#and i am nowhere near qualified to discuss it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brywrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

316 notes · View notes

tittytania · 3 years ago

Text

Finding ChristBorg: A TED talk about what happened during the Coldharbour Compact.

Reposted from my tes reddit bc I want to see what y’all think.

I can't tell if I'm a genius, completely insane, or if I'm just late to the lore-party. Time to find out I guess. TL;DR at the bottom.

So it has never been explained what Sotha Sil did during the Coldharbour Compact to convince the daedric princes to not manifest on Nirn without an intermediary, and it probably never will be since the mystery of it all is far too cool. But that doesn't mean I can't read into it like literature and look for meaning in the other texts I can compare it to.

To start, Vivec is based off of the Shakta variation of the half female/half male Ardhanarishvara, where the gold-skinned female half is the right side. Both Vivec and Ardhanarishvara represent unity and duality, and looking at some images of Ardhanarishvara, it's kinda hard to argue that Vivec wasn't based off of them. Kirkbride even confirmed that Ardhanarishvara was the inspiration for Vivec in an AMA. Now, Vivec is part of the god trio the Almsivi Tribunal, along with Almalexia and Sotha Sil. Shiva, who Ardhanarishvara is the avatar of, is also part of a god trio, called the Trimurti in Hinduism. So it would make sense if the other members of the tribunal are also based off of one member of a real world religious triad. I have a shaky idea of who Almalexia could be, but my theory for her god-inspiration is nowhere near as solid as my theory for Sotha Sil, who I believe is based on Jesus Christ.

To start, their characterizations have multiple similarities. Both are one branch of a god-triad, with Sotha Sil as part of the Tribunal, and Jesus as The Son in the Holy Trinity. Both serve as a teacher, with Jesus being referred to as Teacher several times in the Bible, and Sotha Sil giving lessons on magic and Mysticism to the Psijic Monks. Also, both are characterized as wise, patient, and celibate. They both talk about moral and philosophical concepts with their followers, neither Jesus nor Sotha Sil are shown as having a temper or raising their voices, and neither of them are shown with a spouse or partner. Sotha Sil is specifically shown as not caring about the Night Mother's attempts to sexually manipulate him in book seven of 2920, The Last Year of the First Era. Now I know that 2920 is considered a work of historical fiction in-universe, but I don't think that matters in this situation since I'm approaching this as a person reading a text, not as a person living inside the lore world.

In terms of specific scenes that connect Sotha Sil and Jesus, the first I will mention is that they both use a makeshift whip to beat intruding wrongdoers and drive them away, while yelling about fathers. In the Truth in Sequence vol. 8 book, it says that "[t]hrough His will alone, Mighty Seht wound the veins (of metal ore) into god-bronze whips, and lashed the Prince pitilessly," saying "[b]ehold the wrath of lost Ald Sotha! Know death at my hands, false-son of a false-father!" In the Bible, Jesus found people doing sales in a place of worship, and then He "made a whip of cords, (and) He drove them all out of the temple," saying “Take these things away! Do not make My Father’s house a house of merchandise!” (John 2 15-16).

Also, Jesus had close friends and followers who were called his apostles, and Sotha Sil has his own Clockwork Apostles. Sil's apostles reside in the Clockwork Basilica, and while basilica isn't an exclusively Christian term, it is frequently used to describe a type of church architecture, and is a term the pope uses to recognize distinguished churches.

Another similarity that I found was in the plot of Morrowind, where Sotha Sil's death was caused at the hands of Almalexia, who was someone he had once loved and trusted, much like with Jesus and Judas.

The most notable life similarity as it relates to the Coldharbour Compact is that both leave the earthly world in order to make a deal for the benefit of the souls on earth, and then return to the earthly world. This parallel is given extra weight with the descriptions of the scene in the book 2920, The Last Year of the First Era. Sotha Sil returns from Coldharbour by way of someone "rolling aside the great boulder that blocked the entrance to the Dreaming Cavern. This sounds a lot like the scene in the bible of the discovery that Jesus had risen from the dead, where "an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door" (Matthew 28:2). In addition, Jesus said "after He is killed, He will rise [on] the third day," (Matthew 17:23) and after Sotha Sil returned from Coldharbour, he "felt he had been away for months, years, but only a few days had transpired." Perhaps it had been 3?

In addition to the life and behavior similarities, there are similarities in dress. In the 2920 book, Sotha Sil is always described as wearing a white robe or cloak. In ESO, Sotha Sil is shown as barefoot, and wearing a blue sash over his long white robe. In medieval and renaissance art, Jesus is most always depicted as barefoot, and is frequently shown with a blue cloth over his shoulder. In most resurrection art, as well as in almost all 20th/21st century art, Jesus is depicted as dressed in white. While Jesus usually isn't usually shown wearing both the blue sash and the white robe at once like Sotha Sil is, I found one modern interpretation of Jesus that does dress him this way, and several depictions of him in Chinese art that also portray him like this.

I'm feeling almost conspiratorial here, but these similarities are far too many for me to think it's accidental, and therefore I have to think that all of this is meant to suggest that Sotha Sil serves a Christ-figure role in his story, i.e. in sacrificing own life like Jesus did in order to make his deal in the Coldharbour Compact. However I don't think Sil's sacrifice was quite so simple. After he is asked what he offered the Daedra in return for the deal, he states: "The deals we make with Daedra... [s]hould not be discussed with the innocent." This implies that in contrast to the Christ mythos, Sil's sacrifice was not blameless; he did not come out of the deal with his hands clean.

So, a Christ-like sacrifice that isn't quite as pure and selfless as it is in Christianity. What could that be?

My theory is that in order to make the Coldharbour Compact, he sold the lives of Vivec and Almalexia along with his own. Perhaps he told the princes that he knew the tribunal's godhood would end, and in exchange for their cooperation he promised not to tell the other tribunes or make any attempt to prevent his and his companions' demise. (After all, as far as I know he made the mechanical heart for keeping his city functional, not for recreating the divinity the heart of Lorkhan provided.) Or, maybe he offered to do something to assist in bringing the Tribunal down, and losing Sunder and Keening, the tools that helped them maintain their divinity, was intentional on his part. Sil deliberately sacrificing his own life appears to be reflected in Azura's statement after his death. She said "he shed his mortality long ago, and I am certain his death was no small relief to him." Of course she'd know that he let go of his life ages ago if he had willingly sold it to her. Of course she would be certain that he found his death to be a relief, if she'd heard him say so himself when he was explaining why a god would ever offer such a deal.

It would also make sense with Sotha Sil's character, since he allegedly loved the people on Nirn more than Almalexia or Vivec did, and the destruction of Gilverdale could have definitely been a traumatic enough reminder of the destruction of Ald Sotha for him to do something dramatic to prevent it ever happening again. And guilt over sacrificing his friends could have definitely been a contributing factor to the worsening self-isolation and intense depression in his later life. It would also be a definite explanation for why he apparently never met another soul in the 10 years between losing the tools and his death. Not only had he become extremely disillusioned with the imperfections of the world, he had now finalized the deal he made so long ago, and saw no point in continuing to interact with a deeply flawed world he was essentially finished with.

However, I do see some issues with this and how it would work in-universe. Namely the fact that Hermaeus Mora's seekers said the prince received something from every individual on Nirn as part of the deal, which is quite different from what I'm suggesting. A different deal for each prince would also explain why Sil was able to include Clavicus Vile and Mephala in the compact at a much later date. There would be no reason for Vile and Mephala to submit to a collective deal whose terms had already been decided. So if he offered the tribunal's lives as part of the deal, he would have needed to offer other things as well. But for me the most significant in-universe issue I struggled with was that using his death as a bargaining tool would create a massive problem for his ability to enforce the deal in the future. This could explain why both Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon manifested on Nirn after Sotha Sil's death, but since I think they were summoned by qualified mortals that could have been a loophole. Either way, making a deal that is meant to last forever by promising something that can never be taken back in the case of a breach of contract seems extremely short-sighted for someone who claims to be cursed with certainty. Especially considering how many of the princes there were known to be cheats and liars.

Unless, that is, you believe this theory I read about the reason why Sil was completely silent as he was killed. My original belief was that he was silent because he'd seen it coming long ago, and knew that nothing he could have said would have changed Almalexia's mind. And while that would be in character for him, now I'm starting to think that it was because he had already uploaded his consciousness elsewhere. This would fit in with the Christ-figure parallels, due to the Christian belief that Jesus is risen from the dead and very much alive. While Jesus returned to life at the same time he emerged from the cave, the completion of Sotha Sil's death sacrifice didn't happen until long after his return via the cave. While I have found no explicit evidence that he's still around, when you find his body in Morrowind he is shown hanging, with his arms outstretched at his sides, in a sort of crucifixion pose. And after the crucifixion comes the resurrection. Perhaps Sotha Sil is still around somewhere in the gears of his city, and he promised the princes he'd never be present or have any influence on Nirn so long as they kept up their end of the deal. Additionally, the 37th sermon of Vivec mentions Sotha Sil as holding "his swollen belly," carrying "[his] daughter." While Vivec's sermons are hardly ever literal, Kirkbride's comments suggest that maybe Vivec was being somewhat literal in this instance. Regarding this concept art, Kirkbride said "note the cosmic baby growing inside Sotha Sil. While Sotha Sil is dead as we saw in the add-on pack “Tribunal”, the child survived." Perhaps one of Sotha Sil's many body modifications made him able to carry and birth a child, and then he created a daughter through self-cloning or some other method that allows him to have enough influence to enforce the compact.

TL;DR - Sotha Sil has a lot of similarities with Jesus, so he's a Christ figure and therefore his sacrifice in the Coldharbour Compact was himself, and Almalexia and Vivec too, and that also means that he may still be around.

Anyways, thanks for reading and sorry if this sounds like I'm putting red strings on a wall as my application essay to the r/SothaSimps fan club. Also, lmk if I'm missing anything obvious. For me right now Reading Lore On The Bedroom Floor is a bit more manageable than playing the games, and there may be something I've just completely looked over.

#sotha sil #tes #the elder scrolls #tesblr #vivec #almalexia #morrowind #elder scrolls online #eso #lord seht

58 notes · View notes

traumatizeddfox · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I'm not really sure how to trigger warn this besides saying that it involves discussions of choking and a brief mention of csa so please feel free to delete this ask if it makes you uncomfortable.

This feels like an incredibly stupid question but idk how to go about googling this so I'm asking a couple people for their input lol. So growing up my father used to really enjoy wrapping his hands around my throat. He never did it hard enough to leave bruises or significantly cut off my air flow, I remember it making my breathing feel a tad tighter and it would sometimes just barely hurt, but that was it. I don't know why he did it except that he almost seemed amused or excited by it. I actually thought it was normal because he would do it so casually and frequently. I don't even remember the first time because it was just an everyday part of our routine for as long as I can remember.

He'd just stare into my eyes and grin while he did it and idk if he ever actually conveyed this to me or if I picked it up on my own but it always felt like there was an unspoken rule that I would stay as quiet and docile as possible and look back at him until he eventually let go, kind of like a game. Sometimes he'd also climb on top of me when he did it and kind of hold me down. There wasn't a lot of build up, he'd just kinda do it out of nowhere while we were eating food or watching a movie or laying in bed. It might be relevant that he was sexually inappropriate with me in early childhood, but idk if this could count as traumatic as well or if I'm blowing it out of proportion.

