#and you get like three paragraphs of undercurrents of feelings that will have to be subsumed into something subtle at a later date

[mashamorevvna]

first draft is always such a mortifying ordeal for me. i subscribe to the write it stupid way so it's the most unsubtle thing ever that i have to refine into something readable, but by god is it sometimes hard to look at

[chimielie]

the heaven here

part eight of favor the brave (o hand of fortune)

word count: 3k

cw: swearing, sex jokes, kissing (finally)

a/n: the end of my first ever series!! [insert sappy paragraph here] i love iwaizumi. thank you <3 chapter title from slow dancing by aly and aj

Fuck, you think. He’s as beautiful as ever.

There are dark half-moons beneath his eyes, and his brows are turned down, as are the corners of his lips. The first time you saw him, it was from a distance you hadn’t realized that you wanted to close. Now, there’s a chasm between you put there by your self-imposed exile, and all you want to do is go home.

You (wary, longing, haunted) stand, brushing off your pants. He (weary, lonely, haunted) backs up. You look him up and down, taking your fill (and how you have been starved, these last few months), seeing a hat covering his spiky hair— the dark t-shirt you’d once spilled cold coffee on— well-used running shoes, soaking up moisture from the wet grass. You realize that even after days and weeks and months, he’s still the most attractive person you’ve ever seen, down to the creases at the corners of his eyes and the scars on his legs from nasty scrapes as a child. You realize that maybe it’s not California— it’s just him. It’s always been him for you. It might always be him.

In this light, you feel blindsided, spots of black dotting your vision. You want him to let you watch him from the safe distance of a worshipper on their knees while he stands on high. Still, he stands in front of you with all the grounding of a mountain, unmoving.

You’d love to watch him walk away.

“Hi,” you croak, and you’re sure you sound absolutely fucking miserable. “I should go.”

“Stay,” Oikawa says immediately, and you try to conceal your wince as you turn to the less painful of the two to look at. “I only have two friends in this city— I was hoping we could get dinner? All three of his?” His voice rises to an uncomfortably high pitch by the end of his question, but it’s by far the least embarrassing moment of this entire encounter.

“I’d like that,” Iwaizumi says with a note of hopelessness, like he knows you’ll say no. You steel yourself and summon the spirit of the unexpected, the spirit that’s watched over your entire relationship with Hajime.

“I have work to do,” you start, and both men deflate, Iwaizumi more subtly than Oikawa. “But if we get take-out, and we hurry…”

“Yes!” Oikawa cheers. “Yes, yes, yes. We’ll be so fast, don’t even worry.”

As he loops one arm through yours and the other through Iwaizumi’s, Hajime shoots a smile at you, one that’s almost laughable for its timidity on such an imposing figure, but you smile back.

You missed him a lot.

Dinner, in a word, is awkward.

This tension has never been so much of a wall between you as it is now; rather, it was an undercurrent, a tide that waxed and waned as the two of you hung in limbo. It had been difficult to be stiff around him when you’d nearly opened with a monologue about feet, when he had been merely a hot guy you hit on accidentally.

Now, however…

“So, Iwa-chan, how did you meet Y/N again?” You make eye contact with Iwaizumi and then look away just as quickly.

“She came to one of the classes I teach,” Iwaizumi takes a huge bite of his still-steaming food, then promptly chokes. You wince in sympathy for his surely burning palate.

“Ah, I see,” Oikawa sighs. “I still can’t believe you cheated on volleyball with other sports. I thought you were a more devoted man.”

“C’mon, man, it’s not like we were dating,” Iwaizumi says, and you have to close your eyes. Are they doing this just to mess with you? To twist the knife in your chest? On the back of your lids, you see the image of another woman disappearing into his apartment imprinted.

“I don’t feel well,” you mumble.

“What was that?” Oikawa makes a show of leaning towards you, cupping his ear. All of Iwaizumi’s bluster seems nearly understated, now that you’ve met his overdramatic best friend.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you say, and then dash for the bathroom.

When you exit, your face thoroughly splashed with cold water and your stomach settled after reminding yourself that you had no claim over him, that you had shot your shot and missed, that there would be other men (there would, your brain insists, as your burning heart protests) you find him leaning against the wall, concern written all over his face.

“You okay?” He asks.

No.

“Yeah,” you say, and walk over to him, wobbling as you remind your body that you can no longer lean into his side like you used to. He wraps an arm around you and tucks you in anyway, trying to support you even though you’d just said you didn’t need it.

“Is this okay?” He asks. You know you should say no.

“Of course,” you say, and breathe in a lungful of his scent, your eyes stinging.

“Are you sure?” He sounds almost angry, and you can hear him shudder in a deep breath, just as you feel cold air rush around you as he lets you go.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing exactly what you’ve done wrong. How dare you come waltzing back into his life after cutting yourself completely out of it?

“No, I am,” he returns. “I didn’t mean to be passive aggressive, just forget about it.”

How dare he try to pull you back in when you’d made it so abundantly clear that you no longer wanted him?

“So we’re both sorry,” you smile weakly at him. Looking faintly nauseous himself, he returns the effort.

When you reach the table at which Oikawa is still sitting, a slight frown on his face as he stares off into the distance, you have half a mind to claim you have homework to do and leave. Instead, you slide into your chair and watch as the visiting athlete jumps and spreads a smile over his previously sober expression.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you return with an equally masked expression. “I’m just slightly allergic to… red meat.”

No one points out that there’s no red meat on your plate.

After that, things are slightly less awkward, with both you and Iwaizumi making an effort to pretend that they’re not.

Watching him with Oikawa is endearing (as everything he does is). You’re content to laugh along as they banter, as Oikawa taunts him and Iwaizumi tries to knock down his ego a few notches, as Oikawa pleads for you to take his side and you take Iwaizumi’s every time.

“Iwa-chan, I think all that boxing has made you more of a brute,” Oikawa pouts. As you snort into your napkin, you miss the calculating glint in his brown eyes.  “Or tell me, is it because you haven’t had a date in a while? All that man meat and hot blood, all pent up—”

“Shut the fuck up, you shit,” gasps Iwaizumi, whacking Oikawa on the back of the head so hard he nearly faceplants into his bowl. “When would I be getting laid, exactly? Would it be between work and my 30 hours of essay writing a day, or over break, when my roommate’s fuckin’ kid sister was staying over? No, tell me, when?”

A weight comes off your shoulders.

“Sorry, did you say that you had a girl staying over because of your roommate?” You cough, trying to be discreet even when you know that you have all the subtlety of a line shot spike.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi looks confused. “Did I not tell you?”

“No, I might have been, uh, I was busy around that time. I think I saw her, possibly, long hair? Like this?” You gesture. Oikawa is smirking, not that you see it, eyes locked on Iwaizumi as they are.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Well, I think I need to go!” Announces Oikawa. “I have to call my teammates from home, or something.”

Still reeling, you barely remember who paid for dinner; you walk home in such a daze you think you could be hit by a car and still not notice.

How can you make this up to him?

“So there was definitely some miscommunication there,” Oikawa teases Hajime, nudging him. “But I think it’s nearly worked out.”

“Shut up,” Hajime shoves him back on reflex. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“I just saved your relationship! I was a perfect wingman! You should be thanking me, not breaking my valuable limbs.”

Hajime doesn’t respond, his mind light years away.

How is he going to make this up to you?

You start with a step.

You feel a little bad for Oikawa, who finds himself the middleman as a groupchat is opened, as plans are mad, but not nearly enough to stop bringing him along to neutralize the nature of your outings together.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, cheerfully tagging along and gaining a great deal of enjoyment from the new dynamic.

“If only I were dating someone,” he moans as the three of you sit together, sipping boba. “Then I could go with them to get boba, instead of you two sticks in the mud.”

“I am not a stick in the mud!” You counter.

“Yeah, haven’t you considered dating her?” Snorts Iwaizumi. Oikawa looks at him, wounded, wondering why his best friend thinks that he would stoop so low as to steal the woman he’s in love with.

“Oh, hell, no,” you cut in before either of them can say anything more. “Shit, Iwa, I thought you knew me better than that. No offense, Oikawa,” you address the leaner male, who inclines his head graciously. “You’re alright, I guess, but not really my type.”

“Alright, you guess?” Iwaizumi stares at you.

“What’s your type, then?” Oikawa sticks his nose up in the air, rejecting you for rejecting him.

You slide your eyes over to Iwaizumi.

“I think you know.”

Oikawa leaves for Argentine once more, but he’s already led you back to your roots: flirting with Hajime.

It’s an altogether new experience to be flirted with. The best you could describe Iwaizumi pre-ghosting was as flirting with the idea of flirting with you; now, you’re sure your heart will give out if he barrels on like this.

Your head spins when he waits for you and walks you home after classes like a high schooler; he tells you how nice you look when he’s spotting you at the gym and makes subtle indications of other ways he’d like to wear you out; he flirts back when you flirt with him. It’s so easy to find yourself on a roll when your conversations flow without stuttering or clamming up, you wave goodbye to him and wonder if you’re going to whirl right off a cliff.

“I saw Y/N today,” Hajime comments, rolling onto his side and putting his book onto his neatly organized bedside table. “She said to say hi to you.”

“Tell her I say hi back,” bubbles Oikawa. “I miss her, I liked her a lot. Have you asked her out yet?”

He asks this every time.

“No,” Hajime grumbles. “It’s none of your business, anyway, asshole.”

“Why not?” Oikawa asks.

“Do you not hear me when I speak? Is that it?”

“Seriously, I don’t know why you’re waiting so long. She likes you, and she’s not gonna wait around forever.”

“...I know.” Gods, does he know that you don’t deserve to be left hanging. “I just think, y’know, I more than like her. It’s new and it’s… paralyzing.”

“I see,” Oikawa thinks for a moment. “You’re just stupid, then.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be driven on! You’re supposed to be chasing her with everything you’ve got, and instead you’re flirting with her like some high school boy and letting it all go nowhere? That’s not the man I know. Not at all.”

Iwaizumi looks forward, into the full-length mirror in his room. Does he recognize himself?

“You’re sure?” He asks, quietly.

“It’s not my move to make,” Oikawa returns. “Are you?”

Ghosting Hajime the second time isn’t your choice, you swear, and it’s not like he has much free time himself during finals week.

“The home stretch,” you mutter, looking at your to-do list and estimated work log. “Almost done, I’m in the home stretch, it’ll be break in a week, I don’t need to drop out—”

A knock interrupts your sleep-deprived ramblings, and you sigh and stand, your bones popping as you stretch for the first time in hours. The knock comes again, more frantic.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You yell, bounding to the door. “Oh, shit.”

“Hello,” Aika pops up behind you.

“Hi,” Oikawa says. “Is it always this dead downtown?”

“No, you just chose an awful time to visit.” you laugh. “Come in, what are you doing here?”

“Well, there aren’t many games for a while, or important ones for even longer, so I got kicked off the court and thought I’d come hone my beach volleyball skills instead.”

“Mm,” you say. “Nothing to do with being a good friend. Hajime’s twenty-first birthday is the tenth, which also happens to be the last day of classes, you know.”

“Is that so? I completely forgot.”

“Uhuh,” Aika says. “Do you want a drink?

He lays out the plan for you, a surprise birthday just after Hajime’s last final, with ample time given to him first to nap. Luckily, your last exam finishes three hours before his begins, so you agree readily.

Aika insists on a list, and you find yourself grateful for it when you walk out of the testing room, feeling more than a little brain fried. Upon arriving home, you collapse face-first into bed and fall asleep nearly as soon as you do, dreaming of candles and puckered lips.

