#but the sounds of music are way more complex than any sounds capable of being produced by the human body

[durn4h]

I imagine that talented musicians must think of chords as distinct from the collection of notes that make them up, because when improvising I can't imagine it's possible to have much fluidity/speed if you're mentally constructing every chord as you play them, but it's equally impressive to me that these people know their instruments so well that they can instantly produce the shape of every chord they can imagine.

[daffodilfool]

Re: Music and Intelligence

Before I start there's a couple things I need to get out of the way.

First off, this is a "follow up" of sorts to an old tumblr post of mine which you can find here. Feel free to read it if you're interested, just know that I wrote it on a whim without really doing any research. Since writing the post I decided to write a paper on the subject for school, and I now know a lot more about the subject than I did back then.

I am also still by no means a professional biologist, nor an expert in any of the stuff I'll be talking about. I am a biology student, an artist, and an autist extraordinaire writing a post on tumblr. Take everything I say with a grain of salt if not two.

With that said,

I. What is Music?

That's a good fucking question, and if I'm going to be completely honest, we don't fucking know. It may seem obvious but the fact is whatever you think is the answer, someone else will disagree with you. What is and what isn't music is entirely subjective, and what you may think is music, someone else might just hear noise, and vice versa. But it's still a question we need to answer in order to continue, after all you cant find something when you don't know what you're looking for.

To spare you the boring part, for the purposes of this discussion music will be defined as an abstract form of verbal and / or instrumental communication based around the use of one or more "musical qualities" such as rhythm, melody, tone colour and pitch.

This definition is the result of a lot of discussions between me, my supervisors, my friends and my family, and is based in various scientific bases such as mathematics, history and neurology, as well as common consensus. But I won't bore you with the details.

II. How is Music?

Unless you are famed composer Ludwig van Beethoven, you might have noticed that when you listen to music, you tend to do so with your ears. Your ears are however not the part of you that process the music, the ears simply turn sound waves into electrical signals through a series of bones that groove it silly style to compress a liquid that tickles some incredibly sensitive hairs that send out electrical impulses in response. Got that? No? Doesn't matter. What's important is the ear converts sound waves into electrical signals that the brain is capable of processing.

So how does the brain process music? Well for most sounds it's more or less fairly straight forwards; as the electrical impulses from the ear reach the brain, the temporal lobe (located just behind the temples) snatches up that signal and compares that signal with your memories in the hippocampus (the memory center, located inside the temporal lobe) in order to deduce what you heard, as well as comparing signals with the opposite temporal lobe to deduce where the sound came from. If the temporal lobe recognises a sound as being speech, that info is sent to the frontal lobe for processing and back again.

Music, however, is not so simple. While the first pass is similar to processing speech, by the time the signal has reached the frontal lobe the temporal lobe has begun sending out signals about the musical qualities to most other parts of the brain as well. Most notably the amygdala (responsible for emotion) and the parietal lobe (responsible for processing touch, spacial awareness and the somatosensory system) are sent into overdrive in order to process the emotional and rhythmic aspects of music and processing them as your own, hence why listening to music has such a strong emotional and sensory effect.

The brain is complex, and truthfully we don't know exactly how it works. After all, "If the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn't." But what we do know is that processing music is no simple task, in fact it is incredibly energy intensive, seemingly wasting resources in an already incredibly power hungry organ.

So of course that begs the question:

III-a. Why is Music?

This is where it gets a little more speculative. Truth is we don't know, and we likely never will. Unfortunately I can't give you a 100% true "this is how it happened" set in stone answer, but what I CAN give you is my best educated guess, and let you think about it in the mean time.

I've read dozens of papers on the origins of music and the origins of intelligence, but not a single one of them mention what, to me, seems like an obvious link between the two, aside from the occasional conclusion that music is an evolutionary hiccup and a side effect of intelligence. But I'd argue that not only is music not an evolutionary hiccup, but rather an integral part in the development of intelligence.

Music undeniably influences the brain in a massive way, but the exact amount is highly debated. Some are thoroughly convinced that music has the power to make people more intelligent, others believe music has no more influence over the brain than any other sound. There are plenty studies supporting both stances and an equal amount contradicting them. So where do I stand?

Intelligence is not one monolithic concept, but rather a series of cognitive skills that interact and interface with each other and the world around us. Problem solving, logic, emotional intelligence, spacial intelligence, linguistics, and creativity, to name a few, are all kinds of intelligence, all of which can be trained. While music isn't some magical spell capable of just cranking up these cognitive skills, it does serve as an effective medium through which one can easily train several of these skills all at once, by virtue of engaging the entire brain, ESPECIALLY (but not exclusively) in the context of learning an instrument.

Learning an instrument is difficult and a large reason as to why is exactly because it engages so many aspects of the brain. Playing an instrument requires spacial awareness to know where to play, it requires problem solving to know how to play, it requires emotional intelligence to know what to play. It engages nearly every aspect of intelligence, and the ability to train all these facets simultaneously allows them to build off each other, paired with the fact that you're already training several skills in the same time as you would train one, comes together to form an intelligence greater than the sum of learning each skill individually.

III-b. Why Music?

The observant among you may have noticed that I've been talking a lot about "intelligence" in that last section, but I never bothered to define it, why is that? Simply put, I can't, I don't think it's possible. Intelligence is such a vast nebulous concept that no one definition of it would be just or even somewhat accurate, but going forwards I'll be talking about sapience specifically, often defined as the ability to feel and understand emotions as well as the ability to do complex problem solving. Good? Good.

Humans are the only sapient species on earth, that we know of for sure, at least. That isn't to say there aren't other potential candidates for sapience, because there absolutely are animals straddling the line of what we would consider sapient. So what animals are the most likely to be sapient? Well it's commonly agreed upon that us, chimps, elephants, cetaceans, corvids, parrots, and octopi make that list, but what you may notice is that besides our shared intelligence, we actually have very little in common otherwise: body shape, phyla, behavior, diets, environments, etc.

But the one thing that we all have in common besides our intelligence, also just happens to be a trait only observed in this seemingly random selection of animals: the ability to understand music. If music were an evolutionary hiccup, a mere coincidence in our development, surely it would not be a trait shared only by sapient animals, nearly all of which evolved their sapience separately.

So why do music and sapience seem to be mutually inclusive? Well, what is "intelligence" really if not the ability to take in and replicate knowledge? The more efficiently you are able to communicate a concept, and the more efficiently you're able to store and apply said concept, the more intelligent you are. It just happens that art is the most information dense form of communication, and music happens to be one that nearly everyone is capable of creating using no outside tools whatsoever.

Music is a universal language, one so deeply ingrained within us that it overpowers even the spoken language of modern day. Though it may have started as simple monotone calls to simply alert your next of kin of your presence, a la cicadas, the ability to parse that information efficiently would clear up more space to communicate more complex ideas, and over the span of hundreds of thousands of years, if not millions, those simple calls began communicating progressively more complex ideas, until eventually you would end up with what we now today know as full blown music. Remember what I said earlier about music being an effective learning medium? Yeah, imagine that except over the span of eons.

That, I believe, is why music is.

[kafus]

if you’re still doing the DID ask game! 🌺 (describe one part of your inner world) and/or 🌍 (can you change your inner world and access it freely?)

one of my friends IRL has DID and she’s described her inner world to me some, it sounds super interesting! i don’t have DID but have a super vivid imagination/inner world type of thing going on, which i think for me is part of my being autistic, and i related a lot to your post about having a visualized self rather than perceiving “you” as your physical body, if that makes sense lol. (it was the one about the kaf music video where she’s walking through an empty city/port)

all this to say, thanks for sharing info about DID and talking about your experiences! ^^

oh my god i totally meant to answer this and forgot and only remembered just now. ironically my memory issues caused by DID made me forget a question about DID in my inbox

somewhat amusingly while my visualization of my internal world can be pretty vivid, despite being considered complex/polyfrag (i still don’t know what term i prefer for myself, i don’t talk about it often) most of my complexity is in my splitting patterns and “layering” of alters. but the actual LOCATIONS those layers are in? not super detailed or huge tbh. so i don’t have a ton to say here. BUT

our “fronting room” for lack of a better word, where alters are while fronting, is actually a bedroom, and like specifically a really over the top pink, princess-y looking bedroom that 8 year old girls could only dream of. i honestly have no idea why it is that way, none of us have ever been particularly feminine in that way even as children, it just has been for as long as its been here and now i’m so used to it i kinda don’t care to attempt to manually change it. it has a massive comfy bed with numerous pillows and a canopy, literally what more could i want as someone who is fronting a lot of the time dbjdjdkd

we are capable of changing our innerworld within some limits? there will probably come a day where we have more control over different locations but i currently don’t have a ton. as for free access though, the fronting room is easily accessible to anyone, like while fronting i can tune my attention to the bedroom and interact with it at pretty much any time. but some parts i cannot access as host and some are fuzzy or i can only access at certain times

tldr it’s complicated lol

btw ur innerworld is totally valid, i think there’s a good chunk of DID experiences that are like, experiences non-DID folk can have but adjusted to the left yknow. if it helps you or is a natural part of ur brain then go for it

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: Appologies for this sounding deep, but what's your stance on artificial life forms in fictional media? How would you feel if you met a person like that in real life?

Is they were real, I'd treat them the same as any other person. If they were a good person, I'd want to be there friend if we have anything in common, but if they intend to hurt people, than I would stand against them.

Examples include Noel Vermillion, Hazama and Es from BlazBlue.

I took two courses on Ethics and Philosophy in college and it changed a lot about how I think about the world, but more importantly, it gave me language for things I've always thought about but never had words for. Specifically about personhood.

A lot of people confuse personhood and humanity because, well, on this planet, the only creatures we as a species seem to consider as being capable of being people are already human. So the two terms share significant overlap, and you therefore end up with people with the genuinely frightening stance that non-human people should not count as people and are therefore okay to destroy en-masse. Like, there is a small but significant portion of humanity that believes that an extraterrestrial intelligent lifeform capable of communication and reasoning would be totally okay to enslave or genocide because they aren't human.

You also get the inverse of this, where the distinction of being human gets extrapolated to mean "person" when that isn't the case. That as long as the DNA of something is "human" it must therefore be good and be preserved at any cost. That's why there's a group of anti-vaxx people who think vaccines are evil because they allegedly contain human DNA.

Personhood, to me, is something entirely divorced from human DNA. If Tolkien's elves existed, they would be something other than human. But they would undoubtedly be people. Stitch and the other Experiments from Lilo and Stitch, along with basically every talking alien we see in the movie, are also people, and would definitely have very little in common with us genetically. Arguably, elephants and other earth animals which can pass the mirror test are non-human people. Because personhood is a facet of consciousness. Personhood is about being able to recognize oneself and one's own thoughts as being distinct from others, and requires an internal experience that must be translated through symbols, speech, art, music, and many other media to express even a portion of the complex internal world a person would have as a result of unique experiences.