I think it created a pretty significant fear of people's hands being near my neck, but I feel like if it was actually bad someone would have done something. My grandma watched it happen several times throughout the years and despite concerned comments she never actually did anything to get him to stop. Like once when I was like 13 I heard her say "oh stop it Jimmy, you'll snap her little neck" but that's it. In your opinion could what I described qualify as abusive or abnormal in any sense? I'm so sorry this is so long, I wasn't really sure how to describe it and I don't know what to think about it

for sure, you're not blowing this out of proportion. It's traumatic. the choking, even if it wasn't "bad" enough, he still was using it as a form of intimidation, which is abuse. It's definitely abuse! I am so sorry </3

#anon #Tw choking #Tw csa

7 notes · View notes

meaningofmotorsport · 3 years ago

Text

Emilia Romagna Grand Prix Preview

Imola and rain is a sure fire combination for absolute chaos, as we had a day full of action on Friday for the Sprint weekend. The circuit is seemingly treacherous when wet, and the gravel takes no prisoners, as should be the case at every track. Despite Ferrari seemingly having the pace all day, it was Verstappen who took pole for the Sprint tomorrow, partially due to Leclerc making a mistake on his second lap in Q3, which was when Max took pole, but the Red Bull was also really fast today. They did both try and do other runs in Q3, but multiple Red Flags put paid to that.

The pace of the two cars will likely be close, possibly slightly in the favour of Ferrari going off past form, but with Verstappen ahead it could be a recipe for a great weekend of racing. Max will really want to gain points on Charles if he wants to fight for this title, and Ferrari will want to win at home, so who knows what will happen! Their battle is more likely to play out in the actual race, where strategy is more of a factor.

With the chaos going on around them, Norris and Magnussen were able to make the most of the opportunity to be on the second row of the grid. I doubt that they have the pace to stay there, but especially for the Sprint, they could bag a whole lot of points. There was discussion about whether they should be penalised for causing Red Flags, which undoubtedly helped their cause. I think it is a fair rule to impose, to ensure no foul play, and we see it in a lot of other motorsports.

Alonso was another to take full advantage of the situation, although he will likely have a hard time holding off the Ferrari and Red Bull behind him. He did well to save a moment which almost left him in the gravel too. Ricciardo is building momentum after missing the second test, but he is yet to really get on terms with Lando, and needs to do that soon.

Perez was unlucky to make a slight mistake on his only representative lap in Q3, he had the pace to be on the second row. It will be fascinating to see how easy it is for him to make his way through the field with these new cars. Bottas had an unknown car issue in Q3, but they should be pleased with another top 10 in qualifying. It will be hard for him to hold on to points in the Sprint, with Sainz and the Mercedes behind, so the race should be his main focus. Vettel did an excellent job given his lack of track time all year, this just shows he still has it, despite what happened in Australia.

Moment of the day was when Sainz, on course to go comfortably first in Q2, backed it into the wall at the final corner. He said he was nowhere near the limit, but at the end of the day it happened, and will be gut wrenching for him. The fact he was on pace with Charles is a good sign, but was he pushing too much to do that? At least he will start in the top 10, and has more time to climb through the field.

This may have been an even worse qualifying than Saudi Arabia for Mercedes, as although Lewis was out in Q1 there, George showed their pace was in Q3. Here though, they just had nothing, and even if Q2 had been ‘normal’, I am not sure they would have made it. Their race pace should be better, but I am not sure if they will be able to climb up that far over the two races. Mick Schumacher made a mistake on his one lap in Q2, so missed out, otherwise his pace was pretty much with Magnussen, which is promising for him.

Zhou and Stroll just couldn’t put it together on that one lap either. AlphaTauri had a shocker so close to their factory, with neither car able to progress out of Q1. Ocon seemingly had an issue which kept him in the pitlane, and ruined his day. Williams had another brake issue on Albon’s car, which was spectacular but worrying at the same time. This is something they really need to get on top of.

This Sprint tomorrow could be a really telling factor, in how well these new regulations have worked, as there will probably be no strategy tomorrow, so passes will need to be done on pace. I am still not sold on the Sprint format, it was weird to see qualifying today, and I don’t think another mini race solves anything, apart from making more money for the F1 bosses. Wet or dry it should be a great two days of racing though!

-M

#f1 #f12022 #imolagp #imola gp 2022 #motorsport #formula1

2 notes · View notes

crystal-methionine · 3 years ago

Text

The Post-Eurovision ranking and comments from an American that nobody asked for:

1. Switzerland 🇨🇭 Gjon’s Tears - Tout l’univers: I absolutely was enamored by this song, its artistry, and the artist. He can really sing and one of my early favorites from this year. So happy for him to get in the top 3 bc it was well deserved. 100/10

2. Italy 🇮🇹 Måneskin - Zitti e Buoni: Deserved winners. As queer as you can get and I am here for it. Another early favorite of mine constantly fighting with Switzerland for the top spot. 100/10

3. Iceland 🇮🇸 Dadi og Gagnamagnid - 10 Years: A beautiful song dedicated to his wife and deserved Top 5 for sure. Last year’s song would have won hands down so I’m bummed he couldn’t win the first one for Iceland but brilliant song and I hope the group stays together to produce more music. 99/10

4. Bulgaria 🇧🇬 Victoria - Growing Up Is Getting Old: Eurovision fandom will forever say Imaginary Friend or Ugly Cry was the better song to send, but I don’t think they would have won the contest either. This year was strong, and I personally think Growing Up was a perfect choice from Victoria. It deserved top 10 so I was pissed that it came 11th on the night and received so few televotes. 97/10

5. Ukraine 🇺🇦 Go_A - SHUM: To all y’all who said this wouldn’t qualify when the new version came out, eat those words hun. This was a masterpiece, and the live performances just elevated it further. Honestly, Kateryna could step on me, and I would let her. Who doesn’t love an ethnic modern fusion rave? 95/10

6. Serbia 🇷🇸 Hurricane - Loco Loco: I honestly have to say when it came out, it was never breaking my top 20, but here we are. This group of gals is amazing. The choreo, hairography, and the still great vocals won my gay ass over. They served and deserved top 10 in my eye. 90/10

7. Greece 🇬🇷 Stefania - Last Dance: Much like Serbia, I kinda dismissed this as a top 10 song at first, but after many listens and then the live shows, it was one of the best songs this year. Last year’s song was nowhere near a qualifier for me, and then I thought they had a good chance of being top 5 this year. Amazing improvement and can’t wait to see what comes next from Stefania. 80/10

8. Malta 🇲🇹 Destiny - Je me casse: Not going to lie, the studio definitely did more for me. It was up with Italy and Switzerland for winner contention until the live shows. Don’t get me wrong, Destiny is still amazing live, and the song is a deserved top 5 song. However, the costume and staging just really didn’t add to the song and I think detracted a bit. Her song last year was also much better in my opinion. 75/10

9. San Marino 🇸🇲 Senhit ft Flo Rida - Adrenalina: Oh boy this was a party, and the fact Flo Rida actually was there made it even better. The staging and costuming was absolutely camp, and I was here for it. This was definitely not underrated by fans beforehand, but the jury and televote were beyond robberies in my opinion. Granted I know the backing vocals were carrying the chorus a lot so in terms of vocals, I can see where this song got dinged, but this should have been San Marino’s best ever result at Eurovision, and it wasn’t so I’m mad. 60/10

10. France 🇫🇷 Barbara Pravi - Voila: The new Edith Piaf and probably one of the most representative of the country’s culture for a song. A definite deserved runner up on the night but for me 10th place. I loved the staging, the costume, the emotions. It was all right for Eurovision and me. 50/10

11. Cyprus 🇨🇾 Elena Tsingarou - El Diablo: Come through Cyprus with another female pop banger. I’d say if the formula ain’t broke don’t fix it, but wasn’t really enough to crack top 10 this year. Another early favorite of mine this year but soon got eclipsed. Still going to be listening to El Diablo for a while. 49/10

12. Russia 🇷🇺 Manizha - Russian Woman: I can’t lie that at first, this song was absolutely trash to me but quickly rose the ranks and became one of my faves. Same thing happened last year with Uno. We also always love a good female empowerment moment with the native language thrown in. Manizha is a girlboss without the gaslighting and a true queen. Deserved top 10 the night of. 40/10

13. Lithuania 🇱🇹 The Roop - Discoteque: An earworm for first listen and was top 10 for a while for me but like Cyprus, lost out to some others. No doubt this is a deserved top 10 the night of. 35/10

14. Croatia 🇭🇷 Albina - Tick Tock: The first song to get me pressed on it’s placement. Deserved to be in the final over both Israel and Norway (please come for me I don’t care). They freakin rocked that stage during the semis and the song is absolutely a bop. Albina deserved better. 30/10

15. Sweden 🇸🇪 Tusse - Voices: A beautiful song by an amazing artist. Sure the lyrics were a bit cliche Eurovision but guess what...it’s Eurovision. I can hear the voices. Keep carrying on Tusse. 25/10

16. Albania 🇦🇱 Anxehla Peristeri - Karma: This song grew on me a lot. I liked it but wasn’t a don’t skip for a while on my playlist. The live performance changed it for me. She slayed and the staging was everything for Miss Thing. Also native language brownie points. 24/10

17. Finland 🇫🇮 Blind Channel - Darkside: Before you come for me for having this at 17th, keep reading. I’m not a big fan of the lyrics but the song is absolutely fantastic. This style of music isn’t something I pull out on a playlist often, but I had my middle fingers up for this one (and pointed at Germany but we’ll discuss later). Deserved top 10 as they rocked it on stage. 20/10

18. The Netherlands 🇳🇱 Jeangu Macrooy - Birth of a New Age: I absolutely do not understand the hate for this song. I was also a huge fan of Grow last year so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised for being generally alone again. The fact it got 0 points in the televote and only 11 in the jury is not surprising but extremely disappointing to me. This song is a masterpiece much like the ones ranked above it. Jeangu, you are amazing and deserved so much better than this. 20/10

19. Belgium 🇧🇪 Hooverphonic - The Wrong Place: Fantastic song but fantastic artists. Always here for a dark pop moment. Gonna go get my own Johnny Cash T-shirt. 15/10

20. Spain 🇪🇸 Blas Cantó - Voy a Quedarme: Such a heartfelt ballad. I enjoyed it quite a bit and don’t understand the hate it has. Didn’t deserve 0 points in the televote. 14/10

21. Denmark 🇩🇰 Fyr og Flamme - Øve Os På Hinanden: Look we all know this song is cheesy but it’s the cheesiest Velveeta queso loco so it’s ranked so high in my opinion. This is a nod to the whacky and weird Eurovision I love. It’s always in my head and I always find myself dancing along. Deserved to be in the final over two of the songs in Semi 2. 13/10