You wake up far too late, according to the itinerary in your head. You shake your head as you gather your ingredients, planting your hands on your hips as you survey the kitchen.

One flour-dusted and sweet-smelling hour later, you’re sticking your tongue out as you level your cake layers, bending over and tilting your head to the side to see if your work was straight.

You hear the door open and close.

“Hey, can you come take a look at this? I can’t tell if it’s perfect or needs to be guillotined again,” you call. Footsteps approach behind you. “I swear, if I cut it too thin and have to bake a whole new one, I’ll cry.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” a voice that is very much not Aika’s rumbles. Two strong hands rest on your waist, a warm chest drapes over your back, and Hajime fits perfectly into the crook of your neck to look over your shoulder. “I think it looks perfect.”

“You’re home,” you gasp, and make the aborted movement to elbow him in the stomach in pure shock.

“Don’t do that, either,” he says into your skin. “It’s been a long day, I don’t need you beating me up besides.”

“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be in a final right now?” You twist to look at him. He makes a disgruntled noise and leans more heavily on you.

“I finished. I wanted to come see you.”

“You were supposed to go home and nap,” you complain, turning fully to lean your forehead on his shoulder. “You’ve wrecked the whole surprise now. Oikawa’ll kill me”

“Fuck him,” Hajime answers easily. “So you’re telling me all this is for me?” There’s a silly, infectious smile spreading over his face that makes your insides feel gooey.

“All of it,” you sigh. “Happy birthday, party pooper.”

“Don’t call me that, brat,” he says, laughter infusing his voice.

“I’m not a brat.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I just baked you a whole cake when I had finals today, too. So ungrateful.”

“I’m very grateful.” He pokes you between the eyes.

“Where’s my thanks, then?” You huff, turning back to your (his?) cake. “Thank you, Y/N, I love you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I love you, Y/N.” There’s a note of sincerity in his voice that makes you turn around, eyes blown wide, breath caught in your throat.

There’s that blush you’ve come to adore, spreading all the way up to his ears and down his throat. He doesn’t take it back, though, only looks at you with a measured expression and the slightest smirk at having caught you off guard.

“Don’t say things like that,” is what you settle for. “Not unless you mean it. I was just,” you wave a hand in the air, trying to waft away the sudden thick atmosphere. “Being overdramatic.”

“I love that about you,” he says, all puppy-dog eyes and firm tone. You step towards him; he steps back, and back, and back, until he’s pressed up against your kitchen counter.

“You mean that?” It’s like a sauna in the kitchen, you think, with the oven still whirring as it bakes the leftover batter and the June sun streaming through the windows.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I think about you all the time, I have since you fucking told me you wanted to taste me, or maybe even before that, I don’t know. I get it if you don’t feel the same way. I thought maybe that was why you stopped talking to me, back then, or maybe I wasn’t moving fast enough for you. I didn’t kiss you because I was scared, I wasn’t sure if you just wanted sex and I’d die if that was all that would ever be between us. I’m sorry for that, I really am—”

You kiss him.

It’s slow, almost hesitant, even though he just confessed his love for you. You wait for his hands to encircle your waist once more, and he does, pulling you closer and closer and closer and your vision fogs up, your lashes fluttering as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.

“We’re gonna be late for your birthday,” you tell him.

“That’s okay,” he shrugs, and dips you like a princess in a movie. You come up breathless.

“Then stay?”

Heaven invades the earth: a golden glow is cast over your kitchen as the hand of fortune lays itself over the both of you, as you slow dance to the tune of the oven beeping.

You find rapture in the wake of his kiss.

tagging: @crystal-lilac , @kohi-zeri , @bakugouswh0r3 , @p1nkphobia

[saxifactumterritum]

found one! Lynne calls them secret fic, cus they are secrets from me, hiding in the google docs. Here is... well... idek. Just like, get past the first paragraph hahahaha anyway I enjoyed myself reading it

Sometimes, it rains. That’s just life, really. Rain has a bad reputation, but it isn’t so awful, as long as you are dressed sensibly and can afford the right footwear and have a nice warm place to come home to. The puddles are always pretty nice, once you have the right boots on; to just carelessly walk right through the puddles, umbrella resting on a shoulder, maybe singing as you go through the wet, noisy world. People rush about and are more chaotic, it feels great to be uncaring among all of that, to laugh and look up at the sky and maybe let your face get wet, good water against your skin. Out of the crowds, away from the bustle, the noise of it falling against a metal sign, concrete pavements, stone benches, grass, is softer, lulling, rising as the rain falls harder almost like music. 

“Shaotian!” 

Huang Shaotian hurriedly pulls the umbrella back over his head - he’s come to a halt and turned to get more of the rain on his face, he twists back now, breaking into a run to get undercover. He pants a bit and makes a show of rushing, pretending he ran the whole way, already complaining about being wet to divert attention from his leisurely walk. His captain is standing there, arms crossed, head a tiny bit tilted to listen to Huang Shoatian. Listening carefully to all the words but the unimpressed look on his face suggests he doesn’t believe a single one of them. He looks pretty warm and dry and Huang Shaotian is pretty cold and only a bit wet, other than his hair which is a bit soaking but as long as he’s careful he can deftly slot himself in under the crossed arms and get some of that good warmth for himself, his chilled fingers tucking themselves under Yu Wenzhou’s armpits and his cold cheek, one then the other, rubbing against Yu Wenzhou’s nice soft jumper. 

“It serves you right if you’re cold,” Yu Wenzhou says, making no move to hug Huang Shaotian or warm him up or anything at all. “Your umbrella is dripping on the floor, someone is going to have to clean that up, it’s inconsiderate.”

“I’ll clean it, I can do it,” Huang Shaotian promises. “I know where the cleaning staff keep their signs for the wet floors.”

“If I let you into the cleaning cupboard, our Blue Rain cleaners are going to go on strike. They wrote me a letter last time to tell me so,” Yu Wenzhou says. He sounds stern and barely even a tiny undercurrent of amusement. 

“Slander. It’s lies. I didn’t do any of it,” Huang Shaotian says. 

He works his way better into Yu Wenzhou’s arms and into some of his clothing too, finding warm skin, wondering if the letter was because of the incident with the ladder and the mop, or was it after he and Song Xiao got into that little tiny spot of trouble and needed all the buckets they could find? But more recently was the time with the vacuum cleaner and the monster that lives in the Blue Rain basement. Or… better to just keep quiet, he decides. Yu Wenzhou is leaning awkwardly, reaching to shake the umbrella out of the door and folding it up, leaning the other way to try and fit it into the umbrella stand nearby. Huang Shaotian holds on around his waist so they don't overbalance. 

“You’re so late, you went out three hours ago. You were only going around the corner to get snacks for the team meeting, which you have now missed,” Yu Wenzhou says. “I was just deciding whether to send someone out to look for you when you came wandering back, like this, as if you were communing with water spirits, talking to the sky.”

Oh right. The snacks, the meeting, the training; his job. Huang Shaotian is a pretty diligent vice-captain, but once in a while his mind does wander off a bit. Usually one of the many alarms or reminders set up on his phone will get him back on track, but he left it somewhere today. He checks Yu Wenzhou’s pocket and sure enough, there’s his phone, picked up conscientiously and kept safe for him. He looks up into Yu Wenzhou’s face. 

“I like the rain,” Huang Shaotian says. “I’ll explain how I got distracted and tell you about the bird I saw and the cats that lead me astray, and you can try on the hat I got for you. Okay? Good. I left my badge somewhere…”

“I have that too, come on, let’s go inside,” Yu Wenzhou says, heading for the security gate, swiping both their badges so they can head through and to the stairs up to the higher levels. 

Down here there’s the canteen and a Starbucks, a lounge and waiting area, some of the admin offices, and the other side of all that is the guild, though people mostly come in the other entrance around the back for that. The lounge is a pretty good place to watch the rain, there are big floor to ceiling windows to look out, but the best place is at the very top of the building. There’s a staircase that must have once lead somewhere but now it just leads to a locked door hiding nothing but a cupboard. There’s a wide windowsill there that you can tuck into, and it’s right under the roof, you can hear the rain and watch it through the window and it’s high above the world. Yu Wenzhou likes it up there, too, which is a bonus; often if you go sit there, he’ll come join you. 

Huang Shaotian found him up there once, years and years ago, after Wei Chen left and before they were properly friends. Yu Wenzhou had been crocheting, fish-scales working outwards in a spiral, quick and clever under his fingers, so neat and beautiful. Huang Shaotian had squeezed onto the windowsill with him and sat to watch the spiralling jellyfish come to life out of the yarn, blues fading to purples to a hint of red and then back to blue. Yu Wenzhou never asked him many questions, and sitting in silence was so much easier with him than the others. It made the others uncomfortable, but Yu Wenzhou would just talk about a strategy he’d been thinking of, or about a game they’d watched. 

That day, he’d been quiet too, intent on his project, frowning. It was the first time Huang Shaotian had thought that Yu Wenzhou was upset by something. Not the yarn or the jellyfish or Huang Shaotian finding him, about something else. Huang Shaotian didn’t ask until years later, and it had taken Yu Wenzhou a while to remember that it was a comment about him using a warlock account in the hopes of taking Swoksaar from Fang Shijian. It hadn’t been the unkindest thing people had said in his hearing, and he hadn’t usually let it bother him, but that day it had got under his skin for some reason. It had been raining then, too, hard, flung against the glass they had their backs to. Huang Shaotian hadn’t known what to do, then, to make Yu Wenzhou feel better, so they just sat there miserably together. 

“I kissed you here, for the first time,” Yu Wenzhou says. 

Today they’re not sat apart, like back then. They’re bigger, fully-grown adults now, and they have to sit half on top of each other to fit on the sill, Yu Wenzhou’s arms around Huang Shaotian to keep him from falling off. Huang Shaotian pauses peeling the tangerine he found in his jacket, twisting to see if Yu Wenzhou is joking. 

“No you didn’t,” Huang Shaotian says. 

“I did. I kissed you here after we beat Tyranny for the first time and you came up here to hide because that press officer kept cutting you off in the event afterwards. You were so excited you couldn’t stop talking,” Yu Wenzhou says. “Luckily, she left not so long after that.”

“I’m not saying that didn’t happen, but it wasn’t the first time you kissed me,” Huang Shaotian says, prying a segment of orange loose and sticking it in Yu Wenzhou’s mouth to keep him from arguing. “And she didn’t ‘leave’, you meticulously and ruthlessly made sure that every one of her weaknesses and shortcomings was exposed until they realised she wasn’t good for the job. The first time you kissed me was at least a few months before that. You were drunk, but not so drunk you should have forgotten it! Captain, I’m astounded and shocked and appalled.”

“Outside the restaurant, after Manager Peng accidentally gave me too much wine, in the rain, because you looked like a drowned chihuahua. That was three weeks after I kissed you here. We were in City W, I can find the schedule for the season that year and prove that we played Thunderclap after we played Tyranny,” Yu Wenzhou says. 

They bicker about it for a while, pausing now and then to listen to the rain or shut each other up with pieces of the orange. Neither of them bother to find that schedule. Neither of them really remember very clearly which came first, it doesn’t really matter, it’s just nice to think about. It’s nice to think up fun insults and it’s nice to have Yu Wenzhou threatening to do all sorts of good things in punishment for everything from lying to not doing enough brain exercises. They end up agreeing that whichever came first, rain is good for kissing in, and they set about proving that, the last of the evening light catching in Yu Wenzhou’s glasses, against the sharp line of his cheekbone, settling into him to remind Huang Shaotian just how beautiful he is. 

Rain isn’t so bad at all.