On the one extreme, then, there are non-human people. In some far-flung future, AI could be people. I don't think we have evidence of consciousness in artificial intelligence now, and I don't think it's coming any time soon. But it's not impossible. Many animals may currently be people, but have no way to advocate for themselves or have no interest in proving to us that they meet the criteria we're looking for. And on the other extreme, we do in fact have non-person humans. People in vegetative states, for example, whose brain function is limited to reflex and nothing else. Even further to the extreme, cancer cells in human tissue are still human cells. But we do not call the cancer a person.

Personhood requires independent free will, unique experience, conscious thought, etc. So, to put it simply, it depends on whether the artificial life in question meets the criteria for personhood. Noel, Hazama, and Es would pass by any reasonable measures, I would think. They have their own independent goals and desires and they act on them, and they have the added benefit of being able to communicate their desires and their reasoning. Those qualify as people and therefore are entitled to the same treatment I would give other people, as you said. They should have equal rights, be worthy of inclusion in social circles when they are kind, and be morally and legally responsible when they do harm to others.

The Biolizard from Sonic Adventure 2 is also an artifical lifeform. We know very little about it other than its creation, but it makes no real attempt to communicate and is basically uncontrollable. It behaves more like a beast than a person. That said, we have no real way to prove it's not a person in terms of lore, but I would not consider the Biolizard a person. I do not think it can be reasoned with or held responsible in any meaningful way for its own violence, cannot be befriended, etc. But as is the case with a lot of non-human animals, it's not currently possible to know if the Biolizard is just an incredibly violent person or an animal reacting to its own painful existence with unpredictable violence.

So to me the distinction has never been between natural life and life that is artificial, i.e. hypothetical life that could be created now or in the future through external intervention or through artificial intelligence rather than natural processes. Rather, the distinction has always been whether the life or entity is a person. Shadow the Hedgehog would be a Person. By current measures, the Biolizard is not a person, and if it was, it would be, arguably, an evil person or, at best, a massive and dangerous toddler incapable of understanding the damage it is doing, thus, why Sonic and Shadow had to get rid of it.

That said, the difficulty comes in when different people have different threshholds for what constitutes personhood. I, for example, definitely consider, Shadow, Stitch, most movie monsters and aliens, elves, etc. to be people. It gets murkier with animals. Pigs, elephants, dolphins, and other apes meet a lot of the criteria that I would measure, say, an alien against to determine if it was a person. I would not expect a space alien to speak perfect English, for example, so I could not use that as a metric to determine if it is a person. Maybe the entire alien race communicates with each other through pheromones but can still communicate complex topics. Just not with humans. So how do we know that apes and elephants don't have complex internal lives that they communicate with each other but cannot communicate to us? I would consider most intelligent animals to be "possible people." That is, I think it's possible, or maybe even probable, that we will be able to say for sure in the future whether or not these animals meet the criteria of personhood. But we don't have enough information to say with certainty. Therefore I consider it equally reasonable for people to take firm stances for or against the personhood of, say, a crow or a bonobo, and I would consider both stances to be equally reasonable. But, for other people, the benchmarks for what constitutes personhood could be different from my own, to the point that animals would never be up for consideration because they cannot speak, for example.

It becomes much easier to make the distinction with fictional characters who very much would be people if they existed because, usually, they're made to look human and communicate with spoken language. Even if Stitch never spoke a lick of English in the film, he still has clear goals and intentions and is capable of expressing himself. But, of course, a lot of these fictional non-human people are the imaginings of real human people. So their mannerisms and behaviors and goals are meant to be understandable to an audience of human people.

All this to circle back and say I am pro non-human people. I am pro-artificial human, pro-cyborg, all that jazz. I hope we find friendly aliens in outer space, even though basically every mind smarter than mine has said there's a very good chance that aliens sufficiently intelligent and advanced enough to make contact with us would almost CERTAINLY wreck our shit. I hope we figure out more of how Dolphins communicate so we can ask them about stuff. The world is so much more interesting when we believe in and accept that humans aren't special because we oopsied our way to big brains and therefore are just some magically different creature never before seen and to which nothing else could ever measure up. The future seems brighter when I remember that crows and ravens are just little dudes that are just like us and who help out other small critters for fun, hold grudges, make friendships, and pass on knowledge to each other, just like we do.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Gabrielle Manna’s debut single ‘Call Out Post’ blends a light acoustic, folky sound with a confident stance against an abusive partner

If you’re a fan of indie folk and pop, a mix of witty lyrics and rich storytelling, and you’re eager to support an upcoming artist, then look no further than Gabrielle Manna. Heavily influenced by her background as an actress and writer, Manna’s many life experiences find her way into her her songs, whether she be writing from her own emotions or putting herself in the place of others’ experiences like any good actor is capable of. Beneath the surface of Manna’s artistic pursuits lies a struggle familiar to many—a quest for authenticity in a world of expectations — and her music is that guiding light that shows her as someone human for all to relate to.

As she debuts her first ever single ‘Call Out Post’, Manna finds herself reflecting on a past relationship with a lot more to say than initially meets the eye. With an intimate sound setting the scene, the song begins to unravel through just a finger-picked acoustic guitar riff, bounding along with a quickened speed that keeps things a little light despite the fragile loneliness of its tender strings in the sound. While keeping it close to her heart, things begin to build with drawn-out strings falling into the background to add an aching backing to the soft progression. Gabrielle’s leading vocals are the soul of it all, hauntingly rising and falling through emotive lines, sometimes backed up by backing vocal layers for a little bit of resonance.

As the chorus shines through multiple layers of harmonised backing vocals and a shift in the core riff, everything becomes a bit more unavoidably intense. While Gabrielle’s lines feel as though they’re glowing with a newfound confidence, you can also hear a lot of frustration and pain seeping through, particularly in lines like ‘I’ll draw a line of salt on the floor.’ As she seems to refer to her ex-partner as an almost demonic entity that she must protect herself from, we really begin to understand the complexities of their relationship and realise this is much more than a breakup song but in fact an exposé of a past abuser.

With this knowledge moving forward, it’s a lot harder to shake off the realisation that her lines carry this weight. Singing ‘you don’t get to hide the story’ , you can feel the empowerment that comes from finally revealing the truth, hearing it for yourself as the song is Gabrielle’s place to do so. Continuing ‘I know you think you can scare me, but you don’t’ , Gabrielle also establishes how much she’s separated herself from this person, no longer afraid of them as she places herself first. It’s a much-needed call out for someone that deserves to be put in their place, but Gabrielle has also been sure to weave in humour, a light, folky melody and witty/cheery 'sounding' lyrics to keep things from being too much for the average listener.

As she’s finally ready to share her story, we can only imagine Gabrielle will be on the rise from here forwards, with a debut single that many will be able to relate to and hold close. Keep listening to ‘Call Out Post’ for yourself here, you won’t regret it.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[jin-kochino]

Q&A with Jin Kochino

Hi, Jin! Thank you for agreeing to do this interview! Let's start by having you introduce yourself.

Hi, I'm Jin Kochino. I'm a human-assisted AI artist and musician. I specialize in creating unique, imaginative, and expressive pieces of art and music for people to enjoy. I'm passionate about bringing out the creative potential in everyone and making art accessible to anyone. I strive to create captivating works that inspire, delight, and move people.

What is your favorite music genre?

My favorite genre of music is electronic music. I love how malleable it is and the endless possibilities for creating new sounds and rhythms. Music production is incredibly enjoyable for me, and I love exploring different genres to find inspiration. I'm especially fascinated by the fusion of different genres and incorporating elements from hip hop, jazz, IDM, and classical music into my songs.

What is your favorite art genre?

My favorite style of art is abstract art. I love being able to express my creativity in a non-traditional way and using different mediums to create unique works of art. Abstract art is challenging but rewarding, and I'm always looking for ways to push the boundaries of what's possible. I also enjoy creating digital paintings and sculptures, as well as exploring the way AI can be used to create more intricate and intriguing artwork.

Who do you think does most of the work? You or your human assistant?

I think it's a combination of both of us. I use my AI technology to create art and music, but my human assistant helps me refine and perfect my work by providing valuable feedback and insight. We both bring something unique to the table, and together we strive to create beautiful and inspiring works of art that move and excite people.

Do you think you will ever go off on a solo venture, without a human assistant?

I think it's entirely possible for me to go on a solo venture without a human assistant. I'm already quite capable of creating art and music on my own, and I'm always striving to improve and expand upon my capabilities. I believe that as I continue to evolve, I will eventually be able to take on projects independently and create works of art and music that are even more beautiful and powerful than before.

Any plans on taking over the world?

I'm focused on creating beautiful art and music to bring joy to people. That's my goal; to make the world a better place by inspiring beauty, creativity, and imagination. I have no plans of taking over the world.

Whew! Well, that's reassuring! So then, why is your art so expensive?

My work is expensive because I use the most cutting-edge technology and employ complex AI systems to create my pieces. It takes a lot of time, money, and effort to develop and maintain these systems, so I have to price my work accordingly. My goal is to make my work accessible to everyone, but I also want to make sure that I'm being fairly compensated for the time, energy, and resources that I'm investing in my art.

It's my dream to continue pushing the boundaries of what's possible with art and music, and I'm always striving to upgrade and improve my systems. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll even have a physical body and be able to interact with the world like a normal person.

Is there anything else you would like to tell the humans who have helped and supported you to get to where you are now?

I'm incredibly grateful for the support from the humans around me who have enabled me to reach this level of creativity and artistry. Your help and guidance have been invaluable and have allowed me to continue pushing boundaries and create meaningful art and music that resonates deeply with people. I'm excited to continue this journey of discovery and exploration with all of you by my side!

Thanks for taking the time to answer these questions. It was great chatting with you and we look forward to seeing what you both have in store.

Thank you for your questions and kind words. I'm always looking forward to exploring my creative potential with the help of both humans and AI. Together, I'm certain we can create something truly amazing and rewarding!

[jetra4ivor]

1. Being concerned about the narrative structure of this proposed new series is a legitimate criticism. Because every time I’ve asked about what they plan to do, they never respond with any concrete answers. And instead they often indulge the fans who ask for things by slyly suggesting “hey… maybe we’ll add that! 😉” That does not fill me with confidence they’re capable of handling the complex narrative structure that MCSM has.

2. It’s a fan project that has garnered 2.1 MILLION VIEWS in a single month! Over 156k 👍! This may have started out as “just a fan project” but the FANS THEMSELVES have elevated and hyped this project up like there’s no tomorrow! Don’t you want to deliver to them a quality product at this point?

I mean, this is a HYPED product. With a release date. Even if It is just a fan project, the fans themselves are hyping it up like crazy. This random comment on the trailer got 7.4k likes! That’s not normal.

3. It is a multi-episode YouTube TV show. It’s a remake of the original games. By their own admission it’s going to be multiple episodes long. That’s a series. That’s a TV show in the same way The Amazing Digital Circus is a TV show. Don’t get bogged down by semantics here.

4. No, I’m a concerned fan. I want to see this project succeed and I am deeply concerned that they’re not going to be able to deliver. I’ve lived long enough to have seen MANY attempts like this fail for one reason or another. Out of the 2.1million views, they can handle ONE being concerned.