22. Azerbaijan 🇦🇿 Efendi - Mata Hari: As far as the song goes, it’s enjoyable, but the stage show was a hot mess in my opinion. The choreo looked a mess and the different sheer legging configurations on the backup dancers was not the correct fashion choice in my opinion as I was distracted by the thought of why are they all different. Did deserve their spot in the final though. 12/10

23. Moldova 🇲🇩 Natalia Gordienko - Sugar: The studio version of this song is a heavily replayed one on my playlist bc of the drop and dance-ability of the song. However the downfall of the song was it’s live performance. The staging was fine and the choreo was great but those attempted sexy whisper vocals were not the choice to go with. I don’t want to sugar-coat this 😝 so they were terrible. Glad she made it but I felt her position in the final was one of just pure luck. 11/10

24. UK 🇬🇧 James Newman - Embers: The nul points was a huge ass oof. This song isn’t bad but I can see where people didn’t vote for it bc it’s not super memorable in terms of who all was participating this year. I like the song and always sing and dance along. 10/10

25. Israel 🇮🇱 Eden Alene - Set Me Free: This is how to do a revamp and be successful. Eden is a fantastic artist who can clearly sing, but the live performance was not all that sans the whistle tones. Yet the whistle tones aside, the song is lacking a lot. When looking back at the songs available, this one should not have been the selected one. I was always on the fence with this one and still am. 9.5/10

26. Czechia 🇨🇿 Benny Cristo - Omaga: The live definitely hurt this song in the first minute and a half. The second half was absolutely what should have happened in terms of vocals. Still like the song and listen to it often. 9.25/10

27. Ireland 🇮🇪 Leslie Roy - Maps: This song was a victim of a super strong bloodbath and shoddy staging ideas. The song is arresting and a bop. Leslie’s gruff voice mixed with the modernized Irish sounds is a match made. The staging of this song that required Leslie to run along with the beat and the distracting and constantly changing bits of the performance we’re definitely it’s downfall. It didn’t deserve last place in Semi 1 though. 9.25/10

28. Portugal 🇵🇹 The Black Mamba - Love Is On My Side: I am the first to admit that while I don’t like the song, it deserved the final. The staging and atmosphere elevated the song. 9/10

29. Austria 🇦🇹 Vincent Bueno - Amen: In the battle of the Amens, this one wins solely based on the classy and amazing staging. Don’t get me wrong, Slovenia’s was also elevating but this one did it better. 8.5/10

30. Australia 🇦🇺 Montaigne - Technicolor: This song is a fantastic one for studio. The live since the Sydney Mardi Gras performance has been rough and didn’t necessarily improve. I feel bad bc I do really love this song but it definitely didn’t deserve to qualify. This being said, I love Montaigne, and Don’t Break Me was my runner up last year, and I still listen to it as my anthem when I’m feeling down. I wish I could rank this higher but I can’t. 8.5/10

31. Romania 🇷🇴 Roxen - Amnesia: This song is great in the studio but it got old real fast for me and I don’t know why. This mixed with the poor vocals and the bizarre costume:stage combo was really what did this in and got this low in my ranking. 8.25/10

32. Slovenia 🇸🇮 Ana Soklic - Amen: The loser of the Amen battle, but just barely. The song and vocals are better in my opinion but the whole package was just barely edged out in the end. 8/10

33. Latvia 🇱🇻 Samanta Tīna - Moon Is Rising: Look, this song is nowhere near as good as last years. The queeeeeen sashayed away with that annoying trap beat. 8/10

34. North Macedonia 🇲🇰 Vasil - Here I Stand: Leave it to the gays for bringing musical theatre to Eurovision. The song honestly isn’t that special or memorable but he’s higher up bc his stage and voice are amazing. 7/10

35. Norway 🇳🇴 Tix - Fallen Angel: A great message on mental health outside of the song and Tix seems like a quality fella but I do not like the song. I preferred it in Norwegian. And this low ranking is not at all influenced over him beating out Keiino (but maybe a slight bit tho). 5/10

36. Estonia 🇪🇪 Uku Suviste - The Lucky One: While this was 1000% better than last years entry, it still was relatively boring. The stage was equally as boring so sorry Estonia, but you didn’t make the mark. 4.5/10

37. Poland 🇵🇱 Rafael - The Ride: This throwback to the 80s was a bad one. The attempt at a one hit wonder vibe really hurt it along with the artist’s terrible vocals. Also half the time, he was behind the pyro and relying on backup vocals. 4/10

38. Georgia 🇬🇪 Tornike Kipiani - You: You really should not have to wait so long for the more upbeat rock ending of this. If it was that last 30 seconds for 3 minutes, it would be much better. A definite step back from last year. 1/10

39. Germany 🇩🇪 Jendrick - I Don’t Feel Hate: Jendrick might not feel hate but I do bc that is all I feel when this song comes on. 0.5/10

#Eurovision #Eurovision 2021 #top 39 eurovision #my opinion

15 notes · View notes

astermacguffin · 3 years ago

Note

also - this season is so frustrating oh my god. don’t get me wrong it’s great right, like it slaps and there’s So Much here to work with. but like Oh My God. you’re all working for the same fucking side dingbats, just work TOGETHER 😭

dean: “I want to kill demons, angels are dicks”

sam: “great! good thing I know how to kill demons”

dean: “No You Can’t Do That. It’s Weird And The Angels Said No”

and then the ANGELS show up and they’re like.

“oh my god. you guys suck at killing demons.”

like. not one person in this show has an agenda that matches someone else’s lmfao

Sam: “I’m gonna develop my demon powers to kill Lilith while also helping out my brother with the apocalypse stuff”

Dean: “I’m gonna stop the apocalypse and keep sam from using his Evil Powers. angels are ducks tho”

Cas: “I’m gonna guide/test/whatever dean in a relatively friendly way so we can fight the apocalypse”

Uriel: “I’m gonna throw hands with these motherfuckers and bully them into fighting the apocalypse my way”

Ruby: “I want to kill Lilith and also stay the hell away from any angels and also help Sam develop his powers”

like. oh my god. oh my god. there’s such a WEB here of people who are all technically trying to do the same thing but they just can’t get past their different methods enough to see that they’re all on the same side 😭

also sidenote I love ruby so much, she owns my whole heart, I don’t see much discussion of her on here so I’m GUESSING that means she dies relatively quickly but. I pretend I do not see 🙈. ruby my beloved <3. I am nowhere near qualified enough to say this but I feel like S4 Ruby and S13-15 Cas would be super good friends. like. the only thing I know about Late Seasons Cas is from tumblr but like. I Just Feel It

Yeah, the majority of S4 can be pretty frustrating like that because everyone's being cryptic and keeping secrets and talking past each other so that pretty much nothing gets done that much lol (although the final leg of S4 does answer this "issue").

Sadly I don't know any ruby blogs; I mostly hang out in casgirl tumblr and most ruby blogs tend to be in samgirl circles, which I admit I unfortunately don't have many mutuals in.

Your suggested friendship between Ruby and late-seasons Cas sounds VERY intriguing tho. The two options I'm thinking of are either: (1) during the divorce arc when Cas is pretty much alone, or (2) a post-Chuck, post-Empty world where some angels and demons escape after they rescue Cas. Very interesting. I shall think about this more.

#spn s4 lb #aster responds #dearqueerdeers

4 notes · View notes

melforbes · 4 years ago

Text

seaglass blue annotations

hello! i just posted the last chapter and thought i’d put together some ~fun context~ for that fic. it got way way more attention than i ever expected and for something i feel i didn’t put that much effort into i think i did in the end put a lot of effort into it so i might as well talk about it and answer some potential questions.

my favorite book of all time is the sunlit night by rebecca dinerstein (yes, that one) and something i find really compelling about that book is how sparing the prose is, forcing the reader to fill in certain gaps, and i think having to fill in those gaps makes the book a really acquired taste with which either you love it or hate it and there’s not really an in-between

i also really adore how in that book the natural world backdrop comes to life, something i find really challenging to write. recently i even read into thin air, the book about the 1996 mount everest disaster, and even though the writing was superb, i still had to google what the hillary step was because i couldn’t picture it on my own. i don’t know how people write nature because to me it feels damn near impossible, but this sparing approach really worked, so i thought i might try it out. i tend to be longwinded (gestures vaguely at this post) and wanted to have certain parts of this be a lot smaller and more contained without negating impact. whether or not i made it work is anyone’s guess. definitely not my normal style, so to speak

based on the comments i’ve received i think this might be everyone’s favorite part. in my mind age of consent by new order was playing in the background. in pretty much every fic i have a scene like this one and all of them are based on the poem first base gold by rh*annon mcg*vin from her book branches (censored because she has a tumblr and i don’t want her seeing this haha)

i absolutely can’t do the poem justice by describing what it’s about, but the simplest, most basic interpretation of the poem is that there is no better place to kiss than right here, right now, because of the past. i really like that imagery and tend to use it a lot. she as a writer has been a big inspiration for me and if you’ve read my fic true minds i should add that the nonfiction inspiration for that was directly as a result of one of her youtube videos. i particularly love how the last paragraph (stanza? im not a poet) is one big run-on sentence that’s jovial and tongue-in-cheek and colloquial and straightforward. it feels triumphant in a quiet way to me and i love how it’s done. obviously my attempts at something similar are nowhere near as insightful, but still, the most basic image of this is that there is no better place to kiss, and that’s how i felt about the two of them finding pudding in the supermarket

this part is autobiographical; while writing this last year, i went through six months of intravenous drug treatment, a month and a half of which involved long days of doctor visits on every weekday. when you’re on stuff like that for a long time you end up with a central line for better access (potential plot hole in all of this: scully never had one) but for a month and a half i got poked almost every day and strangely enough it got harder over time. the first couple you never feel, but a week or two later you start flinching, and if the needle goes in the same vein each time, it hurts the more it gets prodded. i reached a point toward the end of the in-office visits in which i would bleed a lot every time i got poked, and i can’t watch anything like that happen to me so i was looking away each time, and when i felt that the nurse was done, i would look back over, and sometimes i would be looking down at a pool of blood that i hadn’t expected to see. it’s weird, you don’t actually feel yourself bleeding, i would’ve expected a hot bloody feeling but instead it felt like nothing. and when i say a pool i mean that it would drip down beneath my elbow, stain the sheet they’d put underneath, and i wouldn’t get all of it off until i showered. i didn’t necessarily find it scary, but it was surreal and kind of pulled me out of normalizing the experience i was having. for a very long time needing iv drugs was my greatest fear and i was surrounded by that then and fine, and then, there was blood all over my arm, and like, haha, this is actually not fine. you’d think something else would’ve been scarier, but it wasn’t. and now looking back at this paragraph i wish i’d edited it differently but hey that’s life

