aspect either, and using perfect metaphors to convey in a simply way what the character is about (the metaphor of the teenager more irresponsible and unwise than an actual child, the concept of the wild child that was never raised or loved by anyone and so got on his own all throughout his life). There is no real subtlety in the characters, just like in the motifs (the HAND! THE HAND IS EVERYWHERE!), but at least they don't try to do overtly subtle or complicated stuff - they know they are doing a simple, down-to-the-point, let's-go-and-have-fun-and-not-think-too-much, type of cast and story, and they do ther best to do something simple but efficient, unbsubtle but fun without being overtly blunt or hitting you too much on the head either. And the character of Lin actually grew onto me a LOT, much more than I would have expected. I actually liked the character - and the fact that she is a child depicted as intelligent, mature and reasonable might be part of this.

People also heavily praised the music, which I agree, the soundtrack is really cool. The movie is very fast-paced - which did bother some reviewers who said they couldn't just pause and breathe - but personally I enjoyed it, because again it works with their simplification and heavy reliance on visuals and characters more than plot, the fastness of the action and the quickness of it all allows you to just take the whole movie whole, without anything dragging on too much. Again, simplicity is key - and for example the whole "end of the fake orchard sequence" felt somehow cringe, precisely because there they slowed down the action and took a bit too much time on something that truly wasn't worth as much.

When I talked about the risks they took with this movie, I shall include one risk that I had doubts about but actually kind of paid off - the stick. It is not a big spoiler, but Sun Wukong's magical staff is here a full character, a sentient being, and acts as the "make some weird noise mechanical companion" to the hero, which has been a character archetype ever since Star Wars, the original Clash of Titans, and other American movies of this era. I had BIG doubts at first, but ultimately it didn't felt very cringe or badly handled, and it worked quite fine. Ultimately, I also have to admire the team for going this route because I do not think this iea had been ever brought up in any adaptation or retelling of Journey to the West - I think this is the first time the magical staff is treated as a character rather than a prop, and this participates in the uniqueness of this movie.

Of course, let's also conclude by the big effort made by this movie to have a majority of Chinese-descending participants for this piece. In fact, I will conclude my review on this final thought: I am quite certain that there are lots of Chinese cultural references I, and others, missed in this movie, due to not being familiar with Chinese culture. Everybody saw the Disney influence ; but I had to dig up and research to find out the influence on this movie of other animated pieces of China. For example, I discovered that this depiction and incarnation of the Dragon King seems to have been heavily influenced by the famous Chinese animated movie of the 70s, "Nezha conquers the Dragon King", a movie I have to shamely admit I had no knowledge of the existence prior to a few days. So I am fairly certain there must be other easter eggs and references to Chinese movies, animated pieces or mythological adaptations out there.

[spockandawe]

You know what, I'm not happy about this either :T

Unless I'm t-boned by another reblog from someone huge, this likely won't reach as wide of an audience. And I regret that! Because either I presented myself badly or people are taking the wrong thing away from my words.

So, I strongly, STRONGLY believe in supporting writers. I also strongly believe in archival work and preservation of online media. I mentioned my own binding of the raksura patreon short stories earlier this year, hoping to manifest an official printing to buy, which.... folks, the implicit logical endpoint is that I went and expanded them all and saved them locally too.

It wasn't scraping, since I've seen that description being tossed around in the notes. My copy was manual copy and paste, because I don't respect my own time, and so was the other recent version. If you're going to rail against that, I guess you've successfully transported nft rage about right click + save as to a new medium.

Frankly, the patreon interface is a pain for this. Infinite scroll is part of the enshittification of the internet, this is a lot of text and posts, patreon isn't a powerful archival site, and it started choking horribly by the time I was halfway through. Now that I know people can still sign up (which i didn't, for years, that closed label is misleading), I still emphatically encourage them to do so and fight through the lag to read the stories.