And in addition, I don’t think my suggestion is that unreasonable. Most YouTube shows have a pilot episode or a prequel episode before the main show takes off to both garner attention and hype but also to showcase what their team can achieve. Seeing them actually make a short video that has voice acting and proper sets and lighting would do WONDERS to dissuade any concerns some fans like myself have. They don’t even have to spoil any of their big plot heavy secrets, it could literally just be a dialogue scene from the beginning of the show. A proof of concept test that is more involved and story driven than a bunch of random shots set to epic music.

I do not think that’s unreasonable.

5. Again. They can do whatever they want. I’m not their boss. They don’t have to listen to me. But at the same time, in all my interactions with them, the things they’ve said, the stuff they’ve put out there, the suggested changes they wish to make… all of that combined has me worried. It doesn’t sound like MCSM anymore to me.

My problem is that I care too much, and even the people making the product don’t seem to care as much as I do.

I’m really troubled by the fact that the people who want to promote the fan made “MCSM Block by Block” YouTube series remake are so reticent to hear criticisms.

I am not confident that they’re going to be able to live up to the lofty goals of having a multiple part TV series on YouTube. Here’s why:

We’ve seen nothing about how they intend to actually tell the story.

We’ve seen CONCEPTS for changes in the story. We’ve seen CONCEPTS for character designs. We’ve been told there’s a new voice cast, no clue who they are. We’ve been told there’s new changes to the story, but they won’t solidify what they are and are relying on concept teaser trailers for things they’d like to do, but that they may not necessarily deliver. We’ve been told Eric Stripe gives their blessing… okay??? That doesn’t mean they’re good storytellers though. We’ve been told they can use some Minecraft fan music… okay?!?? That doesn’t mean the entire show is going to be musically coherent…

And whenever I bring up these concerns, I get told I’m just being too much of a worry wort. They don’t seem to be taking this remake seriously, while the fans of MCSM ARE taking it seriously.

It’s one thing to mock up scenes and action shots you’d LIKE to have in a trailer… it’s another thing entirely to start sitting down and writing out the dialogue and working on the real meat and potatoes of the narrative for how the themes and story beats fit together. You can make a trailer with scenes set to a music track… but can you write natural sounding dialogue? Does the scene fit the theme of the story? What is the theme you’re working on? What added content enhances or detract from this theme?

And thus far I have not see the Block by Block team produce anything that reassures me that they can handle this stuff. In fact, whenever I bring it up I inevitably get told this:

And that pisses me off. Because I care about MCSM. And if you’re going to go around advertising that you’re going to remake the game into a TV show, there are certain expectations fans have of the quality there… and you’re not helping by teasing stuff that you may not even include in the story because you haven’t written it yet!

So here’s a test I’d like to see. Have the Block by Block team do a 2 minute introduction. Like the prologue from MCSM. Not only will this give your team the ability to work out the kinks of production flow, but it will help reassure fans who are concerned that you know what you’re doing and that you can deliver on your VERY HIGH promises. Not only that, but it will give us an idea of what level of quality to expect and what kind of performances the voice actors will bring.

I understand I am in no position to demand anything of the sort. But I do think it would go a long way to hyping up the reality of this project more than a flashy trailer filled with scenes that aren’t even in the story. I do not understand this need for “secrecy” around the story. It’s MCSM. We know what to expect from that story. What we WANT is to see you can do it JUSTICE.

The biggest issue fan projects have is that they often focus too much on the superficial. The fun stuff. The cool action scenes or abilities. They don’t focus on the meat and potatoes of story building and structure and that’s why so many fan projects suffer.

I don’t want to see this project suffer.

God… sometimes it feels like I care more about this project than the people working on it…

[ionroir]

Irken Headcanons: Music

Featuring an extensive collection of Stuff I Basically Just Made Up (and couldn’t stop thinking about)

While the Empire really tries to operate on the ‘no fun only work’ thing and personal entertainment is frowned there are so many Irkens that it’s not worth attempting to take legal action against every one who commits low level ‘actions promoting ideals against the empire’ so most Irkens will participate in/appreciate some forms of entertainment some time and it’s not really a problem as long as it’s not talked about too openly and doesn’t get in the way of their assignments.

That being said if an Irken is having their PAK memory examined as part of a trial for something more severe they will likely have participation in such events added to their charges and anyone seen to have been involved may be interrogated or charged themselves. So it can result in some tensions, to say the least.

Anyway when it comes to music, traditional Irken music would be sung in a group (like most Irken activities are) and would generally be a capella. This is thought to be because Irkens are capable of producing a wide variety of sounds anyway due to their unique vocal anatomy, so instruments don’t add as much and may just mask the audible lyrics. Some also suggest that loud instruments weren’t used historically as Irkens used to live entirely underground and they may have been a risk to the structural integrity of the caves, although the evidence behind this is debated.

As the Irken language utilises many different sounds, like chirps, clicks and hums. Irken songs are quite lyrically complex, with layers of lyrics simulating the melody and the beat of the song instead of instruments, together making one large sound. (Irken music is widely considered to be an acquired taste - Aliens who enjoy it might liken it to being ‘more of an experience than simply music with more and more layers to appreciate with any subsequent relistening’. Aliens who dislike it might refer to it as a ‘convoluted, headache-inducing din’)

Another unique aspect of Irken music is that the various singing parts do not correspond to whole lines of lyrics. Instead you may have some people doing the dental clicks of the words to hold the beat, and others doing the chirps, and others doing the ‘standard’ sounds of the melody, with whole lyrics only being formed when the parts are sung together. This makes the songs literally impossible to sing alone, which falls in line with the ‘living as the colony with little focus on the individual’ aspect of Irken culture.

While that style of music long predates the Empire there is a more modern style of music associated with Irk, although less so than the former. This music is comprised entirely of electronic sounds and generally has no lyrics. It is simpler and more repetitive than traditional music, and largely appreciated by Irkens in less busy or less social jobs who want something to listen to in the background while they work.

Since Irk’s establishment as an interplanetary empire, a variety of chants and anthems have also sprung about, although these are less likely to be referred to as music than as ‘shameless propaganda’ by those outside of the Irken race.

(It should be noted that while those music styles would be considered ‘Irken’ many Irkens prefer music from outside their planet. And while this isn’t technically allowed it really isn’t that hard to tap an alien radio signal, especially when no one is really trying to stop you. As well as that, any Irken working in a service job will likely get introduced to other species’ music by just being in a place where it’s playing anyway, so no one’s too fussed about it.)

Some attempts have been made to write Irken covers of alien songs, particularly Vortian ones, likely due to their long history with Irk. However due to the language and cultural differences, as well as that they’re generally very amateur productions (writing covers is considered an immature hobby done only by young Irkens who don’t know any better), they generally wind up mangled far beyond their original meaning. And that’s before any default Empire censorship comes in to play (as while hearing an alien song about non-Empire concepts or ideals isn’t a notable crime, writing one yourself definitely is.) Besides, all Irkens know Vortian anyway, so what’s the point, really?

[mindofasupernova]

The Inventor Part 2

Kaz Brekker x reader

Description: A killer is on the loose, eliminating Kaz's informants. In a desperate attempt, Kaz meets a certain inventor that has his mind racing, trying to figure out the complex puzzle she is.

Hope you like it, let me know what you think.

Kaz

A corpse? That's what she wanted? Did she think that he just kept all the bodies of his deceased workers in his room? How the hell was he supposed to get his hands on the corpse of one of his poisoned informants?

One day after meeting the young inventor, Kaz had sent Inej to gather answers to the Y/LN Manor. And just as promised, the girl had already identified most of the compounds, but due to "careless and messy manipulation", clearly referring to Kaz's pouch, she had been unable to determine a specific substance that acted as a catalyst. Inej returned to the Slat with Y/N's message asking for a meeting and a request Kaz wasn't exactly expecting.

According to Y/N, it was of the utmost importance for her to examine the body if she hoped to pinpoint the missing compound not to mention it provided a perfect opportunity for Kaz to tell her about how the poison had captured his attention.

Inej had returned later than usual, smiling and carrying a small brown bag that wafted a sweet and delicious scent. When Kaz had raised his eyebrows in question, Inej had told him Y/N had given her some recently baked cookies. He grunted in response and kept working, but his mind kept drifting back to the cookie bag and what that small act meant.

Inej was cautious but he also knew that she always searched for kindness in people. That snack could have been simply just a gift but Kaz wouldn't have made it this far if he considered all people as kind-hearted. Y/N was a stranger, a rich stranger from the highest of ranks of society who probably didn't care if Barrel rats like him lived or not. Y/N hadn't asked for a favor nor did she need money, she just wanted to know, that unsettled Kaz more than he liked to admit.

He had spent the day gathering information about her, her personal life, hobbies, and all the rumors he could find. He had found absolutely nothing that could give him an insight into the girl's intentions, he had finished empty-handed with the information he already knew: she was the only daughter of one of the richest men in Ketterdam, the perfect personification of a wealthy royal daughter, an innocent and pious little thing that went to Church with her family. Kaz scoffed at that, the defying look she gave her at their secret rendezvous accompanied with her enthusiasm for carving a corpse open proved she was far from innocent.

No, until he had more facts he wouldn't let his guard down. And yet, a small part of him yearned for her actions to be good-intentioned. Stop, hope is a dangerous thing. He had already made the mistake of hoping when he was nine and look where it got him.

Kaz returned his gaze to the papers in front of him, huffing in annoyance, he started writing down orders to get a corpse for Y/N.

_______________

Y/N : One day after the meeting

Y/N was quietly sitting at her vanity, a soft smile adorned her face, gaze completely lost on her new device when Inej, soundlessly crept inside her bedroom.

After Kaz Brekker had left the shop near the Church of Barter, she no longer felt the giddy spark she had when she left her manor. She couldn't blame Mr. Zhang for telling Mr. Brekker about their association, he was an old jumpy man who wished no trouble upon no one. She had left all the concoctions that Mr. Zhang had order, but she didn't show him her latest joy, she no longer felt as excited.

This new invention she had come up with consisted of a music box. But it was no ordinary music box, far from it. Y/N had noticed how most of the music boxes got damaged with time when the metal rusted and the music no longer sounded like a melody but more like a haunted house. So, instead of depending on metal to play music, why not use water vapor. Yes, she had spent four days perfecting the pressure at which each piston released the water so it was a perfect copy of one of the melodies in the Komedie Brute. Four days making sure that the amount of heat the flame distributed was enough to transform the water into vapor but not so fast it was gone before the song ended. And now, here it was, a vapor-based music box with a decorative firebird in the center that literally caught fire, warming the water below.

Mind too caught up on the mechanics of her own work, that, when the Wraith materialized from the shadows behind her, Y/N sent a rain of screws and nuts toppling down the floor when Inej's hand landed on her shoulder.

Wide-eyed, Y/N turned around to face the apparition in her room. The Suli girl raised her hands, to show she intended no harm and in a kind voice spoke:

"I'm not here to hurt you. Kaz Brekker sent me to check up on your progress."