[magicofthepen]

Romana II for the character asks 👀

thank you for the ask!! <33 as you can see, I really like talking about Romana 😊 

favorite thing about them: ….I’ve realized it’s quite hard to answer this question for one of your all-time favorite characters, oh wow there’s so much I could talk about. (gallifrey Romana II is exactly my Favorite Character Type, but I actually first fell for Romana II while watching the E-space stories.) but okay one thing that really Gets me about her is how deeply she loves? both in an ‘big picture’ sense and in a personal relationship sense. she genuinely cares about the people of her world and other worlds so much, and gives so much of herself to try to protect them and make their lives better….which becomes a mix of something very admirable and something very unhealthy that’s really complicated and interesting to unpack. and I’m so weak for stories of lonely characters slowly discovering friendship, and all of Romana’s friendships are such interesting and important dynamics in different ways, and she just. loves her friends so much, even when she’s struggling with how to be a friend, and the stories of these relationships (both on tv and in audio) are such a big part of my attachment to her character.

least favorite thing about them: I’ve talked a bit about this recently, but I’m very picky about Romana-as-villain arcs, and sometimes in the audios the writers have her do terrible things, and it feels more for the sake of being ~dark and edgy~ than something that has solid characterization backing it up? for example, on one hand, I really like how the Imperiatrix arc shows how she falls to the point of becoming a tyrant, shows how her intentions get twisted, and how circumstances and manipulations and her own character flaws lead her to make the choices that she does. on the other hand, the “destroyer of worlds” thing in series 4 doesn’t emotionally back up her choices and feels a bit like “we’re going to have this character do Terrible Things just so she can feel guilty over how Terrible she is.” and tbh I do side-eye the overall obsession of the EU of making her a darker and more power-hungry figure (in contrast, something like Time War 2 has some of my favorite Romana characterization, probably because she’s on the side of “stubbornly standing up for what’s right.”)

(I’ll probably skip favorite line for most of these because alas I’m absolutely terrible at picking one.)

brOTP: ….is it cheating to say Leela and Narvin if I also ship them? ….okay I’ll leave them for the otp section, but those two friendships are just so so important to Romana, and I love them as committed platonic relationships too! (especially since sometimes I get very into thinking about Romana as aromantic - this is not a consistent headcanon, obviously I do write a lot of shippy Romana fic in which she’s not aro, but I do think there’s solid backing for it, and I like exploring different headcanons and interpretations of relationships.)

but I want to use this section to ramble a bit about Romana and the Doctor! (I used to ship them a fair bit - in a “I love this dynamic as either a romantic thing or a platonic thing!” way - but lately I’ve been more into their relationship as a platonic thing, so I think they fall much more under brOTP for me.) they’re such a Team when they’re traveling together, and I love that understated fondness they have for each other, the way they genuinely enjoy each other’s company. and I love how they’re like. constantly holding hands and standing very close together and just being very softly affectionate. (and not to make everything about Skin of the Sleek/Thief Who Stole Time, but the way the Doctor both gives Romana space and looks out for her in those audios is so good?? they’re really soft together and I melt every time I listen to those audios.) And I love how they part on good terms, with a deep undercurrent of mutual respect and care….and I have a lot of painful feelings about the crumbling of their friendship later in life. it does make sense that they’d grow apart - they end up making very different choices when it comes to Gallifrey - but also that layer of sharpness/coldness in their interactions in Neverland (and Zagreus)….oof that hurts. (and going back a little further - the first time I heard their conversation at the end of Apocalypse Element where the Doctor leaves her, it was a gut punch - the way she so badly needs a friend, and he….doesn’t stay.) so my Doctor & Romana II feelings are a combination of “oh my gosh I love them” and “oh my gosh they break my heart.”

OTP: ot3 my beloved <33 so Romana/Leela is my og Gallifrey ship, the one that was so so inevitable because their dynamic is very much my ship type (wlw opposites attract)…and then their chemistry (“There will be a place for you with me, for always.” / “I need you” / “I have lost a great deal. I have lost you.” / “You never will be alone.” etc. etc. etc.) and the overt parallels between Leela’s feelings about Andred and her feelings about Romana, and the way the story uses the narrative structures of romance w/ them (dramatic breakup! pining!)……yep I was definitely going to ship this. I’m utterly in love with how they’re both so alone in different ways at the beginning of Gallifrey and yet they end up reaching out to each other and finding a home in each other. I’m endlessly interested in unpacking the messy complicated dynamics of their relationship - the ways their individual pain and grief clashes, the ways they cling to each other too tightly, the ways they fail to communicate - and the ways they get better at communicating, the ways they choose each other and keep fighting for each other and for their relationship.

(and whoops this is gonna be two paragraphs now) and Narvin/Romana is my other otp for Romana, and that was a surprise, because m/f enemies-to-friends is My Thing, that’s exactly the kind of platonic relationship that Gets Me. and I do love the entirely platonic take on their relationship so much, but I also definitely really ship them?? it’s the combination of “complicated devoted longing and messy power dynamics” in the middle seasons, and “oh my gosh they’ve figured out how to talk about feelings??” in the later ones. so it’s not so much “enemies to friends to lovers” as “enemies to one-sided pining/friendship with complicated power dynamics to more balanced, healthy friendship to lovers”? sort of? basically there’s so many different interesting shippy dynamics to explore with them, ranging from “oh god they do care about each other but this is a mess” to “they’d genuinely be so good together,” depending on when we’re talking, and I love that. I love how their relationship is always changing and growing, and how once they get close, they really share the same sense of duty and care for their world and the universe and the work they’re doing together. I love that they’re two people who have their own individual struggles with forming personal relationships, and so it seems like they shouldn’t ever work, but they do? and I do have a tremendous soft spot for them in the Time War audios in particular….they have such old married couple energy and I love exploring that kind of romance dynamic - warm and settled and really not that different from a committed friendship.

all in all: I’m very much an ot3 shipper, I love the idea of all three of them together (I’m really into exploring poly relationships and it’s super great how open this fandom is to poly shipping!) I probably ship Romana/Leela more consistently than Romana/Narvin, but those two relationships (romantic or platonic) occupy pretty equal amounts of my Gallifrey brainspace? so I’d say both fall into the “otp” category.

(the rest of this is going under a cut because this is so long oops.)

nOTP: nOTP isn’t exactly the right term for my feelings about Brax/Romana since I do read (and enjoy!) fic about them? (but with Gallifrey, I’m very open to reading whatever, I easily fall for good writing even if I’m not into a ship.) but Brax/Romana is definitely not my thing - I think I just have a personal discomfort about teacher/student relationships (and yes, she’s older in Gallifrey, but that mentor-figure dynamic still underpins their relationship, and the whole “your old teacher is romantically interested in you” thing is apparently something I personally nope out at). (obviously I’m not judging anyone who does ship them…heck I have a Romana ship that’s way more toxic. it’s just this particular romantic dynamic is Not For Me). but like I said, I do read fic about them! (It’s just a bit tricky because sometimes a fic will really hit those nope buttons, and sometimes it won’t? hard to say why….but broadly speaking I tend to be more interested in Brax/Romana fics that lean into “there are some unhealthy power dynamics here” rather than away from it - and I tend to compartmentalize even the Brax/Romana fics I like into a different universe in my head to avoid running into that I’m uncomfortable feeling). 

random headcanon: ooh which one should I ramble about this time…how about this: Romana II has very particular feelings about touch. unexpected touch from people she doesn’t know/trust is uncomfortable and jarring. and it’s always been somewhat of a thing in this incarnation, but it really became a big deal post-Etra Prime - and even more so post-Pandora crisis - being touched without warning by most people brings up all these feelings of not having control over her own life and body (and mind, since touch also has links to telepathy). however, with the handful of people she does deeply trust, touch is a comforting and grounding thing (and something she really craves), a reminder that there are people who are there for her, people who care for her.

unpopular opinion: ….I told myself I wasn’t going to talk about this on Tumblr because the audio is so universally beloved, but welp it does say unpopular opinion. so, um, the short version is, I can’t reconcile Romana’s characterization in Erasure (aka the Bellescon thing) with Neverland or early Gallifrey or my general interpretation of her character (and I tried! like “wrote a fic to try to make it work for me” tried!). so after I kept running into a wall when trying to write a different Erasure-related fic, I decided, in Doctor Who tradition, to just throw out the bits of canon that don’t work for me. (in other words: Erasure’s not part of my personal canon anymore. which is really unfortunate because I do love so many other parts of it, and it’s a great Narvin audio and great performance. and I can enjoy it as a self-contained thing, but I’ve stopped trying to make it fit with Romana’s characterization elsewhere.) (although I do have an Erasure-related fic that I’ll post one of these days - it’s a section of that fic that hit a wall that I think works well on its own!)

song i associate with them: All the King’s Horses by Karmina / We Are Dragons by Karmina are my top songs for Gallifrey Romana (well, more specifically post-Apocalypse Element Romana). the two songs are variations on each other and they’re just so spot-on for her?? All the King’s Horses gives me major post-Etra Prime feelings (Free to go back on my own / But is it still a home when you’re all alone? / All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put me back together again), and We Are Dragons is such a Gallifrey Romana song in general (Do it all for the love of my kingdom / And here’s to dying for life worth living / And here’s to hoping we bleed for something / I’m not done fighting for what I believe in).

favorite picture of them: anything in her Horns of Nimon outfit or Shada outfit, I love those looks so much! And for fanart: some of my favorite Romana pieces are this three Romanas art by @aethira, and any of the Gallifrey covers by @joycieillustrations (who paints Romana II so incredibly!!)

[crimsonrae]

A Matter of Degrees

Chapter Two

Summary:  Dr. Emil Hamilton had been fascinated by Superman, but not afraid. Five years after his death Clark finds out why.

Clark Kent x OC

Rated: Mature

A/N: I’m not a big Superman fan, but after watching Snyder’s films and Henry, I wanted to explore a more broken/healing Clark. Slowish build on this. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :) - Clark in the next chapter: promise.

Metropolis

Lois sighed as she finished the last paragraph of her report on the new Senate nominee. As far as reports go, this one was pretty bland and even she could admit that it lacked a certain...spark. Her usual wit was failing her and she only could thank God that the article wasn't needed for another two days, it would give her time to scratch and polish.

Scratch and polish.

She snorted quietly to herself and shook her head.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been ahead on her articles, had time to do more than a quick polish before handing it over to an associate editor for a good scratching and polishing. Addie was probably going to die of shock when she noticed how error-free all of her work had become... Or maybe not.

The overly pregnant editor had been taking on lighter loads of work as she moved closer to her maternity leave and had bullied almost every reporter in the building into proofreading their own work three times before submitting it to lessen her stress. Lois had been one of the last to conform to Addie's authoritarian rule – not because she didn't want to lighten the woman's load, but because she usually didn't have the time to be that editorial thorough. Perry was good at keeping her busy, knowing that she could handle more than one assignment if she didn't have a big story brewing. She would have been amazed that she had the time now, but she had noticed he had been handing her less and less.

Her stomach twisted sourly at the thought.

Lois had to fight to not look in the direction of Perry's office or toward the desk of a certain tall undercover superhero. Not that it mattered... he wouldn't be there. She hadn't missed the concerned glances from the staff and the undercurrent of worry that touched Perry's tone whenever they talked lately. The office knew something was up with her and Clark... they just weren't sure what.

A good portion of the office had been at his funeral and they had seen firsthand how close she was to the Kent family. To say that everyone had been shocked by Clark's return from the dead was something of an understatement. It had been an open casket funeral after all. Surprisingly, it had been Perry that had weaved the lie that allowed Clark to come back after Lois had revealed who Clark really was to him. His star reporter had fallen afoul of the criminal element while investigating another award-winning story. The destruction from Doomsday had created a golden opportunity for the Feds to fake Clark's death until those responsible for the threat against him were apprehended.