I also quoted the thing where I said I owned all the books in three formats - physical, ebook, audiobook. Guess what copy I use for most rereads - that's right, none of them, because I was a dumb youth who didn't understand how awful kindle drm is and I can't word search in a paper book, so the secret fourth format is pirated ebooks, which I know amazon will never be able to yoink out of my grip. If I ever git gud at illumination and make a hand-illustrated compendium of the series, that's going to be my starting base, because there arent digital rights to lock me down to owning ACCESS to a copy of the book and not the copy of the book itself.

Now, the existence of pirated ebooks isn't all sunshine and roses. I've seen the talks about how new books IMMEDIATELY get pirated and shared and start cutting into an author's livelihood and future publishing prospects. I think it's incredibly important to support authors directly and in ways corporate marketing teams are able to observe. But especially in light of the Hollywood strikes, I'm sure many of us have seen posts about corporate entities playing shitty games with what they'll make available and withhold, and what they'll CHARGE versus what the customer has PURCHASED.

The only thing in the original post I take issue with is the reposting of something that was still available directly through the author. That has already been addressed. The originator is remorseful. I still understand if the patreon vanishes, to be clear. But i quietly made my own copy years ago BECAUSE i understand how easy it is for something like that to vanish, for much more arbitrary reasons. It could have been vanished because of site policy, patreon abruptly archiving all posts more than X years old. Online media is dangerously ephemeral.

I bind a lot of cnovel fan translations. So many amazing stories are getting licensed for translation - great! But it's also a massive extinction event for all the backbreaking translation work other fans have been sharing for years for free. And from that perspective it's a fucking TRAGEDY. I have... a Lot of files that I'm not sharing publicly. My goal is never to preempt or undermine the translators who did the actual work. But that hoard of files is still precious to me, because it takes about five seconds to delete a gdoc of translation, and there's not always warning to save a copy first.

Again, emphasis, my only issue here was the reposting. I'm not happy that it happened. I'm glad the files were quickly taken down, whether or not the patreon itself goes away. I'm glad op is remorseful for overstepping, and I can... mostly see how they didn't realize the problem, and mainly wanted to help more people experience a story they loved.

So it's also worth saying that I'm also not too stoked about the direction tags on that post were starting to go. 'Piracy is inexcusable, piracy is the death of--' STOP. I recognize that begging for nuance while tossing thoughts out onto social media is a losing game. But actually, I'm out of patience for black and white thinking happening on my post. Piracy is a valuable tool for archivists and a hazard to creators, which is why it should be practiced quietly and with deliberate care. It should be practiced in a way that attempts not to damage the creator's livelihood or take away control of their creations. That's where the misstep was here. OP understood they had misstepped and they were expressing remorse even before I got on my high horse, and it sure doesn't seem like the notes care about that, so! I'm done letting the outrage machine feed on it.

That's probably enough. I'm not saying anything I haven't said on here before. If you've ever grieved for a beloved fic missing from your ao3 bookmarks because it was deleted, you understand the basic archival urge. If you lost access to a favorite artist's extensive archives because the images were flagged in the 2018 boob ban, you should be able to understand. I manually saved 36,000 pictures in that brief grace period before I completely burned out. The fundamental impulse shouldn't be that hard to grasp. The rest is just responsible practices, and people fuck up sometimes. It sucks, but sometimes you don't recognize a boundary is there before you blunder right over it with the best of intentions. I think a lot of us have been there too.

Anyways, this is too much text, how boring to look at. Here's my remaining pictures of my own little anthology copy. Still manifesting an official release someday, or any books of the raksura material at all. Money will literally fly from my pocket to purchase it in every available format.

[granulesofsand]

I’m seeing a lot of people making blanket statements about scripts, and I’m wondering if we’re thinking of different variations of scripting?

I can understand how it would be uncommon for a whole metasystem to have character-based identities, plot-based torture, and imagery-based cues of multiple media. But uncommon is not impossible and not seeing it first hand does not make it unheard of.

A lot of scripting as I’ve seen it applies to sidesystems, where the isolation and smaller numbers of the subgroup reinforces the programming of each member.

The script itself is basically forced introjection, which can be used as much or as little as abusers see fit. It can be the entire metasystem in the body or it could be one or two alters. It could be that full plot line memorized under force or it could be one dynamic copy-pasted on.