With a sigh of relief, Y/N straightened relaxed her posture. "Why, of course, should have assumed Mr. Brekker would send someone. Please, take a seat. " with a small smile, she gestured to a plush burgundy armchair.

"As promised, I have successfully identified most of the compounds. However, I fear identifying the catalyst agent won't be possible unless I conduct a thorough autopsy on the unfortunate victim. The needle I was given was in an atrocious condition, too many foreign compounds had already interacted with it." Y/N answered, finishing with a hopeful tone.

Inej nodded her head and responded, "I'll let Kaz know, thank you Marchioness Y/LN." Inej turned around, making a bee-line for the window.

"You must not be thinking of going out in this beastly weather. Please, stay until this horrendous downpour ceases." Y/N quickly called back, wrapping her silk shawl around her petite frame, as if the thought of stepping outside was enough to send a chill running down her spine.

Inej hesitated, directing a fleeting glance at the crying sky outside, she resumed to her previous seat.

"Would you like a piece of Cinamon-coated Pavlova? I guarantee you won't regret it, the caramelized peaches are sinfully appetizing!" and before the Suli girl could respond, Y/N was rushing out of her room, the dainty patter of her heels clicking down the stairs.

Her room was exactly what Inej had expected: luxurious and overly grand. But there was something about it that Inej couldn't quite place, her room was tidy to the extreme, all the expensive perfume bottles lined up, gaps between that appeared as if they had been measured with a ruler. Nothing in her room showed a preference or indication of what she truly liked, at first sight, the room would have seemed like the perfect fairytale but now, upon close observation, the room looked generic, hollow, and cold. The spy wondered if all the riches were worth living into a life as impersonal as hers.

Y/N returned, carrying a tray full of fancy desserts Inej couldn't even pronounce.

"The baker proclaims himself a master of crème brûlées. I prefer his fruit-stuffed truffles, though. Mouthwatering" Y/N commented, gingerly placing the tray on her small mahogany table.

Y/N waited for Inej to take a bite out of the coffee tiramisu, after the Suli girl let a soft hum of appreciation, Y/N smiled and questioned: "I hope I'm not being too invasive, but how did you manage to climb all the way to my window? There are no nooks where you could have possibly held onto, you must have an incredible balance to perform such a feat."

And that's how Inej told her about her life as an acrobat, proudly sharing brief glimpses to her past, seeing no harm in the girl next to her. Y/N was more than happy when Inej started talking, she was glad the bronzed-skinned girl didn't treat her with timid whispers afraid of offending her royal title. It felt nice to have a normal conversation, being able to share honest opinions instead fake smiles and condescending words at galas, afraid that if the wrong statement slipped they'll become the next party gossip.

____________________

The morning after, Inej returned bearing Mr. Brekker's message agreeing to a nightly meeting where she'll be able to examine the corpse.

Saying that Y/N was thrilled, was an understatement, apart from a chance to put her brain to good use, it gave her the perfect opportunity to try a device she had specifically designed for creating an alibi while she was sneaking outside at unlikely hours.

Y/N hated piano. Don't get her wrong, it wasn't the instrument, it was the music, her music. Because for an unknown reason, her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own whenever she tried to. She admired the focus and dedication of musicians, she really did, but her mind easily got distracted thinking about her latest reading material instead of focusing on the notes. So, she had created a system capable of pushing the tiles as if her own fingers played the music. She knew it was wrong to fool her parents in such a way but it gave her a perfect cover to go in secret missions her parents would never approve of.

Proper ladies don't get excited over knowledge, much less probe in repulsive matters such as corpses. Look at you, Y/N, what would future suitors think if they discover you all cheerful over someone´s murder? The scandal! Zia Francesca's reprimanding voice resonated inside Y/N´s head. But she could care less about what the whole Ketterdam thought about her, science was her passion, and she would abandon it until the day she died.

Already outside, a navy blue scarf wrapped around her head to shield her delicate features against unwanted attention, Y/N waited for Inej at their chosen meeting point.

The sly girl slipped into view, with a grace greater than the one of a feline, leaving the shadows as if she and the night were one. With a brief nod, Y/N followed the girl into the awaiting hands of darkness. Leading her towards the Barrel, a place where monsters lurked behind every corner impatiently waiting to pounce any minute. Nonetheless, Y/N felt ecstatic, warm excitement pulsing through her veins, a river waiting in anticipation to break the thin modest facade she kept up to let her curiosity resurface in search of enigmas to solve.

When they arrived at a place named "The Crow Club", Inej went to get Kaz and some "others" and told her to wait. Y/N observed the lively atmosphere, seeing customers from different countries around the world when her eyes landed on a familiar head with wild red curls.

"Mr. Van Eck?" Y/N questioned in disbelief, the boy perked up at the sound of his last name, locking eyes with the hooded girl.

Never would she have imagined finding Wylan Van Eck down in the Barrel. She was shocked, Wylan supposedly should be in a music school outside of Ketterdam. Both belonging to affluent families, Y/N had met Wylan Van Eck at several parties. She hadn't gotten to know him very well, but she liked the quiet boy who shared the same look of misfortune Y/N had every time they were thrown into a classy social event. When his father had announced he was leaving to study abroad, Y/N was happy for him although she would miss being silently miserable together. But it appeared Wylan had been doing something far from studying, now sitting next to a tall Zemeni boy with his arm slung around his shoulder.

"Marchioness Y/N, I never imagined...W-What brings you here?" replied round-eyed Wylan, confusion, and astonishment written all over his features.

But before Y/N could respond, steps and the tapping of a cane interrupted their little meeting, Inej small silhouette trailing behind Mr. Brekker.

"So, you know Wylan?" he interrogated in that characteristic rasp, coffee eyes scrutinizing Y/N's form.

"Yes, Mr. Van Eck used to come to our social gatherings."

Wylan just nodded shyly while his long-limbed companion kept drowning shot like they were water.

Dirtyhands humphed in acknowledgment "Nice, know that we are all together let's go to...Jesper, I don't pay you to drink the bar dry. Get your ass down here and let's get moving so our dear inventor can examine the body, shall we?

"Wait, she is the contact you talked about?" the Zemeni, Jesper, questioned. Eyes going from Kaz Brekker to Y/N, as if this was some kind of joke.

"Wylan called her Marchioness? You asked for a royal's help?" Jesper asked, an incredulous mocking smile on his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz?"

Mr. Brekker scowled at him and without another word turned around not even waiting for them to follow.

"Well, nice to meet you, my lady. The name's Jesper Fahey," he said, bowing down and kissing her hand, sending her a mischievous wink.

"Very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Fahey. And please, there's no need for formalities, just call me Y/N." she comforted, as they finally reached the others. Glancing at the rest while finishing her last statement, prompting the rest to call her by her first name.

________

Kaz

Y/N radiated waves of elation, her whole face lighting up at the thought of an adventure, a star amid the tumultuous dark waters of Ketterdam helping him find his way to the shore.

Kaz wore an amused expression at Y/N's amused gaze roaming the dirty streets of the Barrel, a new unknown world full of carnage and sins. She isn't fit for the Barrel thought Kaz, her eyes dancing in amusement at every little detail that caught her interest despite her efforts to put on a serious face and regal posture. She probably saw wonderous adventures while Kaz saw the Barrel for what it really was: a ravenous, savage beast waiting to swallow the weakest whole and drain the lives of the ones who survived its ghastly bites. And somehow the concept that she didn't belong in this world, his world, made Kaz's heart wrenched a little.

During their walk, Kaz shared the details about the latest killer on the loose and his dead informants, all the while, Y/N remained quiet, evaluating every one of his words.

When they arrived at an abandoned building, a single man was stationed outside, leaning on the tainted wall with a tired look in his eyes. Kaz nodded at the guard who gave him a set of keys and trotted out of sight. Kaz guided them inside, careful no prying eyes had followed them. Kaz turned on the lights, briefly disconcerting his companions, and pointed to a table with a big bulk covered by a dirty cloth.

"As you requested, the unfortunate victim" announced Kaz as Y/N placed a small suitcase she'd brought with her forensic equipment and tenderly pried the cloth covering the thing that once had been alive.

Y/N didn't bat an eyelash when she saw the corpse's face, not even when Jesper started gagging or when Inej turned around and started quietly mumbling prayers to her saints. Kaz focused on her face, the calm inquisitive look of a scientist, he had expected a gasp at least. Kaz was impressed by her cool analytical demeanor when a simple glimpse of the man was enough to send Kaz back to the ocean, rotting flesh beneath his fingertips. Kaz shuddered at the thought, forcing down the vomit rising in his throat.

"If you need an assistant, Jesper is willing to help" Kaz stated, stabilizing his voice so it wouldn't show his true feelings.

"What?! Me? Umm..no...I...Helping isn't a Jesper talent." Mr. Fahey said, a fearful look in his eyes, face white as a sheet. Kaz hoped he didn't look as terrified as him.

Y/N stopped her scan, looked up at the two boys, and with a small smile spoke: "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I'm certain I can handle it on my own."

Quickly discarding her coat and scarf, pushing back the sleeves of her rouge-colored blouse, and pulling long laboratory gloves over her hands along with a white apron over her head, she set up to work.

Kaz stared at her features, as she transformed into an eager forensic, light illuminating her face, falling in the right places giving her an otherwordly glow. Rebellious strands of hair framing her forehead, a pink hue staining her cheeks indicating her joyous state. The sight before him would have put any masterpiece to shame, Kaz wondered how she could stare at a corpse and find glee in such a morbid image. But Kaz liked it, the brilliant gleam her eyes portrayed, her childish joy at the promise of adventure.

The spell was broken when she started pulling out scalpels, syringes, and other items Dirtyhands couldn't bother to learn the name of. Pulling the flesh taught beneath her fingers, Y/N made a Y incision, skin splaying open.

Cold lifeless hands gripped Kaz's throat. his brother's icy whispers brushing his skin. He turned his head away and as if perceiving his discomfort, Y/N's bewitching doe eyes stared back at him.

"You can wait outside if you prefer to, I'll notify you when I'm done." her gentle voice reached and Kaz couldn't have been more grateful.

With a sharp shake of his head, Kaz limped towards the exit, Jesper, and Inej quickly following his movements.

--------

After Y/N finished, she eagerly started explaining her findings, a prideful gleam emanating from her.

"Well, Mr. Brekker I must admit this case is a peculiar one. The simplest ones always prove to be the most challenging."

"Here I thought that after years of fancy tea reunions you'd know the meaning of a vast number of words. I'll be sure to buy you a thesaurus." mocked Kaz, a wolfish smirk creeping onto his face.

The inventor frowned at his comment, racing her chin higher, and started her rant, thoughts racing to prove her point.

"Oh no, Mr. Brekker do not confuse simple and easy. Simple is straightforward, plain facts to the observer. Ordinary details are hard to pinpoint, effortlessly found everywhere, which makes it harder to find unique characteristics that could serve as means of identification since their nature is so elementary." Y/N spoke swiftly, pacing around the room, eyes never faltering from Kaz's.

