#and like. no matter how much of civilization is collapsing around you time is still time. the seasons are constant

[incomingalbatross]

I just don't believe in a societal collapse dramatic enough to make humans reset the calendar to count from it.

[vio-starzz]

Febuwhump Day 3, “bite down on this”

Aaaaaaa, shortest one???

Characters: Legend, Warriors, Wild & mention of some, the others! Tw: Swearing, violence, blood, injury

Ao3 Link!

»§«

The sun was slowly setting below the trees, yet still, the heroes had yet to find a safe place to camp, and there was no sense of civilization nearby. They had been walking all day, fighting enemies, and trying to keep casualties low as they ran out of potions.

Legend cursed when Time said they had to keep walking. his legs hurt like ass, and fucken Hylia be damned, he does not wanna keep walking. 

Yet, he’s not about to have someone carry him. 

So instead, sucking it up, he keeps walking with the group. Or, trying his best to hide their limp that slowly becomes more noticeable if they aren’t paying close enough attention.

They know Wild and Four have taken notice to it, but neithers said anything yet, knowing Legend doesn’t want to draw that much attention.

As they continued, the sun no longer up— the moon took its course, while they all trailed deep within a lush forest. 

Most of the path was overgrown, and it was hard as they searched around for hopefully a place to camp: as Legend hadn’t yet complained, but Wind did- and it was clear everyone’s tired from the long, restless day.

Of course, taking a break had to be in the most stenchful place ever, which just reeks of some awful smell, but… That’s what they get for only being able to find somewhere near a monster camp.

Hyrule and Wild took great pleasure in killing the enemies there… As mortified Wars looked when they were done, that was the best time ever for them…. No matter how even Time opened both eyes to look shocked. 

The rest of the night was pretty relaxed and caming, as Wild cooked up some various curries, depending on people’s taste buds, and generally everyone called an early night, since the quickest way to get moving again was to sleep through this all, and get everything over with.

Legend woke up later on, having said they’d do the second watch, and right as they wake— Sky collapses, clearly having had the most boring watch ever in their time, or, just being exhausted and tired from the lack of sleep. 

Poor guy, he’s got the worst insomnia of them all so it’s no doubt they took the first shift.

They get up, surveying the area, hoping to not have to do much….

The leaves crunch and crush beneath their feet as they strive through and around, making sure to stay close and pay attention to their surroundings.

With no sound, warning, or snarl; They’re brought to their ass by some sharp stabbing pain in their leg. Something sinks its teeth deep within the hero's calf, causing them to let out a shriek of pain as they felt the teeth latch onto bone.

Pain seared through their body and everything became panicked as they tried to escape this thing's teeth, yet it yanked back hard, ripping skin off and started tugging on their leg, as if to take it away. 

There was blood everywhere, and this god awful thing kept snarling as it pulled harder and Legend let out a scream or agony, louder than before. 

They were trying so hard to turn around and face this thing, their leg felt as if every muscle was being torn off and devoured. 

They tried to swing their sword to get this thing away, but they couldn’t. More skin is torn off, as this creature wants Legends bones so fucking badly, the pain is unbearable, and just as they think its never going to end— The creatures suddenly torn apart from a swift and clean cut from a blade. 

Its mouth no longer dug within the Veteran's calf, as Warriors quickly pulled the creature's carcass away, making sure to stab the head of… Whatever mutilated creature it is, before moving to inspect the injury… Letting out a not so subtle— 

“Shit.”

Legend, while gritting their teeth in agony, losing blood quickly and clearly not able to ignore their brothers response—

“What the fuck do you mean—SHIT!?”

“…This wound..It’s bad.”

“WELL NO SHIT!!!!”

As bitchy as they may seem, Legend’s in pain, tired, and not feeling very communicative: They’re going to swear all they want… But seriously why does he have to point out the obvious….

“We don’t have potions, Hyrule isn’t awake and doesn’t even have the magic to fully heal you…. Legend: I know you’re gonna hate me for this, but I have to fix this.”

Wait.

“Nonono— You are not sedating me to fix this. Hell no, any other option.”

“I… could do… I could do it while you're awake, but…”

“I don’t care how painful, you are not…. Not fucken…”

They trail off, the pain is awful, and the wounds still bleeding badly, hell the pain seems far worse now, but although they hadn’t realized— The captains putting pressure on the wound, or, hell he’s doing something to prevent Leg from bleeding out in this situation. 

Wild comes up, holding Wars bag, dropping off their stuff, and handing Legend a….Stick…?

“Why…?”

“You’re gonna need to bite down on that.”

Wars responds calmy, pulling out his stuff, and finally now being prepared…

“I am not—“

Without warning, Wild shoves the stick into their mouth, and Wars gets to work. Needless to say, they did bite down…. Hard.

[gffa]

I felt about about looking up the ending for Death’s End before finishing these last 200 pages of the book, but I was so desperate to know where all of this was going, and I felt bad about that at first, like I’d ruined the surprise for myself.  But as I’m still going through these final chapters, I’m gaining a new appreciation for the decision. I don’t think it would have worked to look it up before I read the book ahead of time, I had to experience the majority of the story without expectations, and maybe it would have been even better had I stuck to that.  But I’m gaining a new appreciation for what this series does, why it had to be told the way it was, why all these big and small desperate choices being made all along the way. SPOILERS FOR THE THREE-BODY PROBLEM SERIES BEYOND THIS POINT.

I’m at the point where Cao Bin is taking Cheng Xin on a tour and they’ve gotten to Lightspeed II, which is empty and utterly eerie for it, because the flickering light is spooky as hell.  Turns out, it’s the space dust falling into a black hole that’s 5km away, just a tiny one, is what’s making it like this--and it’s connected to the research into the Black Domain project, where they would create a black hole to lower the speed of light in the Solar System so they would no longer be a threat. And it struck me.  That’s it, that’s what this whole story is about. All these civilizations just like humanity, desperately looking for a way to just survive, being forced into this warfare for existence, so they create black holes to show that they can never escape their own system and won’t be a threat, and it rips apart the fabric of the galaxy just a little more.  Or every time an advanced civilization comes along and will annihilate them by destroying the plane of existence they live unless they re-engineer themselves to be able to live in one lower dimension, which rips apart another layer of the universe. I spent so much of this book wondering if humanity would find a way to stand with the other titans of the galaxy, if their ability to learn these concepts within mere centuries would save them, if they could learn to navigate the higher dimensions, if they would learn how to create light-speed travel, etc.  And that’s it, that’s the trap!  Every step they take, whether it makes them more powerful or deliberately handicaps them, whether they do it to themselves or another civilization does it to them, it’s another step on changing the fabric of the universe, until it rips another dimension away, until it lowers the speed of light in the galaxy, until eventually the whole thing is going to collapse everywhere. Knowing the end of the story, knowing where all of this is going, adds another layer of horror to that tiny little black hole off the side of Lightspeed II, one that’s not necessarily affecting anything, other than people can’t live here, but it slammed into me everything else that’s been going on, everything humanity has been desperately trying to achieve to save themselves, and all of it, all of it, is just helping bring their own eventual death on, because that’s the trap.  If you leave everything alone, others will kill you.  If you handicap yourself, you’re destroying the galaxy around you.  If you keep progressing, you’re ripping into the fabric of the universe.  There was never any way out of this, once you cross a certain threshold of progress. It’s chilling, but I can’t say it’s without hope.  The universe doesn’t have to be forever for it to be worth something, all those lives that lived their time in the ways they could, all the people that got to experience things or had their friends and family around them, that still mattered, even when the bigger picture was much darker. I think I’m glad I knew the ending exactly where I did, it helped me articulate a lot of the feelings I had about the series, and I gained a hell of an appreciation for why it was structured the way it was.  Every step of the way was an illustration of why the universe is the way it is, goddamn.

[eamonorus-blog]

Why TLOU2 fails as a morality tale.

Ok, it may feel like it's not necessary in order to talk about tlou2, but I want to talk about the first game first. Specifically, the ways in which it fails to be realistic, but why that isn't important in the same way the failure of the sequel to be realistic is.

Obviously, stories in any medium feature impossible scenarios, contrivances and fantastical elements all the time, and they don't have to ruin the story. They can either have a minor negative effect, or in fact be part of the appeal.

So, I feel like I have to explain why the way that tlou2 is unrealistic is a problem first, and a great case study of the opposite is the first game.

tlou follows in the footsteps of many tropes from the post-apoc genre. Most notably for my discussion, in the way the world is populated by hordes of kill crazed bandits.

To a degree, this is the inevitable nature of the medium. tlou is a third-person shooter, so it needs a lot of hostiles, and hordes of vicious killers with a bad sense of self-preservation are a great way to add that.

But I think there is more to it than that. Cormac Mcarthy's The Road has the same set up. As does the Fallout series. So, I think this is more a matter of genre convention than medium convention. Plenty of games are just about killing zombies, so there is no reason that the killing of human enemies couldn't be very limited or non-existent.

And why is this a problem? This is a problem because its not how people would really behave.

Of course, I don't know that for certain, but I think I have a good argument to make. The world of tlou is a pre-industrial society basically, and we know what those would be like. We can look at all of human history. And what we see is conflict, sure, but not just hordes of angry bandits without women and children that they look after.

Its human nature to fight, but its also human nature to cooperate and breed. The all male groups of criminals who focus on material possessions are not the natural outgrowth of a collapse of civilisation, but instead its continuation.

We ascribe the presence of sadistic Mad Max style raider gangs to the post-apocalypse because that is the kind of social ill that actually plagues us in the here and now, in our modern world. In the presence of urban gangs, motorbike gangs, etc…

Even if you look at African modern civil wars with child soldiers, those conflicts are still based around racial and tribal loyalties which distinguish them from the multi-racial rootless gang which tends to predominate in post apocalyptic fiction.

In the first game the biggest culprit here is the Pittsburgh group, with their lack of women and children, and hence any wider society that they are fighting for, and their total lack of regard for their own lives in chasing after Joel no matter how many of them die.

In the modern overpopulated world, life is cheap. Whether we are talking about gang warfare or full scale conflict. But in a post-apocalyptic setting people would be risk averse, respectful, and would only resort to violence as a final choice.

Steppe pastoralists like the Mongols, Scythians, Turks, etc… who had a low population and lived in vast nearly uninhabited wildernesses tended to adopt fighting styles that minimised casualties as much as possible.

And people living in a wasteland caused by some apocalyptic event would act in the same way. They wouldn't attack a stranger for no reason, if only to avoid entangling themselves in conflict, with another tribe who would seek revenge. Ofc course, like I said, conflict would still exist over territory, resources, women, etc…

But it wouldn't be the way it is shown to be in tlou.

But why is this not that much of a problem in my opinion? For starters, one of the central themes of tlou in regard to violence is that we all just do what we have to to survive. That that is what drives conflict. And that is what David uses to justify his actions, and what Joel does to.

So the game is diagnosing the way conflict works correctly, even if the gameplay is doing a bit of a sloppy job of getting that across.

But the main reason why it works is because the game ends with Joel choosing to sacrifice hope for a cure to save Ellie. By doing this the game would have us believe he is dooming humanity as a whole to more suffering, but what has the game shown us humanity consists of?

Certainly not the tough and brutal but nonetheless sympathetic and rational people who would really exist in such a world.

Instead it would be to save a bunch of trigger happy fascist police, a whole city of murderous bandits, random bandits who attack people trying to rebuild society, and a bunch of cannibals lead by a pedophile.

Yeah, no thanks.

Sure we meet some good people, and we like Jackson, but if we got a broader sense that humanity as a whole consisted of decent people who would really benefit from the cure, we might feel a bit differently about Joels decision. As it is, we have Tess, Sam and Henry die as a consequence of being bitten, and that's sad, but still, thats already happened and cant be changed.

Having the world of tlou be more realistic would make how we feel about Joels choice more complicated, and I dont think it would make the game worse, but as it is the games failing in this way just makes us sympathise with his decision even more.

So the game is actually leading us into being ok with the ending.

If we never met any hostile humans, just helpful kind people who are desperate to avoid being infected and need whatever help they can get, who are traumatized by losing loved ones to infection, we would feel quite differently about Joels final decision. In that hypothetical situation, making the world unrealistically OPTIMISTIC about how humans would behave in the post apocalypse, as opposed to PESSIMISTIC, would hurt the story, since it would lead Joel to seem more villainous and unjustified.

So, with that extended preamble out of the way, let me explain why lack of realism hurting the story is exactly what happens with tlou2

First off, tlou2 fixes the problem I mentioned in tlou. In the sense that the rabid, mad max style, casualty careless, all male bandit groups of the first game are gone.

Instead we have group conflict happening between rational, capable societies that fight each other over land, resources, normal stuff, stuff that makes sense.

This is a good thing as far as it goes, but unfortunately this increased realism is countermanded at every turn.

Lets start with the opening, with Abby leading the Salt Lake crew to Jackson to kill Joel. Right away we have serious issues.

As I just laid out, in the real world people fight each other over resources, land, women, stuff that really matters. And they fight on behalf of a broader group/society.

Even the modern criminal groups I mentioned beforehand do this for the most part. Sure, lone vengeance killing unrelated to a wider societal enemy or resources do happen, like with the few famous cases of parents who have killed someone who raped or killed their child before they could be sentenced.

But even that is very rare. FAR more common is revenge killings in the context of a gang war over territory. Which mimics the historical pattern of conflicts over history I have mentioned before. When people seek vengeance over a murdered parent, historically that is within the context of their parents' killer being a part of a group their tribe/society is at war with. If the killing is within their own society in most cases, there are social mechanisms to get justice.

By which I mean that the vengeace, while a very real motivator, is actually given the ooomph to be carried out because it serves the wider purpose of fighting your societies enemies.

We see this in tlou2 with the way Isaac talks about the back-and-forth conflict with the Seraphites. That is an example of a realistic conflict leading to realistic revenge being sought by both parties. The fight is actually over ideology, territory, etc… The vengeance is just a factor that comes out as the conflict escalates.

Let me reiterate, human beings are risk averse, and are only usually willing to resort to violence to defend their people, and/or for a big material benefit.

And Abbys quest for revenge has none of these factors. Joel was a lone individual. He isn't a member of a group the Fireflies have a vested interest in fighting, or who will continue to be a threat to them. Ideologically it would make sense for them to go after him to get Ellie, but the game dismisses that with the claim that Jerry was the only person who could make the cure, so that's a non-factor.

All of this has a cascading effect that makes going after Joel a terrible idea. Finding him will involve taking a bunch of people the WLF can't afford to lose, across country on a massive trek where they are liable to get hurt or killed, in order to kill one man who is no threat to them, and who they have nothing material to gain from killing, and in doing so risk aggravating any community that he has become a part of in the meantime.

The game itself, to its credit is well aware of all these problems. We are told that Isaac green lit this operation off screen with the claim that he "cares about justice"

Well, it looks to me like Isaac, as a person engaged in an actually plausible example of group conflict, cares more about winning and fighting for the survival and wellbeing of his people against outsiders. It looks to me like that is his value, not justice.

But he does agree to this for some reason.

But then we have all the reasons why people in the real world don't act like Abby does begin to raise their heads.

When they get to Jackson, Owen discovers that the place is big and thriving. There is no way their small team that Isaac for some reason granted permission to leave is going to be able to attack this place. And he rightly says that the others are going to want to leave after this. But Abby ignores him, goes off on her own, and miraculously finds Joel and Tommy, miraculously in the middle of a zombie horde so they can bond fighting them off and it makes sense for them to trust her.