Somehow, Clark had produced a story from that packet of bullshit and that seemed to quiet most of the reporters at the Planet. The rest still asking questions were the ones that dealt with the typical page six news. They wanted the gossip.

How long had she and Clark been an item?

Had she been aware that he had faked his death?

She had been so distraught at the funeral, surely, she hadn't known – she must be furious.

Is that why they barely seemed to be talking? The tension could be cut with a knife.

If anything, those particular encounters had solidified Lois's empathy for people who had a distaste for reporters. She had told Victoria to mind her own damn business and to go chase after Bruce Wayne more times than she could count at this point. Still, she would rather have the gossip columnist's attention on her than on Clark.

Clark.

Again, she had to fight from glancing towards his empty desk. She had to fight the sharp pang that filled her chest at the thought of him. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that he was away on assignment.

It had taken Lois months to admit that the man she had fallen in love with was gone... and she didn't mean dead. The relief, the joy that had overwhelmed her when the Justice League had brought Clark back had made her blind to the pain that encompassed him. She should have realized that coming back to life would be a traumatic experience, that there would be repercussions... She had just been so happy to have his gentle gaze and shy smile again... and he was Superman. She didn't think that he would be affected by everything so drastically. It was a stupid assumption. Clark wasn't impervious to the world, to emotion, if anything he felt it more than any ten people combined.

It took her two months to notice the nightmares. He stopped sleeping all together after she confronted him about it. She wished she hadn't said anything, because she was rather sure that the lack of sleep was what spurned the flashes of temper he had become prone to.

Nothing big.

Nothing violent.

At least not overtly.

It was little things, like his cell phone needed to be replaced on an almost constant basis. She had found it crushed to bits on more than one occasion. It was reports of restrained criminals packaged nicely for the police having to be carted to the hospital because their binds had been tethered a little too tight. There was a car thief that had limited use of the fingers in his right hand from a lack of blood circulation.

And she couldn't get him to talk about it. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling – she was sure it had to do with whatever he had experienced while he had been dead. But he had shut her out. Clark refused to talk to her. At first, he had smiled and reassured her that everything was fine that he was still sorting himself out. Lois couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she stopped believing that smile, but she had watched it become more brittle the more she pushed. He withdrew from her. And their relationship became something she couldn't recognize as a relationship.

She felt like a lighthouse on a dark foggy night, but the ship she was guiding was heading for the rocks anyway.

It took her ten months before she gave up and returned her engagement ring.

Eleven before he finished moving out of her apartment.

They were now on the official one-year anniversary of his return and he wasn't even here.

Lois swallowed against the sudden constriction of her throat. She wished Clark was here if only to reassure herself that he was at the very least physically okay, even if he wasn't mentally – emotionally. She missed him and it hurt.

It had hurt for a while now.

She sighed and sent her article to Addie. She would be taking the rest of the day off.

     ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Russia

It was ridiculously cold.

Rebecca clenched and unclenched her fists in her pocket in an unconscious attempt to keep her fingers from going numb. Even while sporting a fur-lined coat and gloves that would put a clown's to shame the icy chill of Moscow's winter still penetrated enough to lick at her skin. She usually didn't mind the cold, her body ran a little warmer than most peoples, but today that chill seemed to have a bite. She wondered distantly if she was getting sick... She hadn't thought she could anymore.

"You were just supposed to get pictures."

The reprimand was clear, the Slavic intonation making its owner's annoyance all the more apparent. Rebecca didn't move her eyes from the group of children receiving medical care not one-hundred feet from her, "Anatoli, tell me what would have happened if I had just taken pictures?"

Chocolate eyes softened as they studied the young woman before him. She had tucked her dark hair into a loose braid, her grey scarf musing the strands lose. She should be wearing a hat, he thought gruffly, but didn't say as such – she looked tired. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her smile, "You would not be leaving Moscow."

"And those children?"

Anatoli sighed, "Would be someplace else."

Her eyes blue, almost violet in color flashed as she looked balefully at him, "Starved, scared, orphaned. How much would they fetch to the right buyers, Anatoli? Someplace else... you don't need to sugar coat things with me. I know what that someplace else would be for these children. Still could be."

"They will be safe, my friend. I will find them good homes, I promise." He briefly spared the small group a glance, "You were reckless."

"No one saw." Rebecca whispered and pulled her gaze away when a small boy began to watch her curiously.

Anatoli snorted, "There was lightening. It was so bright and it made the truck stop. The mean man wouldn't move after it flashed... Don't tell me no one saw. I have ten little somethings that saw and in today's world such accounts would not be taken as a child's imagination."

Rebecca sighed, not wanting to admit he was right. She used to long for the day where people who were different, special, could be acknowledged, and with the appearance and resurrection of Superman, the arrival of the Flash, and Aquaman, Batman, Wonder Woman said people seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. In many places, even accepted for their differences, but there were more still where such uniqueness was seen as dangerous or worse valuable.

In the last half-decade, Rebecca wasn't sure how many suspicious labs she had stumbled upon.

Let's see what makes the freaks tick, she thought bitterly. Her fingers flexing as if she was about to discover she was in one such lab.

This time it wasn't a lab she stumbled upon, but it was something dark enough to make her stomach twist in knots. She still wasn't fully certain what had made her detour from the main city to the more industrialized sections. She felt like she had been called – like some sort of invisible tether had pulled her to the warehouse that had held the kids. It didn't take much to recognize the Bratva guard outside...they crawled all over the city. It took even less to deduce the children's purpose once she realized they resided inside. There had been no signs of the usual strangeness that seemed to attract her into these situations. No odd flares of light or smoke, no hum of different in the air. Just a feeling to come.

No. These children were normal, if not traumatized, and she hadn't been about to watch them be sold to whatever sexual sadist that lurked out there.

So yes, she had acted. She didn't regret it.

Except for the pair of icy eyes that watched her from the back of an ambulance. The little towheaded boy that hadn't taken his eyes off of her since being pulled from the truck. Rebecca had noticed he said less than the others – more observant, shy, wary. She was rather sure that little boy was the reason she had found them all. He certainly hadn't been surprised by her sudden appearance.

She pursed her lips as she studied him. There were no indications that he was other like her... nothing obvious anyway. She just had a feeling. A feeling not too dissimilar to what had led her here.

She held in a sigh, "Have the boy go to Marvin."

Anatoli raised a brow and followed her gaze to the ambulance, "He's like us?"

She nodded, despite the fact that she wasn't fully sure, but her gut rarely led her wrong. She cut her violet gaze back to the bear of a man next to her. A small stirring of guilt pulled at her and she smiled sadly, "I didn't mean to make trouble for you, Anatoli."

Moscow was Anatoli's home and he needed anonymity to help people, people who were different, find safe havens. She feared she had just shown a spotlight on his presence.

The older man snorted, an amused twinkle entered his chocolate eyes, "Agh, you come to visit, I know to expect some excitement. You lasted longer than I thought. I owe Marvin money now."

Rebecca rolled her eyes, "You two need a hobby."

"Who has time for hobbies?" Anatoli grunted before nudging her towards his car. He had packed her belongings in the back and made sure to have new travel papers for her. She needed to leave, now, before the Bratva came to inquire about her, "Take the car. Don't call me until your safe."

Reluctantly, she nodded. She hated to leave, she felt like she had left things half done, but she understood the immediacy of her departure. She climbed slowly behind the wheel and found the keys still in the ignition. Anatoli cast her a brief wave and her lips twitched in a subdued smile.

He was in her rearview in moments and her phone was out and on speaker seconds after that. She listened to the dull ringing for a dull moment before the connection came thru, "Hamilton, this you?"

"Hey, Sporty." She intoned quietly, "My trip to Russian's been cut short and it looks like I'll be stateside for a bit... was wondering if you had any work for me?"

There was a brief pause and the clinking of glass trickled over the line. She must have interrupted his lunch, "I don't have anything for you in Gotham. It's actually quiet here for once, but hold on. I'm having lunch with a friend from another paper, let me ask him if he's got anything."

Things went quiet before strains of muffled voices filtered to her. She raised a brow as she realized that Sporty had merely put his hand over the receiver. She wondered if he knew how to work the mute button. Abruptly sound rushed back as a smooth baritone greeted her ears, "Ms. Hamilton?"

"Speaking."

"This is Perry White from the Daily Planet. Sporty tells me that you're a writer – a good one."

Rebecca felt her brow arch higher, "Is there a question in there, Mr. White?"

"Yeah, why haven't I heard of you?"

"I publish under a pseudonym." She replied blandly, "Rachel Wisen."

There was a long silence and she could almost hear the dots connecting in this man's mind, "The travel blogger?"

She snorted and felt shades of her father hover around her. How many times had she heard him say those same words, "Yes, Mr. White... the travel blogger."

"Huh...Look, I don't have any reporting positions open, but one of my associate editors is about to go on maternity leave – I was actually thinking of having my travel editor take over her workload. I could use you to take over his position. It'd be a temporary arrangement."

"Daily Planet is in Metropolis, right?" Rebecca asked after a moment. She didn't know why. She knew exactly where the Planet was and that it was a city, she had no desire to visit. Shades of her father indeed.

"That's right."

Yet, she found herself saying, "Temporary sounds perfect, Mr. White. I can be there at the end of the week."

"Good. I'll get your contact info from Sporty and we can finalize the details when I get back to my office. Have a good day, Ms. Hamilton."

"You too -"

He hung up before she had a chance to finish. Rebecca sighed, remembering vaguely that Sporty was much the same when in business mode. She chalked it up to a newspaper reporter quirk but was thankful for the brevity. It was going to be an interesting few months.

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

[borisbubbles]

17. CZECH REPUBLIC

Benny Christo - “Kemama”

So first off, thank you for the nice commens. 😇The past few months haven’t been the happiest time for me, so thank you for your patience as I scraped my bearings together for another post! 😁

So I will now extend that same sympathy to Benny Christo, whom I think I damn fucking underrated. Let’s jump in~

ENTRY ANALYSIS

As one may expect i INSTANTLY liked “Kemama” because you know, it’s a fun, laid-back, tropical afro-breeze, completely different from anything else we would see in NFs and the year. EXACTLY the type of song I was hoping the Czech NF would deliver (and deliver they did, see NF Corner). This level of mild like swung into strong unironic like upon realizing that the title is a contraction of “Okay Mother” 😍 and the song deals with the subject of overcoming racially-tinged discrimination and rising above the hate. That just feels very poetic and apt? “Kemama” felt like the entry that had to overcome the highest odds in order to earn the respect it so fully deserves, and still hasn’t fully reached it.

.In our Western European bubble, comprised mostly of gays and left-liberal straights, we have a very grateful and universal acceptance of many different kinds of [lizard] people that make up Eurovision casts. Yet with “Kemama” we may have reached  an unusually grimy undercurrent of coded racism. 

Of course nothing I read was outrageously rancid, than Cod for that. The worst statement I read was a double-whammy of “EWW THIS ISN’T CARIBBEANVISION” and “WHY WOULD SOMEONE FROM *KENYA* WANT TO REP CZECHIA IN EUROVISION?”, and yes they first got the continent wrong and then *also* got the country wrong in the follow-up post and then they were torn limb from limb by a pack of aformentioned left-liberals. I’m sorry but i can’t not have any other response than laughter in the face of yet another fucking MORON faceplanting themselves with words like a... racist JK Rowling if you will?