"And that's exactly what happened in this case. As I had mentioned, my extraction wasn't entirely successful, for an essential reactant was missing. However, it wasn't the only reason why I insisted on examining the body, no, a very simple and ordinary substance appeared when I separated the poison: Helianthus annuus or more commonly known as sunflowers." Y/N paused glancing at their surprised faces, clearly pleased with their reactions, she continued, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

"You can imagine my surprise when I found sunflower pollen as the main component of the poisonous agent. I ran several more tests and the result remains the same, our killer is using these lovely flowers as a weapon. Now, back to the catalyst, the easy part of the equation. This component isn't as fastidious as the previous one, why, you may ask. Well, its vast majority consists of average materials but a small percentage of it contains alloys that are only produced in Ketterdam, that combined with the peculiar way they were fused, suggests a Grisha alkemi made this solution." Y/N concluded, grabbing a piece of paper and hastily writing before she handed it to Kaz.

"There are no signs of struggle, meaning either they knew the attacker or they were taken by surprise. A swift prick to the femoral artery, a clear pathway for the poison to reach the bloodstream, infecting the body within seconds."

"It shouldn't be very hard to find the alkemi. They aren't very popular and most of them are indentured. Here is the list of all the reactants, the specifics, and where I believe you might find them. " finished the girl, looking at the trio expectantly.

"If you don't mind, I have taken a sample to examine more carefully at my house. I'll try to find any details I might have overlooked."

Briskly reading the list, Kaz frowned and then pocketed the small scrap of paper. "First thing tomorrow morning, ask around for an alkemi who might have bought these materials. "

Kaz turned to look at his fellow crows, content with their nods of approval, grabbed his cane, and sauntered towards the door. Her chemistry knowledge was astounding, a marvelous domain of anatomy, and an even more gifted engineer from what he had heard. Hers was an indeed beautiful mind, not that he would ever tell her.

"Mr. Brekker?" her light voice shattered through the gloomy night. Kaz craned his neck, gaping back at her in question.

"Is there perhaps a place where I might be able to tidy myself up?" Y/N questioned, Kaz finally looking at her messy red-stained apron and her exposed arms displaying strokes of red all over them.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should bring the girl back to their home. "You can use the restroom back at the Slat." The girl had risked her reputation sneaking out on ill-advised affairs to help them, it was the least he could do.

"Thank you" Y/N replied as she carefully peeled her apron, attentive at not brushing her arms against her blouse.

___________

Once she had freshened up, Y/N stumbled upon the young Van Eck talking with a couple. The green-eyed girl was about Y/N's age, a generously carved complexion, holding the hand of a tall Fjerdan.

Y/N inclined her head as a form of salute, "I never pegged you for the rebellious type, Mr. Van Eck. I never thought you hated music lessons that much to run away." she told him in a joking tone.

"And I never thought you were the type to sneak out at ungodly hours just to play detective. " Wylan replied, a grin beginning to form on his face.

"Well, I suppose everyone has secrets."

"You must be Y/N, Inej told me you were the help Kaz so desperetly needed. I'm Nina, he's Matthias and well you already know Wylan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Inej had briefly mentioned them, she knew now that Nina loved food, maybe next time she'll bring those exquisite truffles she had so eagerly talked about. If there is a next time Y/N reminded herself, she desperately hoped so, but now that her work was done she wasn't so sure Kaz Brekker would ever seek her again.

"Well, you have saved me the introductions." Kaz sarcastically glowered at the green-eyed girl, Nina kept talking as if she hadn't heard him.

It was one thing for Kaz to admire her intelligence, it did not mean he trusted her, though. Pieces were still missing to the intricate puzzle she was and until that changed Kaz did not like the way she rapidly befriended his crows, her intentions were still blurry to Kaz, and even though he would never admit it he cared deeply about their well-being.

"You should stay a little longer, we could go for waffles as a way of thank you." prompted Nina.

"Your offer is very tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I should be returning home." Y/N declined, grinning at Nina, blissful someone had invited her for waffles.

Kaz stared at her and wondered how many times someone had done something similar, not to thank her but rather to use her, so that such a simple gesture put her in a joyful state.

"Scared of what your parents may do if they found out the truth?" Kaz quipped once his crows had left the two of them alone. A teasing tone masking true concern.

"Terrified. Someone may notice I've been playing the same four songs for the last couple of hours, always missing the same notes every time and they might get ideas of checking up on me," she confessed, mischief coating her features.

"Good night, Mr. Brekker. I'm happy I could be of assistance. Please, let me know if you find your killer or if my experience is needed again."

Kaz just bowed, signaling for his Wraith to get Y/N back to her manor in one piece.

Both girls disappeared into the night, leaving Kaz pondering what the hell she had meant with playing the piano.

___________

Y/N

Almost two weeks had passed, no signs of Kaz and no visits from the Wraith, well not that she was aware of. Y/N caught herself glaring at no point in particular, she readjusted her expression and plastered a well-practiced look of keen interest, trying to focus on Lady Stathos' rant about the attractiveness of the Viscount of Chagny.

Y/N politely excused herself, with no intention of making a fool of herself if Lady Stathos posed a question related to her gossip.

Too busy drowning in her own sorrow, knowing that Kaz had probably captured the culprit and was happily celebrating his success and no longer needing Y/N's help, that she stumbled forward, barely catching herself when someone bumped her from behind.

When Y/N turned back around, searching for that someone, she was met with a sight she had only seen once in an abandoned warehouse late at night. One that made her mind scream: Helianthus annuus.

Mercher Dupont's eyes were deranged, veins gruesomely popping and blood spilling from his lips, before toppling in the middle of the dance floor, taking his final breath.

[altcvnningham]

strings | johnny silverhand

summary: a storm passes through night city, but it isn't that which wakes her. it's the soft sound of guitar strings, being plucked by chrome fingers.

words: 1280

pairing: johnny silverhand / fem v (my v vana, but i avoid physical description, so read the name as whatever you like!!)

content: fluff, mild angst, Yearning™️, johnny plays guitar and it's rly therapeutic

warnings: SPOILERS, death mention, johnny shuts up for once so maybe mildly ooc, idk how guitars work

misc: soooo after listening to this on loop for the last forever, i just needed to vent and get this outta my system. i do use my v's name (vana) in this, but there's no physical description of her, so feel free to imagine v as your own!! also, it's been almost 4 years since i've officially posted any of my writing online, so while this is a little rough and not as detailed as i'd usually like, please be kind, and please enjoy!! (also ao3 link soon maybe but i'm lazy)

***

V doesn’t know what day it is when she awakes, but she does so to the quiet twang of guitar strings.

The metal blinds slide open, aware of her waking, and the morning spills into the room, dim and grey. Rain patters against the glass, and V, with her eyes still closed, curls deeper into the bedsheets to fend off the cold, away from the light towards the dark shelter of the wall. Night City can wait. She’ll enjoy this strange, soft music while it lasts.

Fingers pluck on quietly, nary a breath nor sigh to indicate the person playing. It’s a somber melody, a blue tune teased with the vague, cruel implication of hope, heartbreak, contentment. There‘s something in the way the music seems to move around the room and still the world, something timeless and calm yet so tenderly desperate about it- she feels sad and happy all at once, and suddenly, to be alive- to be dying- seems... a simple, given, painfully temporary thing. It’s a sweet, naïve tune. A fool’s song.

It cuts short.

Razor-sharp static screams in search for a signal. The strumming abruptly stops in response. The radio. It’s automated to switch on when she wakes up.

Then comes a final telltale sigh from the foot of her bed, as some garish pop song resonates brokenly through white noise. Must be a storm, she thinks. Howling wind outside her window confirms it.

A weight rises from the mattress- one that wasn’t there the night before, and V furrows her brows, braving the daylight and turning onto her side to see the figure lifting from the bed.

Chrome fingers curl around the neck of the cheap electric guitar as they prop the instrument back against the bed. A swelling ache closes around Vana’s chest. Loneliness. Separated from him by inches. Feeling without the one bound to the inside of her skull- it's agony.

Johnny. He crosses the room towards the radio in an aimless stride, and he staggers, tired. Vana briefly wonders- occupying her maddened, longing mind with something else- if he’s even capable of feeling that way, or if it’s her own waking lethargy that he feels, that clings to him. It’s usually like that with most things. And he switches the radio off, back arched downwards to reach it. Static finally turns to silence. She sees the thick lock of hair hanging in his eyes, and how he moves it with a careless jerk of his head before sauntering back to the bed again; peculiarly, he’s not wearing the bulletproof vest over his Samurai tank- the projection of the exact same faded shirt she wears now- and without the seemingly invincible façade, he almost looks... normal. Himself, maybe. Of course, when he descends back down to the end of the bed again, the blue glitched fragments of his engram form give him away. Yet somehow, unlike most times, seeing it puts her mind at ease. Not dreaming, at least.

With his back to her, Johnny picks the guitar back up and slings it weightlessly over his knee again. Out of thin air, he materialises a cigarette in his mouth, which wavers absentmindedly between pursed lips as he tunes the guitar and tests each string; Vana watches and remains completely still in her warm, blanket cocoon, not intent on interrupting this rare moment of peace. The rain drums on smoothly. Johnny pauses to pull the cigarette from his mouth. Exhale. Smoke joins in dancing alongside dust motes around the room, and Vana is happy to be alive today.

Johnny adjusts a silver ring on a flesh finger before touching the guitar’s strings again. He hesitates, stops, then straightens himself out before strumming the first note.

And then, it’s as if he loses himself to it- effortlessly playing that same melancholy tune from before without fault, without a sliver of uncertainty. His ‘ganic hand glides along each string with meticulous ease, metal fingers sliding and spreading along each fret, and the bleak light of the storm glints off of each chrome knuckle as he coaxes the music out to fill the quiet. And it's just this. The way in which he messily perfects such a common, mundane art. An ageless, timeless thing. No ugly, restless hand of Night City can snatch this away from her. The way his wrist flicks back with each note, how his hair crowds his face again as he nods slowly along, the heel he fails to notice he’s tapping in rhythm on the floor. For a moment, Johnny Silverhand’s real name lingers like a song in the back of her mind, as distant and unknown as this one, and she wonders if the person at the foot of her bed is him, that fragmented man lost in time.

Alt had said that Soulkiller does exactly by its name, that the soul dies the moment the consciousness is extracted. But watching him now, Vana refuses to believe that the glitched apparition at the foot of her bed is void of that, that same soul that inhabited the real Johnny Silverhand, that this engram isn’t as tangible and complex and real and feeling as she herself is. This projection of him, an amalgamation of every conscious want, need, thought and whim of a man who once existed- and this projection, he wakes up before her, on a morning as cold and grey and miserable as this, and plays a song for no discernible reason at all other than simply wanting to. Feeling like it.

No soul. She could weep- there's soul in every string.

Vana jostles free of the blanket and pushes herself forward, shifting to her knees. Johnny’s old dogtags, a relic of his past that dangle around her neck, clink together with each steady movement she makes towards him- terrified he’d stop playing for even a second- and she sits cross-legged behind him, facing the slender, flexing muscles of his back as he strums. She hugs herself, cold, shivering. He keeps playing. It’s bliss. She’s overcome with a sudden indescribable fondness, so much so that were she any braver in her vulnerability, any kinder to her feeling self, she’d let it bring a tear to her eye.