It's also necessary so that she can plausibly convince them to come with her to their hideout, where, as many people have pointed out, Joel and Tommy seem shockingly unconcerned about why a large armed group would have come all this way to Jackson and not have introduced themselves.

The contrivances, character assassinations and almost plot holes here annoy people. But they annoy them especially because even if they can't articulate it like I can, they know that this kind of thing doesn't make sense for people to do in this world, and it doesn't make sense that they would succeed at it.

The blizzard, the infected, Joel giving out his name, they are all needed to happen because logic needs to be bent out of shape for this to happen in the first place.

Ellie choosing to go after Abby is just as stupid. Some people felt that way too, but others didn't, because yes, we are more invested in Joel than Abby, and the human instinct for revenge does kick in, which is of course the feeling Neil wants us to feel.

Abby has gone out of her way to be unreasonable and stupid, so we feel that Ellie is justified in doing the same back.

But that doesn't make it any less foolish. Maybe if we had seen Ellie grow and get attached to Jackson, as she probably would have, we would realise more how stupid she is being by risking all that going after Abby. But just like the masses of decent people that we would have needed to see in tlou to get us to really question Joels decision to save Ellie, we don't see that here.

tlou2 wants to be a commentary on the nature of violence, and why the cycle of violence is bad, but it doesn't actually critique the kind of cycles of violence that actually occur in the real world. Neil is fighting shadows, wagging his finger at a kind of human being who doesn't really exist, shaming us for doing something people don't actually do.

In terms of the games actually believable conflict, that between the Seraphites and the WLF, the game tries to a degree to be nuanced and "both sides" but it falls short because the Seraphites are so over the top evil, in a different way than the Pittsburgh gang maybe, but in a way that makes them just as unlikable and clearly coded as evil.

The only Scar characters that we are meant to empathise with are defectors, we clearly aren't meant to actually understand or sympathise with their perspective like we are with Abby.

The game is about different perspectives, but only for someone who is engaging in a self-destructive, stupid, act of vengeance, not for a religiously minded oppressed people fighting for their beliefs and their way of life against a superior enemy.

And this is why the game doesnt work as a tragedy.

The idea of a tragedy is that the protagonist has a fatal flaw, one they are given opportunity, time and time again, to correct and overcome, but the flaw is a part of their nature, and they fail to overcome it and perish.

But Ellie does overcome, she lets go of the pointless hatred she and Abby have engaged in. And she still loses everything. If she had killed her, and lost everything, just like Abby did after killing Joel, that would have been something, but no.

Either a story is a hero's journey, where the protagonist learns the lesson and triumphs, or a tragedy, where they do not, and fail.

But Ellie learns her lesson and still fails.

tlou2 chastises humanity for a sin it doesn't commit. That is its great failing.

[sapphicwhump]

After Irithyll 7 - Nightmare pt. 2

Fandoms: Dark Souls, Dark Souls III Tropes: emotional whump, trauma recovery, whumpee x caretaker fluff TWs: none

[ Previous | First | Read on AO3 ]

        You’re jolted awake by another piercing scream that echoes throughout Firelink Shrine.

        It’s the third one this month. By now, all the residents are well aware of its meaning: Karla had another nightmare. It’s bothersome, but nothing can be done about it; best to just ignore it and get back to sleep as well as you’re able.

        For a minute, you consider ignoring it as well. After reflexively bolting upright, you lower yourself back down, allowing your head to fall back against your straw-filled mattress. You nearly allow your eyes to close again, until the image of Karla from the first of these incidents returns to you; drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, without a clue where she was or what was happening. The thought is enough to lift you from your bed, dress you, and carry your bare feet over the freezing flagstones to Karla’s alcove.

        You give a hesitant knock on the stonework, awaiting her permission to enter. After your awkward spat yesterday, you may not be the face she wants to see right now, although you can't think of any other she might prefer.

        It’s a relief when she pulls the curtain aside. Tear tracks are visible down her cheeks in the light of your Pyromancy Flame.

        “Hey...”

        “It’s quite late, Ashen One. I’m fine—” She’s interrupted by a sniffle. “You can return to bed.”

        “I’d prefer to make sure you’re alright. Can I come in?”

        You’re bracing for another swift rejection, but to your relief, she eventually responds with a quick nod. You cast a Warmth spell for illumination and take a seat next to her, although to your dismay, she promptly shifts to the other side of the alcove. Her knees are curled up to her chest in that same protective position you’ve seen so many times before.

        A long moment passes before she speaks, punctuated by occasional sniffles as she collects herself. “I’m… sorry. About yesterday. You were just trying to help me, and I was… needlessly cruel to you.” She refuses to meet your eyes.

        “Alright. Um, thank you.” The response feels inadequate, but you don’t have much experience accepting apologies.

        “You were right about what you said. I could never dream of assigning blame to you, if you had been through everything I have.”

        “That’s a relief, at least. Can you apply that to yourself?”

        She winces in what looks like pain. “...I don’t know. Something still bothers me about it. I just don’t get why. Why would Sulyvahn lock me up if I’m not a threat to civilized society? There would be no reason to imprison witches if they posed no danger.”

        Indignant anger sparks within you. Whoever made her feel this way, you’d relish the chance to incinerate them with your pyromancies. "Sulyvahn put you in that dungeon because he is a corrupt tyrant hungering for power with no moral compass. Witches are a politically expedient scapegoat, not a threat to his people. Please, don't tear yourself apart with shame for events you had no control over."

        Her gaze drops to her lap, and you can almost see something break within her. "I know. That makes sense, it's just..." She's struggling to speak between ragged, labored breaths.

        "That's so fucking unfair." Her voice breaks on the last syllable, coming out at just above a whisper. More tears pool in her eyes, and you briefly wonder if you’ve made some mistake, before the distraught witch scoots over to you on her knees and promptly collapses against your chest.

        Your stomach leaps, but you force it back down when she begins to shake with silent sobs. You wrap your arms around her to support her weight, wincing as she momentarily flinches at the gentle touch. You don’t dare move your hands from their current position, no matter how badly you want to run them along her back or stroke her raven hair.

        "You're right. It is. It doesn't mean you're weak, or wretched, or any other of the awful things you say about yourself. We can’t control the actions of others; their evil is on them, not you.”

        Her eyes squeeze shut, and your shirt begins to dampen beneath her face. "Ohh gods… why me? Why the fuck do I have to suffer!? They imprisoned, and tortured me for… why!? "

        A fragment of an anguished wail that she had been suppressing finally slips out. The choked sound is enough to rend your heart in two. More soon follow as she breaks down in your arms, and you hold each other closer than you ever have before.

        For a long while, you simply cradle Karla to your chest, allowing her to empty her misery onto you. While she had previously been holding back the worst of her sobs, she’s now full-on wailing into your shoulder. Although you’re already planning what to say when she finishes, you do not attempt to quiet her tears. She needs to release her pent-up anguish unimpeded. She would still be suffering just as badly even if she was hiding it better; releasing her sorrows in your arms is greatly preferable to letting them fester in her mind.

        You patiently wait for several minutes, until she has withdrawn herself from the embrace and begun to dry her tears on her sleeve before you speak. She seats herself next to you, in the spot she'd shied away from initially. Her leaning against your shoulder is a pleasant surprise.

        “So… do you want to talk about it?”

        You’ve long since stopped bothering to ask Karla this question, as you figured you already knew what her answer would be. In the past, she’s been cagey at best about her time in Irithyll dungeon, and at worst outright hostile. Because of this, her response catches you by surprise.

        “Yes. I think I’m ready.”

        With her tears expended, she's able to articulate her thoughts more clearly. “It’s… fuck… It’s such an injustice. How do you make peace with that? How do you accept that your life was ruined over fucking nothing? ”

        “...I don’t know.” you’re forced to admit. The words are bitter on your tongue, like an admission of defeat. “But, do you think your life is truly ruined? You’re free now, and you have a community to belong to.”

        And you have me, you want to add, but refrain.

        Her distress doesn’t ease. “No, you don’t get it. When I got out of the dungeon, I thought I would just go back to a semi-normal life and everything would be fine again. That was the plan. I tried so… so hard to make that happen.” She’s out of tears to cry, but still chokes down a dry sob.

        “But it doesn’t work like that. I’m so broken down now, that…” She moves her fingers back and forth in an interlocking pattern. “...the pieces won’t go back together. I can’t ever be who I used to be, when things were okay. There was a stupid, naive, reckless girl who went into that dungeon, and she's never coming back out.”

        From a hand in her lap, she shakily uncurls her fingers and produces her Pyromancy Flame, the one you first gave her in Irithyll dungeon.

        “It’s like… look at my Flame. I had one before, from my mother; it burned black like my dark pyromancies. When I was sentenced, one of the Irithyll knights rang his chime, and… he used a miracle to take it away from me. Literally ripped out that piece of my soul. You gave me a bit of yours, but it’s different. I can never get the old one back.”

        She turns her face into your shoulder, her voice breaking again. “That’s what this is like. I can never go back to being a whole person again, and it’s so fucking unfair!”

        It chills you when you realize you’ve never met that woman who went into the dungeon. You’ve never known a Karla that’s been physically and mentally healthy, one who doesn’t bolt at the sound of a chime or wake up screaming all too often. You try to imagine what she might have been like when she was younger, untouched by so much crushing horror, only to be struck by the realization of just how little you have to go on. A tremendous sense of loss worms its way deep into your chest, a cold longing for something you’ve never had at all.

        It doesn’t matter. Karla is who she is right now, cuddled up next to you with her head resting on your shoulder. This is the Karla you’ve always known, and this is the Karla who is important in the here and now. It’s this Karla who’s brightened your life and captured your affection, not whoever she may have been long ago.

        “All of our experiences affect us. Who we are is in a constant state of flux, both for better and for worse. None of us can go back to how we were before… but we always still have the opportunity to change for the better.”

        Gently, you take her hand holding her Flame, sliding your own around it. “Look at your Flame now. It’s different, but that doesn’t make it any worse or lesser. It started off weak, but now it’s getting stronger again. Look how much bigger it is than when it was first rekindled.”

        For a moment, she's transfixed by the dancing flame in her palm. The warm light flickers and waves in silence, fuelled by nothing but the strength of her soul. 

        She winces again, and her eyes fall from the beautiful fire she holds. “It still hurts so much.”

        “I know.” You clasp your hand around hers, and her Flame is absorbed back into her body. You give her palm a reassuring squeeze, and your heart flutters when she returns the gesture. “But even if you’re not okay now, I trust that you can still get there. You’re a strong person. It won’t be the same, but you can still have a life worth living.”

        Karla leans into your shoulder, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her face is very still, like she’s putting a great deal of effort into keeping it that way.

        “Huh. You really think so?”

        You nod. “Yeah. It’ll probably take more time before you can fully believe it, but… I’ll be here to remind you.”

        She looks almost as if she’s about to cry again, but she breathes in slow and deep, and a contented smile comes to her lips rather than sobs.

        “I think I can live with that.”

        You feel as if you could cry as well.

        Karla blinks a few times, before stretching her arms back and letting out an exhausted yawn. “Can we discuss this more tomorrow? A lot of things have been bothering me lately; I think it would be nice to get them all out. But right now, I need sleep.”

        “Mm, sounds good to me.” In your haste to aid Karla, you’d nearly forgotten your own exhaustion. Her yawn spreads infectiously to you.

        An idea strikes you, one that gets you slightly red in the face. “Do you want me to stay for tonight?”

        You surprise yourself with your own willingness to ask the question. It takes Karla a long moment to answer, and when she does, more embarrassment is written across her face. “...I would appreciate it, if it’s not a bother.”

        Sharing a bed with Karla is the furthest thing from a bother you could possibly imagine. “Alright then.”

        You savor one last glance at her face before settling into her alcove for the night. You opt to sleep on your side and press yourself up against the back wall, minimizing the amount of her space that you’re taking up. She did ask for you to be here, but you still wouldn’t want to encroach.

        “G’night.”

        You almost jump when you feel a weight softly lean against you, and an arm wrapped in black throws itself over your chest. Karla pulls you away from the wall slightly, and you graciously scoot back into her embrace. You’re hyper-aware of every sensation; the gentle rhythm of her breath brushing the back of your neck, the way her arm protectively drapes over you, the softness of her breasts pressing into your back. You can’t remember ever feeling this relaxed in your life. Tentatively, you enclose your hand over hers, and almost melt into the mattress when a pleased sigh graces your ears.

        Karla remains perfectly still and serene during her sleep for the remainder of the night, not once disturbing you or the other residents.

[ Next ]

[rjzimmerman]

‘Worst-Case’ Disaster for Antarctic Ice Looks Less Likely, Study Finds. (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

For almost a decade, climate scientists have been trying to get their heads around a particularly disastrous scenario for how West Antarctica’s gigantic ice sheet might break apart, bringing catastrophe to the world’s coasts.

It goes like this: Once enough of the ice sheet’s floating edges melt away, what remains are immense, sheer cliffs of ice facing the sea. These cliffs will be so tall and steep that they are unstable. Great chunks of ice start breaking away from them, exposing even taller, even more-unstable cliffs. Soon, these start crumbling too, and before long you have runaway collapse.

As all this ice tumbles into the ocean, and assuming that nations’ emissions of heat-trapping gases climb to extremely high levels, Antarctica could contribute more than a foot to worldwide sea-level rise before the end of the century.

This calamitous chain of events is still hypothetical, yet scientists have taken it seriously enough to include it as a “low-likelihood, high-impact” possibility in the United Nations’ latest assessment of future sea-level increase.

Now, though, a group of researchers has put forth evidence that the prospect may be more remote than previously thought. As humans burn fossil fuels and heat the planet, West Antarctica’s ice remains vulnerable to destruction in many forms. But this particular form, in which ice cliffs collapse one after the other, looks less likely, according to the scientists’ computer simulations.

“We’re not saying that we’re safe,” said Mathieu Morlighem, a professor of earth science at Dartmouth College who led the research. “The Antarctic ice sheet is going to disappear; this is going to happen. The question is how fast.”

The speed at which West Antarctica’s ice disintegrates matters hugely for human civilization and the environment. A slower breakdown gives seaside populations more time to mount defenses or move inland. It gives coastal ecosystems such as wetlands and mangroves more time to adapt.

Still, there’s a lot of uncertainty about how ice breaks apart under stress, Dr. Morlighem said. So it remains hard to say with high confidence how much time the world has to prepare for higher seas. “We still have a lot to do to reduce these uncertainties,” he said.

[hwadam-stories]

| College Student Empress (Light Novel) - English Translation (MTL)

| Translation Tool: Chat GPT

| Chapter 8: I Will Summon My Father

| Notes: Italics / Bold pink texts is meant for character thoughts.

"Wolryeo. Can you get me a sword wielded by a military officer?"

It had been four days since she first paid her respects to the Empress Dowager, and the days passed as usual.

Wolryeo was shocked and exclaimed when the Empress, who had safely completed her greetings and seemed to be buried in the study again, suddenly made an unexpected request.

"How could you want such a dangerous thing...!"

It was as if holding a sword alone would consume its owner's flesh.

Haeseol understood Wolryeo's reaction, recalling what she had read in the book brought by Myeongwol. In Yeonryeoguk, literature was revered, and martial skills were looked down upon, so it was understandable.