i’d never really understood the purpose of religion as a self-driven part of life until i took anatomy in college. i was raised catholic and though culturally i understand having a religion and being raised with one, i’ve never really reached for religion when i wanted answers, and i haven’t personally understood why that’s someone’s first option. and i know there’s been plenty of commentary on the hypocrisy of dana scully as a catholic who believes in science, yada yada yada, i think everyone has read all of that by now. but what struck me while learning anatomy is that there is a kind of neuron we don’t know the function of. there are four kinds of neurons, and one of them is still a mystery to us. and then, there’s all of these different parts of human bodies that exist in a certain perfect way, but why do they exist like that? to support life, yes, but why is it that we can make comparisons? why were irises not the same color? and we name valves of the heart after religious figures. we are so hell-bent on meaning that something literal will never be enough. and all of that made me think that dana scully has god to fill in what science won’t answer, at least not yet. and there’s definitely a bigger conversation about science as denial of indigenous cultures that i am nowhere near qualified to start. after taking those classes, i think i would be more shocked if she wasn’t religious. you can ignore pretty much all of the paragraph above but it was important to me that at some point in this fic she willingly conceded that she didn’t know what would happen and that she didn’t have answers. with illness, there is no logic, there’s no thinking your way out of it, and i think that would plague her for a long time. to me, she only would accept her death when she could say she had no idea what would happen, she has no answers, there’s nothing filling in her gaps anymore, and she’s comfortable with that. and i put all of that in a paragraph about my thoughts on god because it made sense to me. there are times that just feel like you’re in a movie and there’s no one else you can say caused them. it’s not enough to build belief on but it’s enough to bring a certain kind of wonder. also one time my parents insisted on watching stripes because it was so funny and when watching it none of us found it funny at all and my parents grimaced and were like what were we on that made that good back in the day so that’s in here now haha

and now, the biggest question: does she die at the end? when i came up with the idea for this fic, i knew the beginning and ending but not the middle, and i posted this as a smaller project (ie: chapters below 3,000 words) while illness made my bigger projects harder to work on and essentially flew by the seat of my pants the whole time. i wrote the last line a long long time ago and have always seen the ending as written as the concrete ending. when i started writing this, i never intended for there to be a definitive answer to whether or not she dies. i like premature endings (the ending of girls burn brighter comes to mind) and i think that this works better without saying whether or not she lives. and i also have a hard time with giving a definitive answer because this fic very much is about death and having her die would, of course, be traumatic, but showing her living instead i think ruins any takeaways people could have. i’ve never had cancer but as a chronically ill person i think i can speak to how you never actually win with illness; the best you can do is tie, and sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in, you “lose” anyway, you lose spectacularly, and all of your effort was for nothing. i wholeheartedly believe that humans can’t emotionally or logically process natural disasters or illness, hence why much of the talk about illness in this is from mulder’s perspective as he experiences her terminal illness secondhand; that way, he doesn’t need to (but still likely will) find logic or reason or meaning for death from a terminal illness, so his discoveries and his coping mechanisms aren’t as urgently needed. had i written a chapter that describes how she lives, i think that the discussion of death in this would be voided altogether. and i also don’t believe the ending would be much different whether she lives or dies; there’s still the need for death acceptance and talking about dying, whether or not she lives, and none of the story in this fic would have happened had the characters known she would live. the whole point is not knowing.

for a little while i toyed with writing an unofficial sequel of sorts in which i spelled out what i think happens after the ending, but after realizing that that would end up being longer than the original fic and would also have some massive plot holes, i decided against it. i do have my own version and i don’t want to share that version because i never really intended for my version to be some kind of genuine sequel in which every question gets answered and everything is wrapped up and happy ever after and whatnot. it was just where my brain wandered in the same way it wanders when i watch an open-ended movie. all of that to say, if you think she lives, then she lives. if you think she dies, then she dies. it’s your decision. i’d much rather you choose than me. i never marked this as “major character” death on ao3 because, well, she doesn’t die in this fic. whether or not she dies after the fic ends, that’s for you to decide.

thank you for taking the time to read my writing. i never expected this to blow up (it blew up for me at least, for a while it was my most popular fic ever, with i think thousands more hits than anything else i’d written) and the response has been mind-boggling and wonderful. i don’t respond to comments often because it makes me feel like a pompous jerk (”thank you for enjoying this! i, too, enjoy this thing i have written! oh ho ho!” is how it sounds to me in my head, whereas when other writers respond to comments to me it just looks like thanks man have a good day, feel free to call me a weenie) but i’ve appreciated all of them very much. THANK YOU! i hope your new year is a Whole Lot Less Shit than 2020. i don’t plan on writing more msr because i don’t really have any ideas for them. thank you for making my last time special <3

23 notes · View notes

tyrannuspitch · 3 years ago

Note

ok coffee cup emoji i forgot to copy it but 1) doctor who just in general 2) alternative fashion takes

okay i don't think i have anything very insightful to say abt either of these but. let's see

1. doctor who... hmmm. i have a lot of conflicting feelings from consuming it sporadically over years. i almost subjected you to the full list of level of enjoyment by season, like a malevolent genie catching hold of the phrase "in general", but then i realised i did actually have one solitary point to make so here is that instead:

re: ten's era and class: i can respect much of what each are doing but i wish scifi writers would invoke "genocide" less often, bc it's not actually an edgy moral grey if you the writer have created a situation where an entire people is synonymous with one evil army (a situation which never occurs irl bc real ppl simply do not work like that.) like at that stage we're talking mass-murder-in-self-defence, not genocide, bc genocide by definition includes indiscriminate killing of innocents and you've literally *written out* all the innocents? like the only way you can make it a palatable storyline is by making the species effectively just an extension of one single evil character. which is not how real people work. so why not just ask this question about one character. "is killing in self defence ever okay" is a legitimate question. "is genocide ever okay" is not a legitimate question until you bring in implausible scenarios. i know scifi does thought experiments but.. urgh. this one goes the same way every time and it's never genuinely interesting or satisfying. it's just uncomfortable.

disclaimer having written this: most of the rest of what i had to say was positive, it just wasn't interesting. anyway... twelve my beloved

2. alternative fashion takes: god idk i do not dress well and never have and therefore am not qualified to have Opinions. my personal relationship to alternative fashion specifically is v weird for two reasons:

a) i can appreciate the aesthetic as a whole and even somewhat identify with it but you offer me each thing individually and i'm suddenly like nope. nope. nope. like... idk. i like how lip piercings look but i feel like i wld find them gross to actually have. and i will not do makeup for dysphoria reasons and i-have-a-skin-disease-anxiety reasons. and i am nowhere near confident enough in my own decisions to ever get a tattoo. and i feel kind of just, ambiguous gross and unlike myself wearing most casual clothing during the day. (not cheap clothing. specifically *casual*. wld much rather wear cheap formal stuff than designer casual. and i think the main problem i have w casual stuff is being loose/oversized. i just... want to feel *neat* i guess? and not clumsy? and loose clothing that moves a lot just makes me irrationally feel rlly uncoordinated and graceless and generally messy?) (the more i try to word this the more autistic i sound rip)

b) i naturally lean more towards like, idk. formal/historical stuff rather than modern/grungy/futuristic. but as much as ppl talk abt wanting to look like vampires, the majority of alt men are doing a p straightforward ripped skinny jeans + black t shirt thing and even finding examples of men who are doing Just Straight Up Dress Like You're In Interview With The Phantom Of Crimson Peak Or Other Miscellanous Goth Film is not easy. let alone actually finding the clothes to do it yourself. (like no i don't literally mean historical dress but like. urgh. i feel like goth *women* dress like witches pretty frequently and therefore the clothes themselves are out there.)

all that aside my hot take is. um. i need nicer shoes and maybe some rings and/or nail polish. sidefringes are overdone we need to bring back bobs on men. yes from the middle ages. uhh. gender noncomformity in men includes androgyny and not just straight up wearing dresses and ppl discussing gncity in theory never seem to demonstrate understanding of that so maybe look at an emo man once. uhh. glasses on chains (monocles, even) are good and on theme for an aesthetic which incorporates lots of other metal jewellery. that is all i have to offer

#idk sorry this is just rambling but it's 1am so that's what's happening i guess #thank you though!!!#<3 #long post #i wld not wear a monocle personally but i'm just saying it cld be done. hypothetically.#blah blah blah status symbol okay but you can steal it? corsets are seen as fancy in the mdoern day too #and plenty of ppl covering themselves in crosses hate the church #i think the main reason it sounds funny is bc ppl are unadventurous w men's fashion. it doesn't have to be that way

3 notes · View notes

bubonickitten · 4 years ago

Text

TMA fic: where there’s a will, we make a way

New chapter is up on AO3 here!

Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Chapter 11 full text & content warnings below the cut.

CWs for Chapter 11: mild self-harm (brief instance of wrist banging/bruising to distract from intrusive thoughts; mention of scratching/skin picking); some Buried-related claustrophobic memories; mentions of Jon starving himself (wrt to consuming statements, but worth mentioning for anyone who needs content warnings related to eating disorders, restrictive diets, etc.; there will be more going forward of Jon being hungry and restricting himself, and I'll keep warning for it, especially in chapters where it features heavily). SPOILERS through S5.

Chapter 11: Reaching Out

The tunnels are as ominous as they’ve always been, but at this point, Jon just might be growing accustomed to them. The creeping fear he’s always felt down here has faded to the background – an ambient sense of dread. It's almost tolerable, or at least less oppressive than the omnipresent sense of being watched that he’s long since accepted as his normal.

Here, he can compose his letter to Martin without the risk of Jonah Seeing exactly what Jon’s eyes see.

After the Watcher’s Crown, Jonah did not Watch through Jon’s eyes anymore. Whether that was because Jon was stronger than Jonah at that point or because Jonah did not bother to try, Jon doesn’t Know. Once the ritual was completed, Jonah no longer had any stake in Jon’s trajectory, no need to monitor his progress or ensure his survival. Moreover, Jonah’s inflated ego never allowed for the possibility that Jon could pose a threat to his reign. His Archivist – his Archive – had no further interest to him except as a source of entertainment, and he didn’t need to See through Jon’s eyes in order to behold the show. He could See all of creation from the Panopticon.

Jon is stronger now than he was the last time he was here, but he’s still nowhere near as powerful as he was during the apocalypse. He’s tried to Know how he measures up against Jonah now, but the Beholding seems intent on withholding that knowledge from him. Last time he made an attempt, the Eye treated him to a litany of statistics about the interactions between the human body and the venom of various species of spider.

Sometimes Jon thinks that if the Beholding is sentient, it might just be the pettiest of the Dread Powers.

In any case, Jonah Magnus is still as much of a gnawing question mark as he’s always been. It’s safest to assume that he has the advantage until proven otherwise – and Jon will take the tunnels over Jonah’s voyeurism any day, no matter how harrowing they may be. Even if he has to be down here alone – which he is.

Georgie is with Melanie, and Jon is reluctant to ask Basira for any favors right now. He wonders again if this is how Martin felt, living in the Archives, spending sleepless nights with himself and the scratching of a pen as his only companions. Just like Jon, Martin was never very good company for himself, especially back then – and back now. He was primed for the Lonely long before he started working at the Institute.

Speaking of which…

Jon sighs, puts his pen down, and begins to read through what he’s written.

I’m sorry I left you.

…now I’m here, trying to explain things –

– had changed since he left –

– it seemed he was alone –

– as far as I could tell, all alone in the world, and rather unhappy about the fact.

I will admit to taking a dislike to the man when I first met him – but –

– I’d say that – was a foolish act of past me.