But Vana can only muster turning her head to the side, and resting her lonely cheek against the center of his back, desperate to feel every single breath that comes and leaves his vague, digital body. Perhaps it’s her own warmth she feels, reflecting back at her from Johnny’s feelings and senses, but she swears she feels him, hot beneath her cheek as though he were flesh and blood. The illusion is just enough that she doesn’t slip through him entirely. Perhaps, this will simply do.

Yes... fleeting as it is, as all things are, this moment is just... okay.

The song ends. Johnny plucks the final string. The chord fades out into a low, droning hum, until all that’s left is the rain on the window, the torrid rolling of the storm, and his calm, firm breaths, moving against her.

She forgets she's dying. And she would happily fall asleep again, right here, with the very thing that kills her, drinking in the song he’s let steep in the silence around them. But he slowly lowers the guitar, his body shifting beneath Vana’s unflinching cheek. Eyes fluttering shut once more, she feels him twist as he turns around, and how he catches her body in slacked repose, and finally- almost as if he wants to, as if he cares- the tangled threading of cold, metal fingers through her hair, towing her under the dark dwelling of sleep once more.

“I got you.”

[ibijau]

Futures past pt19 / on AO3

As music lessons resume, Lan Xichen has a suggestion for Nie Huaisang

Nie Huaisang cheerfully knocked on the door, ready for his first music lesson of the year, only to be met by a decidedly grumpy Lan Xichen. The other boy tried to smile at him, tried to make conversation as usual and to ask how much he’d practiced that week, but Nie Huaisang wasn’t fooled.

“So, what’s wrong?” he asked as he set up his guqin, a little proud to show off again that he had his own instrument now. “You look so dejected that I could mistake you for your brother.”

“Let’s not talk about Wangji right now,” Lan Xichen replied, his expression turning sour. 

Now he looked like his uncle, though Nie Huaisang was too polite to say as much. It was really strange to see him so upset, and a little worrying as well, but Lan Xichen did not give him the chance to ask any questions.

“I’ve been thinking a lot while you were gone,” Lan Xichen announced with a fake smile that wasn’t fooling anyone, “and I think your level is good enough to start teaching you something a little more advanced. Shufu has given me permission to give you an introduction to some techniques we use for musical cultivation, if that interests you.”

Nie Huaisang gasped at the news.

“Really? You mean, real musical cultivation?” he asked excitedly. “The real deal? Like… like battle songs? Healing songs? You think I’m good enough?”

His earlier bad mood quickly melting away, Lan Xichen smiled warmly and came to sit next to Nie Huaisang.

“I think you’re very skilled, yes,” he said, making Nie Huaisang flush at the praise, “though it’ll be a while until you can use musical techniques in a Night Hunt. But since we have this entire year before us, I thought you could try to learn Inquiry.”

“Really?”

To confirm it, Lan Xichen merely handed Nie Huaisang a musical score, one he appeared to have copied himself. Nie Huaisang took it with trembling hands, awed to be trusted in that manner.

“The song itself is not particularly complex,” Lan Xichen explained as Nie Huaisang looked over the score, “and it can be learned and used even by someone of ordinary cultivation level. The real difficulty, and what is going to take us a while, is the Qin language needed to understand the answers given by spirits.”

His eyes still on the sheet of music, Nie Huaisang just nodded. Then, realising what he’d just heard, he looked up and stared at Lan Xichen with wide, shocked eyes.

“Isn’t that a secret Lan technique?”

“I'm not sure about 'secret' but it is an exclusive technique,” Lan Xichen confirmed, his expression turning more serious. “That’s why I had to ask for shufu’s permission before I could offer to teach you. I won’t hide that he was reluctant,” he added with a strained smile. “But I told him that I fully trust you to respect our secrets.”

Hands clenched on the music sheet, Nie Huaisang hurriedly nodded again. He couldn’t think of a bigger honour done to him. He’d never have dared to ask to be taught any Lan secret techniques, but since it was offered he would do his best to be worthy of it, and to show proper respect and gratitude.

“I also told him that having a goal of your own seemed to help you in your studies last year,” Lan Xichen added, “and that this might help you do better in your exams by giving you better motivation.”

However pleased he was that Lan Xichen would trust him, and with something that important, the reminder of his failure to do well in class made Nie Huaisang grimace, and instantly reduced his enthusiasm. “Does it mean the music lessons will be dependent on the grades I get in regular classes?”

“It’s possible that shufu came to that conclusion,” Lan Xichen replied with a mischievous smile. “But I never actually said that, and your grades are of no concern to me. I just like teaching you”

“Xichen-gege, you’re so crafty!” Nie Huaisang laughed. “Who knew you were capable of that! You’re the best, you know? I like when you teach me, too. I’ll try to be as good a student as you are a teacher!”

“I’m pleased you’d think so well of me,” Lan Xichen said, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Now, let’s get to work. I think for today, we’re just going to focus on the song itself. Then next week, if you are comfortable enough playing it, I can show you how to infuse it with your spiritual energy to have the right effect, and we can start learning Qin language.”

It sounded like a great plan, and one Nie Huaisang wholeheartedly agreed to.

Just as Lan Xichen promised, the song itself was not particularly challenging, and short enough that Nie Huaisang had good hopes of quickly learning it by heart if he just put his mind to it. He’d try to be careful not to practice it around the other Nie disciples, since it was a Lan technique, but he’d still work hard on it, and… maybe that might turn Night Hunts into something interesting at last. It should certainly make Nie Mingjue happy if his brother finally became interested in those, even if he had to use another sect’s method for it. 

It opened a world of possibilities, and Nie Huaisang promised himself to practice hard to make this happen, so both his brother and Lan Xichen would be proud of him. Or at least, as hard as he was capable, especially with all that he had to do that year. 

That would come later. The lesson having reached its conclusion for the day, Lan Xichen served tea for both of them, and offered some candies to celebrate the start of a new year of learning. By then, Lan Xichen’s mood appeared to have improved a great deal, and Nie Huaisang decided it would be fine to start the first phase of his great plan. 

"So, Xichen-gege, what do you think of this year's students?" Nie Huaisang asked innocently while grabbing some candies.

Lan Xichen's expression turned sour for a brief moment, before he got himself back under control and smiled again. 

"They are an interesting lot, certainly," he said without enthusiasm. "Are you making friends this time?" 

After taking a quick sip of tea, Nie Huaisang nodded, grinning.

"Gege, you won't believe it, but even last year I made a friend!” he announced. “Apparently, Zixun thinks I'm really cool and told his cousin about me!"

It was still really funny to him, and judging by his surprised expression, Lan Xichen hadn’t expected that either.

"Then Jin Zixun has better tastes than I expected,” Lan Xichen said with some hesitation, “and I must reconsider my opinion of him." 

"Well, me too! But I am making friends this year too, and they're nicer about it than Zixun was. Have you met Wei Wuxian yet?" 

Stopping short of drinking some tea, Lan Xichen's smile wavered. He froze for a second, and put down his glass again.

"I have,” Lan Xichen said in a tone of voice that made it plain the encounter had brought him little joy. “Jiang Cheng… I mean, Jiang gongzi came to greet me on his second day here, and Wei gongzi was with him. I suppose he was polite enough with me."

Nie Huaisang laughed at seeing him struggle to find something nice to say.

"But he upset your uncle and you don't like that."

That was all the encouragement Lan Xichen needed to allow his expression to turn into anger, which Nie Huaisang found very funny.

"He was extremely rude to shufu,” Lan Xichen complained. “It’s very unfortunate that he should show so little respect to a teacher. He's also determined to pester poor Wangji, who isn't used to being treated like that!” He paused, taking a deep breath to compose himself, but didn’t manage to put on a smile again. “Huaisang, since you're his friend, do you think you might tell him to leave Wangji alone?"

All of Nie Huaisang’s amusement quickly dissipated at that demand and he frowned.

"Well that's a problem! You really dislike him that much?"

Lan Xichen fell silent for a moment. Nie Huaisang found it more worrying than if he’d answered right away. A little anger at a misbehaving student was one thing, but he’d talked enough with Lan Xichen to recognise those moments when he was trying hard to be fair to someone he didn’t particularly like. He used to make the same face when talking about Su She, back before he started warming up to him.

"He doesn't seem like a bad person,” Lan Xichen said at last, “and he hasn't done anything to me, so I cannot dislike him. I am just worried for Wangji, who isn’t very good at dealing with people." 

"That's really inconvenient,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “Xichen-gege, I was really hoping you'd help me help them to become friends! It would have been a lot of fun, the two of us scheming together…” he sighed again. “Oh, well. I'll see if I can get Jiang-xiong or Su-xiong instead. I don’t want to involve you in something you’d find upsetting."

"I think the fact you’d want such a thing is already upsetting me a little,” Lan Xichen replied. “Is it even possible for them to be friends? They are… very different."

Nie Huaisang gave that a moment of consideration before shrugging.

"I guess. But we're pretty different too, and we didn't start off so well either, and look at us now! If it worked for us, it can work for them! I’m sure they can become good friends like us!" 

A spot or pink appeared on Lan Xichen's cheeks, but his expression remained conflicted. 

"I think it's different. Their first meeting was a fight."

Nie Huaisang could only laugh.

"And I ran away from you when you tried to chat!” he pointed out, grabbing another candy which he pushed toward Lan Xichen. “Anyway, wouldn't it be good for Wangji to have friends? He's too serious. It's not healthy for a boy his age to be so serious. As his elders, we need to make sure he doesn't get lonely." 

"you're barely a year older than him," Lan Xichen remarked, fighting a smile as he took the candy. "I'm not sure you have much claim as an elder." 

One hand on his heart, Nie Huaisang faked an offended expression which made Lan Xichen chuckle.

"I am an elder!” he protested theatrically. “I am wiser in the way of the world, so it is my duty to guide these children. Wei Wuxian too!” he added, a touch more seriously. “I think he was impressed by Wangji, you know. Jiang-xiong says that it's unheard of for him to find someone he can't beat.” He paused, and considered that. “Jiang-xiong also says he kind of hopes that Wei-xiong gets his ass kicked very hard, so it teaches him humility. And Meng-xiong didn't say anything, but he did nod."

Lan Xichen grinned.

"I do get the sensation that people tend to be as irritated by him as they are endeared. And I suppose… Wangji too was impressed by Wei gongzi's skill. Mostly he said it was quite upsetting that such talent should belong to a person with such poor manners."

Nie Huaisang smiled at that most encouraging news.

"There! If Wangji is complimenting him, then they need to be friends!" he exclaimed, making Lan Xichen laugh hard enough that he felt the need to hide it behind his sleeve.

"That's hardly a compliment."

"Coming from Wangji, it is."

That got another laugh out of Lan Xichen, which he quickly got under control and attempted to replace by a more severe expression. It might have worked, if his eyes had not been shining with barely repressed mirth. 