Of course, that didn't mean that military officers were treated poorly compared to civil officers, but the respected warriors were mostly military officers, and those from a military background couldn't rise to the highest government positions, the Samgong.

Since the Empress, Sindanyeong, was traditionally from Yeonguk, Wolryeo, her nanny, would be too, and that would strengthen such ideology even more.

However, Haeseol's situation wasn't good enough to withdraw her request just because Wolryeo was shocked.

Ten days ago, Haeseol had hit an intruder on the roof with a stone and later heard the report that the intruder had escaped that evening.

At the time, she thought it was possible. After all, the intruder had managed to get this far undetected, so they must be skilled, including in escape.

However, ten days had passed without any news about the intruder, and no matter how much she researched, she couldn't find any stories about soul-swapping. Not even in novels. She couldn't help but become anxious.

In this situation, Haeseol heard this morning that not only were those incompetent enough to let the intruder escape, but they hadn't even tried to catch the intruder! Unbelievable news!

"I need to protect myself."

At this point, it wasn't the time to just sit around hoping the culprit would be caught.

If the officials were so negligent about those who attacked the Empress, then the one blocking the investigation must be the Emperor.

In fact, the Emperor made little effort to catch the culprit when the Empress was ambushed and collapsed, leading to rumors that the Emperor might have sent the assassin.

Those rumors were still circulating.

Anyway, such an Emperor wasn't going to sincerely investigate an intruder who failed an ambush, so Haeseol decided she had to protect her own life.

‘That bastard. Would he only act if the intruder broke Kongrin's leg?’

Or did the Emperor really send the assassin? Haeseol cursed inwardly but managed to control her expression and looked sadly down in front of Wolryeo.

Wolryeo, feeling pity for the Empress, who was like a cherished daughter, holding a sword with her delicate hands to protect herself, teared up and said, "Mama..." in a trembling voice.

Haeseol smiled weakly and said,

"We must end the stabbings with eyes wide open in one go, mustn't we?"

"Mama! Using such words again!"

"Since I got stabbed once, my language has become like this. If I get stabbed twice and wake up, I might actually grab His Majesty by the collar and curse at him, which would be quite troublesome, wouldn't it?"

Myeongwol, unable to hold back her laughter, trembled as she looked up at the ceiling.

Despite sighing, Wolryeo eventually muttered that she would try to get it, and Haeseol sincerely thanked her.

"Oh, and there's one more thing."

What now? Wolryeo looked at her with anxious eyes.

This time, Haeseol asked even more cautiously.

"Um... Wolryeo, am I an orphan?"

Wolryeo was startled and exclaimed at the sudden orphan statement.

"Absolutely not, Mama. Your father is the well-known Gong Shinseolju, and one of the three highest officials, Taesa. Moreover, your mother is the youngest daughter of the former great general who conquered Ryeoguk. And both of them are very healthy!"

Haeseol, who hadn't memorized all the official titles yet, understood the top positions, so she recognized Taesa and the great general. Moreover, her maternal grandfather was the great general who conquered Ryeoguk! The 'real Empress' had an extraordinary lineage.

Seeing Haeseol's surprised expression, Wolryeo continued speaking.

“Both your father and mother care deeply for you, so please never say such things again. They would be heartbroken to hear that.”

Haeseol clicked her tongue inwardly.

The real Empress... that is, the woman named Sindanyeong. If she hadn’t married the Emperor, she would have lived a very comfortable life, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, both in terms of heart and body.

If her husband wasn’t the Emperor, anyone would have to be extremely considerate of her due to her prestigious family, whether they got along well or not. It was truly unfortunate that she was attacked and disappeared because of a single wrong marriage. Marrying the highest figure in the country, the Emperor, had become the greatest misfortune of her life.

“Then why has Father never visited me even once?”

“Before you lost your memory, you commanded that your maternal family should refrain from frequenting the Empress’s palace, as it would not look good in the eyes of others.”

“Oh.”

“I should have informed you earlier….”

Watching Wolryeo blame herself, Haeseol nodded.

It didn’t seem like she was just saying it to sound nice, and since there was no need for her to sugarcoat things regarding bad relations with her parents, it was probably true.

Haeseol felt relieved knowing that there were likely a few more people in Yeonryeoguk besides Wolryeo who would be on her side.

“Then, Wolryeo. Since losing my memory, I’ve been missing my family more. Can you call my father and mother for me?”

***

“I am so glad that Her Majesty the Empress has called for me. I don’t know how to express my joy.”

Unlike the request to bring a sword, Wolryeo happily accepted the request to call her parents, and within less than five shijins, the Empress’s father, Taesa Shinseolju, arrived at the Empress’s palace.

Even Wolryeo, who had conveyed the message, hadn’t expected Shinseolju to come so early, indicating that he must have come running as soon as he heard the news.

Haeseol, who had been preparing to go out, thinking he might come tomorrow, nearly missed him.

Seeing Shinseolju smiling brightly, saying he was happy to see her face and checking on her health, Haeseol blinked in surprise.

Though she had heard they were on good terms, even without long conversations, it was clear that Shinseolju’s eyes were filled with affection and concern for his daughter.

Of course, as one of the highest officials, he couldn’t be unaware of how his daughter was treated in the palace. If he had no news at all, it would be one thing, but hearing the news while being unable to come close must have been agonizing.

Even if he was hurt by being told not to come near his daughter, Shinseolju showed no sign of it, making Haeseol feel somewhat guilty.

“I heard from Wolryeo that I asked you not to come to the Empress’s palace. But I lost my memory and feel so lost, the only thing that comes to mind is family.”

Of course, someone else sent the assassin, and it wasn’t Haeseol’s fault that she ended up in the body of the ‘real Empress’. However, since it was unclear whether Shinseolju’s ‘real daughter’ was still in this body or if her soul had flown elsewhere, Haeseol felt uneasy facing him.

It was like entering someone else’s home and acting as the owner.

Feeling uneasy about the affection Shinseolju was showing, Haeseol decided to get to the point early.

“But Father, you know about the intruder in my quarters, right?”

“Of course. …How could I not?”

“Then you must also know how the investigation is going?”

Fortunately, Haeseol’s attempt to change the subject worked. The warm atmosphere of the father-daughter reunion quickly turned cold and awkward.

Shinseolju, knowing more about the situation than Haeseol, looked anxious and replied in a subdued voice.

#8

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Seeing his sudden depression, it seemed the investigation into the intruder wasn’t going well, as expected.

Haeseol quickly forced a smile to comfort him.

“I’m not blaming you, Father. I’m not throwing a tantrum either.”

“Your Majesty…”

“It’s just that since His Majesty can’t protect me, I need to find a way to survive on my own. Having been attacked twice, I feel very uneasy.”

Technically, the Empress was attacked once, and the second time, Haeseol attacked the intruder, but she lumped the two incidents together.

Shinseolju didn’t seem to see the need to distinguish between the two and asked in a curious voice instead of nitpicking that part.

“What do you mean by a way…?”

However, his voice subtly hinted that he was welcoming the Empress’s words.

“I can't just sit still and risk being assassinated again. There's a high possibility that the intruder is the same person who tried to assassinate me before.”

“Indeed.”

“So now, I must take it upon myself to find out who is attacking me so viciously.”

Shinseolju’s previously subtle enthusiasm fully blossomed at Haeseol’s words. His eyes sparkled as if to say, “Absolutely,” and Haeseol smiled inwardly.

It seemed this man had been quietly suffering, having such a kind and passive daughter.

“I need your help, Father.”

“I will help with anything you need.”

Shinseolju looked at her sternly, as if questioning why she would even ask, and reached out to clasp Haeseol’s hand, patting the back of it. As befitting a civil servant, his hands bore no signs of hard labor; despite being an older man, his hands were very smooth.

Haeseol, noting that this man had even smoother hands than her original body, gently withdrew her hand and walked over to a drawer.

She returned with a book she had prepared in advance and handed it to Shinseolju, who accepted it with a puzzled look and opened it.

“What is this?”

“It contains a few sections I’ve written. Since I have no memories, I can’t fill them in myself. I’d like you to write the names of those who fit into these sections. There’s no need to rush; just be as objective as possible.”

“A list. Or rather, a book that will become a list.”

“Yes.”

The sections were straightforward: those who had quarreled with the Empress, potential rivals, current rivals, those who would benefit from her death, and those who had grievances with Shinseolju. This book would serve as a list of people Haeseol needed to be cautious of within the palace.

“It would be best for the Empress herself to fill this out, but since that’s impossible, I’ll ask Wolryeo to compile a similar list.”

Combining the lists from the two would at least help identify who the enemies might be.

“I must survive here until I can return to my original body.”

With this resolution, Haeseol nodded firmly.

[magnoliamyrrh]

and the.... it wasnt the second dream. i had other ones in-between. but in this dream

the world was collapsing, again. i was with my friends, but they werent really the same people, moreso blends of different people ive known throughout my life. we were in a shitty motel somewhere in the mountains when it caught us, the collapse of "civilization." no more electricity, no more internet, no more nothing. i remember confusion, but we didnt go insane or nothing. we just figured, wed have to learn to survive

and so, the dream spanned weeks, months, years. at first, we were still living in the motel. animals had started coming closer however, and plants were starting to take it over. we would go hunting, foraging, in the beggining stages of trying to see if we could plant. i remember going down to the river to gather water. mostly, we would use the wood around to set up fires in the inner countyard of this motel, and cook and keep ourselves warm.... it was not a bad time. i remember, there was time for storytelling, for my friends singing, for play as if we were children - i remember trying to keep some strange little creature, something in between a squirrel and a racoon if you could imagine, as a pet, having the time to run around with it and play with it. i remember the shine of the full moon, and how many starts could be seen above - much more than before the collapse

i remember the months passing, it was like i would wake up in and out of conciousness after watching the world go by in fast-forward mode, we stared building outside of the motel, feeling it was past time we keep living in it. my little pet went missing one day, and no matter how much i searched for it i couldnt find it. but in searching for him, i realized, we were taking care of many creatures in our motel-turned home. three little alligators were chilling on the top second floor, intertwined between the wearing wooden bars of the walkways; you could play with them, snap their mouths shut and open. wed feed them fish. birds would come and make nests, vines had started covering areas. all odd sort of rodents and other beings would make their way in and out - the motel was no longer a place just for humans; it seems we had learned how to coexist much better... i remember giving up my search for my little pet, figuring hed either been eaten, or returned to the woods,and walking into the meadow in which we were starting to build. a fireplace, tents were set up, the sun was shining, people were carrying wood and mud and starting to build what seemed to be small huts, and a larger one

time was passing, as if in a daze, as if on fast forward. storms would come and pass, good weather and bad weather, the sun would rise and set, the seasons would change. i remember, we had raised up almost fully the main hut, but it still had some missing patches in the roof and sides. we were inside, sitting around a fireplace on the ground, on blankets, another one wrapped around me. i was making some sort of weave, or perhaps pottery, something we would need, anyway. a storm had come, rain above which you could see through the pathes; but it seemed to bother none of us. warm summer rain in the summer months, i remember only peace and happiness, someone playing an old guitar among slow and quiet conversations and laughter

and time passed again, work kept happening, but i do not remember either pain or extensive tiredness, doing what i could while others did the same. i remember the shining sun, the crops growing, the thick grass and its smell. i remember coming back to myself, still sitting on the ground of the hut, through now it was long finished, decorated as well with rugs, pots, weaves, hanging herbs, and all matter of other things. many more months must have passed it seemed, many years had passed

the smell of the fire and grilled food filled my nose, and i was holding some sort of large beautifully decorated weaved plate. someone told me to watch out and catch, and before i knew, on this plate i had caught several thin, long fish which they had tossed out of the fireplace they were cooking on. looking at them i felt i fully woke up from another fast-forward daze, looking at them and my surroundings in amazement. some children next to me were laughing at my good catch and seeming confusing after snapping out of my daze - my children, the children of the group, who knows, they were still my children though. i remember looking at them and smiling, extending to them the plate, each of them grabbing a fish before running outside to play. looking down at the plate myself, grabbing one of the long fish before passing it on to others. someone who must have been a good friend of mine smiled at me gently, as if saying, its alright; its alright, we have indeed made it. realizing, there were many more now than there were before. sitting around the fire eating, working, people moving in and out of the hut, what was once a small survival settlement had become a small village by now. the warm summer sun was high, and as i took a bite of the fish and looked around, i was surprised by how good it was. by, indeed, how good all of it had turned out. how "civilization" had collapsed, and yet, we seemed to be managing to live in a much more civilized way than before

[spooderrants]

CALL OF THE SEA

there is a call. an earth-shattering, hair-raising call. a siren wailing, a long, drawn out sound, as if coming from a wind instrument, or perhaps produced by the howling wind itself. it’s low-pitched and high-pitched at the same time. it’s a sad melody, one that makes your stomach turn and your jaws clench. it came from the sea. you hear the call. so does he. and he will answer to it.

you see a young man wandering around the edge of the sea. he is fidgeting and retracing his steps, walking around in circles. he’s been doing that for so long that the steps have become deep feet-shaped holes in the sand, a good 3-4 inches down. the sea is covered by a perpetual blanket of fog, regardless of weather or time of day. you cannot see the horizon - maybe there isn’t any at all. the fog is so heavy that it feels as though gravity itself is twice as strong here. it looks and feels endless; if the man were to walk into the water, he would just keep going, the water wouldn’t rise and there would be no drops in the sand. he would vanish in the fog, but he’d still be walking. he doesn’t need to know where it leads. he is answering the call of the sea. he belongs there. the sea is in his blood - he might not have come from there, but his mother did. and he misses her so dearly. this is her, isn’t it? she’s calling out to him.

he is hesitating. you know he’s leaving something, or *someone*, behind. he had a life before this. he considers giving it all up. the sea has that effect on men.

> approach the young man

he stops walking and gestures to the sea. “you heard it too, right?” is what he would’ve been saying. the two of you stand still, slowly sinking into the sand, engulfed by the vastness of the ocean. you are puny. why not be a part of something so much larger than yourself? you bare no effect on this earth. your existence or even the lack of does not change the course of anything, as much as you’d like it to. you cannot stand out. wouldn’t it be nice to become one with the ocean, your limbs stretching further than your eyes could ever see, your body no longer confined to flesh and bones, moving freely in liquid form, flowing in, out and through any cracks and crevices you desire, or pouring out into the wide nothingness and fill it with nothing but you? you aren’t just alive, you *contain* life. you are life itself. you are a part of a complex ecosystem and you host so many biological forms it’s impossible to count, but each and everyone of them matters to you because they depend on you for survival. they go wherever you go, and in this form you could go *anywhere*. you’ll be so significant they can even see you from outer space. you’ll exist beyond civilization. you’ll be there before it happens and after it collapses.

as your thoughts drift, the call starts to resemble a song more so than a call. an orchestra welcomes you. it’s your coronation. the waves are giving you a standing ovation with every crash. the wet sand makes way for your feet. endorphins make your joints tremble and your genitals tingle. you’ve wanted nothing more.