Jon is still worried about starting the letter like this, but this is a point in time not too far removed from his early mistreatment of Martin. Jon had made his apologies and explanations at length in his future, but this version of Martin hasn’t experienced that yet. Jon can’t just jump into showing affection before taking accountability for his past behavior – recent past, from the perspective of this timeline.

He can only hope that Martin will read through to the end, and that Jon’s intention – his sincerity – will be understood.

Soon I was giving my account as a full confession –

– trying my best to fit this into a relatively coherent narrative.

It’s plenty of things I’ve done I couldn’t explain to you. I mean, I’m constantly – looking back at my past self and thinking, what an idiot. How the hell could he have done such an obviously stupid thing? How was I surprised it went so badly? What a relief I’m now so much older and wiser.

I’ve never really been the social type – I’ve always just been happier alone. Well, maybe happier isn’t quite the right word. I did get a bit lonely sometimes. I’d hear laughter coming from other rooms in my building, or see a group of friends talking in the sun outside, and maybe I’d wish I had something like that, but it never really bothered me – I didn’t need another people and they certainly didn’t need me.

Jon looks down at the words with a dissatisfied scowl. Does this come off as too self-centered? As more as an excuse than an explanation? This would be so much easier if he could just say what he means. Then again, Jon’s always struggled with discussing emotional matters, hasn't he? He can’t blame it all on the Archive.

These thoughts, these feelings were always in my mind – until – I realized the deeper truth of it all.

I tried to put it into words, but without any real success. Even here, with the time to compose it properly, I’m not sure I’ve caught the essence of what I felt –

– I had a look through my library, and couldn’t find anything that matched it –

– those are musings for poets, among whom I do not number –

– it’s all very well to say ‘write down what you saw,’ but what if you don’t have the words?

I suppose I’ll just have to try.

I’ve always been more comfortable alone –

– had few friends – reluctant to make the sort of connections that might lead to –

– the prospect of being genuinely loved –

– fully and completely known –

– having people be genuinely lovely to me, I didn’t know what to do with those feelings –

– I could never bring myself to try. It felt more comfortable, more familiar, to be alone.

It is the fear of being watched, and judged, and having all your secrets known.

Ironic, in some ways –

– being what I am –

– an Archivist pleading for knowledge –

– to feed the sick voyeur that lurks in this place.

Eventually, I opened my eyes –

– feeling absurd about how terrified I was about being seen –

– kicking myself for having been so stupid –

– it wasn’t natural for people to live in isolation – we were creatures of community by nature.

Soon enough, I could no longer fool myself –

– the man I loved –

– who was by all accounts such a kind and gentle soul –

– when I – saw him standing there waiting for me – I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than in that moment.

He spoke words I thought existed only in my heart, and I loved him as the soil loves the rain –

– and it seemed he felt the same way –

– and together it seemed like we would get past our pain.

Everything about being with him felt so natural that when he told me he loved me, it only came as a surprise to realize that we hadn’t said it already.

…to say – “I love you” – honestly it’s one of the few decisions I’ve ever made that I completely understand.

It’s… woefully inadequate. Too devoid of context. Unlikely to reach Martin through the fog. But maybe it will be enough to at least convince him to talk to Jon. To keep the Lonely at bay, at least for now.

After leaving the hospital, the next thing that is properly clear in my mind is –

– I need him to be okay.

I couldn’t see him or hear him –

– I didn’t even get a chance to speak to him – asked what had happened, he was just gone. And I was alone again.

I wanted to say something reassuring, to reach out and let him know I was still there –

– I wanted to act, to help, to do something, but – I felt helpless to do anything but watch as events progressed.

I think he might be part of something really awful, and I don’t know how to make him see that – of course I did worry. I knew that, secretly, he was as well.

I know how that sounds – but – I ask you to read on.

For a split second, the memory of the ritual flits through his mind – Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading … – and Jon brings his wrist down on the side of his chair, hard. The pain jolts him out of the recollection and brings him back to the present. He watches halfheartedly as the discoloration fades before his eyes, frustration with his overreaction itching in the back of his mind. Stupid.

With a longsuffering sigh, he rereads the previous section again. The borrowed words sound patronizing, without the qualifying context he wishes he could provide more explicitly. He isn’t just nitpicking – it’s crucial that Martin knows that Jon isn’t underestimating him, despite a history of doing exactly that for far too long.

The first time around, he trusted Martin – more than he trusted anyone, including (perhaps especially) himself – and even knowing what he knows now, he doesn’t regret it. He heard the tapes.

“But if I could just explain,” Martin had said.

“And how do you think Jon’s going to react to that explanation, hm?” Peter had replied. “You think he’ll accept it calmly? Come through with a well-considered, rational response?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Or would he assume he knows better than you and do something rash?”

“I don’t like being manipulated.”

“That’s fair. But I’m not wrong.”

“No.”

In Jon’s original timeline, he had proven Peter wrong. He had trusted Martin, respected his boundaries, followed his lead. This time, though… Jon won’t be able to demonstrate that with non-interference, and not being able to use his own words doesn’t help him explain that this isn’t just another instance of Jon just assuming he knows better than everyone else, that he actually does have special knowledge, and – well, truthfulness aside, that sounds condescending, too, doesn’t it?

He doesn’t blame Martin for agreeing with Peter. For a significant portion of Jon’s life, it would have been a fair assessment. He didn’t trust people. He didn’t trust himself, either – not really – but at least he knew his own intentions. That bone-deep fear of being manipulated, of being rejected, of not having control… it never played well with the concept of trust.

And when they first started working together, Jon made no secret of his knee-jerk judgment of Martin as being incompetent, clumsy, and unreliable. In retrospect, he couldn’t have been more wrong – and he knows now that he was only seeing what he wanted to see, projecting his own insecurities and fear of failure onto Martin to distract from his own floundering.

After learning that Martin had lied on his CV, Jon readjusted his initial opinions. He was impressed. Martin was remarkably capable for someone with no prior qualifications, no experience, no degree. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in effort. He was clever, and resolute, and dependable, and genuine, and… and god, wasn’t Jon a fool for taking so long to notice? And then for never saying as much until it was almost too late?

This version of Martin hasn’t heard that apology just yet – or the corollary apology for waiting so long to apologize. Georgie had told him years ago that he needed to use his words, that people needed to hear directly that they were acknowledged and appreciated. Jon himself struggled with reading between the lines. Just because he had low tolerance for receiving direct praise – despite craving it deeply – didn’t mean that other people had the same hangups.

He’s since taken that advice to heart, but he should have done sooner. Georgie had been right about a lot of things.

Jon did eventually say as much and more, during those brief few weeks they had in the safehouse. Peter hadn’t been all wrong when he questioned how much they really knew one another. Between Jon’s early irascibility and the distance he felt obligated to keep given their employee/boss relationship; between preventing apocalypses and being in such constant life-or-death peril that it started to feel normal, so normal that Jon didn’t know what to do with himself when he wasn’t being chased or held captive; between the coma, and descending into inhumanity, and the Lonely… they hadn’t had a chance to get to know each other outside of a crisis situation.

Jon didn’t even know himself anymore. He wondered if he ever had.

For the first time, they finally had the time and space to remedy that. Both of them were changed and would never be the same, but they had each other. They were both willing to put in the effort, to learn how to communicate and accommodate and navigate boundaries, despite neither having much experience with a healthy relationship. And for a little while, it had seemed that they could both learn how to be present in the world again – starting with their own microcosm, one day at a time, encouraging one another to be more patient and kind with themselves.

It wasn’t fair, how abruptly that hesitant, hopeful attempt was stolen from them. Jon didn’t feel like he deserved comfort and contentment – he still doesn’t – but Martin… Martin deserved – deserves – to be safe and cared for and loved. Martin deserves to be happy.

Jon desperately wants to help him See that.

Don’t… misunderstand me, please –

– I trusted his instincts almost as much as I trusted my own.

More than I trusted my own, Jon amends in his head – but the Archive isn’t cooperating.

But I knew that I – knew the future –

– the promise of secret knowledge, of seeing something that no one else was privy to –

– there was – a lot – we were missing.

Please. All I ask is that I be allowed –

– a chance to express myself –

– said something about knowledge being a good defense here –

– so here I am, pouring out my lunatic story on paper in the hopes that you might eventually read it.

Statement of Georgina Barker regarding –

– travel through time.

Jon still has to ask Georgie if she can explain the situation to Martin, but he doesn’t think she’ll mind. It won’t be as comprehensive as Jon wishes it could be – he still struggles with explaining the fine details of the apocalypse to the others given his current limitations – but he’s done his best, and he can trust Georgie to do the same.

Some fears can only be endured for so long. I remember every second of that fall. Like it was happening in slow motion. I was certain I was about to watch him fall like I had.

That knowledge I had gained – could finally be put to use.

I shall do my best to explain, and hope that any revelations contained here in me sway you from the path you have started upon.

I wanted to tell him to stop, to warn him – because I knew –

– the Extinction – while I have seen evidence of its influence in other powers –

– there was no sign of – imminent arrival – I resolved –

– its emergence as a true power of its own –

– wasn’t a threat.

Whatever he was planning –

– to try and rescue those trapped –

– trying to protect me –

– defending the world from the darkness…

…I know – to talk to other people about it –

– desperately wishing for another human being to talk to –

– to take too much comfort in – people – would go quite strongly against the spirit of the experiment – had to really feel alone. That at least didn’t take too long to set in.

All that remained was the fog – could wander there for years, and never meet another – utterly forsaken – there seemed to be no end to it.

But it didn’t need to be forever, did it?

“This too shall pass.”

I tried to explain but all I could manage to get through the shaking sobs was, “I love you.”

By then it looked like he was on the verge of tears,

Jon stops reading for a moment, realizing that, aptly enough, he’s on the verge of tears right now. He swallows them back and continues.

By then it looked like he was on the verge of tears, but I couldn’t leave it alone – just couldn’t let it go.

I have tried to write it down, to put it into terms and words you could understand. And now I stare at it and not a word of it is even enough to fully describe the fact that –

I cannot lose him.

I – cared deeply about his well-being.

I know he didn’t deserve what happened to him.

He deserved to –

– to be – beloved –

– cared for – trusted –

– being wanted and appreciated –

– being genuinely loved –

– no matter how wrong it might feel –

– when you’re at your lowest point, when you’re your most emotionally vulnerable.

I need him to be okay –

– and the world is so much better for –

– the easy, charming man I’d fall in love with –

– being in it.

Please. All I ask is that I be allowed to –

– talk to you, before it all comes to an end –

– and I swear to you that –

– if you decide to do it – if –

– you want to be alone – and –

– didn’t say much to me after that –

– I made sure to keep – distance.

There’s so much more Jon wishes he could say; so much that he wishes he could say in his own voice, rather than the stolen words of survivors recounting the most traumatic moments of their lives. It still feels perverse, to use their statements like this. It might not be as bad as feeding directly on a victim, but it still falls on a spectrum of appropriating the torment of others for his own use.

At the end of the day, it really doesn’t feel all that different from Jonah’s brand of dehumanization. It’s just one more way Jon is complicit in the evil that thrives in this place –

“Hey,” comes Georgie’s voice from just a few yards away. Jon startles, sending his pen clattering to the floor. He had been so lost in his own thoughts, he hadn’t even heard her descending the ladder. “Sorry,” she says with a wince. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Retrieving the fallen pen, Jon waves the apology off – it’s okay – and Georgie comes to sit next to him.