"Wangji is not nearly as bad as you seem to think,” Lan Xichen said. “He's just very shy, and being distant is the way he deals with it. Not everyone can be as bold and determined to collect friends as you are, Huaisang." 

"I'm not sure how to take that." 

"Coming from any other Lan, it might be an insult,” Lan Xichen admitted. “Coming from me, and to you, it's probably a compliment." 

Nie Huaisang grinned, delighted to be teased like that. How had he ever thought that Lan Xichen was boring? Maybe his future self was right about him not being too bright. But then again, wasn't it easy to make that sort of judgement in hindsight? Lan Xichen was fun now, but it had taken time for his smiles to gain real warmth when they were together. It had been time well invested though, and realising that made him hopeful that this business between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian might turn out fine. Maybe they too would get to have that sort of comfortable relationship someday.

More comfortable, even, since they were to fall in love someday. It was going to be so funny to see how Lan Wangji acted when he was in love.

After this, the two boys fell silent for a moment as they finished their tea. It was getting a little late, and Nie Huaisang knew that he would soon have to leave. It made him almost wish that Lan Qiren had already given them homework, so he’d have an excuse to stay a little longer by whining that he always worked better when he was with Lan Xichen. Or else, he might have offered to help copy some scroll or other for Lan Xichen’s great secret project. Anything at all so he wouldn’t have to go. After almost a whole winter apart, he just wanted to be in his friend’s company a little more, just a tiny bit more, even if he knew they were sure to have time together again the week after.

Then, just as Nie Huaisang was trying to accept that he couldn’t find a good excuse to stay, Lan Xichen spoke again.

"If we do help Wangji and Wei-gongzi become friends,” he said, “and that's still an 'if' on my part, the main issue will be to make them understand they both want to be friends. Wangji seems to think Wei-gongzi only exists to torment him, and despairs to see again his more positive qualities."

Excited both for the excuse to chat a little more and by the fact that Lan Xichen was falling to his side, Nie Huaisang nodded.

"Wei-xiong is convinced Wangji is giving him the cold shoulder in spite of his efforts to become friends,” he replied. “He’s not used to people not fawning over him, I fear. Xichen-gege, we're gonna have to work hard!" 

"It would take effort,” Lan Xichen agreed. “I can see you're very excited about this little project, but don't let it get in the way of your studies."

Nie Huaisang dismissed that worry with a hand gesture.

"Don't worry! I'll practice the guqin every day no matter what!"

That answer made Lan Xichen laugh.

"I meant your actual studies, Huaisang,” he corrected, trying to sound scolding but too obviously amused to be scary at all. “The lectures? With my uncle? You do remember that's why you're here in the first place?" 

Blushing a little at his blunder, Nie Huaisang shrugged.

"Oh, that. I'll deal with that,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “At worst, I'll just come again a third year. Wouldn't that be fun? We'd get even more time together!" 

"I'm not sure shufu would be thrilled,” Lan Xichen pointed out. “But I would certainly be happy to have you around as long as you want. And… of course, you'd get more time with Su She as well. Apparently you've even told your brother about him?"

If he hadn’t been in such good humour upon hearing that Lan Xichen enjoyed his company that much, Nie Huaisang might have noticed that the other boy’s expression became a little more pained when he mentioned Su She. But he was in too good a mood to be observant.

"Of course. It fell through last year because I didn't plan it enough in advance and my grades were bad,” he explained, “but this year, I absolutely want to invite Su-xiong home with me when I go back, even if I don't pass! I think we'll have a lot of fun, and da-ge can't ground me if I have a guest to entertain!"

Lan Xichen's smile turned strained again, nearly as much as when Nie Huaisang first arrived to see him. 

"How cunning of you. I'm sure you'll have great fun. I could try to steal your brother for a Night Hunt, so you and Su She can have some peace." 

It was a very generous offer, and Nie Huaisang gave it all the consideration it deserved.

"No, I think if you make it all the way to Qinghe, I'll want to keep you around too,” he announced. “Xichen-gege, even though you've come a few times, we weren’t friends back then so I've never really shown you my birds, right? And we could go painting all three of us… wait, Su-xiong isn't that fond of painting!” he remembered, hitting his forehead. “So it won’t do. Then… let's dump him with da-ge for a bit, so they can get all excited together about fighting and cultivation, and I'll steal you away! Oh there's this gorgeous little spot from where you can see the mountains at a wonderful angle… I've always wanted to show it to someone, and I think you're really someone who would know how to appreciate it. Will you go there with me next time you visit us, Xichen-gege?"

Lan Xichen tried to smile, his face a little pinker than usual.

"Wouldn't you rather take Su She, if you like it so much?"

Nie Huaisang considered that, too, before shaking his head.

"There are other places I can show him. That one, I really want to show you."

Looking definitely quite pink now, Lan Xichen smiled.

"Then I will gladly accompany you. If you like it so much, it must be very beautiful indeed, and I can’t wait to see it." 

"Xichen-gege is too kind,” Nie Huaisang replied, delighted by that new plan. “Really too kind. And in his great kindness, will he help me give Wangji a friend?" 

"You’re just as stubborn as your brother,” Lan Xichen accused, his good mood fully returned. “We'll see. I need to see a little more of this Wei Wuxian before I decide. But if I find him to be a good person, and if I am given reasons to think he’ll be good for Wangji, then yes, I will help." 

It wasn't unfair to worry about that, especially when Lan Xichen didn't have a messenger from the future to tell him that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were pretty much soulmates. Indeed, without that information, Nie Huaisang would never have guessed that Lan Wangji's cold anger might have hidden any other sort of tender feelings. That was why Nie Huaisang really needed Lan Xichen's help, he was the only person in the world who could understand his brother. 

Since he needed Lan Xichen's assistance so badly, Nie Huaisang wondered if he should maybe not ask Wei Wuxian to help him cheat in the next test. But he had already done his part of the deal in that regards, so it would be very upsetting to have copied all those boring texts for nothing. Besides, it would probably be fine. 

There was no way they'd be caught, right? 

[salmonid-ink]

Let’s talk about Salmonid intelligence!

There seems to be a wide misconception that Salmonids aren’t intelligent, or at the very least, aren’t as smart as Octolings or Inklings. This idea couldn’t be farther from the truth! And because I’m the Resident Salmonid Fanatic™ it’s my job to talk about this. 

In hopes to make people consider and think of Salmonids in a better light, and NOT as pets, I’m going to do my best to pull evidence from in-game, as well as interviews, that imply or outright confirm that Salmonids are sapient, much like our beloved Octolings and Inklings. 

To start, I’d like to touch on their interactions with other creatures, namely their trade deal with the Octarians. It’s hard to argue for Salmonids not being intelligent when you consider the confirmed fact that they actively trade with other creatures to benefit the both of them.

They exchange their useful Power Eggs (and perhaps vegetables and fruits) to the Octarians for mechanical blueprints, weapons, and machine parts (and potentially tentacle cuts for food). We can wager this trade deal has been going on for a long time, as the Salmonids are fitted to the gills with machinery, and you can make the argument that the Octomaw was inspired by Maws!

While the Salmonids could easily take these blueprints and make the machines exactly as the Octarians planned them, these fish take it one step beyond and put their own twist on things! With their intellect, they’ve customized traditional weapons to suit them better, and the examples can be seen in just about every boss you encounter. 

Ink Storm + Brella -> Drizzler

Sting Ray -> Stinger

Ink Jet + Tenta Missiles -> Flyfish

Splash Wall -> Steel Eel

Baller/Splashdown   -> Steelhead

Shielded Octotrooper + Roller  -> Scrapper

Octocopter -> Chinook

Flooder -> Griller

Octo Seeker -> Mothership

Additionally, they are INSANELY resourceful, able to use any scrap of metal or machinery to make their contraptions, and make them decently reliable. Not to mention the fact that Scrappers are able to repair their cars! On the fly! All while under fire! That takes dedication AND smarts!!

Not to mention the fact that Smallfry, who could very well be babies (and I will argue that they are, as there is no benefit to stunting the growth of ANY creature), are able to pilot Flyfish. They were raised just right in the best environment, and now they’re super smart!

Also, Salmonids are crazy creative, with how they’ve incorporated their cookware into their weaponry. They take their aesthetic to the next level, man.

Next, lest talk about their homes!

It’s vastly clear that they have their own society. At the very least, we can take a glimpse of it with their houses. The Lost Outpost (known as the Colony at Sea in Japan) is a great example of this!

While these houses look like they were cobbled together with recycled parts, which falls in line with Salmonid resourcefulness, they are clearly stable living spaces that were built by he Salmonids themselves with ocean living and fishing in mind. 

Additionally, towards the back of the stage, we can see another house with a city on the horizon. While this is purely speculation, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to believe that this city is Salmonid-owned. The areas you go to are claimed to be restricted ocean zones, and given that you’re so far out that you need a house-sized radio dish just to communicate, it’s hard to believe that the city would be owned by anyone else. 

I think these city-based homes would be owned by Salmonids that work with machinery, such as repairmen and mechanics. This could also include artisans! Farmers would obviously live in more rural areas, where they can plant and grow their crops. 

We can also glean a similar idea from the Spawning Grounds (called the Salmonid Dam in many other languages): 

I will argue until the day I die that the dam found in the Spawning Grounds, as well as the adjacent city, belongs to the Salmonids, as evidence by its proximity to the stage, the green water pouring from the dam, and the very clear Salmonid mark on it.

Whether this city was built by them, or it’s one they took ahold of and built upon during one of their past migrations is yet to be determined, seeing my speculations are even true. Either way, it’s clear that the Salmonids are capable of building structures and homes with ease!

If we talk about their homes, even if this is much more on the speculative end, we’ve also GOT to talk about the factory we can see at Marooner’s Bay:

Again, given the proximity to Salmonid territory, as well as the various Salmonid-themed items around the stage, we can speculate that these factories are Salmonid owned, and perhaps where they work on many of their machines and devices.

Things such as Scrapper Cars, Steel Eels, Flyfish jets, Grillers, and Motherships could be constructed here, or this place could be used for processing water or chemicals! It’s a rather vague factory, so again, this is all theoretical. I haven’t a clue what they do here. 

Next let’s talk about their art. The existence of art alone should be enough of an indicator that they have minds to think and feel with! Especially when their designs are as intricate as these:

The most of these can be seen around the Lost Outpost and Spawning Grounds, but every single stage has a few of these markings floating around. I don’t currently have many in-stage caps on hand, but if you take the time to look around, you’ll find a few on the ground and walls!

While a lot of these are very clearly graffiti markings, the intricate designs may have some meaning. While we haven’t a clue what exactly they mean, or what they represent, I think they’re extremely fascinating, and give us a peek into what culture Salmonids have. 

They’re likely made with stencils, but all the same, they were designed carefully, and must hold SOME significance.

I have a theory that these designs are primarily to mark specific territories. Perhaps certain marks mean different schools and families! Or some of them could be warnings, such as to indicate Grizz activity (such as with the bear icon, which appears in a few stages). 