> you take his hand

your fingers laced with his. you feel all of your thoughts and emotions flowing out from the palm of your hands and into his. you are communicating in the universal language, the one those people in the village used. you’ve learned how to do it and it is all thanks to the ocean. you’re in debt now.

he takes in all of your thoughts and stands in silence. he is letting everything wash over him, he is bathed in your light. he feels everything you’ve felt. he is one with you. 

but you are also one with him. his thoughts and emotions dump themselves onto you, and you feel stricken by an immense weight. the weight of responsibility. that’s right, you had none, but he has plenty. one hundred and one of them, to be exact. you feel unfamiliar emotions.

> guilt

it weighs your head down. your head feels about five times its original size. your neck is about to snap. your upper spine will surely give in. you find it physically impossible to move a muscle. there is a vortex in your skull - your brain is unraveling itself into long strands resembling intestines, then twisting back into the vortex, like a wrinkly whirlpool of pink and grey. the sensation is attributed with faces. they’re blurry because they aren’t your people - they’re his people. one hundred and one blurry faces cloud your vision and you feel obligated to get on your knees and succumb before them. you owe them something, a lot of things. you may only live the rest of your life with your head down.

> longing

you feel it in your chest and in the tips of your fingers and toes. it is spiky. your knuckles ache. you want to be with something, with someone, somewhere so bad, but you don’t know what (because after all, these are his emotions, not yours). something pierces your throat and a rush of air involuntarily breaks its way through your vocal chords. you are moaning. your moaning then turns into dry sobbing. there are no tears because you don’t actually miss anything, he does. a sharp spike has impaled straight through you from the crown of the head to the crotch. you are a piece of meat on a rusted skewer, shaking and flailing about. the spikes spread through you like a nervous system, until you feel individual spikes poking through your skin, coming out of your fingertips, your toes and the follicles of your hair.

[blackwoolncrown]

For the past few days, a heatwave has glowered over the Pacific Northwest, forcing temperatures in the region to a record-breaking 118ºF. Few people in the region—neither Americans nor Canadians—have air-conditioning. Stores sold out of new AC units in hours as a panicked public sought a reasonable solution to the emergency. Unfortunately, air-conditioning is part of what’s causing the unusual heatwave in the first place.

We came close to destroying all life on Earth during the Cold War, with the threat of nuclear annihilation. But we may have come even closer during the cooling war, when the rising number of Americans with air conditioners—and a refrigerant industry that fought regulation—nearly obliterated the ozone layer. We avoided that environmental catastrophe, but the fundamental problem of air conditioning has never really been resolved.

Mechanical cooling appeared in the early 1900s not for comfort but for business. In manufacturing, the regulation of temperature—“process cooling”—controlled the quality of commodities like cotton, tobacco, and chewing gum. In 1903, Alfred Wolff installed the first cooling system for people at the New York Stock Exchange because comfortable traders yielded considerably higher stock returns. Only in the ’20s did “commercial cooling” appear. On Memorial Day weekend 1925, Willis Carrier debuted the first centrifugal air-conditioning system at the Rivoli Theater in Midtown Manhattan. Previously, theaters had shut down in the summer. With air-conditioning, the Rivoli became “the talk of Broadway” and inaugurated the summer blockbuster.

-another direct tie to capitalism. Everything born out of colonio-capitalism carries its toxic mark. Article totally not under the cut for those who can’t pay for Time. It honestly paints a really clear picture of the situation. Bolding mine.-

“It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.“

Before World War II, almost no one had air-conditioning at home. Besides being financially impractical and culturally odd, it was also dangerous. Chemical refrigerants like sulfur dioxide and methyl chloride filled most fridges and coolers, and leaks could kill a child, poison a hospital floor, even blow up a basement. Everything changed with the invention of Freon in 1928. Non-toxic and non-explosive, Freon was hailed as a “miracle.” It made the modernist skyscraper—with its sealed windows and heat-absorbing materials—possible. It made living in the desert possible. The small, winter resort of Phoenix, Arizona, became a year-round attraction. Architecture could now ignore the local climate. Anywhere could be 65ºF with 55% humidity. Cheap materials made boxy, suburban tract housing affordable to most Americans, but the sealed-up, stifling design of these homes required air-conditioning to keep the heat at bay. Quickly, air-conditioning transitioned from a luxury to a necessity. By 1980, more than half of all U.S. homes were air-conditioned. And despite millions of Black Americans fleeing the violence of Jim Crow, the South saw greater in-migration than out-migration for the first time—a direct result of AC. The American car was similarly transformed. In 1955, only 10 percent of American cars had air-conditioning. Thirty years later, it came standard.

The cooling boom also altered the way we work. Now, Americans could work anywhere at any hour of the day. Early ads for air-conditioning promised not health or comfort but productivity. The workday could proceed no matter the season or the climate. Even in the home, A/C brought comfort as a means to rest up before the next work day.

The use of air-conditioning was as symbolic as it was material. It conveyed class status. Who did and didn’t have air-conditioning often fell starkly along the color line, too, especially in the South. It conquered the weather and, with it, the need to sweat or squirm or lie down in the summer swelter. In that sense, air-conditioning allowed Americans to transcend their physical bodies, that long-sought fantasy of the Puritan settlers: to be in the world but not of it. Miracle, indeed.

But it came with a price. As it turned out, Freon isn’t exactly non-toxic. Freon is a chlorofluorocarbon (CFC), which depletes the ozone layer and also acts as a global warming gas. By 1974, the industrialized world was churning out CFCs, chemicals that had never appeared on the planet in any significant quantities, at a rate of one million metric tons a year—the equivalent mass of more than 500,000 cars. That was the year atmospheric chemists Sherry Rowland and Mario Molina first hypothesized that the chlorine molecules in CFCs might be destroying ozone in the stratosphere by bonding to free oxygen atoms and disrupting the atmosphere’s delicate chemistry. By then, CFCs were used not only as refrigerants but also as spray can propellants, manufacturing degreasers, and foam-blowing agents.

The ozone layer absorbs the worst of the sun’s ultraviolet radiation. Without stratospheric ozone, life as we know it is impossible. A 1 percent decline in the ozone layer’s thickness results in thousands of new cases of skin cancer. Greater depletion would lead to crop failures, the collapse of oceanic food systems, and, eventually, the destruction of all life on Earth.

In the 1980s, geophysicist Joseph Farman confirmed the Rowland-Molina hypothesis when he detected a near-absence of ozone over Antarctica—the “Ozone Hole.” A fierce battle ensued among industry, scientists, environmentalists, and politicians, but in 1987 the U.S signed the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, which ended Freon production.

The Montreal Protocol remains the world’s only successful international environmental treaty with legally binding emissions targets. Annual conferences to re-assess the goals of the treaty make it a living document, which is revised in light of up-to-date scientific data. For instance, the Montreal Protocol set out only to slow production of CFCs, but, by 1997, industrialized countries had stopped production entirely, far sooner than was thought possible. The world was saved through global cooperation.

The trouble is that the refrigerants replacing CFCs, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), turned out to be terrible for the planet, too. While they have an ozone-depleting potential of zero, they are potent greenhouse gases. They absorb infrared radiation from the sun and Earth and block heat that normally escapes into outer space. Carbon dioxide and methane do this too, but HFCs trap heat at rates thousands of times higher. Although the number of refrigerant molecules in the atmosphere is far fewer than those of other greenhouse gases, their destructive force, molecule for molecule, is far greater.

In three decades, the production of HFCs grew exponentially. Today, HFCs provide the cooling power to almost any air conditioner in the home, in the office, in the supermarket, or in the car. They cool vaccines, blood for transfusions, and temperature-sensitive medications, as well as the data processors and computer servers that make up the internet—everything from the cloud to blockchains. In 2019, annual global warming emissions from HFCs were the equivalent of 175 million metric tons of carbon dioxide.

In May, the EPA signaled it will begin phasing down HFCs and replacing them with more climate-friendly alternatives. Experts agree that a swift end to HFCs could prevent as much as 0.5ºC of warming over the next century—a third of the way to the goals of the Paris Climate Agreement.

Yet regardless of the refrigerant used, cooling still requires energy. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, air-conditioning accounts for nearly a fifth of annual U.S. residential electricity use. This is more energy for cooling overall and per capita than in any other nation. Most Americans consider the cost of energy only in terms of their electricity bills. But it’s also costing us the planet. Joe Biden’s announcement to shift toward a renewable energy infrastructure obscures the uncertainty of whether that infrastructure could meet Americans’ outrageously high energy demand—much of it for cooling that doesn’t save lives. Renewable energy infrastructure can take us only so far. The rest of the work is cultural. From Freon to HFCs, we keep replacing chemical refrigerants without taking a hard look at why we’re cooling in the first place.

Comfort cooling began not as a survival strategy but as a business venture. It still carries all those symbolic meanings, though its currency now works globally, cleaving the world into civilized cooling and barbaric heat. Despite what we assume, as a means of weathering a heat wave, individual air-conditioning is terribly ineffective. It works only for those who can afford it. But even then, their use in urban areas only makes the surrounding micro-climate hotter, sometimes by a factor of 10ºF, actively threatening the lives of those who don’t have access to cooling. (The sociologist Eric Klinenberg has brilliantly studied how, in a 1995 Chicago heat wave, about twice as many people died than in a comparable heat wave forty years earlier due to the city’s neglect of certain neighborhoods and social infrastructure.) Ironically, research suggests that exposure to constant air-conditioning can prevent our bodies from acclimatizing to hot weather, so those who subject themselves to “thermal monotony” are, in the end, making themselves more vulnerable to heat-related illness.

And, of course, air-conditioning only works when you have the electricity to power it. During heatwaves, when air-conditioning is needed most, blackouts are frequent. On Sunday, with afternoon temperatures reaching 112ºF around Portland, the power grid failed for more than 6,300 residences under control by Portland General Electrics.

The troubled history of air-conditioning suggests not that we chuck it entirely but that we focus on public cooling, on public comfort, rather than individual cooling, on individual comfort. Ensuring that the most vulnerable among the planet’s human inhabitants can keep cool through better access to public cooling centers, shade-giving trees, safe green spaces, water infrastructure to cool, and smart design will not only enrich our cities overall, it will lower the temperature for everyone. It’s far more efficient this way.

To do so, we’ll have to re-orient ourselves to the meaning of air-conditioning. And to comfort. Privatized air-conditioning survived the ozone crisis, but its power to separate—by class, by race, by nation, by ability—has survived, too. Comfort for some comes at the expense of the life on this planet.

It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.

[baeddel]

Please. Please can you tell me what a baeddel is and why people (terfs?) used it in a derogatory manner on this website for a hot minute but now no one ever uses it at all

you asked for it, fucker

[2k words; philology and drama]

baeddel is an Old English word. i have no idea where it actually occurs in the Old English written corpus, but it occurs in a few placenames. its diminuitive form, baedling, is much better documented. it appears in the (untranslated) Canons of Theodore, a penitential handbook, a sort of guidebook for priests offering advice on what penances should be recommended for which sins. in a passage devoted to sexual transgressions it gives the penances suggested for a man who sleeps with a woman, a man who sleeps with another man, and then a man who sleeps with a baedling. so you have this construction of a baedling as something other than a man or a woman. and then it gives the penance for a baedling who sleeps with another baedling (a ludicrous one-year fast). then, by way of an explaination, Theodore delivers us one of the most enigmatic phrases in the Old English corpus: "for she is soft, like an adulturess."

the -ling suffix in baedling is masculine. but Theodore uses feminine pronouns and suffixes to describe baedlings. as we said, it's also used separately from male and female. but it's also used separately from their words for intersex and it never appears in this context. all of this means that you have this word that denotes a subject who is, as Christopher Monk put it, "of problematic gender." interested historians have typically interpreted it as referring to some category of homosexual male, such as Wayne R. Dines in his two-volume Encyclopedia of Homosexuality who discusses it in the context of an Old English glossary which works a bit like an Old English-Latin dictionary, giving Old English words and their Latin counterparts. the Latin words the Anglo-Saxon lexicographer chose to correspond with baedling were effeminatus and mollis, and Lang concludes that it refers to an "effeminate homosexual" (pg 60, Anglo Saxon). this same glossary gives as an Old English synonym the word waepenwifstere which literally means "woman with a penis," and which Dines gives the approximate translation (hold on tight) male wife.

R. D. Fulk, a philologist and medievalist, made a separate analysis of the term in his study on the Canons of Theodore 'Male Homoeroticism in the Old English Canons of Theodore', collected in Sex and Sexuality in Medieval England, 2004. he analysed it as a 'sexual category' (sexual as in sexuality), owing to the context of sexual transgressions in the Canons. he decides that it refers to a man who bottoms in sexual relationships with another man. i don't have the article on hand so i'm not sure what his reasoning was, but this seems obviously inadequate given what we know from the glossary described by Dines. Latin has a word for bottom, pathica, and the lexicographer did not use this in their translation, preferring words that emphasized the baedling's femininity like effeminatus, and doesn't address the sexual context at all. Dines, however, only reading this glossary, seems to decide that it refers to a type of male homosexual too hastily, considering the Canons explicitly treat them separately. both Dines and Fulk immediately reduce the baedling to a subcategory of homosexual when neither of the sources to hand actually do so themselves.

by now it should be obvious why, seven or so years ago, we interpreted it as an equivalent to trans woman. I mean come on - a woman with a penis! these days I tend to add a bit of a caution to this understanding, which is that trans woman is the translation of baedling which seems most adequate to us, just as baedling was the translation of effeminatus that seemed most adequate to our lexicographer. but the term cannot translate perfectly; its sense was derived from some minimal context; a legal context, a doctrinal context, and so forth... the way Anglo-Saxons understood sex/gender is complicated but it has been argued that they had a 'one sex model' and didn't regard men and women as biologically separate types, which is obviously quite different from the sexual model accepted today; in any case they didn't have access to the karyotype and so on. the basic categories they used to understand gender and sexuality were different from ours. in particular, Hirschfield et al. should be understood as a particularly revolutionary moment in the genealogy of transsexuality; the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft essentially invented the concept of the 'sex change', the 'transition', conceived as a biological passage from one sex to the other. even in other contexts where (forgive me) #girlslikeus changed their bodies in some way, like the castration of the priestesses of Cybele, or those belonging to the various historical societies which we believe used premarin for feminization [disputed; see this post], there is no record that they were ever considered men at any stage or had some kind of male biology that preceded their 'gender identity.' the concept of the trans woman requires the minimal context of the coercive assignment at birth and its subsequent (civil and bio-technological) rejection. i have never encountered evidence that this has ever been true in any previous society. nonetheless, these societies still had gendered relations, and essentially wherever we find these gendered relations we also find some subject which is omitted or for whom it has been necessary to note exceptions. what is of chief interest to us is not so much that there was such a subject here or there in history (and whatever propagandistic uses this fact might have), but understanding why these regularities exist.

a very parsimonious explanation is that gender is a biological reality, and there is some particular biological subject which a whole host of words have been conjured to denote. if this were the case then we would expect that, no matter what gender/sexual system we encounter in a given society, it will inevitably find some linguistic expression. if, like me, you find this idea revolting, then you should busy yourself trying to come up with an alternative explanation which is not just plausible, but more plausible. my best guesses are outside the scope of this answer...

anyway, all of this must be very interesting to the five or six people invested in the confluence of philology and gender studies. but why on earth did it become so widely used, in so many strange and unusual contexts, in the 2010s? we're very sorry, but yes, it's our fault. you see apart from all of this, there is also a little piece of information which goes along with the word baeddel, which is that it's the root of the Modern English word bad. by way of, no less, the word baedan, 'to defile'. how this defiled historical subject came to bear responsibility for everything bad to English-speakers doesn't seem to be known from linguistic evidence. however, it makes for a very pithy little remark on transmisogyny. my dear friend [REDACTED] made a playful little post making this point and, good Lord, had we only known...