Some of the most common scripts in other systems are Disney, usually one story and max 10 programmed alters upholding it. Snow White is a pretty prominent sleep program, and having a witch or a poison apple tree give a Snow White alter an alluring fruit requires only — if even — two alters.

The current community definition of a script is still moderately vague, and I would say that those little programmed projections are still scripted if they follow their media.

Abusers can be creative. The programming bit is more advanced than what most come up with, but not every programmer is as calculating as the rest. Other times they are thinking hard about it and that’s why they diverge.

Of the scripted sidesystems we have, these biggest one might actually be relatively new. The stories told in the media are far older, but I couldn’t tell you when this particular tape came out. That one was used generationally — if not that exact film, then those exact stories — and the other was just something programmed alters latched onto before receiving an assigned identity, so they ran with it.

The second one wasn’t a full decade old when they used it, but they did it out of necessity and fleshed it out to be a proper script; one I don’t doubt they still use, because it worked. We have a basement where that subgroup exists in our innerworld, names and numbers assigned to them based on their characters, relationships and roles that correspond with their media. And they were originally intended to fulfill the purpose they ended up serving.

I agree to an extent that the themes have to be considered useful, but what an abuser sees in a media is not what I imagine your average Joe is thinking when he consumes it.

I don’t see a benefit to the community in deciding an experience is impossible or too rare, because that is a reenactment. If you are remembering insecurity — from not being believed, from abusers telling you the abuse wasn’t believable — flipping that outward is but a temporary relief that comes at the cost of retraumatizing someone else.

It doesn’t really matter if another uses a word differently unless you are proposing a purpose and an alternative. There is a difference between refusing to shelter others and to lash out yourself, and the lack of tolerance towards other survivors of extreme abuse doesn’t do either of you good.

[rosethreeart]

Rendering tips that hopefully don't sound nonsensical or vague <3

Gonna skip my "study the fundamentals" soapbox but Color Theory, contrast, and understanding how light works (especially bounce light) are your best friends!

Try not to over blend, especially with a soft brush/blur tool. This usually removes all the detail and little color variations present in the piece and essentially can set you back several stages in the rendering process. Figuring out how "blended" or "smooth" certain surfaces are compared to others is essential.

Frequently zooming in and out like a millennial trying to stay relevant on tiktok by making ads helps prevent you getting tunnel-visioned and helps with the tip mentioned above.

I'm a little freak and do almost all of my rendering on one layer immediately after sketching and laying down really quick flats. I didn't start that way tho! Doing your lighting in various different layers and layer styles first, and then merging them all to a new layer (do this with a "copy canvas" type of tool or even import the png of it to preserve the previous layers!!) and going in and blending on that, can help give a good sense on how the rendering process works.

traditional painting rules can and should apply! I had an after school art class in hs with some very wonderful teachers and one of the things that they taught me was to "only blend the outer edges of the colors". This helps with keeping color variation and detail., as well as preventing your colors from getting too "muddy".

if you're painting a person, knowing where the color variation in undertones is a huge help! Places like the rims of eyes, the nose, ears, neck, and joints tend to have a more reddish hue due to blood flow and whatnot! There are also "blues", yellows, and oranges, especially in the face!

I put "blue" because, once again, color theory kinda lowkey fucked up and does what it wants LMAO. Essentially if you have something "blue toned" on the body (save for veins) its typically a de-saturated, darker, and more "yellow"-ish tone then the original skin tone used, however even a dark, and muted magenta or even purple can give a similar effect! It really depends on the skin tone, and the colors that are surrounding it. Also different skin tones reflect light differently so that's important to be aware of as well!

Typically what I do is I use 3-5 "main" colors for a section that I'm doing. So lets look at this hand for a second

Since hands are very warm toned, I stuck in the red range and did very little variation in hue, to preserve that. So I have his natural skin tone as the "base", did a deeper and more saturated color as the "outline" to help me stay aware of my form. I have two shadows, a cool tone (where the twig would reflect light) and a warm tone (where the red of the hands would reflect). But I also used almost a neon red! You can see it a little bit on that thumb right there near the shadow. Sometimes having a (slightly-extremely) more saturated color can help act as a "transition" color. These also help with maintaining your contrast, preventing the colors from getting too muddy, be a function of bounce light, and help show the more "internal" hues of the body.