Still, while I never read something outright vile about Benny doesn’t mean I found his deniers really annoying and they were! Think “Ew Solovey is ‘Too Aggressive’ it will NEVER DO WELL IN ESC”, a statement that isn’t coded nor racist (and yet extremely false and misguided), functioned as a similar idea by the same minds. A statement borne from the same breed of narrow-minded stubbornness which has caused elitist morons to be all “there is **SOMETHING** about “Kemama” i do *NOT* like and I cannot lay my finger on it... but I **DO NOT** like it at ALL. It won’t ever qualify because everyone will think the same way I do” -- Eurovision snobs, tiptoeing around racial coda in January 2020.

 They would also insist that Benny was “arrogant” because he was seemingly impervious to their (de)constructive criticism. Like, if you were a biracial butterfly living in a slavic country who had to deal with statements such as the above on a regular basis, you WOULD block out the noise. And if you heard them often enough you will start to block them out pre-emptively. DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW COPING MECHANISMS WORK?? (oh wait you’re white-privileged. Nevermind 🙄)

 So naturally, when Benny decided that he would revamp “Okay Mother” by adding in MORE African elements it only made me love him even more lol. 😍 Was it a bull-headed, contrarian and possibly really stupid decision? Yes, yes and absolutely yes. Was it worth it? Well he managed to incite even more meltdowns in a group of people I feel nothing but contempt for, so hell yeah? Eurovision was cancelled anyway so who cares how much ‘worse’ “Kemama” actually got. 

Okay, so we’ve arrived at the revamp.

Granted, it wasn’t the best ‘vamp, I’d be a fool to deny it. The new elements threw a wrench in the melodic balance of the song. Out went tropical laid-back fun, IN went that fucking guitar oh my god this is some Hotel FM piano levels of overbearing I swear. (nb: this still didn’t stop me from ironically stanning Hotel FM’s lame asses anyway 😍). However, it made the personal backstory that I loved and savoured take a backseat to the now inferior composition. 😭

Regardless, New Kemama was fundamentally the same song, and I fundamentally liked Old Kemama, so whatevs, it made no different to me. In the eyes of many Eurovision diehards we were experiencing WORST PRESHOW SEASON EVER (after three songs... lol) and nothing clinches this brainworm more than a revamp announcement. “OH MY GOD HE WILL RUIN IT! I CAN GUARANTEE YOU I *WON’T* LIKE IT”. Self-fulfilling prophecies, ya know? It certainly didn’t help when the official channel accidentally uploaded a vid with broken soundmixing (‘OMG HORRIBLE LAST IN THE SEMI!!!!’ calm the ever-loving HELL down) and took another FULL WEEK to upload the correct vid. The damage had already been done. Typing "SEE I TOLD YOU THE REVAMP WOULD BE SHITE HA HA HA” in the Kemama comment box really just is the ESC equivalent of reponding with “Actually, *all* lives matter :smug:” to a BLM support pamphlet, isn’t it?

NF CORNER

While not my favourite NF of the bunch, I found the Czech NF to be lowkey epic. Not epic enough to remember its name but regardless Czechvision or whatever marked the end of an era because it was also the last selection spearheaded by Jan Bors :o

I think I’ve made it clear enough in the past that I’m somewhat mixed on Bors Era Czechia - Lake Malawi were a toetapping good, Ickolas was a pockmarked, skin-crawling evil and the other three inhibit a purgatory somewhere between “moderately nice” and “moderate timewaste.”

Still, I have great respect for the man who orchestrated Czech’s comeback after scoring NINE POINTS TOTAL across three years with the mindset of “So what? Why says we can’t win?” so ofc I was all into the idea of the “EIGHT INDIE ANGELS, HAND-PICKED BY BORS HIMSELF” NF that would serve as his swan song.

Naturally things went down the drain the second Bors left, with one of the eight peacing and his successor cancelling the live broadcast (does anyone remember what exactly happened? I vaguely recall one was the cause of the other but lol it’s July can’t be bothered to factscheck (Factsczeck?) anymore, bitches.

Anyway, ON TO THE GOOD STUFF, and yes, there was plenty.

We All Poop - “ All the Blood (Positive Song Actually)”

Yes, as you can imagine I ofc IMMEDIATELY fell into like when I saw that chyron and invisioned the inevitability of the Czech Rep’s Rep immediately alienating every parent just based on their name alone <3 😍 w/e WAP quickly became that “Good but not great” song you find in every NF that everyone gushes over because it’s the whitest option available. Like, yes, “All the blood” is good, but musically it’s identical to Green Day and Twenty-One Pilots and god name ANY 90s-early00′s American Punk Rock band. For me the enjoyment came from the fact that WAP were openly crazy vegan fundamentalists and the VC clip actively condemns the use ANY animal protein by replacing the cattle and game with LITERAL HUMAN BEINGS. 😍 :fusedmarcintensifies: :kasiamosage:

Pam Rabbit - “Get up”

Ohhhh YES a glorious experimental Synth-Trap song only I could love and ofc I did. God what is there even to say; the provocative darkness of the verses combined with the swirling amorphousness of the chorus gives me LIFE. LUFF THIS SHIT <3333 Ftr, this was also the fave of Slovene Juror duo / synth angels / Boris faves ZALAGASPER, further proving their pathetic naysayers that they own all things music and the haters can suck a series of-

Barbora Mochowa - “White and Black Holes“

Lol, yes even with a “Get up” existing, there was a song I liked even more. Barbora proved a very competent Lana del Gay last year, but I was a YUGE fan of this year’s... Kate Bush-Björk blend of ethereal awesome. It is so soothingly beautiful and the rare example of a song that I find completely free of flaws. Were the competition not such a hard place, I’d be pissed she didnt win (at least she won the jury vote MASSIVE KUDOS to every alum on that) but w/e this selection had opions and I’m rather robbed of a “Kemama” than I am of a BRILLIANT IRREPLICABLE AETHERBALLAD. ~Danse balance sûr les white and black holes~

Elis Mraz & Cis T - “Wanna be like”

I *VERY* strongly felt that if the Czech Republic wanted to win ESC, they should have picked Elis and even now I STILL believe she could have won. That isn’t to say I gushed over “Wanna be like” because I find it kind of annoying lol. Yes, I LOVE an annoying female voice (:Tones&Icackle:) but Elis’s reaches a Camilla Cabello sort of place for me (good lord get Senorita OFF the fucking radio) and the Scat + White Guy Rapping middle-eight. 😬. However, the second I opened up the video clip for this paragraph and was immediately BLASTED by Elis murdering a ukelele and wearing a  “schoolgirl” outfit straight from a Japanese tentacle porn movie and OH MY GOD THE AGGRESSIVE TWERKING made me reconsider that hey, this min-sized Meghan Traynor actually kinda highkey owns, yo!  Yet, I’m not at all bothered we lost her in the Czech NF because we got UNO DOS QUATRO CINCO SEIS :fatmansplit: fill up the megameme slot instead, so...

Eurovision 2020 vs Eurovision 2021

BENNY RUINED HIS SONG AND NEVER WOULD HAVE QUALIFIED. jk I’m not a moron. Sure, “Kemama” wasn’t an easy sell because you know AFROBEAT in a contest where half of the people watching are fash (ie: all of Eastern Europe, who watch out of ~Nationalistic Sentiment~ 😬), but there are Kemama live renditions out there and he owns them SO hard lol. A few soundmixing issues really would not have stopped Benny from qualifying in that RIDICULOUSLY WEAKSAUCE SEMIFINAL are you fucking kidding me. He probably would’ve bombed in the Grand Final, but I mean it’s Czech and it’s not Ickolas so ofc it would have.

And Czech renewed him for 2021 regardless of the sceptics, woohoo! I think part of it was due the Czech not wanting to re-organize an ENTIRE NF from scratch without Jan Bors, but probably also because Benny owns live when he isn’t engaged in psychological trench warfare with actual human detritus <3 and also because the Czech fucking CARE about their artists and don’t drop them like a sack of rotten potatoes wtfshitprus.

Can’t wait for the moment when he qualifies and Efendi does not, etc, etc. 

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

I’d say that the core around which the Ben Drama spun was pretty standard fare: niche fave beats out the concensus fave, meltdowns ensue, people convince themselves it was the WRONG decision because it wasn the result they wanted, try to disown the song and make a fool of themselves because the song slaps, sorry. Even the revamp drama felt more of less generic for me, because yawn fantards melting down over a revamp of a song they don’t even like what else is new.  

However, what I do take away that the revamp was ENTIRELY Benny’s idea which he told no one about (cue to JAN BORS having a social media meltdown like he’s Caesar at the Ides of March 💔) added MORE afrobeat just to troll his haters even more <3  God, I’d say it was bad from a musical perspective but this level of in-your-face defiance is fucking iconic and hilarious, sorry. This entire this year is so batshit bonkers that the concept of a someone potentially shooting themselves in the foot and “torpedo’ing” their qualification chances  (not rly, he would’ve Q’d anyway lol) JUST to take the moral high ground in a racially coded argument only HE took seriously may not even be the craziest concept in the year! (lol it definitely isn’t. Look at the pics I haven’t greyed out yet)

This and more yield Benny some well-earned Senheads! Yay!! 

Score: 3 Senhits out of 5.

[bouvillea]

a dense G24 Part 2 Essay

Here is my Part 1 Essay. Like before, I would like to talk about some parts of G24 Part 2 that I found interesting first. Feel free to skip ahead to around the fourth paragraph my discussion of the plot. Spoilers ahead.

The atmosphere is very similar to G20. I don't know about how others felt when they played through G20, but the uncertainty about who you could trust (Talvish...) was emphasized to the point where I, the player, couldn't make a sound decision either. G24 Part 2 revolved a lot around the fact that the Milletian and those that help the Milletian couldn't parse why and what was happening in Erinn. There was just a constant stream of dread and bitterness and an uncertainty about the Milletian themselves; the replies we were allowed to choose reflects that. Is the Milletian really good for the sake of Erinn's future? More on this later.

Part 2 opens with Hunter being, for once, very vulnerable to the Aces and the Milletian. He reveals to us his nightmares about his past and Fodla's past. We continue to see these bonding moments between the Aces, the Expeditionary Force, and the Milletian.* Starlet plays a bigger role now as a counterpoint to Fodla. One moves minds and hearts with persuasion and charisma, the other directly manipulates memories and emotions. The Aces clearly serve as the opposing undercurrent to Vayne's prediction at the end of Part 1. The Milletian will always have friends and supporters that cherishes them. Whether or not that is enough to stop the Milletian from spiraling into angst is another story.

*The Milletian really needs some after care...no one asks how the Milletian is feeling after all of this...

Ultimately, a lot of loose ends and story plots were tied up in Part 2, most of them very bittersweet and only vaguely hopeful at best. These back stories served to make us sympathize with the antagonists and make their motives understandable.

For that reason, I cannot come to hate Fodla. She had a very contrived method of protecting Hunter--her little brother. In a pact she made with Hymerark, Hunter's memories of her and his past were mostly sealed away. To make up for the fact that her little sister, Eriu, was sacrificed and succumbed to the curse, Fodla took in Deirbhile. She was a substitute that Fodla loved, but even in her last moments, Fodla wanted her real sibling. Deirbhile is truly a tragic character. She is a personality made and shaped by Fodla. Whoever she was before is probably buried deep in the recesses of her mind. Judging by the last scenes, Deirbhile cannot exist or function normally without Fodla.

Speaking of which, did Deirbhile make an oath with Hymerark, too? What for? We won't know unless we knew who she was before she met Fodla...