it went like this. its such a funny little idea that we all start changing our urls to include the word baeddel. in those days it was common to make puns with your url (we always did halloween and christmas ones); i was baeddelaire, a play on the French poet Baudelaire. while we all still had these urls a series of events which everyone would like to forget happened, and we became Enemies of Everyone in the Whole World. because of the url thing people started to call us "the baeddels." then there was "a cult" called "the baeddels" and so forth. this cult had various infamies attatched to it and a constellation of indefensible political positions. ultimately we faced a metric fucking shit ton of harassment, including, for some of my friends, really serious and bad irl harassment that had long-term bad awful consequences relating to stable housing and physical safety and i basically never want to talk about that part of my life ever again. and i never have to, because i've come to realize that for most people, when they use the word baeddel, they don't know about that stuff. it doesn't mean that anymore.

so what does it mean? you'll see it in a few contexts. TERFs do use it, as you guessed. i am not quite sure what they really mean by it and how it differs from other TERF barbs. i think being a baeddel invovles being politically active or at least having a political consciousness, but in a way thats distinct from just any 'TRA' or trans activist. so perhaps 'militant' trans women, but perhaps also just any trans woman with any opinions at all. how this was transmitted from tumblr/west coast tranny drama to TERF vocabulary i have no idea. but you will also find - or, could have found a few years ago - i would say 'copycat' groups who didn't know us or what we believed but heard the rumours, and established their own (generously) organizations (usually facebook groups) dedicated to putting those principles into practice. they considered themselves trans lesbian separatists and did things like doxx and harass trans women who dated cafabs. if you don't know about this, yes, there really were such groups. they mostly collapsed and disappeared because they were evildoers who based their ideology on a caricature. i knew a black trans woman who was treated very badly by one of these groups, for predictable reasons. so long-time readers: if you see people talking about their bad experiences with 'baeddels', you can't necessarily relate it to the 2014 context and assume they're carrying around old baggage. there are other dreams in the nightmare.

the most common way you'll see it today, in my experience, is in this form: people will say that it was a "slur" for trans women. they might bring up that it's the root of the word bad, and they might even think that you shouldn't use the word bad because of it, or that you shouldn't use the word baeddel because it's a slur. all of this is a silly game of internet telephone and not worth addressing. except to say that it's by no means clear that baeddel, or baedling, were slurs, or even insulting at all. while Theodore doesn't provide us with a description of how we can have sex with a baedling without sinning, and it may be the case that any sexual relations with a baedling was considered sinful, sexuality-based transgressions were not taken all that seriously in those days. there was a period where homosexuality within the Church was almost sanctioned, and it wasn't until much later that homosexuality became so harshly proscribed, to the extent that it was thought to represent a threat to society, etc. and as i mentioned, there are places in England named after baedlings. there is a little parish near Kent which is called Badlesmere, Baeddel's Lake, which was recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Domesday Book (as having a lord, a handful of villagers and a few slaves; perhaps only one or two households). it's not unheard of, but i just don't know very many places called Faggot Town or some such. it's possible that baedlings had some role in Anglo-Saxon society which we are not aware of; it could even have been a prestigious one, as it was in other societies. there is just no evidence other than a couple of passing references in the literature and we'll probably never have a complete picture.

[holdontorogers]

dumbification with steve? innocence kinda corruption kink too if u wanna

࿐ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬.𝐫.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; nomad!Steve x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You were on Steve’s side during the Civil War events, now you had to go undercover, just like him. After a few months apart, Steve has missed you more than both of you could’ve imagined. But he will surely make sure you know that.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1,500

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI, porn with little no plot, swearing, dumbification, mocking (dumb girl, cockdrunk), pet-names (pretty girl, honey, sweetheart), corruption kink, dom!Steve, face-fucking, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, size kink (Steve is huge, reader doesn’t think it will fit), slight breeding kink (Steve cums inside reader).

𝐚/𝐧; GIF NOT MINE CREDITS HERE. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Made this with Nomad!Steve bc 🤤 why not? Okay, I didn’t expect to go so far out with this one but oh God. I guess writing smut is my new passion lol.

It has been months since he even heard from you. After a while running together, you ended up going separate ways. He wanted you. It was that simple. And at this point, after all of the events that led him to go undercover and a fugitive, he couldn’t care less. All he knew is that he wanted to cross lines with you, tonight.

You barely recognized him when he arrived at your new hidden place. The calm blue ocean that once shaped his eyes seemed dark and dangerous now. Those angelic eyes and clean face were replaced by wild, almost animalistic eyes. And the beard. Oh, Lord, the beard. You whimpered at the feeling of it rubbing your skin when he hugged you. You also didn’t think Steve could get bigger — but there he was. Broader shoulder, stealth suit fitting his muscles perfectly, and an evil smirk on his face.

“How you’ve been sweetheart?” the pet-name sending shrives down your spine. You simply stare at him, taking in all his features. “Did you lose your words, honey?” your eyes widened at his words, the blue in his eyes almost disappearing as they grew darker. Steve licked his lips staring at you, you could feel the pooling in your panties just by staring at him. Unable to move or do anything thing. You wanted him, it was that simple.

The only problem is that this Steve seemed dangerous, experienced, rough; and you barely knew how to do a proper blowjob at best, lacking much of the experienced he seemed to master by now. But you knew that for him you would do it. Whatever he asked, you were his. Ready for whatever he was willing to give up. You bit your lower lips, lost in your thoughts.

Steve held a groan, the sight of you pressing your thighs together as you looked at him playing hoops in his mind. He left a heavy breath, his dagger eyes focused on all your movements. He could smell your arousal from his place. Carefully, he went forward, cupping a side of your face with his hand.

“What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?” his voice was heavy just like his stare. “I’m…” Fuck, did you forgot how to speak? Was he that intoxicating? “You…” he mocked “I need to know what you want so I can give it to you, my dumb girl” his fingers caressed your cheek, as you felt your blood rushing through your body. You leaned to his touching, biting your lips hard so a moan wouldn’t escape. What was he doing to you?

“My dumb baby” he taunted “can’t barely contain the sweet sounds when I touch you” you closed your eyes and swallowed, addicted to the sound of his voice and his fingertips. “Gotta tell me what you want, put that pretty mouth of yours to use” your eyes widened at his words.

“I want you to ruin me” this time the words didn’t fail to leave your mouth. Steve had a satisfied smile on his face, dragging his thumb to your parted lips. You took them in, sucking and swirling your tongue around it, a low, strangled groan escaping his mouth at the sight.

“On your knees, pretty girl” he commanded, and you quickly sunk down to your knees. “Wanna see that pretty mouth of yours having a reason for being so out of words” he stated while undoing his belt and lowering his pants. The bulge clear in his boxers watering your mouths and making you wonder if it would fit later.

“Steve” you mumbled, after his cock sprang free from the restraining underwea. “it won’t fit” you blinked a couple of times. Steve chuckled at your words “Oh, my dumb gir, already so needy for my cock” he pouted, mocking your expression “it will fit, don’t worry. Just wait for it” he promised. You gulped and turned your eyes back to his shaft. “Now,” his authoritative tone made you look at him “Tongue out, sweetheart” another barked command, another order you followed promptly. “Eyes on me” he tilted your chin so you could actually look into his eyes, you nodded complying to all his demands.

You could taste the salty pre cum as you licked and sucked on his reddened tip. Sweet moans leaving your lips at the feeling, Steve’s hand threw back in pleasure. He gripped your hair and started thrusting into your mouth, leaving no spacing for breathing. You tugged on his thighs for support, gagging as his cock reached the back of your throat, tears falling down your eyes. The sounds and your current state only made Steve grew harder in your mouth, seeking his own release, using your mouth at his mercy.

“Doing so good for me, my dumb girl” he purred “gonna cum all over your face, fuck” he promised, almost losing his mind at the feeling “then have you bent over and dripping with my seed after I fuck you stupid” he whispered, his words fading as his release approached, curses leaving his mouth. The sounds he was making became your new favorite, he was in control but his flushed look, parted lips, groans and moans were all because of you. You hollowed your cheeks, and continue to let him use you. Suddenly he removed himself slightly as you felt hot, salty cum filling your mouth. You swallowed all he had for you, licking your lips afterwards.

Looking at him with flushed, innocent eyes, Steve pulled you up by your hair, kissing you. Teeth, tongue and his taste in your mouth mixing together in a passionate and rough kiss. Steve finally started undressing you, his lips never leaving your body. He sucked on your lips and moved to your neck, he could bruise the skin that his mouth captured. Steve wanted to let everyone know who you belonged to. As he sucked on one of your boobs, his large hands cupped the other, squeezing and pulling your nipples, making you whine for more. His fingers found your panties ripping the fabric and throwing away.

Steve removed his remaining clothes, lifting you up and placing you in the couch arm. His fingers found your pussy as he groaned at how wet you were “fuck, baby, you’re so fucking wet for me” his fingers spread your arousal through your cunt, tracing every inch, the fraction at your clit making you nearly jump. Steve pushes two fingers into you at once, stretching you open, delighting himself at how well you took them. “Feel so good squeezing my fingers, can’t wait til it’s my cock” he hissed. His thumb starting circling your clit, the pressure building inside you. You felt dizzy, numb to the feeling, gripping his shoulders as you came, hard. The coil in your stomach turning into white, hot, unimaginable, pleasure. Steve licked his fingers clean and moaned at the taste.

With an evil smile, he turned you easily, bending you over, exposing your ass and pussy for him. With a few strokes on his cock, his was ready to ruin all men for you. You whine at his tip teasing your entrance. Steve wasn’t gentle, burring all of him at once, barely giving you time to adjust to his size, impossibly stretching you to fit all of him. He started at a slow, agonizing pace, teasing you. It worked, you whined, grabbed at any resemblance of balance you could find. Almost sobbing for him to stop the torturous pace.

“Steve, I” you whined his name and his cock twitched inside you. “So cockdrunk already?” he mocked “Can’t even form words” he slowed even more, yet you thought it was impossible. “Fa-aster” you tried “Plea—” no warning, his hips started thrusting harder and faster. The pace settled made you feel the coil to form again, his dick sinking into you at every thrust. “My dumb girl” he said with raspy voice “So fucked out by me, won’t even be able to think after I’m done with you”. You could only moan his name, a mess of incoherent whines, sobs and curses leaving your lips.

Steve’s pace lost his rhythm, his release approaching. He started rubbing circles around your clit, pushing you towards the edge with him. It was all too much, the feeling of your walls contracting around him, his thumb in a perfect pace, the fact that it was Steve. You reached your orgasm soon enough, giving Steve the green light to pursue his own release. It was like shockwaves all over his body, his cock buried deep inside you, his hot cum warming you. Steve collapsed on your back, his cock beginning to soften, still inside you.

After a few heavy breaths, Steve removed himself, watching his cum dripping from your cunt, down to your thighs. He grabbed you in his arms and turned you to face him, rubbing his hand through your face. “Guess we need to clean you up” he offered, a sweet, tired smile on your lips. After that night Steve knew that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t leave you ever again. He would make sure to take care of you, protect you. No matter what.

[gildedmuse]

Law: A Life In Review

(With Annotations By A Snarky Bitch Who Spends Way Too Much Of Her Time Thinking About This Mess Of A Boy)

[So far, the entire story seems to revolve around Law from between the age of 13 to 15, so of course all illustrations included with the novel are of him as a hot grown ass man. They know what the fans want.]

A Quick Introduction

As someone who studied stories at an academic level, I have a real fascination with backstories and world building. The society we see in One Piece has so many elements that I can't help but focus in on, wishing that we could get more than the passing hints at the culture of this planet. For instance, we know that there are definite differences in the social and political structure of the four Blues, but we hardly ever get to see how that actually plays out in characters interactions and development. What does it mean to be from West Blue? How does the rest of the world view the North? Are there shared cultural values between the islands of the South Blue or Are they more removed and individual the way things appear to be on the Grand Line? With what little we do know, I feel the Blues are comparable to Europe. Individual islands, like countries, have their own political systems, their own histories, their own values. But you can't deny that the nations of Europe also share a lot of cultural identity.

Of course, no body really cares about those kind of musings. You know what people do care about? Trafalgar Fucking Law.

So please enjoy this summary of the novel based around Law's backstory. I've added my own commentary, partly to further explore those little hints of, in this case, the culture of North Blue but mostly to be a snarky bitch.

Chapter One, Part One: How The Fuck Does Fruit Work?

Thirteen years before the present day, a 13-year-old Trafalgar Law has walked nonstop for three days on Swallow Island after escaping from the Donquixote Pirates thanks to Corazon's sacrifice. He is on the verge of collapse, but is intent on carrying out Corazon's parting instructions to go to the neighboring town.

Two things. First, how big is this island? According to the anime, it appears the bulk of the island is a rather steep climb, but that hardly matters. Shat kind of person does not start their search for civilization by following the coast line? Look, I understand that Law is still attempting to process some major trauma, seeing as he just witnessed the death of Actual Angel In Human Form Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante, but get it together kid! How you gonna get to the Grand Line when you can't even get to a fucking port city on an island?

[I am fairly certain that maps do not usually illustrate land masses based on a side view. Nami, babe, back me up here.]

Secondly, so Law IMMEDIATELY goes out and puts himself at risk of death in honor of Corazon dying to save his life? Really?

.... You know what, completely fair. I mean, it doesn't make sense, but it is completely on brand. This boy has yet to find a situation that he can't approach with the attitude, "Cora-san sacrificed his life to give me the chance to survive.... So that I could die for him doing this."

["I finally get why you saved my life!" He says, while actively getting himself killed.]

He finally makes it to a place called Pleasure Town [...]

And even though he's only 13 he's like, yeah, you don't name a town this unless people be fucking.

[...] but quickly becomes insecure about how people will treat him and his Amber Lead Syndrome and runs back out after encountering a woman despite her wanting to talk to him.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that, given his every life experience, Law wasn't wrong here. Who knows what she wanted to talk to him about? Maybe it was to ask what was on his face and then she'd freak out when she realized, maybe she wanted to talk about if he's accepted their lord and savior The Holy Dragons, into his life. In which case, he made the right choice. Just get out of there as fast as possible.

He camps out in a cave, but suffers the effects of the syndrome [...]

Quick note I think Law would appreciate: I didn't think the word syndrome sounded right at all - we don't call it Lead Poisoning Syndrome, and I feel pretty certain that syndrome is more like symptoms, so I looked it up.

Sure enough, syndrome is defined as a group of symptoms that correlate with one another, and if it is found in association with a specific pathogen or cause, it becomes a disease. So, like, Toxic Shock Syndrome can be the result of a variety of causes, so the symptoms alone are not a diagnosis. But the cause of Law's diseases is kind of in the name - it's the result of Amber Lead. They made that damn easy to figure out.

It should be Amber Lead Poisoning or Amber Lead Disease. And I'll bet that misnomer bothers Law just as much as his entire city being murdered over a non-contiguous "syndrome".

[...] which could kill him at any point now. He struggles to figure out how to use the Ope Ope no Mi to cure it, but eventually manages to activate his "Room".

No. No. NO!