“Finished with your letter?”

“…I’m vague on the details,” he says. “I have to be.”

“Want me to take a look?”

Jon nods; he had been planning on asking her to read it through. Even if it was in his own words, he would likely run it by her. He trusts Georgie’s judgment regarding relationship matters far more than he trusts his own, and he knows she’ll be straightforward with him if he’s said something… well, stupid. He’s gotten better at communicating, but that doesn’t mean his tendency to put his foot in his mouth has disappeared entirely.

He jiggles his leg restlessly as she reads, increasingly self-conscious the longer the silence goes on. He resists scratching at his hands – Georgie is sure to reprimand him if he starts that up again. It isn’t that she has a problem with his fidgeting; she was actually one of the first people in his life to tolerate it. Encouraged it, even. She pointed out quite bluntly once that whenever Jon tried to force himself to sit still, his restless energy didn’t go away, it just came out as waspishness instead.

But she had a rule: no self-harm, no matter how mild. Personally, he didn’t categorize the scratching as self-harm, but she was firm about it. Lately, the scratching is limited mostly to his burned hand, and he’s tried explaining to her that it doesn’t even hurt – the scar tissue doesn’t register much sensation anymore – but she won’t hear it. For the past couple weeks, whenever she catches him at it, she gives him a look until he stops.

“I think it’s good,” Georgie says. “But…”

Jon tenses, but then he glimpses Georgie’s playful grin.

“It’s nothing bad! It’s just… well…”

He can hear the spark of mischief in her tone and somehow that makes him more apprehensive than the prospect of criticism.

“See, you say you’re not a poet,” she says, pointing at the letter, “but this part here…”

He spoke words I thought existed only in my heart, and I loved him as the soil loves the rain –

– and it seemed he felt the same way –

– and together it seemed like we would get past our pain.

“You go and use a sappy metaphor – and I know,” she says, seeing him ready to protest, “they’re not your words and you’re using what you have available.”

Yes, he wants to say, and my vast library comprised solely of people’s retellings of their supernatural trauma isn’t exactly forthcoming with declarations of love, Georgina.

“But,” she says, goading now, “then you go and rhyme the first and last lines.”

Jon squints at the letter, and…

Fuck. It does rhyme.

He moves to snatch the paper away and Georgie stands and holds it out of reach, dancing backwards.

“No, nope, absolutely not,” she says, laughing. “Jonathan Sims, I refuse to let you change it. You’re leaving it exactly as is.”

“…being used against me in a cruel joke,” he huffs, glowering at her – but her laugh has always been infectious, and he can’t fight it as his lips twitch into a smile.

She hands the letter back to him after a minute, still grinning when she takes her seat again.

“I’m teasing you. You can change it if you want, but I think it’s adorable and you should leave it. Besides, Martin’s a poet, isn’t he? He might get a kick out of it.”

Honestly, it doesn’t bother him enough to rewrite the entire thing. And if there’s a chance of it coaxing a smile out of Martin…

“On a more serious note – this part here, ‘statement of Georgina Barker’ – I’m assuming you want me to try to convince him that you actually are a time traveler here to stop the apocalypse?” Jon nods. “Probably easier than trying to write it all out. I don’t mind, but are you sure he’ll listen to me?”

Jon shrugs. He has the same worry, but…

“As for myself, I must cling to –”

“– that most insidious of emotions: hope.”

“Somehow both unexpectedly sappy and predictably ominous,” she replies, “but I’ll take it. Better than despair, anyway.”

Despite the light teasing, the smile she flashes is genuine. Fleeting, though, as she continues.

“Oh, and one more thing – that one bit, capital-E Extinction? One, don’t like the sound of that, and two – should I know what that is? Melanie hasn’t mentioned anything like that before.”

“I’m sorry – it won’t let me say the words,” Jon says with a frustrated sigh.

“Will Martin know what it means, though?” Jon nods. With any luck, Martin can be persuaded to fill the others in on it. “Good enough.”

She watches him for a few moments as he chews at his thumbnail, leg still shaking, staring at the floor.

“Something’s on your mind.”

Jon sighs and closes his eyes.

“I could feel hunger gnawing at me.”

“You still haven’t had a statement?” Georgie says, frowning at him.

“Something he could salvage from the whole situation,” he mutters, not looking up at her. “Just a way of getting some control over his life, you know?”

“Jon, you can’t just starve yourself –”

“Running was pointless,” he agrees sullenly. “To try to escape from my task would only serve to fulfill another. I finally understood what I needed to do –”

“– some hungers are too strong to be denied –”

“– you have to feed it – or it will feed on you.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“Even as I did so, in the back of my mind I hated myself –”

“– to feed the sick voyeur that lurks in this place.”

“I’m not saying you should… go hunting, or whatever you want to call it. This is an archive, there are plenty of statements lying around.”

“…you’ve got all this… all these people’s experiences listened to and filed away.”

“Right. They’re already given. They can’t be taken back. You’re not going out and hurting people, you’re just… reading what’s already here.”

She thinks he was just agreeing with her, he realizes – she didn’t comprehend his true meaning there. How could she have? He hasn’t properly explained to them that he is the Archive. He already Knows all of the statements housed here. Old statements were stale even when he hadn’t read them yet. Now, they’re even less fulfilling.

As a child, he hated reading anything that he felt like he had read before. It seems morbidly fitting that the Archivist in him is much the same way.

“Think of it like… like harm reduction,” Georgie is saying now. “From what I can gather, abstinence just isn’t an option for you, at least not right now. The next best thing is to meet yourself where you are. Even if you can’t stop, you can still take steps to minimize the harm – and that includes harm to yourself. Reading the statements that are already here – I think it’s justifiable, if the alternative is starving to death.”

“I am not sure how long this might continue for. Maybe years. Maybe forever.”

“Maybe. But right now, you need to take it one step at a time. You’re getting ready to hurl yourself into danger. You should be at full strength for that. If you aren’t going to sleep, you at least need to eat something.”

She has a point. There is one other concern, though.

“It seems I cannot avoid the ceaseless gaze of – Jonah –”

“– still there, still watching me –”

“– eyes were always focused on something, always watching. And – I always felt afraid –”

“– being under constant scrutiny and observation –”

“– it may be worth your while to keep an eye on the statements – in case he finds his way here –”

“– my mind has always been receptive to the thoughts that lurk in the written page –”

“– that throw out strange or sometimes even dangerous things –”

“– a simple ruse or deception –”

“– quietly waiting for you to lose your footing, to slip up and fall.”

“You’re afraid of getting tricked into reading the wrong statement again.”

Jon nods, not quite meeting her eye. All of the statements housed here are already catalogued in the Archive. He can recall them on his own word for word, if he concentrates. But something about that doesn’t feel right. Physically reading the statement, speaking it into the tape recorder… it’s like its own little ritual – like there’s an order of operations that has to be followed or it doesn’t count, somehow.

“…I outlined basic checks in due diligence –”

“– checking and double checking –”

“– before I finally felt safe enough –”

“– to read a statement – hitting record and speaking it aloud.”

“Well… we can probably vet them before giving them to you?”

“…they were also there as a backup in case something went horribly wrong – in case –”

“– it tried to read me back.”

“Okay,” she says after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll let Basira know.”

Her expression is concerned, but there’s something else underneath it. It doesn’t seem like judgment, or suspicion, or any of the other reactions he’s come to expect when discussing his reliance on the statements. It’s definitely not fear; this is Georgie. Pity, maybe?

Whatever it is, it makes him feel small and exposed and uncomfortably seen.

“Jon, look at me.” He does, with hesitation. “I know things are bad, and I’ll admit I was skeptical when you first said you wanted to change, but based on what I’ve seen over the past few months? I believe in you. It’s okay to have a little faith in yourself, too. I think you’ll need to, if you want to get through this.”

His gaze drifts to the floor, self-conscious.

“Anyway, it's probably best that Elias doesn’t see us pre-screening statements for you, right? Might make him suspicious. I can just gather a box of them and bring them down here. I’ll bring Basira with me, and we can explain the situation.” She stands and starts to walk toward the ladder, then stops abruptly. “Wait.”

She does a half-turn, not quite facing him, watching the floor pensively.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for. Is there something particular – like, do you have preferences, or – are there… nutritional requirements or something?” Jon can’t help it; he smiles at the absurdity of it all. “Do you need variety? Does a balanced diet even apply in this –”

Realizing he isn’t replying to any of her questions, she finally looks up, sees his amused smirk, and pauses mid-flustered gesture. He chuckles softly and shakes his head, mortified by the idea of cultivating a preference for statements as if choosing from a menu, but also just a bit shamefully, morbidly endeared at her thoughtfulness.

“Well, I don’t know!” she says indignantly, but she grins back. “Fine. I’ll grab a bunch at random then, and you can just deal. Ass.”

God, he missed this easy, playful banter even more than he had realized.

Jon watches as she climbs the ladder, preparing for the customary anxiety that tends to hit him whenever she leaves his presence – that conviction that it will be the last he sees of her.

When she pulls herself up through the trapdoor, though, he’s pleasantly surprised to note that the fear doesn’t come. He’s even more surprised that a half-hour later, when Georgie sends Basira with a box of statements but doesn’t accompany her, the fear still doesn’t overwhelm him. It shouldn’t be that surprising – he does trust Georgie – but intellectually understanding something isn’t the same as emotionally assimilating it. It seems that for once, his emotions have caught up with reality.

“Melanie needs company right now, so Georgie couldn’t come with. She didn't say exactly what you needed help with, but I think I have an idea.”

“…to keep an eye on the statements –”

“– they were also there as a backup in case something went horribly wrong.”

“Figured as much. Anyway, Georgie said she’ll come see you before she goes home today.” Basira drops the box on the floor in front of him. “I told her you probably wouldn’t want her present for the statements anyway. No need to expose more people to them if we can help it. I thought you’d agree.”

Jon nods, thankful that Basira is on the same page and he didn’t have to bother explaining it himself.

“So, any stand out to you?”

May as well get it over with, Jon thinks with a heavy sigh.

He leans over the box and sifts through them, eyes skimming over the case numbers until one catches his eye. CASE #0020312, the label reads. Figures, he thinks to himself with a grim, humorless smile, and he hands it over to Basira for her to inspect.

She skims through it quickly – she’s a fast reader, Jon notes – and at several points her eyebrows raise and furrow.

“Seems normal enough – for a statement, anyway,” she says, handing it back to him. Then, meeting his eyes: “A bit on the nose, though.” Jon shrugs. “You want me to stay while you read it, right? Go on, then.”

The tape recorder clicks on in his pocket, as if to voice its agreement. Jon removes it and takes a moment to glare at it before turning his eyes to the statement, clearing his throat, and beginning his monologue.

“Statement of Tova McHugh, regarding their string of near-death experiences. Original statement given December 3rd, 2002. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Statement begins…”

The Coffin sits where Breekon dropped it, hungry and waiting. It’s the densest, most solid thing in the room, as if it has its own gravity, a sort of metaphysical black hole. It’s not as bad as the rift at Hill Top Road, but it has a similar feel to it: oppressive, wrong, its existence impossible but unavoidably present all the same.