References can be a HUGE help (I used one for the tree <3) but keep in mind that they're there to give you an IDEA of what you're trying to make, not just be a 1:1 recreation (art studies are a different thing that I wont get into here)!

This shit aint easy and there WILL be an ugly phase or multiple but you gotta push through it! This also takes a long time to do so there's no shame in doing it in multiple sessions, in fact I recommend it, as fresh-eyes can be a savior to a drawing.

thats all I can think of at the moment <3

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

Hi what about 1 and 12 for the fic ask?

Hi winnie!!! Thank you for the ask 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

1. Which three fics occupy your top posts? Tell me a bit about the inspiration behind them!

I’m going to assume this means my most popular posts, so I’m going to go by hits

#3 - It Had To Be You: this is the first fic I ever posted so I’m not surprised it has some of the highest ratings on my profile. Sakuatsu was HUGE back when I wrote this and I think people were ready to consume any media about them at the time because this is not my finest work lol. The inspiration came from watching When Harry Met Sally (my fav romcom of all time, I rewatch it like 10 times a year) and I realized that the personalities of the main pairing fell in line well with sakuatsu.

#2 - you’ll always know me: my baby. My piece de resistance. I’m not surprised it didn’t blow up the way aibtntfi has as hq has a shit ton of extremely good fics so you’re never really lacking for good content, but I’m very pleased this is my second most read! The basic inspiration for this was that I was listening to Taylor Swift’s evermore album (tis the damn season/dorothea in particular) and those two songs reminded me a lot of iwaoi in the time skip. A childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers was perfectly in the cards for it and I think I planned out the entire fic in like three days.

#1 - and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it: no one is shocked except for me lol. I never expected for this fic to do as well as it has but now this fic is basically the reason I have a following at all! The inspiration behind this was seeing a lot of jjk tiktokers doing ooc skits and it made me so irritated that I had to write a Megumi and itafushi that I felt was in character for a modern au. It was originally supposed to be a short oneshot but here we are 12 chapters later lol

12. Pick three fics that feature the same trope. What do you like the most about writing that trope and/or how did you do that trope differently in each story?

Friends 👏🏻 to 👏🏻 lovers 👏🏻 slow 👏🏻 burn 👏🏻 Slow burns are my favorite romance trope. I’m aspec so it’s RARE that I’m ever convinced by an insta-love story and I think slow burns where the couple truly gets to know and understand each other are the most romantic sort. Honestly, the only fics of mine that really feature this and can be considered a slow burn are my only three multi-chapter fics lol

• you’ll always know me: This one was the most fun to write, hands down. The angst, the yearning, the passion, this fic had everything that I love I truly wrote it for myself. I think it has the most believable romance out of all of my fics and my use of memories/flashbacks at the beginning or end of each chapter really made the story and relationship feel so much deeper. I can’t rave enough about how much I love it.

• and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it: This fic is a slow burn in the sense that they like each other the entire time but are both idiots. I did include instant attraction in this one, but it’s not insta-love. Megumi is immediately intrigued and attracted to Yuuji but he refuses to let himself get drawn in by him (he folds almost immediately). Their relationship has been very fun to write and seeing them grow together and slowly understand themselves and each other has been wonderful to write out.

• It Had To Be You: this one isn’t unique at all in the sense that I didn’t realize I didn’t have to copy When Harry Met Sally plot point by plot point. I waited way too late to start changing things up and adding my own personal flair to the storyline, but it’s still a fun time. This fic has the most standard annoyances to friends to lovers plot but I still think it’s quite believable.

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 12, 1973

He carries his tapes with him as he heads out to find food. It’s a solid plan, he thinks, once he picks a room for the night. Find food, bring it back, start copying the tapes. And once he has copies he’ll feel a little better. 