This is like by far one of the most interesting potential scenes in this whole novel and they just..... Brush it off? Like, how the fuck did he figure that out!?

Keep in mind that I am fascinated by how certain devil fruit abilities are learned and why the way they can be activated and used differ so widely. Thanks to the Oden storyline, we get to see a past user of the Bari-Bari no Mi, the same fruit currently held by Bartolomeo. During Dressrosa, there is a scene where Barto starts to uncross his fingers and has to quickly cross the again, because as soon as he stops the barrier begins to fall. However, in the flashbacks to Oden's time, the user creates the barriers by strumming on a lute. The barriers are no less effective, but each seems to require an "activation" technique in order to use their ability. So my theory is that these techniques, while necessary for the individual in question, are not an inherent quality to the ability itself. Instead, fruit users - and particularly paramecia types that seem to require more focus or skill and be less incorporated into a person's nature - when learning to unlock or control their powers, sort of naturally find a gesture or phrase or pose that helps them to focus and unlock their ability to use their power effectively.

So in a way, a more detailed description of the scene where Law is finally able to call upon his power isn't necessary. It's not as if he randomly managed to find the only possible way to activate the ope ope no mi, he merely found the method that worked for him. At the same time....

So, what? Law just stumbled onto using Doffy-like hand gestures while growling random English words. Like..... I have to know how this happened.

Did he try other things? How many and what sorts of wild attempts did a desperate thirteen year old boy come up with trying to unlock this ability? We see his first attempt where he waves his hands over Corazon and says "get better, get better."

[It was this scene, for those of you who haven't had a chance to cry today.]

As tear-jerking as this moment was, it makes complete sense that Law's attempts to save Corazon failed no matter how desperate he was in the moment, and it had nothing to do with him not knowing the right password and secret handshake. It is specifically saud that using the ope ope no mi requires some medical knowledge (which you know, because of all those years of studying how to shot lasers out of swords and teleport random objects around.)

So with Corazon he was just so panicked and worried he couldn't even focus on like, what he needed to do (stop him from bleeding out). Maybe if Law had been able to focus, think about how he needed to remove the bullet and then see the wound, possibly get him a blood transfusion..... Maybe Law's power would activate by waving his hands over people and telling them to get better.

Which isn't as visually interesting, but at the same time, I would totally pay good money to see the Punk Hazard fight against Smoker, only this time Law is just waving his hands over a mass of billowing, pissed off smoke like some mystical cloud healer.

[Law would be an amazing new age healer. He has already mastered making nonsensical poses that do absolute fuck all.]

Another note regarding the different ways characters activate their abilities: Law seems to require his hand gestures, but the vocal calls appear to simply be a stylistic choice. For instance, in Dressrosa, Law is pinned to a tree, and yet seems ready to call up a room while actively speaking with Doflamingo. At the last second, Doffy catches what he is doing and uses his strings to tie up Law's hand, thus preventing him from being able to use his powers. And yet that makes the fact that he almost always takes the time to call out his ability name all that more interesting to me.

I can track the hand gestures, right? He's starving, dehydrated, freezing, alone and scared. He's scrolling to figure out how to use this ability he has but has no way to access. He doesn't have any text or other reference material there with him. So he thinks, "how do other people do it? How do they manage to do what I can't!?"

For the last five or so years of his life, Law has been surrounded by fruit users. We don't know if he was familiar with them prior to seeking out Doffy, but it's certainly fair to say that the Donquixote Pirates are likely his biggest point of reference when it comes to devil's fruit abilities. And out of all of those gifted with power, who is the most showy? The one that would stand out? Who would Law remember as the one with the most power, the most skill, the most control?

Law despises Doflamingo to the core, but he also grew up around the man. He spent years attempting to impress him, watching him and learning from him. It's not at all surprising that, when searching for a way to unlock his own ability, Law settled on something that is strangely..... Familiar.

[Both of these men are fucking ridiculous. Also, I would sleep with either of them no hesitation.]

But like..... He also decided, "you know what this needs? If I shout out a random English word. Really dragging out the vowels, too."

Law's verbalizations are likw Zoro with his "King of hell, three blades dragons, might wind of the futures , ultimate destruction tiger-dragon slash!" None of that is necessary (if anything, you think Zoro could get a better grip on that katana if he wasn't also trying to say super long attack names while swinging it around with his teeth). Swordsmen spend so much time trying to act all apathetic and cool that the second you give them the smallest opening, they immediately unleash their inner dramatic ho.

I'm here for it, I just want to see the whole scene where Law decides, "this, this is the shit I'm gonna do every time."

[phoenixyfriend]

So the other day, @atagotiak and I were discussing Mandalorian child-rearing. She'd brought up how Mandalorians as a whole display a massive tendency towards cycles of violence/trauma, how that trauma and abuse is displayed across generations, and how it works its way into Satine's rearing of Korkie and her manner of handling policy in Mandalorian space.

(Warning: child abuse/neglect in spades, discussion of war trauma, discussion of environmental trauma, references to current events, namely covid-19 and US school shootings)

(I'll indent Tia's things.)

Vau's father beat him growing up, Vau became a Mandalorian as an adult. He believed that one had to know true pain in order to withstand it. He sparred with a clone once, and the clone ended up in a bacta tank for a month. He set what was essentially a space!dog on another clone. Falin Mattran, at 6 years old, was verbally abused and had food withheld and worked to exhaustion until he became exactly who Munin Skirata wanted him to be. Later, Kal's wife left him for bringing 8 year olds into battle. Jaster Merreel brought a 7-8 year old into battle, and Jango had to face his parents' killer. Had to kill his parents' killer. Later, when Jango was only 14 years old, his new father died too. Jango brought a, what, ten year old? On missions? When Boba was being held hostage Jango refused to react, making Boba kill the person himself. Maybe maybe it was a better tactical decision in that moment, the option that gave Boba a better chance but. I don't know. And he died when Boba was twelve.

So many people caught in cycles like this.

But then was complete avoidance the better path? Korkie got a better childhood but then how prepared was he when Mandalore descended into civil war once more? He seemed shockingly naive in the episodes that focused on him. After the empire collapsed Bo believed herself the last of her family. And it's unclear if she was right

And at this point, we know how I get about Satine. So. Let's dive in?

The Korkie example is an interesting one to approach, because when we're fair, it's really hard to blame people for not seeing Sidious's bullshit coming, on account of how nobody does (and Satine isn't exactly interacting with Palpatine as often as the Jedi are).

Korkie is, what, sixteen when we see him? Sixteen is a normal age to be stupidly naive about things. I sure was.

And also, of course, while he might've had a better chance with a harsher upbringing who even knows if he would've survived. It's not like warriors had a good survival rate either I think my emotions can be summed up as "I would punch Kal Skirata in the face but also I really want to hug Falin Mattran" The other fun thing is I’m pretty sure Jaster, Jango, Kal and proooobably Munin and Vau thought they were doing what was best for their kids.

Also "Sure the Jedi have intergenerational trauma but if you really want to sink your teeth into something..." The Satine bits also fit under there. I do kinda wonder what it was like growing up for Korkie. In that she certainly tried her best to not fall into patterns of those before her, but hmmm. Growing up with a traumatized parent has interesting affects on you, no matter how good they are. Like, traumatized people can raise kids well but there's still things that happen.

I think Satine was probably very much trying and was like... she was making that effort to be better and to not let it affect them both, but even if we go with Legends canon that the New Mandos have been around as a movement for 800 years, she spent a significant amount of time on the run, being literally hunted.

So even if most of the New Mandalorians don't have longform trauma (c-ptsd, complex ptsd: trauma formed over a period of time where the behaviors and triggers are a learned survival skill that no longer applies, as opposed to a singular incident that has long-term effects), Satine herself does, and while therapy might have helped, the whole "she had to rebuild her entire government alone" can't have given her the time or safety to really have it apply in full.

Yeah. And even for smaller traumas. I wonder what effects that would have. My dad grew up poor and he kinda sorta hoards food. This doesn’t harm anyone, but it’s a thing and it’s there. Like. There’s pretty much always at least three months worth in the pantry. Even as someone who never has to make her own meals again, I wonder if she does that

I can imagine Satine being almost frantic in making sure Korkie takes both deescalation courses and self-defense classes as seriously as possible, because she wants to make sure he never has to resort to violence, but if anyone ever tries to hunt him like they did her--

Realistically, Korkie develops a certain degree of paranoia regarding "even if Death Watch is gone, people may try to kidnap you for a ransom or something" because Satine is that degree of worried about him and what could happen to him, and she builds that into her attempts to make sure he wasn't at risk of being hurt. Given that Death Watch was not actually gone, this was actually sensible of her, but I can easily see a kind of paranoid anxiety manifesting in Korkie about these things.

That conversation petered out a few days ago, but I kicked it back open today because wow do I have feelings after writing that rant in Buir Shaak, and specifically about this:

While Satine's c-ptsd definitely influenced her policies, her traumas are actually very common for her culture.

The New Mandalorians have definitely been around for centuries, in Legends. So surely there are some that have successfully managed to avoid most battle/violence, but definitely not all of them, right?

You could make an argument that growing up in the shadows of destruction like the deserts of Mandalore--which aren't NATURAL, but caused by large-scale bombing centuries ago that the planet never recovered from--is it's own form of environmental trauma.

There's that paranoia regarding the remaining warriors, which lasts at least up until Satine takes over fully and has them all either demilitarize or move to Concordia.

So even if we say that idk 30% of New Mandalorians actually lived through wars and were directly affected by Death Watch or other factions (especially if Concordia is representative of more recent widespread destruction), the remaining 70% probably grew up knowing that there was a risk of battle coming to them, and that causes its own kind of stress and PTSD, even if it never happens.

You end up with a culture where enough people, including the leader, have direct and intense trauma relating to war, that "her traumas influenced her policies" may need to be viewed in the direct light of "this is everyone's trauma, not just hers."

Even with the people who’ve avoided the most of it. You know a lot of the psychological effects of being raised by traumatized people. It’s different but not to be underestimated, as a motivation

I'm trying not to say "imagine the long-term policy effects that people who went to high school 2020-2022 will have once they're old enough to run for office" but that's where my mind is at.

Because covid-19 is a large-scale cultural trauma that directly, fatally impacts basically everyone (if to differing degrees because of wealth disparity etc) and that's going to have the biggest effects psychologically on people twenty and under, especially those old enough to understand what's going on but helpless to truly impact how it's handled... and that's pretty much the age Satine was at when her biggest interactions with Death Watch and related bullshit was.

Oh I thought you were getting school-shooting political, not plague political

(Both apply, plague was just the one on my mind because it's way more wide scale.)

And we just. How can I say 'her traumas' when it's not just her traumas, but a very, very large portion of her community's?

IDK how to wrap this thought train up beyond "Satine is both a driving force of change and a product of her culture, and her ability to change her culture is a direct result of people sharing her traumas, either personally or socially."

One thing I’m thinking about, now that you’ve started this trend, is how petrified I am when someone is angry in my presence, sometimes. Even if it’s not directed at me. It’s weird, I can take a punch, in a sporting context, but even a relatively non threatening raised voice can be… That’s probably not that uncommon, eh? And my traumas, while def a thing, aren’t that sustained

Like how do I explain that she is what happens when you push a culture to the brink and get masses of people snapping back in the opposite direction.

How do I explain that she is representative of activism, not a rich girl with no experience doing her best to quash what's interesting about culture.

How do I explain that Satine, as sanctimonious and petty and condescending as she can be, is politically the leader of a cultural movement that stemmed by necessity from the majority joining her call to action.

You cannot enact pacifism through force. That's only achievable on a large scale if you convince people that enough is enough, and it's... it can't be Just The Rich that were arguing for it, like I've seen some people say, because the rich were mostly the ones with armor.

Like. That one post that goes on about how a medieval knight needed hundreds of people to support their career because of what went into it? Obviously that doesn't apply to nearly the same scale in star wars because tech and droids etc, but Mandalore was 'might makes right' for so long that we can reasonably assume wealth and power traveled to the warrior class, not merchants or crafters unless the crafter was a blacksmith.

Beskar is canonically expensive as hell. In this metaphor, the people wearing armor and arguing to 'keep to tradition' are by and large the feudal lords, not the people.

Obviously, the feudal thing doesn't directly apply; space has entirely different economies of scale, the changes and philosophical drama have been occurring over centuries if not millennia, warriors tended to move in cells, etc. but it's here for a metaphor to explain how "Satine was rich and that's why she thought it was good to erase culture" doesn't really play out when looking at the complexities of Mandalorian history, economic realities, cultural/generational traumas, and canonically-defined policy decisions.

[luimagines]

First Kiss! Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Sky, Legend and Time

Content under the cut!

Sky

Walking through the town was something mundane and simple.

Walking through town hand in hand with your boyfriend Sky was comforting, a journey and a delight.

You always seemed to see things differently when he was around and you’re not sure why but walking with him always made things look brighter, happier, more enjoyable. You never wanted it to end.  

The two of you turned into the town square and watched the others of the group disperse into the natural inclinations for civilization. You laughed and leaned against Sky as they went away, the two of you not having a destination in mind.

“I don’t actually want to do anything right now.” Sky admitted as you walk. “Is there something you had in mind or can we go?”

You hum and think for a moment and realize that there’s not much you think the town can offer you at the moment that would be worth staying and shake your head. “Nope. I’m good.”

Sky smiled and begins to drag you along to the outer rings of the place, making random turns at random times just trying to create distance no matter how imaginary.

“I thought we were leaving.” You snort and stop in your tracks, keeping Sky from moving forward.

Sky blushes a little and uses his other hand to scratch the back of his head. “I realized we would need to check in with someone and I didn’t know where any of them went. So-”

“So we can’t leave because someone could go looking for us?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah...”

You snort and cover your mouth with your free hand. “I should have known.”

“What?”

“You’re too much of a good boy to just ditch people.” You grin and tilt your head. ”Which is cute but I should have known there’s no way you’re a bad boy, even for as something as trivial as knowing where we are.”

You shake your head good naturedly and feel Sky get closer. “Honestly I should have-”

Sky gets into your personal space and the close proximity stuns you into silence.

Sky raises an eyebrow and leans even closer. “I can be a bad boy, if I wanted to.”

The air suddenly feels charged and while you’re not sure with what, you somehow manage to get your tongue working again to shape the words you need to say. “No offence dear, but I doubt that.”

Sky leans in and you lean back to gain some space, less he collide with your face only to feel your back collide with a wall behind you.

You’re trapped. 

You gulp and look up into Sky’s eyes with confusion, only marginally intimidated by his actions.

Sky smirks and you feel a blush cover your face as you bite your lip. You look down out of embarrassment and try to figure out what’s going on with your heart at the same time. Sky finally lets go of your hand and brings his arm over your head to rest his weight on it, his other hand coming up to put a finger under your chin, lifting it just a little higher for you to properly look him in the eyes.

The action combined with the somewhat devilish look on his face and his action have you go weak in the knees and you press yourself deeper into the wall for some semblance of stability.

Sky looks you up and down at the sight and tilts his head, the smirk ever present.

He’s enjoying this.

Your heart is pounding, all you seem to hear is your blood rushing in your ears and your whole body feel too warm and ice cold at the same time.

Sky leans into your face and you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he places little butterfly kisses against you. He brushing his nose against yours on accident but it fails to feel that way. If anything it makes the moment more intimate and charges something in you.