Jon stands at the threshold, blocking the entrance, Basira and Georgie standing behind him.

“So this is it, then,” Georgie says. “You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

“…as you can imagine, getting out of there proved – difficult –”

“– but they did return.”

She still looks uncertain, watching the Coffin as if it might move on its own.

“…try to keep you far away –”

“– didn’t want a good look inside that room – stopped at the threshold –”

“– make it very little distance over the threshold before – swallowed –”

“– you must trust me on that and not come looking –”

“– supervise from a distance –”

“Jon,” Basira says, cutting him off, “we get it. It’s dangerous, stay away, et cetera. I can feel the compulsion from here; you really don’t need to tell me twice, let alone five times.”

Jon barely hears her, his mind already entirely occupied with what he’s about to do. He stands paralyzed, knees locked, hands trembling just slightly, pulse thundering in his throat. Already his breath feels constricted, and he hasn’t even opened the thing yet.

“Do you need more time?” Georgie asks gently.

Jon shuts his eyes, swallows around the lump in his throat, and shakes his head no. The longer he puts it off, the harder it will be to take the plunge. And Daisy has waited long enough.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Jon breathes out, opens his eyes, and turns to face her. She opens her arms slightly, offering an embrace – but he shakes his head, giving her an apologetic look. Pressure is usually good, grounding him, but right now – well, he’s about to have all of creation pressing in on him, and any reminder of that is only going to send him spiraling.

“Okay. You have everything you need?”

He nods, trying to project whatever thin veneer of confidence he can muster – more for himself than the others, really. He holds up the tape recorder with Daisy’s statement tape in it, then gestures vaguely at the tape recorders littering his desk.

“…like breadcrumbs taking us home. Home, in this case, was –”

“Martin,” Georgie says with a knowing smile. “I’ll make sure he gets your message – and yes,” she says, seeing him about to interject, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t read it outside the tunnels. And I’ll explain… the situation. Don’t worry about things over here. Just focus on what you need to do on your end.”

Jon nods again, clenching and unclenching his fist at his side, stuffing the tape recorder back into his pocket with the other hand.

Time to stop dithering, he tells himself firmly.

“Tell Daisy I –” Basira blurts out, then pauses, struggling for words. “Tell her…”

She breathes out a short exhale and looks up at Jon. He nods at her: I understand.

“Tell her I’m waiting.” She pauses, biting her lip. “And Jon?” He makes a questioning noise. “Come back safe,” she says, then turns on her heel and walks briskly away down the hall.

“We’ll see you home soon, Jon,” Georgie says. She pours every ounce of reassurance into it that she can manage, but he can feel that she’s still apprehensive. “Don’t get lost.”

“…I’d – get out of there as soon as possible,” he says, trying to mirror her composure.

“You’d better. I doubt I’ll be the only one cross with you if you stay away too long.”

The tape recorders fill the room with a low, static-leaden murmuring – dozens of overlapping tones, unbroken streams of phonemes rendered nearly incomprehensible, discrete parts unable to compete against the cacophony of the whole. Although it sounds like the background noise of a crowd to Jon, he Knows every word being said: a litany of horror and dread unspooling in the air around him.

He also Knows that they will continue running, replaying each statement on a loop until he returns, no batteries required.

A notebook sits on his desk, battered and careworn. It’s Martin’s, half-filled with poems and works-in-progress, many of them from the weeks he was living in the Archives. He left it here when he went to work for Peter. Whether it was meant as a deliberate symbolic gesture – leaving the past behind him, sacrificing this sentimental part of himself in order to become what Peter’s plan required him to be – or was simply an oversight after months of having no time or mind for writing, Jon still doesn’t Know. He never asked. In the future, after Martin started writing again, Jon felt it was best not to reopen old wounds for the sake of satiating his own curiosity.

If only he could have learned that lesson earlier in life.

Jon has never been a fan of poetry. It’s never really resonated with him; he’s never understood it, and he… doesn’t have much patience for things he cannot understand. But then, Martin went to work for Peter Lukas – and the last time Jon was here, he had burned every other bridge between himself and humanity.

When he was a child, he had convinced himself that he didn’t need friends, didn’t need affection. He found human connection in books, and he told himself that it was enough. It wasn’t, in retrospect: he entered adolescence and then adulthood with stunted social skills, and practicing didn't seem worth the risk of failure. Between that and being the Archivist, it was no wonder he had chased everyone away.

By the time he woke up from his first coma, he knew that books would be no replacement for actual companionship, but he thought it might at least take the edge off, like it used to when he was a child. It backfired terribly. He would always Know how the story ended before even finishing the first chapter, and it would demolish any motivation to continue reading. It wasn’t just that his reading habits now tend to be as particular as they were when he was young, having little patience for anything that felt like he had read it before. It was that he couldn’t have a moment of peace from the knowledge of what he had become.

One day he stumbled across Martin’s notebook in Document Storage, along with some spoken word recordings that Martin had made while living in the Archives. At first, Jon didn’t know what the tapes were, and listening to any tapes that turned up had long since become automatic for him. Once he realized what was on them, he probably should have stopped, but he listened to every second of that handful of tapes, over and over and over again. He felt guilty – he had already violated Martin’s privacy once before, when he was deep in the throes of paranoia – but he justified it to himself because he… well, he'd needed to hear Martin’s voice.

The poetry was… well, Jon still didn’t get it, not really. But he found himself liking it anyway, because it was Martin’s voice and Martin’s words and Martin’s story, and Jon didn’t have to understand it for it to have meaning and value and warmth. He should have been content with the tapes, but he kept stealing glances at the notebook, itching to open it and start reading. Part of it was that simple curiosity that was always leading him astray, but for once, that wasn’t the loudest part of him.

It wasn’t a need to Know. It was a need for closeness.

So, he pushed that guilty voice in his head aside and… he read. Unlike the fiction stories he had been trying to lose himself in, he never once Knew anything about a poem before he finished reading it. He rarely Knew anything about it even after reading it, and then rereading it, and then rereading it again. For the first time in his life, not having answers was… refreshing. Freeing, even.

It didn’t take long for Jon to memorize every word, cover to cover – and he never grew bored of them, despite their familiarity.

Gingerly, almost reverently, Jon turns the pages. There are a handful of poems in here about him, and even now, indelibly etched into his memory, reading them on the page still makes him feel seen in a way that is all at once terrifying and comforting. Affecting, certainly, but in a way he could appreciate, once he gave it a chance.

You’re stalling, Jon tells himself, closing the notebook and placing one last tape on top of it.

He closes his eyes and forces himself to take several deep breaths – it’s the last chance he’ll have for the next few days – and he checks his pocket for the tape recorder with Daisy’s statement in it. Pointless, really; he already Knows it’s there, same as it was the last dozen times he checked.

Swallowing hard, he finally turns to look at the Coffin. The moment he lays eyes on it, the static rises in his mind.

Oh, shut up, Jon thinks tiredly. The Dread Powers are like cats yowling at overflowing food bowls, insisting that they haven’t had supper yet. At least cats are endearing. The Fears are noisy and intrusive with none of the charm. You’re all so goddamn needy, you know that?

The Coffin carries on, and Jon rolls his eyes. Wrapping himself in annoyance does little to drown out the fear, but it offers a slight buffer. He’ll take it.

You’re still stalling, he reprimands himself.

With trembling hands he picks up the key, fits it into the lock… and he opens the lid. It lifts easily with only a slight creak, no heft or resistance to it: it wants to be opened, like so many of the other hungry doors lurking around this world, bear traps and snares and spiderwebs all lying in wait for somebody foolish and curious enough to ignore all the alarm bells for just one… peek… inside.

Knock-knock, comes the intrusive thought.

Shut up, Jon shoots back.

The tape recorder clicks on, whirring impatiently in his pocket, as if to urge him onward.

You too, he snaps – but as much as his knee-jerk impulse is to be contrary, he has put this off long enough.

Jon steels himself, takes one last deep breath – savoring fresh air, full lungs, airways clear of dirt and grime and debris – and he begins his descent.

Martin is in Peter’s office, tending to some tedious administrative tasks. His brain feels fuzzy, thoughts sluggish and stunted from the lack of stimulation. The tick-tock of the wall clock drones on and on. He’s considered removing the batteries, but it’s the only company he’s had in days. Complete silence might be worse. Besides, the longer he sits here, the less and less the noise scrapes against the edges of his consciousness – and even when it does penetrate the fog filling his head, he can’t bring himself to care.

If Peter intends for the monotony to highlight his isolation and desensitize him to the absence of… well, everything, it’s working.

Then, between one moment and the next, there’s a shift. It crashes into him, tears through the quiet, and the world around him comes rushing back in, a sharp and blinding and cacophonous flood of sensory input.

There’s a palpable void where one shouldn’t be, and he knows with certainty that it’s distinct from the general sense of absence that he’s grown accustomed to over the past few months. The Lonely feels soft, quiet, gentle – natural, like a cocoon tailored specifically for him. This feels like a knife to the gut, a gaping wound, alarm bells screaming in his mind that something is wrong, wrong, wrong –

“Something’s happened,” he says to himself. He flinches at the sound. It’s jarring, hearing his own voice, raspy as it is with disuse.

Before he even realizes that he’s moving, he’s out of the office and hurrying down the hallway, not bothering to close the door behind him.

“Jon,” he whispers with a passion and urgency that feels alien to him now, thoughts no longer muffled and detached. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does: Jon’s done something drastic, and given his track record, it can’t be good.

The only thought running through his mind is Jon, playing on a loop like a stuck tape; like the nervous stammering of the person he used to be, intimidated by and enamored with the man in equal measure; like a – like a prayer: Jon.

Martin picks up his pace, making a beeline for the Archives.

End Notes:

The Buried, Round Two: BEGIN.

I might not have much free time to write this weekend, so the next chapter probably won't be ready until next weekend at least. It will have some Martin POV though, FINALLY. This story hasn't had enough Martin screentime yet and that is entirely a hell of my own making, but I WILL remedy it. Also: ACTUAL DAISY CONTENT SOON, I SWEAR.

Citations for Jon's letter to Martin are as follows: MAG 040; 112/007/029/102; 007/150; 020/019; 150; 013; 135; 048/144/007/021; 021; 013/002/032/147/153/013; 161/091/101/089/135; 048/028/067/013; 143/150/008/013; 135/048/009; 013; 150; 013/117; 085/052; 063/124; 123; 011; 123/133; 070/154/123; 133/019/036/011; 094/088; 075; 135; 127; 124/157/050/157/130; 143/107/012/056; 122/012/057; 013; 145/121; 150; 042; 042; 032; 037/136/110; 152/008/101/153/032/129/153; 117/155/013/155; 133/112/152/154/013/051/049.

Citations for Jon's dialogue are as follows, broken down by section: Section 1: MAG 064; 019; 138/139; 019; 058; 148; 121/014/089; 066/135; 043; 096; 138/060/154/060/113/017/005/116/121; 054/022/054/147; 057/091; 155. Section 2: 150/096; 095/006/023/157/139; 125; 047. Section 3: None. Section 4: None.