Thanks to Merlin, we now know that a Geas is a pact with a god, a pact that cannot be broken easily. If, in Part 1, the Milletian seeks out Vayne in Bangor and speaks to him wearing one of the Geas armors, he speaks about the dangers of being bound under a Geas: "You become bathed in the absolute authority of his will, which grants tremendous gifts and metes out terrible punishments".* Going against the orders of Hymerark will invoke a punishment. And so Vayne insinuates that he still needs to pay for abandoning his duties on the first night to hang out with the Milletian, and the Incubus King does his best to subvert the Geas in order to help.

*Thank you to Mita on twitter for supplying me with the extra dialogue I missed.

Speaking of which, the Incubus King really went full on angst and drama when he had to separate from his wife and Eiren, huh? He gave away his powers, haphazardly made a deal with Hymerark so he could have a dark, gloomy sarcophagus to dream about his time with his wife and child. Even Eiren made an off-handed remark about how lame it all was. It feels like the developers and writers realized that his motivations were very tropey so they decided to make fun of it. And then Eiren followed up with "he sort of...melted away into the darkness like summer snow". Oh. Okay. Goodbye, papa.

I'm going to continue off-tangent here and talk about Manannan, too. He comes back, all salty that the Milletian is busting into his temple uninvited (he does say another uninvited visitor, so was there someone before the Milletian?). But Manannan is so Cat Mom to the Far Darrigs that he can't maintain his pompous god-like demeanor in front of them and the Milletian. He can't bear to frighten the squishy Far Darrigs. It's nice to see that the Far Darrig's love and trust of Manannan isn't misplaced and is reciprocated. I don't think the Far Darrigs were there when Manannan met Scathach, so did he pick them up when he was heartbroken over her? Pure speculation, but that would be really something... Manannan tries to exit the conversation with the Milletian gracefully but then the Far Darrigs ruin it by letting us know that he's going to play with them. Hah. Glad to see his character getting fleshed out like this.

The Far Darrigs also "uwu" at me so there was that. Okay, back to critical analysis.

Human* greed and corruption is a repeating theme for the gods. Manannan said it in regards to the Fairy Queen's reason for leaving, and Vayne, a former Evil God, said the same to the Milletian during their fight. Even Morrighan and Talvish accused the Milletian of claiming powers out of greed and selfishness. The Milletian is a god-like being with human needs and motivations. They see the world in a much smaller frame than the gods do, but possess powers to rival the lowest gods. Make a mistake as a Milletian, and you might as well make a mistake for the whole world. And yet, the Milletian is not recognized as a deity by the gods, and not as a human by the mortals. They're an outsider.

*I will be using human synonymously for "mortal" since there are multiple races in Erinn

And being an outsider is a vexation for the Milletian brought to the front of the mind during this arc. They are always reminded that they are not one of them, that they are a special existence. Vayne's words wheedle into the mind every time they help someone out of kindness. Admiration will turn to fear, fear will turn to hate. The elves and giants forgetting the Milletian and blaming them, albeit artificially stimulated, was a taste of that. Fodla's nightmarish illusion also put the Milletian in the state of being a stranger. They stand at a distance, listening in on a conversation they aren't a part of.  And when they are noticed, there is nothing they can do to deter the hate, or prevent the blood on their hands. The worst part was that the Milletian's friends do zero damage to them. It was a cruel, one-sided fight.

But maybe this is all a trial for the Milletian, too. To steel their heart and understand who are really their friends and what role they play in Erinn. Piran said that Hymerark's trials for the people of Erinn have gotten more out of hand since Hymerark recognized the Milletian's existence. Then, perhaps, the Milletian isn't an outsider anymore. The trials are meant to be completed with the Milletian's help accounted for. These trials will unify the people of Erinn against the Order of the Black Moon.

Which, when you think about it, is not very dissimilar to Talvish's idea to unify the people against a common cause. You'll also have to admit that Vayne's/Hymerark's plan is a lot better than Talvish's. Piran also mentioned that Aton Cimeni and Talvish both condone chaos, so it explains why Talvish hasn't popped out to help the Milletian yet, or to defend them from a very persistent Vayne. He tried helping a little in G22 and then again during G23 but it seems like he got told off and instead sent Merlin to protect Erinn and protect the Milletian. Talvish is definitely on the Milletian's side though, and is probably hoping that they stay true to themselves and continue to help others.

If the goal of Hymerark was to make the Milletian to feel as helpless as possible and then chase them out of Erinn, he wouldn't need to go through such lengths. He could simply pop the Milletian into the Soul Stream and get rid of them there. Cichol did it, I don't see why one of the Three Gods couldn't. Or perhaps Hymerark's original plan was to get rid of the Milletian, but Vayne's oath with him prevented that. Vayne would want trials for the Milletian to overcome so they would become strong enough to defeat him. On the same note, since the trials are getting more intense due to the Milletian (different, I would say, than the trials are happening because of the Milletian), is the Milletian really good for the future of Erinn? I imagine the turmoil the Milletian is going through has something to do with this. Would the trials have been easier if the Milletian wasn't there? Would less people have died and gotten hurt if they did not step into Erinn?

Very briefly, on Cethlenn and Marleid. I had an inkling for a while that they knew each other (thank you, KR Twitter) but due to circumstances, they had forgotten one another. Marleid took on his name, and Cethlenn isn't his real name. So...did he pick "Cethlenn" or did someone name him that? Or did he just switch names with "Marleid"? If Vayne named him Cethlenn...well then. That's the name of Mythological Figure Balor's wife so...writers what are you thinking? (Or, more likely, Fodla named him to change him and meeting his childhood friend with his old name was the biggest trigger to disrupt her abilities.)

Anyway, things aren't looking good for Cethlenn. Or Tani. Tani's last letter to the Milletian had Morse code that vaguely translated to "please letmeout".* Upsetting, especially now that it's implied that Hymerark will use her body to descend to the mortal world. I'm just waiting for Aton Cimeni to pop into the Milletian's body to tell everyone to stop it and shut up.

*Other interesting implications regarding how Milletians work. They can sleep, but do not dream. Nao remembers every Milletian and they can chose to leave whenever or never return.

After all that has happened in G24, I hope we can get some good closure. And I hope the Milletian gets a nice break.

[ovaettrgrimoire]

Divination Activity: Divination’s been temporarily switched to Friday this week. Do two or three different readings using runes. If you feel like experimenting with different ways to cast, do so now. If you like your prefered method, do that. How do the runes change their meanings when combined with other runes in a reading? What patterns can you pick out?

1st Reading: The Norns style. 

this style one simply draws runes after shaking their bag or box (mines a small treasure chest painted appropriately) one at a time and in that order is The Past of Urdh’s, the Present of Verdhandi’s, and the Future of Skuld’s. My reading 8/10/19 Sat. -  Past: Elhaz / Algiz

A heavily protective rune, this one seems to show growth to me in alignment with its tree glyphic self. This rune i’ve also routinely used in my past quite literally as a protection rune from bad people in my life that are no longer here. This rune is also of the world tree itself in many interpretations as well as a general connector unit to all things higher powers and magical. Its what makes the mundane magical. Its like a satellite to things up there and around us. Kind of like the satellite dishes of plants in their leaves how they twist and turn towards the sun. In my past I was also growing like this. Present: Laguz

This rune is associated more with water than earth and associated with the need to ‘go with the flow’ when it shows up in readings for your current state in order to tap into your own powers more. As it’s in my present day I feel inclined to believe thats what the push is towards for certain picking through my notes that stood out the most. Though other than a literal sense it also links to the esoteric world and the unconscious parts of ourselves and the world. It’s also the living energy that is the undercurrent of everything on earth. Maybe thats something i need to tap into, that undercurrent, and chill out some and not rush so much. 

Future: Ansuz

My future leans into the rune of Ansuz and its a more air associated rune. Its associated with the breath of life and creation. That could mean in many places, it would be appropriate for my self to associate that with the ability to draw and create characters that can come to life. It also is associated with stability and order, both things i have coveted for long amounts of time. Maybe if I go with the flow more I can tap into my powers more in order to reach said stability and order in the realm of breathing life into things, characters, projects, etc. One can hope at least. and try at best.  -----------

2nd Reading: Casting to the Ground Style

In this style you simply cast all 24 and take all upright ones into account for your inquiry and reading. I had no inquiry so i simply let them talk to me in general. in no particular order; - Peorð ᛈ  A rune associated with the letter ‘p’ and there isnt much more info on it out there, other than its associations with pear trees. Maybe growth and stability is associated with it cuz of the tree associations? This one is hard to read. I realized my runes are in the anglo-saxon version of runes which have some lesser known ones like  ᛈ .  - Ingwaz  ᛝ  the peace and togetherness rune. It’s a rune about wholeness. 

-  Mannaz  ᛗ  the rune symbolizing ‘man’ in a literal sense, but also making it known one can reach their fullest potential. It also means to remind us that we have shared experiences as humans. This rune’s power can also be invoked to get the upperhand in disputes or arguments apparently according to my research? So I might have to employ this rune sometime when say, I want to win a pitch for a project and reach its full potential. - Sowulo  ᛋ  The Sun rune and one of enlightenment and seeing things clearly as if in daylight. It also reminds us theres light to be found in dark times and to never give up.

- Algiz/ Elhaz  ᛉ The growth rune and one of Yggdrasil the tree of life. Its also about strength for protection and defensive abilities.  It’s used in a lot of protection spells so it might be advising to protect the self while growing continually. - Uruz  ᚢ the “Oo” character and associations with the ox. It says in my notes that its a rune of power but now a power we can control nor own. In castings it might mean personal success is near. It has healing properties in talismens too.  - Raido  ᚱ the rune of journies and blessed ones at that usually. This rune helps one focus their energy to obtain a goal but its about being in the right place at the right time too, not just a wish.

- Thurisaz  ᚦ the “thorn” but this also is the word for the Giants. ‘thurs’ is at least. It represents the ability to  resist unwanted conflicts in a passive manner. Its a rune that is about protection too of things that otherwise would be a surprise by way of hints. It can be used as a defensive rune against adversaries.  For now i just wanted to get those down and I might make a new post later introspecting the reading more in a paragraph. 

[makingoutinyour30s]

thoughts on time

Dear A;

I woke up in manic brain today so you’re getting a letter. I am excitable but also a little gloomy. It almost feels like I’m in a mirror maze and I’m trying to run in every direction but I’m banging into walls and I’m not quite sure where I’m going. Didn’t our girl Chani say things are supposed to be weird this weekend? I have definitely woken in a weird (but good, I think?) place. 

Last night K and I went to see Lady Bird. And we reacted hard. Throughout the movie we whisper shouted our reactions. We covered our faces with our hands when things were just too much to feel. I think we both got choked up at various parts. We laughed a lot. 

There is this PhD student at a university on the east coast that I sometimes talk to. We study the same thing so I tap into her when I need or want fieldwork advice. The last time we talked was a few weeks after I entered the field and she said, “High schools are just the best place, right?” And I told her my year of fieldwork was so perfectly timed because I had found myself in the middle of a divorce. And she told me the same had happened for her and we talked about that. She said that being around teenagers was going to be so helpful and she talked about their perceptions of time. That time moves a little slower for teenagers (two weeks can feel like two years), but that they can also feel the great expanses of their lives. She said this perspective was going to be helpful when reframing a life. 

A, I know I’m not a teenager. I know I am a 33 year old woman. I but I have never lost that perspective on time. I often think it’s because I have never intended to have children. So I have never had to think about really planting roots, be they in time or space. If I didn’t have to take care of anyone but myself and another grown-up/partner, we could move and do whatever we wanted. We could keep looking under every rock. We could stay out late and follow mysteries wherever we want. Though it might also have to do with being a student. There is something exciting about what comes after graduating something. There is still at least one giant shift to be made in my life. And it’s expansive and incredibly unknown. 