The little kisses he leaves on your face are a kind of sweet torture you’re not sure you can bare for any longer.

You gulp and flutter yours eyes open- not sure when you closed and gasp for a breath. “Oh my god, kiss me.”

Sky stills and you think you might have pushed something just before he angles himself in front of you again and presses his lips against yours.

Your close your eyes and lose yourself in the feeling.

Your hands travel up his check and rest on his shoulders before closing in by his collar bone and snaking behind his head to tangle themselves in his hair.

Sky keeps his arm on the wall but uses his other hand to tilt your head even higher, pushing himself against you as he kisses you deeper.

A loud cough has the two of you jumping away from each other and you can’t help feeling a little pissed that someone interrupted your moment.

There stands Time, a smirk and knowing look in his eye. “Pardon the interruption, but I believe I was tasked to bring Sky to Warrior for a consultation. That is.... unless you’re busy.”

Sky coughs and steps away from you. “No, I... I can go.”

You glare at Time, not at all subtle in your intentional message you’re trying to send.

Time holds back his snickers... barely. “Good. I’ll him know you’re on your way.”

Sky blushes at being caught and laughs a bit when he sees you. “We’ll continue later.”

You blink and only then feel a little shame at also being caught- or it shame for how much you enjoyed it.

You nod at Sky and watch him- his phantom touch still on you.

You collapse against the wall and sigh.

That was not what you were expecting.

Legend

Running.

You and Legend were running through the castle trying to lose the tail of the guards that have found out that you two were very much not supposed to be there. Your party clothes billowed behind you and your steps echoed through the mostly empty hallways, more of them thundering behind you as more guards joined the cause.

“This is the last time I follow you blindly, Link.” You hiss and nearly trip over yourself.

Legend spins with little to no trouble at all and grabs your shoulder, helping you get back onto your feet and throwing you in front of him.

“It’s not like I asked for this.” Legend hisses back to you and pushes you to keep running through the hallways.

You want to stop and breath and leave but you’re lost and Legend knows this place better than you do so you’re stuck with him if you want to survive and not get caught.

Without waring Legend pulls you into a sharp turn and closes a door you didn’t notice behind you only stopping at the last moment to not slam it and instead rest it gently, closing even the small gold threaded curtain over the little peep window. 

Around you is a somewhat closed off spiral stair case and another door in front of you that leads into another unknown area but you can hear people.

You’re still not safe but no one seems to have heard you come in just yet.

“This must be one of the servant stairwells.” Legend says as he pants, resting his hands on his knees. You had though that when Legend had first appeared next to you in his finery that he was very handsome. And even when he’s all disheveled and exhausted, you still find yourself appreciating how every curve and sharp angle is accentuated by the outfit.

But this isn’t the time for that.

“Can we get out through here?” You ask, leaning up against the wall. there’s not  a lot of space between you and Legend where you stand but you’re too tired to compute it at the moment.

“Not without getting seen by more people.” Legend sighs. “We’ll just wait for the guards to pass and then head out the other way.”

You nod and continue to pant, placing your hand over your heart as if that would stop it from beating out of your chest.

Legend takes a few more breaths and walks over to stand next to you and places his weight against the wall as well. He opens his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting it with a click and forcing you to duck down as well when you hear the guards that were chasing you just outside the door that hide you from their gaze.

You stop breathing entirely, leaning closer to Legend who places himself between you and door.

You wait.

They leave.

The two of you nearly collapse into each other when you hear them take their leave to continue their search for you somewhere else.

You both stand up again and Legend reaches for the door.

Someone begins coming down the stairs.

Your eyes widen, body ready to run out the door but you’re being pressed against the wall with Legend on top of you before you can think of moving a muscle. 

Legend presses his lips against yours and traps your body there with his own. He attempts to coax a response out of you as the steps continue to descend, his hand burring itself into your hair as the other pulls you closer by your hip.

Your eyes flutter close and your hands come up to cradle his face, kissing him back like you’ve been wanting to do the entire night.

Legend groans a little as he deepens the kiss and angles you closer to his body.

You begin running your hands all over him, trying to map out his curves and angles that you’ve eyeing the entire night with your hands.

Legend responds favorably and even bites your lip when you refuse to let him kiss you even deeper.

“UM!” A voice squeaks. “My apologies but uh... you can’t be here.”

You break away and Legend turns around to address the poor maid that had caught you two.

“Sorry.” He flushes and waves her away. “We’ll be on our way. We didn’t know.”

You swear you blush all the way to your feet and can’t even bring yourself to look the poor girl in the eye as you both leave.

Legend subtly looks around for anyone who might still looking for you even you both leave and you both calmly leave the stairwell and the maid and begin to make your way out of the castle.

You hand finds its way to your mouth, the phantom touch of his lips on yours still tingling in the present moment because of it.

“I’m sorry.” Legend blurts in the quiet moment, his face a deep red as he looks down. “I panicked... but that doesn’t make that ok. It was the heat of the moment but... I probably could have found another solution or maybe we could have just ran.”

You bite your lip and hold your hands behind your back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I just assaulted you-”

“You’re a good kisser-”

You both stop in your tracks and stare at each other wide eyed.

“What did you just say?” You speak at the same time.

You gulp and shake your head. ”I didn’t think you... If I didn’t want you to...Um...” You look away first and try to hide behind your hair. “I wanted to kiss you all night, so.... I’m not complaining.” 

“You- you did?”

You blush deeper and try to walk away from him as you talk, as if that would negate how he would still be able to hear you even now that you’re both outside. “For awhile now actually, but.... uh... you look very handsome like that, so the urge was stronger than usual.”

Legend doesn’t say anything for a while but you keep walking, trying to get away from the awkwardness Your friendship is going to change after this night and you can feel it. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.

It was a good kiss.

Footsteps begin thundering behind you and you turn around to see what’s got Legend in a panic before he tackles you to the ground- ruining your party clothes in the dirt before trapping your lips against his again.

He lifts himself off of you as he pants. “You can’t just say that and then leave.”

“I wasn’t trying-”

“You look gorgeous tonight, it was so hard to control myself.”  He kisses you again.

You blink and stare into his eyes when he lifts himself off of you for the second time, letting a moment of silence over you before you take a breath. “Kiss me again.”

He grins and leans down.

If this is the change to your relationship, let it be known that you’re certainly not complaining.

Time

You sigh and watch the sun set just beyond the mountains in the west.

Every bone in your body felt tired and sore and there was nothing else that you wanted to do. You thought that one more person wanted to talk to you today you were going to lose it.

Time comes to sit next to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. He leans over to look in your eyes before he nods to himself and shifts his weight so that he sits with his front to your side.

Gently he coaxes you to move around also and you follow his lead without much question.

As soon as you’re with your back to him, his hands comes to rest on your shoulder and begin to knead.

You almost groan with the immediate pleasure and relief it brings you but the others are still nearby and you don’t want to give them any ideas.

You have no idea how he does it but Link always seem to know what you need without you saying anything and even before you even know. 

You sigh and try to relax even further under his touch.

Time continues with his massage and travels all over your shoulders, upper back and neck.

Your eyes close and you lean back after a few minutes of this, right into Time’s lap. “Thank you.” You say and smile more genuinely toward him. “You didn’t have to but I feel better now.” 

“Good.” He says and plays with the hair that falls over his leg. “You looked tense.”

“Everything was sore and not happy with me.” You blinked your eyes open and look up into his. “That felt nice.”

“Well you’re welcome.” He smiles back.

You grin and sit up again much to the protest of the rest of your muscles. With a small shimmy, you turn around and hop up to place a little kiss on Time’s cheek before you lose your nerve. “Payment.”

You don’t know where your boldness comes from but you’re not so shameless as to kiss Time fully while the whole group is very much nearby.

Time stills completely before he stands up after you.

You attempt to walk away and go back to the group before he can say anything but he catches your hand and pulls you back with a spin, trapping you with an arm behind your back and your chest against his.

You blush at the close proximity and try to pull away. “Time, the boys-”

Time lets go of the hand behind your back to free that up but he instead rests his hands on your waist and pulls you flush against him. “What about them? I believe that if that was the payment that you’re a little short on the change.”

He’s smirking when he says this. 

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours. “If you’re ok with it that is.”

You gulp and stare at him wide eyed. You bite your lip in thought and you can see Time glance down at the subtle movement.

You grin and push yourself into him, closing the distance between you two with more vigor than either of you expected. The force pushes Time back a step and you throw your arms around him to stabilize yourself. 

He kisses you back with as much passion as you want to believe he’s been holding back. You start to crumble from under him and he follows you down when your knees fail you, bending over to keep kissing you, to kiss you deeper and to pull you closer even if you’re bent in half at this point.

You don’t care. 

Together, you lose yourselves in each other and try to memories each factor of him.

The broadness of his chest, the way his toned arms hold you, the way his lips move against you and your skin and how he moves from your lips to your neck-

“Oh for crying out loud-  GET A ROOM!” Legend yells from across the camp and you pull away from time in shock.

Time calmly looks over and pulls you back on to your feet again. “Do you see one?”

“Time.” You whisper yell and smack his arm a little, your blush on your face clear as day even as the sun sets beyond the horizon.

He smirks and turns back to you, capturing one more kiss from you before he steps away with a low and frankly dangerous kind of chuckle. “Later.”

“Later?” You looks after him and cover you lips with your finger tips. “What do you mean by later?”

Time doesn’t turn around to answer you ad you don’t know if you’re excited for it or too embarrassed at the blatant wanton behavior of yours to even think beyond anything than going to bed and starting the next day.

Who are you kidding?

How are you going to sleep when time has frankly put your mind on over drive that that?

It’s going to be a long night.

Part 3

[jupiterdrabbles]

The Oracle

Chapter One

Word Count: 4.7k~

Rating: Teen

Pronouns for Reader: They/Them/Theirs

Warnings: Vivid details of violence, blood and death.

Parings: Prince Sidon/Reader, Link/Reader

Even after the defeat of Calamity Ganon, the world remained paranoid. So many times had they defeated the evil, and so many times had it come back. The legends melted away after the fall of the champions one hundred years ago, and the citizens of Hyrule could no longer turn to them for guidance.

 So, they turned to you. 

From a very young age, you always knew something was different. You could never quite place or understand the feeling, but sometimes when making important decisions or choosing what to say, a gentle prodding made its way up your skull. ‘This one! This is right, this is the way.’ Echos of affirmation in an oddly familiar voice that no one else could hear. But, it always seemed to help those in need, so you were keen to listen. 

 One day, when you were no older than ten years old, your parents had a stranger come into the house. She wore all white, with a thin veil covering her eyes. She met your gaze, and you knew. 

 You were the same. On some level deep down you resonated with each other. You had something in common that was so engrossed in who you were that it sent shivers through your body. The voice reverberated louder, calling her to you and you to her. She stretched out her hand, palm up, and you put yours in hers. A bright light swallowed you, and everything became clear. You finally knew.

 You were an Oracle. 

—————

You sat in Hyrule castle, at the left hand of the Queen. Your robes were loose and light, that same white color as the woman who gave you your answer nearly a decade ago. You kept your head bowed as Queen Zelda addressed her court, Link at her right. They were currently discussing the reconstruction of Hyrule, what with a century of abandonment to many of its cities and people. Ever since this meeting had begun, there had been a buzzing in the back of your skull. It spread around your scalp and pulsed at your temples, but you fought back the urge to put your head into your hands. You were currently surrounded by the ambassadors of the different domains and remaining civilizations, you had to remain proper. Besides, it was most likely just a headache from staying awake long into the morning hours with Zelda, reading and studying about the years that had transpired while she was trapped with Ganon, and before you were born. 

 Zelda often keeps you and Link by her side. While you had known the Queen for a significantly less amount of time than the champion had, you had bonded over the shared burden of having a divine power bestowed upon you from a young age. In your time with Link, he had taught you simple defense maneuvers. As the Oracle, almost all of your concentration had to be in the present, focusing on harnessing any sign or signal you could grab onto to help decipher the coming days or even years. He fretted enough about Zelda not being able to fight on her own, but now that he had two incredibly important people to guard, he felt he was going to have a heart attack. You weren’t given a weapon- many were too heavy or didn’t sit right in your hands, with the added fact that you really weren’t supposed to wield anything that could hurt you in return (keeping your body whole was apparently a big part of the job). Link taught you pressure points and how a two-fingered jab to the right place could bring even Lizalfols to the ground. He promised he’d be at your back in an instance, but it made him and you more confident with some experience under your belt.

 The buzzing grew louder and stronger with every passing minute, and you shifted to tuck your feet in on the seat of your chair to ball yourself in tighter. The haze that normally accompanied oncoming migraines wasn’t present, so you shoved it aside and blamed it on exhaustion. You tried to listen past the incessant noise, and to Zelda’s words. 

 “Even with Ganon defeated, some of the Malice it left behind continues to scorch the land. It isn’t hard to combat, but we will need a large group to cover all of the domains.” Zelda spoke, fingers interlaced atop the table. “Link recommended a force of five for each pool, as some of them can build and expel monsters out of nowhere.” Link nodded at her side, arms folded across his chest. He brought his hands forward to speak, fingers fluttering. 

 “They aren’t difficult and won’t do much damage to your person- but they are quiet. It’s always helpful to have someone watching your back.” He signed, an interpreter relaying his words towards the other end of the table. The ambassadors nodded, and a Zora woman raised her hand to speak. 

 “We have stationed guards along different trade routes to ease the journey of the travelers coming to our domain, and there have been reports of Malice pools growing from the ground. I believed they were isolated to the Divine Beasts and to the different shrines and towers. Do you know why they are coming about?”

 You looked up to her, and a lump caught in your throat. The way herred scales glimmered in the remaining sunlight was painstakingly familiar, and the more you looked the more the lump grew. It had been the only time you’d raised your gaze the entire meeting, and she- as well as some other ambassadors- took notice. She met your gaze and offered a small smile. 

 And that’s what did it. 

 You let out a sharp gasp and clutched at the fabric in front of your chest, all the pain in your head suddenly shooting down to your heart. It felt like something was strangling the organ, a tight grip that squeezed and pulled and hurt. Your vision began to black out as you heard voices all around you. Someone put their hand on your shoulder and another barked at them to stop, leave them be! 

 The pain in your chest spread through your shoulders and back, down your spine and arms and back up to your skull. Your throat burned like you had been swallowing saltwater and nausea crept into your belly. You saw red, a bright crimson in your peripheral vision fading into blue, into brown. You heard the roar of a Divine Beast and felt it’s anguish. The ground shook with it’s fury and your vision cleared. You looked up and found yourself in the Zora domain, soaked through and surrounded by fleeting citizens. You stayed still, watching in awe as Vah Ruta rampaged through the domain, the marble and stone cracking beneath its feet. It stomped over the throne and it crumbled beneath its weight like a mushroom. The water at your bare feet turned red and sticky with blood, and Vah Ruta turned its massive head to you. 

 You met its eyes as its trunk lifted high into the air, a ball of energy building between its tusks. You were frozen in place, fear rooting you in your spot as you stared down a machine that easily aided in the defeat of Calamity Ganon. It whirred menacingly and fired at you. The screams and cries silenced, there was nothing left but the beam. Blue and white flooded your vision, then red again. So much red that it faded into black, only two glowing eyes remained. Ganon’s eyes. It gurgled in the silence and unhinged its mouth, pure Malice dripping onto the floor and onto you. You cried out as it burned your hands, and you watched in horror as it spread up your arms and chest. You were covered in Malice- no, the entire world was covered, infected, and dying slowly beneath the surface. And all it took was one pool near the far terminal in Vah Ruta. You blinked the pain away as you traveled with the Malice, one with it now. You saw it tearing apart wires and cogs beneath the surface, reworking the machine to how it saw fit. All it took was one beast, and the world would decay. 