The cited dialogue between Peter and Martin is from MAG 126. And it probably goes without saying but the Jonah/Elias statement quote is from MAG 160.

As always, you can also just ask if you want to know where a particular line comes from. c:

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #long post #tma spoilers

36 notes · View notes

anaryllis · 4 years ago

Note

to me it feels like some bi and lesbian people were attempting to reunify the community that was originally split bc terfs wanted to remove any possibility of trans women being in the space.

tw for overt discussion of transmisogynistic ideas / obligatory im tme disclaimer so take it with a grain of salt

yea ive heard ppl talk abt that as far as identifying the split where it happened - including transmisogyny and other political contexts of the time that im nowhere near an authority on. i am familiar w the way bi & lesbian used to not b so divided and am generally speaking a proponent of prioritizing shared history in this regard (for instance butch/femme predates this split and so i think the inherent exclusion of bi women from it is absurd)

i still dont know if “bi lesbian” as a term is the best approach to healing this divide tho - because i dont think “bi” and “lesbian” being words with separate meanings is necessarily bad, theyre just more specific. i do think a lot of the sharp divide that persists today is tied to that root u mentioned - which includes transphobia and biphobia. so generally speaking i do prefer things that treat bi women & lesbians under the same umbrella. personally i prefer sapphic as the overlap term, or wlw as well. basically: i find “bi lesbian” as a term inaccurate & unnecessary but i also think the harsh response to it is often indicative of other attitudes that i dont agree with

that said re: transmisogyny: as an approach today i also dont know if centering this concern around trans women - especially if its fronted by largely tme ppl - is really great either. its true that the transmisogynistic argument at the root of a lot of these issues is “lesbians cant be attracted to trans women because i, a transmisogynist, see trans women as men” and from there including a general disdain for bi women as well. but i think arguing back to that with “lesbians CAN be attracted to men actually” really... misses the point imo. lesbians, as in women only attracted to women, can be with trans women, can be trans women, because trans women are women full-stop. the bi qualifier is unnecessary. addressing the residual biphobia with transphobic roots is important as well, but i just dont think this is the way to do it. does that make sense?

#ask to tag #transmisogyny -#biphobia -#Anonymous

5 notes · View notes

snowtimeisbesttime · 4 years ago

Text

Thoughts and questions on Hiveswap Act 2– Part 1.

**DISCLAIMER** I haven't played through the entire game yet! I got to the intermission in the whole trial thingy, and will continue tomorrow! Therefore, I Am Not Looking at anything yet, only posting. I'll probably come back and edit this once I've actually finished the game.

-Did the default names for Xefros & Dammek's lusii change?? I loaded my Act 1 save, and I'm sure they had their default names (Zoosmell and Cornibuster) there, though I'm also pretty sure i accidentally unlocked the “name the lusii” achievement on that save by clicking on the text windows without actually changing their names so... Dammek's lusus is called Toothy now i guess?

-On that note, if Xefros' lusus died I'm going to fucking scream. Even though I'm pretty sure we've barely seen him on screen since like the end of Act 1 but Regardless.

-We see Charun's cave, and it turns out they were neighbours with Zebede all this time, but they're nowhere to be seen at the train?? unless they grabbed an earlier one... Charun did get a death flag the size of the pacific ocean, when interacting with their weird sculpture with a lot of legs and arms surrounding a mouth, but Zebede's just gone without a trace? The bees are gone and there's a hole in the side of his hive, but his lusus doesn't seem to be particularly upset? And neither is Charun's, assuming that huge bug near the cave is their lusus. (Idarat the canon fantroll #3 doesn't appear at the train either, but that's probably for the same reason there aren't any jade or teal background characters: to keep the court scene neat)

-The drones are supposed to be en route to the station, supposedly to fix the ticket machines but probably to cull whoever tripped the alarm on them... i sure hope they don't follow the train or anything orz

-Mostly everyone seems to resemble their respective Friendsims, more or less:

Fozzer appears to be scratched still, yet more philosophical. Also he's not in the train either.

Folykl seems just a touch friendlier than in her friendsim (and Kuprum's still just as hyped about becoming a helmsman as before, even if he seems to know more details about it now).

Chixie's more anxious, probably because it seems she's been doing stuff as The Mask for a while now, and she's going to fuck shit up at Jeevik Week. She says she's not alone in that, and considering it's apparently confirmed that the random troll from her good end Was Dammek all this time... is she also actively in the rebellion? Also is it just me or does her sprite look somewhat scribblier than everyone else's? Even the background characters??

Elwurd's pretty much the same, and it does seem her flirting with Joey was mostly to try and get her to buy something. Also... if her fake tickets were so good, why didn't she just use them, instead of giving them to Joey and Xefros? Like, I get Marvus and Boldir Knowing Stuff, but her?

Zebruh's paying attention to Marvus instead of Chixie, which. Small mercies. He's still a dick, and we're still doing the whole “clowns are peak oppressed” thing.

Marvus seems to still be perfectly nice to the main characters, and perfectly willing to let other people die in order to help them advance (getting Zebruh to sign up for Slam or Get Culled, Daraya if you fuck up in the trial thing, Hopefully Not Any More Cases...) He is helping Tyzias out with her defensive legislaceration experiments, though, and basically everyone who isn't Joey seems to think he might flip his shit and murder someone, as clowns do. At least people don’t seem to lose their minds around him anymore.

Vikare's basically the same, but Joey immediately picks up on his Jake Vibes and instinctively dislikes him.

Diemen eats people???????? as in, actively????????? wtf?????????

Skylla seems to be pretty much the same, but she's obviously worried because Ladyy's sick!! God I fucking hope we do get to help her out before the end of the game.

Marsti's also friendlier than she was in her volume, though I remember MSPAR was particularly prone to sticking their foot in their mouth in that one.

Cirava's surprisingly more trusting than they were in their volume (and also, their eye's light green and not teal). Also, apparently they gouged their other eye out on stream?????? as in live???? besides that, good to see not All of the powerful psionics get succesfully indoctrinated.

Polypa's also rather willing to help out, though we still don't know what the heck happened to her.

Boldir's suitably mysterious, and probably also involved with the rebellion... she does call Xefros “burgundy figurehead”.

Konyyl and Azdaja are still having relationship stuffs, but in the end they clearly care the most about each other. (he still doesn't seem to give a fuck about helm stuffs so far?) The question is, who exactly were they hunting down??

The jades and the teals are basically the same as their Friendsim incarnations, as far as I've seen. The one major change to the jades (besides jade lore which i'll discuss further down) seems to be that hatched2dance is now one of the biggest reasons for their fights, and Bronya does get a crunchy bit of Backstory (the jade from her past that got culled because of the Rainbow Hemotions saga, which is also the reason she's so hard on Daraya now)

On the teals, Stelsa and Tyzias seem to have a teensy bit of quadrant vacillation going on?? Tirona seems to be more focused on becoming a history revisionist than a memeagandist now, and it would also seem that Tegiri's the one into vampires now (or at least, Tagora's better at hiding it And a lot better at not getting involved with the whole mess that is whatever the heck the jades are doing)

-Psionics can have single-colored eyes!! tbh we'd already seen this back in Tegiri's route in Friendsim but it's good to Actually See it visually.

-Also, nice to see that Xefros *can* go toe to toe with the strongest psionic we know in all of Hiveswap! (95% sure that I've seen someone theorize something like this might happen?? I personally wasn't expecting it here but anyways Xefros you're doing amazing sweetie) What's not so nice is that he's only shown this strength when Azdaja hurt Joey (as far as i've played of course)... so unless he like unlocks his potential or something so he can do Big Psychics without seeing his friends get hurt beforehand we're in for some Angst.

-Also if Marvus got his ticket from Cridea (and Chixie won hers in like a raffle or something) then why couldn't she have given Xefros and Dammek some?? like, Dammek's been to one Jeevik Week already. Fiamet also told her about Joey, but by then they were already in the train.

-Me: Xefros' microphone's going to be important in act 2! Also me: *has to give it to fucking Zebruh to get his ticket*. Oh well, that's one thing for the Second Playthrough of Achievement Getting (plus: wearing the cone horns, having Joey introduce herself to Boldir, getting through the whole ace attorney segment without game overs...)

-We get the Quadrant Explanation #1000, sans auspisticism.

-It's vaguely implied that Dammek has also read some Soldier Purrbeasts books?? He's told Xefros the whole “death creates a bond deeper than matespritship or kismessisitude” thing, apparently! So if he's not secretly into troll warrior cats then. That sentence's more than mildly worrying??

-JADEBLOOD LOREDUMP PART THE NTEENTH: Okay first of all it's implied that More cloisters exist? Which in retrospect is pretty much obvious because you can't expect only six trolls to take care of All the troll grubs in existence. Also, the reason jades can't sneak out of the caverns anymore is “because they get Drone'd”, and it seems to be implied that they Can't go out At All*, which kinda contrasts with Friendsim (where literally all the jades snuck out of the caverns at least once: Lanque, Daraya and Wanshi in their own routes, Lynera in Vol 18, and Bronya in Vols 6 & 18). One of their tasks seems to be guarding Forbidden Literature, and Xefros states that they either cull or indoctrinate the most powerful psychic grubs.

-It's also stated that all of our jades were chosen for the cloister when they were basically wrigglers, while Lynera states in Friendsim that she's only been 2,43 sweeps in the caverns. (Considering Bronya's new backstory, it seems that capability to become a rainbow drinker ISN'T the qualifying factor for getting cloistered– depending on how exactly that jade died). It comes to mind that regular, non-cloistered jades might not really know about all these logistics, as it seems that at least Bronya wants to keep them secret– and therefore I don't have to go back and re-rewrite yet another chunk of Mirrorbent orz.

-Lastly, Xefros says they will all become nuns (btw, space church was mentioned in Lanque's route!) when they reach their Ordeals, and we already knew they'd be forced to live in isolation from Friendsim, but during the ace attorney thingy Lynera says she's NOT going to leave the planet because she'll become a midwife and tend to the Mother Grub (basically what we all thought jadebloods did back when we only had the ancestor stuff on Homestuck)... but either Daraya or Lanque told her that they weren't real? So either there's more jade propaganda that we didn't know about, or...

-*The one exception to this is, coincidentally, Jeevik Week, and it's apparently because Trizza herself made it so jades could go too, 3 or 4 sweeps before Hiveswap... why's that? What's so important about Jeevik Week that Trizza would do this? Iirc Cridea and Trizza were sort of set up as opposing forces (?? words), all the way back from the first bunch of concept arts we saw of them? The first thing we learnt from Trizza was that she was the “second best at memes”, and on Cridea's first appearance, when troll twitter was still Prongle, she said that some chick was stealing her memes... and now, Cridea has exactly one follower less than Trizza, who everyone in Alternia's forced to follow... would that person be the heiress herself?

#hiveswap #hiveswap spoilers #hiveswap theories #joey claire #xefros tritoh #thoughts and questions #long post #no really this got Long #idk how much of the game this covers tbh #and i will find out Tomorrow

10 notes · View notes