I also have a constant fear of wasting time. I am worried time will get away from me. And my role as Joy Team Captain means I worry about letting things slip away that feel great or effervescent. I worry about spending too much time in gloom or work and then realizing I have missed good things or let them go by the wayside. I think this sensation is part of what causes me to rush things that feel good. Or to throw myself in front of emotional speeding trains. We must solve this thing! Or, we must lock this good thing down! I am a very patient worker. But I am not a patient emotions-feeler. I often do not understand when people need to take time to think about things, because my emotions and feelings are almost always very clear to me. I like this thing. I do not like this thing. Turn left, not right. This is the thing I want. When I woke up one day and realized I was ready to marry OH, I asked him to marry me in three weeks because I was ready and there was no reason to wait once I was ready and whipped up a good plan. 

Yesterday I received some divorce paperwork. It was nothing too emotional and something I knew was coming. But I hate receiving divorce paperwork. It often comes at moments when I feel pretty stable in my life, and then it reminds me there is a gloomy undercurrent and there are things that will change and things I will have to react to from my old life. It led me to looking at emails that were sent and received in the Really Hard Time. Oh, A. I felt so very sad for myself reading them. I know I have been feeling a lot of emotions in the months since I started feeling better and dating. I know there have been very tiny mini heartbreaks, which are mostly magnified because they feel like whiplash from OH. But my goodness, I need to reflect more on how much better everything is right now. Maybe I’m still working on figuring out what single life looks like and mourning being without a live-in teammate right now. Maybe I’m letting goofy dumb boys like DD4 yank me around a little. But things are so very much better. I remember writing all the emails that I wrote to friends responding to check ins or when I reached out to people for help. I remember almost everything I wrote in those emails. But spending an hour or so reading them, from this new place, was Very Hard. I imagined what it might have been like to be the friends on the receiving end of those emails. It must have been so difficult to receive them, to know how to respond. And because I know they were all sent to people I love, and who love me, I can only imagine how painful and difficult it must have been to be my friend then. So many emails, from so many people, include paragraphs of reminders of how much they love me and the things they love about me. They were very real gifts to receive then and to still have. So much of the emails I sent read like someone completely lost at sea. They were written by someone who was struggling to save herself from drowning. Somedays might be hard still. Somedays I feel something in regards to a different person and it makes me scared to tap into those old feelings again. But A, I don’t think it can ever actually be that bad again. There were multiple nights I went out to dinner with someone and disclosed vulnerable and painful experiences I had with OH that led to them crying in reaction. And my god, I just can’t imagine what I must have been like. I know how I felt in my brain and in my heart, but I think it must have been such a tough experience to watch it, and react to it, from the outside. 

In your first letter to me you mentioned how the sun was shining on me since then. And I know it has been. But I don’t think I quite felt how much until reading those emails yesterday. A few days ago I was also clearing out voicemails and listened to one you left me just a few days after OH left. In it your voice is gentle and angry and sad. And you tell me that you’re so sorry and that this thing is just so out of control and unbelievable. Hearing those emotions in your voice made me wonder what it might have been like to hear my voice during that time. At dinner over the summer at my friend M’s house, she looked at me across the table at one point and said, “Your eyes look less dead than they did before”. 

Things will take some time before they are entirely comfortable. Before I am able to make decisions without feeling like all my emotions are all the line or that everything has to mean something so significant. But I have to work harder to remember how good things are. How absolutely better things are than they were four months ago. Or even a year ago. It has to be O.K. to feel uncomfortable sometimes. 

I don’t know what I’m writing about today. I’m feeling restless. I am feeling like there is too much to react to right now, today, and that there is a little too much out of my emotional control and like my emotions are spilling out of my chest like an open fire hydrant. I am trying to get myself excited for a new date with a new cute boy this afternoon and to remember that I have no idea what exciting thing might (or might not!) be in store with him or anyone. And to stop thinking about people whose emotions and wants are outside my control. And to enjoy things that are good without asking more from them or trying to force them into something else. Goddam, emotional patience is so difficult. 

xo, S. 

[utopianparadoxist]

The pleas of false people mean nothing: Nier’s sound and enemy design carries a vital message.

(This Cannot Continue.)

For Nier/Taroverse Fans: (Skip this section if you’re not one of my tragic people (yet)):

This essay is primarily aimed at fans of Nier:Automata, or at least people interested in it. Or good game and sound design fans in general. 

That said, I am primarily a Homestuck blog, and my perspective will include some comparisons to Homestuck. Don’t worry, nothing you won’t be able to follow-- even if you’ve literally never heard of Homestuck. In fact, you may come away from this with a new area of interest if you’ve exhausted Nier: Automata’s content and it left you hungry for a similar kind of story. 

Even if you can’t imagine reading all of the comic proper, Hiveswap is coming out soon--possibly even this month, and I’m confident that game will make an excellent entry point into the series. I’m also running a youtube channel dedicated to explaining the comic to newcomers, along with potential lore links between the game and the comic, a la Dark Souls.

This piece will include some fairly big Homestuck spoilers, but frankly I don’t think it will matter either way--like with Nier: Automata itself, even spoiling the entire story couldn’t for a second make up for the actual execution.

In any case, No matter how much you’ve interacted with either Nier or Homestuck, you should be able to follow along and enjoy my points about both in this essay just fine. 

I’m also going to avoid spoilers about Nier: Automata for the most part. However, I will be outlining the basic premise of the game and the thematic undercurrents that run through the entire story, so there are obviously some spoilers for the early game.

For Homestuck Fans:  (Skip this section if you’re not one of my tragic people (yet)): 

Yeah, I know I’m in the middle of a whole series of essays on Jake and that I kind of established a strong build up for the next essay. That one’s still coming--I might publish it tonight or maybe tomorrow. I’m excited about it!

But frankly, I kind of went through some really intense and borderline traumatic stuff in my personal life the last couple days. Not to do with Dirkjake or Homestuck at all--everyone who’s read my posts has thus far been terrifically kind to me, and the criticism and feedback I’ve received has been constructive in polishing and framing the next entry. I haven’t gotten a single anon hate message or anything. Thanks for that.

Just to do with some stuff irl, and writing is how I cope, and what happened made me want to write about this right the fuck now. I don’t feel like it can wait, no matter how much I love the subject of Jake English. Given how bombastic I am in those essays, that should give you an idea how strongly I feel about this subject.

I also think that understanding my views on Nier will illuminate how I approach and deconstruct Homestuck from an analytical perspective, and at the very least help you contextualize my ongoing writing on the comic. So this is relevant in the long term anyway, I’m just kind of chagrined I’m essentially pulling an analysis series intermission here. Fucking RIP, I have become my own comedy.

OK, so all that stuff out of the way: This essay will be split into four sub-sections, following a naming convention you should be able to recognize pretty quickly.  I want to talk about the main antagonists in Nier: Automata: 

The Machines, and why they’re currently my favorite antagonists in any video game ever. 

Androids: Data for the uninitiated.

(This Cannot Continue.)

Nier: Automata is the latest entry in what is obscurely understood as the Drakengard-Nier franchise-- A series of action RPG Square-Enix games. Like Homestuck’s Andrew Hussie, most of the Taroverse saga (Drakengard 2 can stay in its corner) was conceptualized and directed by a notable Auteur figure: Yoko Taro- from whom the franchise gets its name. That’s not to say he’s solely responsible for the quality of his games, but simply that this is the reputation he’s earned in the fan community. 

The reason I bring these auteurs up at all is that they both seem concerned with very similar ideas, leading to some peculiar similarities between their works. By bringing up the similarities between them, I feel I can better get at the core of what each series has to offer, and hopefully enticing fans of the one to consider the other.  

Both series include explorations on the nature of existing as part of the Multiverse, along with multiple and sequential apocalyptic scenarios (both stories span over thousands if not millions of years and several civilizations).  They both have questions to ask about the human condition, the nature of power and relationships, and humanity’s relationship with both reality and God. 

If I had to describe my opinion on their philosophical differences in a paragraph, here’s what I’d say: Homestuck explores the concept of the multiverse while presenting a path for how to reach Heaven. The Taroverse explores how it can be used to imagine an endless, cyclical Hell.

If you’re not averse to spoilers or watching some pretty disturbing and depressing stuff and you want to see a fantastic case for this reading of the Taroverse, I suggest watching @pixievalkyrie ’s excellent breakdown of the entire franchise’s history. Fair warning: Trigger warnings for pretty much every kind of horrible abuse and degradation of life imaginable. 

If you want to see my case backed up further for Homestuck, well-- there’s no earthly way to break Homestuck into smaller chunks like the Taroverse allows for, so I suppose you’ll just have to stay tuned to my work and read the comic yourself in the meantime. But Tex Talks does a very good job of explaining the nature of Homestuck’s setting in this video, and I think you’ll find similarities. 

Now we can finally get to talking about the damn game. 

Aliens: The Shape of the Enemy.

(This cannot continue.)

The premise of the game is as follows: After surviving about four distinct apocalyptic events and/or wars, thousands of years in the future, Earth faces an alien invasion. The invasion is successful and drives what’s left of humanity off the planet and onto the Moon. 

The aliens do not fight themselves, however-- instead preferring to build a distinct industry of robotic weapons to fight their war for them: The Machines, our antagonists.

In response to the threat, humanity builds autonomous weapons of their own. Our Protagonists: The Androids. The three primary androids in our story are two combat androids, codenamed 2B and A2, and one scanner/support Android codenamed 9S. Here we see 2B, 9S, and A2--from top left to bottom right.

What’s immediately noticeable is how different Androids and Machines are. 

Androids look and feel, for all intents and purposes, perfectly human. They talk fluently, consider complex problems, and clearly care for each other. They are expressly ordered not to show emotions, but they demonstrably have them anyway. 

Machines, by comparison, look like crude imitations of people, toy-like and expressionless. Their voices are synthesized and robotic, their intonations and accents alien, making it difficult to discern emotion. Machines look mass-produced and cheaply customizable, with a variety of modifications pasted onto a crude and simple base design to fill out enemy types.

Androids are also ridiculously more competent and functional. This is a hack n’ slash game, and the Machines are direct analogs to, say, Heartless from Kingdom Hearts. 

During gameplay, you’ll mow them down by the hundreds practically effortlessly, and though there are some bigger and tougher variants, most of them come across as borderline pathetic in their attempts to fight.

But both kinds of robots share a few similarities, one of which is this: 

They are both connected to Post-Singularity Server networks that give them orders on how to fight their enemy. 

For both Machines and Androids, these supercomputers are the structures actually calling the shots--they’re the sources of the series of orders that lead to a war that seems to span anywhere from centuries to millennia. 

Neither Androids or Machines are calling the shots. But Androids have a design that makes it easy for them to signal feelings and complex internal realities, and Machines are designed to look very easy to dehumanize. 

And this is a Taroverse game, so of course this depressing as hell setup is only the beginning of a long fall down. 

Machines: Sounds that mean nothing. 

(This cannot continue.) Early into the game, 2B and 9S begin to note more and more machines behaving erratically. More and more machines become non-aggressive, staring blankly into space or beginning to ramble about random subjects, wandering the land and modifying themselves based on their environments.

As a player, Your orders are clear: Machines are to be eliminated. These are also the orders of 2B and 9S, and the game has you continue carrying them out mostly unquestioned except through these little niblets of bizarre behavior from the machines. It doesn’t matter anyway--they’re the enemy, and you have to fight to win.  This dynamic comes to its first climax in what will surely become one of the game’s most memorable scenes. 2B and 9S find their way to a small enclave of machines minding their own business, and what they find staggers their imaginations:

These robots are non-hostile. They’re rocking cradles while repeating “Child. Child.” Bumping into each other in suggestive ways while repeating “Love. Love.” and “Together. Forever.” All in those monotone, synthesized voices. Sounding so empty and wrong. 