Not hungry, though. 

He walks up and down the main street. Little town in the middle of the forest full of Rt. 66 kitsch bullshit. Williams, Arizona; he keeps seeing it on storefronts like they’re all proud of themselves. Trying to sell postcards or something. 

None of the food looks good. None of the restaurants strike him as the one. It’s hard to remember what he used to eat, what he’s supposed to do. He can’t remember if he has a favorite food. 

There’s some intellectual part of him–he visualizes it like a little knot inside his brain–telling him to eat, telling him he has to, that it will help him drive. It’s trying to remind him what he likes but the message doesn’t quite connect. He can picture his mother in the kitchen and knows there’s a whole menu of stuff he likes (stuff he even misses) but everything is blank. It’s like her hands are motioning in empty air, preparing nothing.

He wonders what she’s going to make for Thanksgiving. 

The sun is setting as he pushes through a heavy door. And, not a restaurant, he realizes, but a bar. It’s humid and warm immediately, blasting the Rolling Stones, and he hugs his bag to his chest. 

Dim in here, and nice. A few people glance over at him but it seems relaxed. There’s  a pinball machine in the corner. Some pool tables. Sci-fi and horror posters on the walls. He stands in the middle of the room, looking around to take stock of them.

The Black Cat. House of Wax. Les Diaboliques. Fucking Dracula. Daniel’s stomach churns and he heads to the bar. 

Double whiskey neat, and he doesn’t care what kind. Bottom shelf is fine, thank you, because his axle had to be replaced and it burned through half his wad of cash.

He sets his bag down on the floor, between his feet, feeling like he’s still…

Well, not home. San Francisco wasn’t home. It was for a little while. Not anymore. Nowhere is home.

It’s more that he feels like his old self, like his old life. It’s only been a few days but he can’t remember who he was. Some boy that used to troll bars with a bag of tapes. 

Different now.

The bartender slides a bowl of pretzels over. He stares at it. Downs half his drink. Rubs at his arms. His thumb presses hard into his vaccination scar. He digs his heel into his bag to make sure it’s there.

It only takes the drink a few minutes to hit him. Empty stomach and all. He winces as he slams the rest of it and asks for another. One more, and then he swears he’ll go find food. And he’ll go back to his room and copy the tapes. And he’ll listen to them again, and try to understand.

And once he has copies he can start transcribing. Too risky to keep stopping and starting the tapes right now. Not the originals. He’ll do it with the copies. Maybe he can start tomorrow. And then… 

Well, he’ll figure out the next steps when it’s time. Right now he has to just stay safe. He imagines it as a list in his mind, tells himself to get organized.

stay safe

make copies

get to new orleans

find lestat 

He tries to picture it. Maybe a week from now, what might happen. 

Thinking back on the interview feels like a fever dream, like he was immersed in it. The mental image too vivid, and he wonders if it’s some of Louis’s magic leaching through. He can see the house, somehow, in his mind. He can imagine what Lestat looks like, even picture the smooth timbre of his voice. 

Hard to know what to expect. What condition he’ll be in, if he’ll lash out the way Louis did. But Daniel has to know. He has to know.

The whiskey pools in his stomach, gives him heartburn already. Lips numb and hands shaking as he reaches for the second glass. Sipping it slower this time, trying to breathe in between. The bar waves in his vision, and he sees spots, and his heart skips but he keeps drinking, convinced it will be a balm.

Just makes everything spin, though.

He leaves cash on the bar when he’s done. The barstool skids as he stumbles to his feet, as he hugs the bag to his chest again, as he pushes back out into the street.

Chilly mountain air and it’s so, so fresh, but just makes him feel cold. And people are talking on the corner and the stars are too bright in the sky and there’s little halos around the streetlights as his vision bounces. He sways there, trying to catch his breath, trying to remember where his motel was. 

Sweating, suddenly, even in the cool air. Left his jacket in the car, too, and his bare arms break out into goosebumps. 

Food, he reminds himself. Get food. 

But he doesn’t think he knows how.

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