 Something grabbed your wrist and pulled you from the Malice, and when you crumpled with exhaustion they caught you. They held you and rubbed your back as you sobbed into their shoulder. A hand pressed between your shoulder blades and warmth followed. 

 Look at your hands, they said into your ear. A girl’s voice, a slight lilt underneath her tone. It’s going to be okay, you can go home. 

 You brought your hands into your vision, and saw the Malice fading away along with a soft blue light. You peeled away from her shoulder and looked into the eyes of Mipha. Her expression was tense and filled with worry. 

 If Vah Ruta loses control, then the world will crumble. She spoke softly, taking your hands into hers. I am afraid I won’t be able to calm her, please- tears pricked at her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. 

 Find my brother.

You open your eyes to find yourself on the floor. The light burned your eyes, and the shape of Zelda above you was blurred and fuzzy. She called out your name in relief, helping you sit up. 

 “Are you alright- what happened? Do you need a medic!?” She fretted, and you shook your head. Your hands were also shaking, and you would guess your entire body was trembling by the way the ambassadors were looking at you. They stood at a distance, and you learned why as you looked up at Link. He was stood up with his back to you and Zelda, sword drawn and in a slight crouch. You guessed when you collapsed the ambassadors and guards rushed to your aid, only to be stopped when the Champion took your guard. You would have to thank him later, but there were more important matters.

 Ignoring Zelda’s questions and worries, you leaned up and grabbed Link’s hand. He spun around immediately, eyes wide. He knelt to your level, hand never leaving his sword. 

 “We- we need to-“ Your voice shook as you stuttered, and groaned in frustration as the words almost refused to come out of your mouth. Link’s eyes were patient, but you looked down to break his gaze. “Vah Ruta, the Domain- we need to go there, immediately.” You sucked in a breath as you tried not to hyperventilate, panic seeping into your skin as you remembered the blood-slick floors. “Vah Ruta is going to loose control and- and attack the Domain.” 

 Gasps of shock rang throughout the room, and tension quickly began to build. The ambassadors rushed to speak to each other.

 “Vah Ruta? But didn’t the Queen fix it after the Calamity!?”

“My home- my domain! What are we going to do?”

“How is this happening? Is it an omen?”

 A Rito ambassador knelt beside Link, who gave him a side eye and clutched the sword tighter. The bird took no notice, all of his attention on you.

 “Will the remaining Beasts also rampage? Do we need to be prepared as well?” He demanded, panic thick in his voice. Before you could answer, his panic was well shared.

 “The rest of the Divine Beasts?! Oh, Goddess!”

“If Vah Naboris rampages again, Gerudo Town will crumble!”

“Oracle, what did you hear- what did you see!?”

“Please, what is going to happen?”

“Are we doomed again? Is Ganon coming back-“

 “Enough!” Zelda cried, standing sharply as her voice cut through the room. They all turned to face her, wide eyed and scared. She took a breath and smoothed out her dress before addressing them again. 

 “The gift of Foresight is an exhausting one, please allow them to collect themselves before answering your onslaught of questions! Clearly it was a traumatic experience, as they were shaking and sobbing not minutes ago!” She declared, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. Shaking and sobbing? Oh, what a first impression on some of the most important people in the four domains. Zelda held out her hand to you, snapping you out of your embarrassment and helped you stand. Her hand then came to your shoulder and turned you away from them and across the room. She waved for Link to follow. She held both of your arms as she walked to face you directly, Link at her shoulder. 

 “Alright,” She said, sighing. “Honestly, they had no right swarming you like they did.”

 “It’s alright, your Highness. I’m sure I would do the same in their position, hearing something as startling as a Divine Beast losing control and running through a domain.” You folded your hands and held them near your stomach, trying to ground yourself. “I should go and explain my vision, they need to-“

 “No,” Link signed, his first two fingers and thumb pinching together. “They will only stress you out more, you’re already unwell.”

 “But they need to know! We need to travel to the Domain as soon as possible!” You furrowed your brow as you spoke. “It’s going to happen soon, and the Zora need to-“

 “That’s why I will tell them, and you go rest as much as you can.” Zelda said calmly, rubbing your arm in a soothing motion. “Tell me what you saw, and I’ll relay the information so you and Link can start getting ready. You’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

 “You won’t be coming?” Link asked, and Zelda shook her head. 

 “Hyrule still needs a leader. I can talk to you both through the Slate, and offer any assistance you may need.” 

 You bit at the corner of your lip. The air felt heavy and your chest was still tight from the lingering effects of your vision. Zelda was right though, as she always was. You needed to prepare. 

 “...alright,” You whispered, and they turned back to you. “If you’re sure.” 

 “Of course. Now sit down and give me just a moment.” Zelda led you back to where you were sitting before and you eased yourself onto the cushion. You tucked into yourself as the ambassadors looked at you, feeling like a luminous stone at midnight under their gaze. Zelda gathered their attention and began to explain what would happen, that they should return to their rooms until called down to hear the explanation, and Link stood in front of you. 

 “You have no reason to be nervous, it will just be me and Zelda.”

 “I’m not nervous.” You countered, looking up at him. “I’m just-“

 “You are, and it’s okay.” He interrupted, and your mouth clipped shut. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but I want you to know you’ll be safe. I’d never let anything near you that wasn’t welcome.”

 “I saw that earlier,” You chuckled, and a soft smile spread across Link’s face as well. “You had your sword out and everything, it’s like you were staring down a hoard of Bokoblins.” You playfully jabbed at his stomach, which he sidestepped with ease. 

 “It almost was, you should’ve seen the Gerudo. She almost grabbed you herself.” You giggled a little, covering your mouth. When your laughter subsided, you looked at him seriously. 

 “Thank you. For- for always protecting me. I’m sorry if I put any more stress on you, you deserve a break after fighting the calamity.” He waved you off, scoffing slightly. 

 “Believe me, this is a vacation. I can’t stand still for the life of me, much less take a vacation. Can you imagine me, relaxing? It doesn’t fit right.” He made a face of disgust and stuck his tongue out. You smiled fondly. 

 “You’re right, it doesn’t. But any moment you need to take a break or even just sleep in a little longer, do so. I don’t want you burning yourself out on my account.”

 “I think I took enough of a nap when I was in the Shrine of Resurrection, don't you think?”

 You shrugged, not knowing exactly what to say in response. Link was stubborn, and getting him to budge on anything was hard, but especially hard when it came to his health. You have had small blips of visions where Link was bleeding profusely or otherwise severely wounded but he kept going. You knew he would get nightmares of the calamity as you would get them too. Part of the glamorous life of an Oracle was near magical empathy, you could see and hear what someone was going through and live in that struggle. It wasn’t something you loved, in fact sometimes it felt like an invasion of privacy, but sometimes it led to you helping those you cared for. You had talked to Link about his dreams and he opened up to you a little. The burden was worth it in the end, but you wished you could do more. Link and you continued to chat softly, and soon enough Zelda came back. Her smile was strained, and you swallowed hard. 

 “So,” She began, clearing her throat. “They aren’t exactly thrilled with the fact that it won’t be coming from you directly, but they will live on” She looked back to where the door was swinging shut, the ambassadors now being escorted to their respective chambers. Hyrule Castle was one of the first things to be rebuilt, and more rooms and space was added for Hylian citizens to seek shelter in while the Kingdom was being rebuilt. It truly was a beautiful building, now that it was reformed to its proper glory. 

 “Are you ready? We can take this slow.” She asked, and you nodded. She brought out her Sheikah Slate and opened a feature that allowed her to take notes, and looked to you to begin. 

 “I- I was in the Zora domain. They were all fleeing rapidly, and shoving past me. Normally, when I have these visions, I can phase through what I need to in order to find what I need, but-“ Your hands shook again, and you squeezed them together. “I was really there, I felt them knock into me. It’s never been like that before.

 “Many were injured, some were dead, but no one was stopping. I looked up and Vah Ruta was in the domain, thrashing about and destroying many of the pillars and making its way to the throne room, where I was.”

 “It wasn’t in the dam anymore? How could that happen?” Link asked, bewildered. You shook your head. 

 “I don’t know. I only saw it coming towards me, and then it-“ You held onto your neck, pressing into your muscles to ease the tension. “It fired it’s laser- the one it shot at Ganon. I think I- I might’ve died, there.”

 Zelda clapped a hand over her mouth. The scalding hot feeling faded back into your chest where Vah Ruta had aimed, and you cleared your throat. 

 “Then, when the world went dark, I was a part of the malice. I saw it corrupting the inside of Vah Ruta before Mipha pulled me out and healed me. She said she could no longer rein in the Beast, I think she’s been struggling for a while. Then-“ You looked up at Link, who met your gaze with an intense expression. 

 “Then she told me to find her brother. I don’t know why, but when the Zora ambassador talked about Malice pools growing, that’s what shot me into the vision. I think- I think she’s right. I was a part of the Malice after Vah Ruta shot me, so that means-“

 “Others might be too.” Zelda finished. “Those who were slain might have gotten sucked into the Malice and developed with it, that’s why it’s getting stronger.” She faced away for a moment, lost in thought. “This is… worrying, to say the least.” You nodded, and rubbed your face. 

 “I’m so sorry, I wish I knew more.”

 “No, you’ve done so much.” Zelda reassured, taking your hands away from your face. “Without you, we wouldn’t know this was even happening. Now,” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and helped you stand. “Go and rest, I’ll talk with the captain of the guard and the ambassadors. Link,” She turned to him. “Don’t let anyone stop you on your way. Make sure they get to their room safe.” Link nodded in return and took your arm. Zelda waved, and turned to a guardsman not too far off. 

 Link walked with you, slower than his usual pace to match yours. He brought his arm away from yours for a moment to sign something to you. 

 “We can’t both use the travel gates at once, so we’ll be going on horseback. It won’t be an incredibly long journey, but I would bring clothes you would be comfortable riding in.” He explained.

 “Shouldn’t we leave now? We would get there by noon tomorrow if we went straight there.” You spoke softly, and Link thought for a moment. 

 “I’m not sure about that. We’ll have to go through a lot of diplomacy as soon as we arrive, you need to be well rested and recovered after what happened.” He said, a frown creasing in his face. “What if you have another vision at the Domain? You’d be exhausted.”

 “Link, please.” You took his hand, and moved your veil to look at him directly. Your hair fell from under your hood, and a slight flush moved it’s way up to Link’s ears. You never took off the veil and hood, it was a sign of protection from false guidance or spirits. He’s never seen your face without it. “I won’t be able to sleep even if we wait, let alone rest. I’ll go mad knowing we waited any longer than needed- people are going to die, Link.” You pleaded, and you felt his resolve begin to crumble. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 “...fine. Fine, alright. But we’ll be taking one horse so you can sleep on the way, pack only what you truly need. We can get food there during the journey.” You smile up at him, full of gratitude. You lift your hood back up and your face and rush forward to hug him tightly. The feeling is foreign to both you and him, Link not being incredibly touchy and you really weren’t supposed to touch people at all- keeping yourself pure and without too deep attachments that could risk severing your connection to the goddess and spirits. 

 “Thank you.” You murmur into his chest, and let go afterwards. You adjust your robes, unable to meet his eye. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes, where should I meet you?”

 “I’ll come gather you. I don’t think you know where the stables are.” He said, a bit of snark on his face. He was right, you didn’t, but he didn’t have to be smart about it. You shove him off and race to your quarters as well as one can when wearing floor length robes that draped and flowed nearly everywhere. 

 As soon as you closed your door, you went to your wardrobe. You pulled a pair of trousers that weren’t so loose on you and set them on your mattress, as well as a warm tunic and a pair of gloves. You grabbed a pair of opal earrings Link had given to you a while back, he said they had some sort of magical property hidden within that made it easier to swim and climb in the rain. All of your clothes were some form of white or cream color to symbolize your purity and power, but in instances like this it made it more difficult to have proper outdoors attire. Well, you guess that many people when thinking of an Oracle don’t think of horseback riding and trudging through rough terrain. 

 You removed your hood and veil once more, stripping off your robe and shirt underneath before your boots and pants. You pulled on the outfit you laid out, replacing your silk gloves with the leather ones and putting the earrings through. Your hood and veil were returned and you got on your knees to reach under your bed. 

 You honestly had no reason to hide this anymore, you knew only Zelda, Link and the only maid you’ve spoken to were allowed in your room and they wouldn’t judge or criticize you for it, but old habits die hard. You pull the small wooden box into your lap and unlatch it, smiling fondly at what laid inside. 

 It was a simple necklace on a thin chain and didn’t have much design. You didn’t wear much jewelry, and if you did it wasn’t often, but you almost never wear this for a completely different reason. You’d probably keel over and die on the spot if you lost it, or it was broken. The pendant that lay on the chain was in the shape of a star, four points that thinned out as they went with a small quartz stone in the center. The back of the pendant had your name engraved, followed by “Forever in our sky”. It had been a gift from your mother before you left to begin your training and honing your ability. The teachers and guides had tried to take it from you, saying that you must leave everything behind to serve your greater purpose, but you hid it. You figured your family wouldn’t keep you from serving the goddess and you were right. You clipped it on and slid it beneath your tunic before standing and grabbing your satchel that you came here with. 

 In it you slid a pouch of rupees, two Hasty Elixirs (Link insisted on you taking them, in case you ever needed to run away from a battle.) and your spare set of prayer robes in case you would need them. You walked over to where your altar table was laid out and gathered the few gemstones that laid out in the corners, as well as the small crystal sphere you would roll between your palms to aid with smaller visions. You looked out over your room to confirm you weren’t missing anything, and slid your boots back onto your feet. You opened the door and was met with Link reaching to knock. You sniggered, and stepped aside. He sat on the bed and you shut the door. 

 “Got everything?” He asked, and you nodded. He had changed out of his Champion’s tunic and into a red and black one you haven't seen before. A full quiver of arrows and a black bow rested above the darkness-sealing sword. He had a satchel as well, presumably for more arrows or weapons. He always liked to be prepared. 

 “I left a note for Zelda for when she comes looking for us in the morning. Hopefully she won’t be too angry.”

 “She will live on.” You said, mimicking her words from earlier which got a smirk out of Link. He turned and pointed to a trapdoor on your ceiling that you hadn’t noticed until this moment. 

 “We’ll go through the attic and jump down onto the walkway beneath. There’s an old railroad system beneath the castle that will take us to the main gate and out.” He signed, hands moving almost quicker than you can read. “It won’t be easy.”

 “Then let’s get going.” Your voice was full of determination, and you moved a bedside table underneath the trapdoor. “You go up first and then help me, you’re taller.”

 “Man, I knew I liked you.”

You clung onto Link’s waist as he urged his horse on over the bridge and into the woods. You looked over the night sky and the dwindling candlelight through the castle windows. “I’m sorry, Zelda,” You whispered, “But I can’t wait any longer.” You put your head on Link’s shoulder and closed your eyes, hoping to catch some sleep before hell broke loose.

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