9S forms an interesting response to this. He says: “Don’t listen to them, 2B. They don’t have any feelings. They’re just imitating human speech.” 

And it’s easy to come to that conclusion, right? It’s not like they emote. It’s not like they’re really able to. Essentially, 9S considers the Machines a threat, first and foremost--so when they act in a way that might engender empathy, he assumes it’s a trick or a ploy--an attempt to win the Androids over in order to hurt them. 

It’s deceitful, but it’s also worse than that. It’s deceit by sheer virtue of it’s premise: Machines cannot possibly say something indicating emotions like love, desire, or care because Machines are not real beings. They aren’t people.

They’re tools and weapons and puppets to a supercomputer’s Agenda-- not autonomous entities who think and feel for themselves, at least as far as he’s concerned. That’s what he was taught by his intelligence server, and that server is really the only source of information in his life. It’s natural to rely on it. 

Still, the machines don’t react to your presence and there’s nowhere to go. The only way forward is through violence. And once you provide it, they answer, with a lone Machine rising up and declaring: 

I’ll get you for this. 

As the fight continues, more and more machines make odd statements as they throw themselves at our protagonists, who demolish them by the dozens. Statements like: I love you! Kill! and Hatred! Pain! The robots suggest they feel what you’re doing. That they know what’s happening to them.  Again, this war has gone on forever, and you--as the Androids--are almost absurdly more powerful than they are. 2B executes machines by the dozens constantly, across every corner of the world she can reach them in. The Machines surely know this as they watch their community die on her sword, one after another. They can likely feel exactly how weak they are. 

But the voices that deliver their pain to the player remain stilted and alien--difficult to recognize. As the battle rises to it’s conclusion, however, one machine voices a thought that catches on. A short, clipped statement every machine can get behind. A meme.  This Cannot Continue. The machines repeat it faster and faster, uniting under a common rallying cry. This tension builds and builds until suddenly, the Machines experience some sort of breakdown, straight up throwing a collective tantrum in (seemingly pantomime) desperation and repeating the words so fast and so often it barely sounds like a recognizable statement and sounds pure like pure cacophony.

Looking at this screenshot might convey some of the effect, but listening to the noise they’re collectively making is really something else. I’d link to the scene, but I don’t want to spoil what they do next. All I’ll say is that once they all gather around this common, desperate thought, they take action. When they do, the music shifts... And the game does something I’ve never seen before.

[Please Listen]

Here’s another area where Nier: Automata is similar to Homestuck. Both properties are downright famous for their use of leitmotif and attaching particular meanings to different musical motifs. (The developer of Undertale, Toby Fox, got his start as a Homestuck musician.) But even in this sense, what Nier: Automata pulls off is uniquely powerful. This song uses everything about itself to inform and flesh out the themes of the game. Once the robots do what they do next, we get an new rendition of the game’s main battle theme. A battle theme titled as Birth of a Wish. 

Right from the title, the song is telling us something. Birth of a Wish (This cannot Continue) qualifies the robot’s collective statement as a wish, a desire. A wish for mercy? For deliverance? For justice, or peace? It’s hard to know. Probably all of the above.  And the song itself tricks the player. Or at least, it tricked me. I should mention that Nier does one thing that Homestuck only really dabbled in: Vocal work. Specifically, vocal work in a made up language-- @pixievalkyrie again comes to my rescue with an excellent breakdown of Emi Evan’s downright staggering artistic achievement in her creation of a composite chaos language derived from most of the major languages on Earth. 

Emi’s music is one of the major reasons I love this franchise, which is to say that when I first listened to this song, I did so actively hoping its vocal works wouldn’t make sense to me. 

And I got what I wanted! The vocals, as usual, were smooth and fascinating but seemingly meaningless enough that I could use the music as a backdrop for my writing--I’ve been listening to this track pretty much nonstop for the last couple of weeks. 

Which made it downright chilling when I realized, quite abruptly, that I was wrong. I have no idea if you noticed while listening to it or not--I genuinely don’t know if I’m an outlier here (pls send me asks with your experience!). But if you didn’t, then listen again: Most of the vocals for this song are written in plain English. 

They consist of three words: This cannot continue. 

The voices of the robots become part of the song. And the song itself is structured such that it informs the nature of their plight. The voices of the robots are barely musical--they are blank statements stated in synthesized monotone, hard to draw sentiment from. 

But they are persistent, barging into the song as forcefully as they possibly can for as long as they can. Their voices don’t rest or stop willingly, seeming as though they’re almost forming a sort of counterbeat to the song’s main line. And when they stop, it is always because they are cut off, shut down and out of the song by the force of the Instruments. 

Which is fitting, because instruments are what deny them in the game, too--after all, the Androids are simply tools. To the humans, to their server, and to you. 

The experience of listening to them goes something like: This cannot continue this cannot continue this cannot continue this cannot-- Over and over again, until the song inevitably drowns them for its climaxes, only for their voices to return once again. 

It’s a marvel of musical storytelling. But what makes it a diamond is what happens next. Later into the game, you come into contact with a village of Machines waving the white flag of surrender. 

These machines inform the androids that they have disconnected from the information network, as have been many other groups of machines across the world. This is the cause for their erratic behavior--these machines now wish only to learn about the world and themselves and live in peace. 

The music for this village is fundamentally different, to go with the information we gain:

[^Please Listen^]

Here the game tips it’s hand for good. I’m genuinely not sure what language this is in, or if it has actual lyrics--but it doesn’t matter. The vocal work is so stellar that the sentiment and meaning are carried in the simple tone of the voices. Like before, the Robots sing in harmony, but they sound deeply different. 

Their voices are still synthesized, but now they suggest an almost melancholy and gentle inquisitiveness. They sound so similar to the childlike voices that actually emote that the two distinct voice tracks flow into each other, rather can harshly contrasting like (This cannot continue)’s voices do. 

The sentiment conveyed is clear, even though in this case the Machines don’t seem to be speaking any language I understand. These are real beings. 

These are real people. These are just a bunch of kids. 

This is only the beginning of the Nier: Automata experience, and it’ll go on to explore so many more concepts that I don’t feel bad about spoiling it. It would be literally impossible for you to guess what happens next, and this isn’t even a quarter into what the game as a whole has to offer. 

But this is where we get off the train of Nier’s plot and into what the game is trying to tell us. There are only two more relevant pieces of information from the story left for me to spoil. After that, I will be discussing only the message the game is trying to send philosophically, without leaning on any more of the story. 

These are two more similarities between Machines and Androids:

1) Machines and Androids are built from the same materials.

2) Machines and Androids both consider their creators their Gods.

As well they should. Because once humans transgress the boundary of creating sentient life, that is what they will have become. And that is not just a possibility. It is an imminent reality of our future, which is coming sooner than you think. Which is why Nier: Automata is more than just a profoundly existential, deeply enjoyable work of art. 

Nier: Automata is a warning.

Humans: Become as Gods.

(This cannot Continue.)

[^Suggested listening^]

The leading scientists and experts of our planet pretty much agree that the Singularity is not just inevitable, but coming fast. The point when the machines we create become advanced enough to recognize and modify themselves, thus beginning a process of autonomous self-improvement that will far outspeed even the increasingly staggering rate of progress we humans are capable of, is coming.

Many of the most successful and scientific minds in our generation have issued dire warnings about AI. Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates, Elon Musk--these are not uninformed people prone to spreading fantasy. I know this sounds like sci-fi drama, but it’s just a fact of life--what’s about to happen is real, and serious people are taking it very seriously. 

We can already reform the very shape of our planet. We can already extend our own lives and perform fucking magic like creating warmth when the world is cold, drawing water from nowhere as soon as we want it, and talk to literally anyone anywhere on the planet because we are all interconnected through a massive, sprawling, infinite plane of ideas and concepts we forced into reality--a composite experience containing all of our minds.

Once we have created life that can evolve without us, that is as aware of the world as we are--then we will really be as good as Gods. And when it happens, it will not save us from ourselves. It won’t fix the world for us.

If we are not mature enough to handle it, if we cannot evolve to the responsibility of our power, then it will without a doubt destroy us as a species. And it will destroy us because of our ability to dehumanize and abuse each other.

We humans have more in common with Androids and Machines than one would initially think. In fact, we have one unnervingly real similarity with both of them:

We have intelligence superstructures that inform how we think about reality and other people, too. You’re reading this on one. This is true whether you’re on Tumblr, Reddit, or wherever else this ends up. 

In this time of intense political division, there two main internets: The Left and The Right. The internet is a marvelous place where we can all talk to each other and transmit ideas, sure. But like with the servers providing information to both Androids and Machines, it’s also where a lot of people get their orders.

But not everyone. Obviously, like in Nier: Automata, the reality is more complicated than that. I just wonder if we will realize that long enough to look at what our world has become and fix it. 

There are people in control of my country right now that view me and the people I love as Machines were viewed by Androids. Our voices are wrong. The shapes and colors of our bodies are unnatural and awkward. The intonations and behaviors we use are strange and eerie to them, and the way we love and wish to present ourselves is incorrect to them. And so when we say we are being hurt it does not matter. We are not real. We cannot say real things.  It is all in service to a greater Agenda. 

The horror of the Machines, and the reason they are important characters, is not because of the threat they pose to the characters or some intrinsic Wrongness they reveal about the nature of life or humans. 

The horror of the Machines is how easy it is to ignore the fact that they feel horror. The horror of the Machines is how easy it is to make them look horrible. The horror of the Machines is that they can speak and speak but the Androids may never choose to listen. 

The horror of the Machines is that they are people, and we have stolen that from them. And if we continue to regard other humans the way we regard the Machines in our own world, once we have achieved Godhood, we will inevitably steal it from each other.  Nier: Automata’s message is clear:

Gods: This cannot continue. 

Very soon in the course of human history, we are going to be faced with a Choice. It is a Choice we will have to make every moment, every instant, for the rest of our lives. It is a Choice we are already making, but which many of us still have the luxury to ignore. Although not for much longer.

We must face this choice, both as a Collective and as Individuals. But the choice of each individual must inevitably come first, because how can we decide how to move forward as a species if we can’t even talk and agree about it? 

What kind of Gods are we going to be? Are we going to be like the Humans and Aliens in Automata? This is a Yoko Taro game, so I don’t think it’s a spoiler to tell you-you won’t like how they end up. 

Personally, I have a suggestion. 

I would like us to be more like Gods from Homestuck.

I like the world they build a lot better.

You can find my writing here, on this blog. You can also find some of my writing on games on ZEAL, and find my series aiming to make Homestuck accessible to non-fans on my youtube channel. If you like my writing and would like to support me in the endeavor of creating more of it, it would also seriously help me out if you pledged to my Patreon. I’ll be more than satisfied if my words move you enough to simply choose to share them with others, though.   Doing so will also get you access to my Discord server, where I’m more than willing to answer questions about Homestuck and Hiveswap whether you’re a long time fan or just getting into them for the first time. I’ll still answer questions if you just send me an ask on Tumblr, but I’m basically always busy with writing or helping to run the communities I am a part of, so answering questions can’t be my top priority at the moment. I’ll get around to all asks, but it might take time. 

Regardless, if you made it this far I am deeply, deeply grateful. More grateful than I think I can express in mere words. I hope my words change something for someone, somewhere. I hope my words change something for me.

Because this cannot continue.

See you again soon, everyone. 

Until then, keep rising.