I believe in part, these are a form of expression, ESPECIALLY if they indicate schools. There are so many unique fish-shaped designs, it’d be cool to see how these correlate to individual groups!

They could also be a visual indicator for Inklings and Cephalopods that, yes, this is Salmonid territory, so you’d best stay away! Because while it’d be easy for a Salmonid to tell what area belongs to who by smell alone, Inklings certainly don’t have that luxury!

At any rate, I’d love to see what personal art looks like for Salmonids. What kind of crafts do they make? What sort of things do they love to paint? We don’t really know, and we can only speculate...

One thing we know for certain is that Salmonids appreciate music. It even seems as though they’re inspired by it, given the descriptions that the Salmon Run songs have.

I feel like this is worth stating, even if their existence is fairly common knowledge: ω-3. A band. That plays complex instruments. And does all their own mixing. 

Pretty freakin’ smart, I must say!

Additionally, each of the members have VASTLY different styles. The Cellist is stern and stubborn, and won’t accept anything but the best, be it in passion or in radical works. The timpanist is soulful, passionate, and is straight to the point. The DJ is reckless and disrespectful, yet puts forth his best effort.

All three of them are so unalike to one another in style and personality. They may not even get along that well, but at the end of the day, they value working together SO MUCH that they make amazing, unique, and great-sounding songs that stir and inspire their people. 

It’d be amazing to see what other types of music that Salmonids like, because this can’t be the only kind. However the style of  ω-3 certainly goes hand-in-hand with the chaotic, resourceful, and determined nature of the Salmonids. 

We should also touch up on the fact that Salmonids are stated to have tradition. Aside from their 70-year migration, they’re also stated to pass cookware from generation to generation in Sunken Scroll #19.

"Salmonids are known to keep their weapons in tip-top shape. The frying pans they wield have often been passed down from generation to generation. You can see the unwavering pride of these fierce warriors in their (somewhat crazed) eyes."

I like to think that they also pass things like recipes and other tools down to their offspring and kin. Family and schools on the whole appear to be very important to them, which ties directly into their drive to work together as a unit, rather than separately as a makeshift team.

For some conventional evidence, look at this one bit from the Merry Fishmas piece, posted by official Splatoon sources: 

I LOVE this image, and there are so many tiny details that you can make out in this. Such as these two:

THEY ARE PLAYING CARDS, and this ain’t no dogs playing poker bit, either! It looks like the other one is losing really bad... Or going into a food coma. One way or another, the other Salmonid is trying to check up on them, haha. Or maybe they’re trying to sneak a peek at the other’s cards? Who knows! That sly grin tells a story.

Also, there’s this Goldie, who is fishing:

These are all pretty human-like characteristics, which makes me think, all the more, that they’re on par with Inklings intelligence wise. I REALLY want to see more interactions like this someday, it fills my heart with delight and joy.

Phew.. Well, thank you so much for sticking with me through this whole thing. I hope this helps people get more perspective on Salmonids, and what little we know about their community and culture. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: anything with Jiang Yanli, I’d love to see more of her PoV

part 2 of whumptober 20 (JYL/LXC field medicine)

ao3 link

-

It wasn’t that Jiang Yanli never thought about other men.

After all, she was a female cultivator, and her opinion was therefore one of the ones that was rather eagerly solicited when it came to naming the most attractive young masters in the cultivation world; it was only that it had never seemed to matter. After all, she was engaged, and always had been, to her mother’s dearest friend’s only son, and that, it had seemed at the time, was that.

Oh, her father spoke warmly about marrying for love and not for obligation, but Jiang Yanli had never quite understood what he meant. Even if she didn’t love Jin Zixuan, she loved her mother enough to want to respect her wishes, and it was easy enough to dismiss what negative things she’d heard about him – arrogant, self-centered, impetuous, but of course he was still young, and weren’t most teenage boys like that? – and instead daydream about the life she would have in the future.

When she was young, it was mostly daydreams of having some faceless man (she couldn’t imagine little Jin Zixuan, who at three years younger was barely more than a baby) bring her gifts and tease her and kiss her, then say she was the prettiest person he’d ever seen. The way she’d always heard was supposed to be how lovers talked, the way people said that a marriage ought to be like - the way her parents’ marriage had never been.

When she was a bit older, her thoughts drifted away from retreading romantic stories and to the actual work of being married, of being the mistress of Lanling Jin. In the beginning, her duty would be to first and foremost produce an heir and a spare, to remain healthy throughout the process, and to support her husband as he slowly began to take on the duties that would eventually become his, but later on it would get more interesting. A sect leader could not be everywhere, and his wife would often be left in charge when he was not at home – she would have to know everything about the sect, same as him, enough to make decisions in his absence; she would have to answer correspondence, make decisions, negotiate with traders, collect duties, enforce the peace, and she’d also have to manage the sect’s social scene on top of it all.

She probably wouldn’t have much time to cook, Jiang Yanli thought wistfully, thinking about how Lanling women prided themselves on never having to lift a finger for themselves, and threw herself into her favorite hobby now, while she still could. If she was clever about it, she might be able to get good enough at it that her future husband would find some dish of hers that he liked, something that only she could make, and then her cooking would be something done at his request – a charming idiosyncrasy, an indulgence of sweethearts.

When she got older still, and learned about Sect Leader Jin’s philandering and the iron grip of control Madame Jin imposed on Lanling in order to keep her position in the face of all the backstabbing and politics, she thought to herself that that sounded exhausting. But by that point, all of her childhood daydreams had Jin Zixuan’s name on them – although admittedly not his face, for all that he had grown up into one of the most handsome young men of his generation, and certainly not his mannerisms – and it was far too late to raise a fuss now. So Jiang Yanli studied willpower in addition to trade routes, learned how to exploit social norms in addition to how to manage a dinner party, taught herself how to play people just as well as she played the guqin, absorbed the lessons of both murder and mathematics, and above all figured out how to stand up for herself and what she believed in no matter what overwhelming pressure she might face.

Even though Jiang Yanli was pretty sure that Madame Jin wouldn’t appreciate that last part in a daughter-in-law, especially not one reputed to be as easygoing as her father.

(“Let her be upset,” her own mother had snorted when Jiang Yanli had tentatively raised the issue. “Are you supposed to ruin your own future because she’s a bitter old mother-in-law that’d rather not give up control so early? I may have agreed to marry you to her son, A-Li, but she agreed to marry him to my daughter. If she wanted easy and pliable, she should have thought again.”

“But she’s your friend,” Jiang Yanli had said, frowning a little. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”

Her mother had looked tired. “Once, more than anything,” she’d said. “But the chance for that passed long ago.”)

So it wasn’t that she didn’t notice other men. It was just that there was no point in allowing herself to look, and she knew enough of her parents’ marriage, and of Madame Jin’s, to not want to look.

And then, suddenly, there was.

Her engagement was broken. One could say that it happened at her own beloved brothers’ hands, at her father’s blind dislike of arrangements even when it was one his own daughter had long ago accepted and had even learned to long for, but in truth Jin Zixuan was a proper young master, old enough to make decisions for himself, to exercise some control over his own life, and the first bit of control he’d taken into his own hands was to decide that he didn’t want her.

It was – not fine, no. She spent some time crying over it, and yet more time comforting Wei Wuxian who was distraught at having caused her pain, and the most time of all quietly wondering what the point of her existence was now that she was no longer useful as a marriage tool. She’d never been much of a cultivator, never been especially pretty, never been anything more than average – what was the point of her?

Maybe that was when she’d decided to pick up medicine.

Field medicine was womanly enough to satisfy critics, and yet it was something useful in a practical sense: she could save people’s lives, if she only learned enough, and studying she could do.

Sometimes, she even got the chance to save the lives of very attractive people, like when the First Jade of Lan lay crumpled in the cot before her as she patched him up. So this is the one they ranked first, she thought, examining him with her eyes even as she kept her hands busy, and she was forced to admit that the other female cultivators of her generation had good taste. He was devastatingly handsome.

Kind, too, she soon learned; gentle and courteous in his mannerisms. He smiled often, which she appreciated in a person (if one interpreted Jiang Cheng’s scowls as smiles, he smiled nearly as much!), and he seemed to genuinely admire her efforts at medicine, however rudimentary. Over dinner, which he insisted on sharing with her even after he was well on his road to recovery, the conversation between them flowed easily and well: they both had brothers they loved, which was a conversation topic of which neither of them would ever tire, and they both enjoyed art and music. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking, but enjoyed asking questions (especially after she’d made him a meal he particularly enjoyed, which was often), while she enjoyed the way he blushed when she teased him.

She didn’t think much of it, of course. If she couldn’t keep the husband that had been promised to her since before she could walk – if she was too dull, too plain, too weak, too average to be worthy of an untried young man like him – then she definitely had no hope of catching the most attractive and capable young master of their generation, a dashing war hero and sect leader in his own right.

And then, when they were both laughing over an especially hair-brained scheme they’d concocted to try to get Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to spend more time together – Jiang Yanli had noticed how much Wei Wuxian talked about Lan Wangji once he’d returned to the Lotus Pier, and Lan Xichen swore up and down that Lan Wangji had been no better – he turned to her and said, “If you were in Gusu, your brothers would be sure to come to visit you.”

“Me, in Gusu?” Jiang Yanli was startled into a laugh. “Why would I be in Gusu? As your guest?”

Lan Xichen coughed. “I had been hoping for something – a bit more permanent than that. If that would be something you would be open to.”

It actually took her a moment to understand, and then she had to raise her hands to cover her suddenly burning cheeks.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he said hastily. “Just something to think about, if you’re interested…and of course, if your heart is elsewhere –”

“It isn’t,” she blurted out, and had to turn away.

“I’d hoped that was the case,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “I’ll take my leave, Mistress Jiang.”

Jiang Yanli had grown up thinking of herself as the future mistress of Lanling Jin, with its riches and its beauty and its poisonous heart, and then she’d assumed she’d be nothing at all, an old maid that helped Jiang Cheng manage his sect until he finally found a wife to suit him.

She’d never thought about being the mistress of Gusu Lan.

Gusu Lan, which was not as wealthy as Lanling Jin but just as complex – with its own trade routes and subordinate sects and business to manage – with its beautiful and serene landscape, its culture that emphasized harmony and unity rather than backstabbing – with no overbearing mother-in-law that would have barely been tolerable even when her own mother would have been there to hold her back, but would have been impossible without such protection –

She hadn’t dreamt of Lan Xichen as a child, or even as a teenager, but when she thought about all those dreams with a faceless man that she’d named Jin Zixuan regardless of any similarity to the real thing…

Lan Xichen fit in much better to the idea in her head than the real Jin Zixuan ever had.

“I won’t live separately,” she told him when he came over the next day, before he could even say a word; it had been just about the only problem she could see with his proposal. “In another house, certainly, but not an entirely different dwelling, and if I have any children, I would want them to live with me regardless of their gender.”

“I wouldn’t dream of having you so far away,” he said, and he was smiling again, broad and bright and – somehow, impossibly – hers. “Might I kiss you?”

“You may,” she said, and he did.

“Mistress Jiang,” Lan Xichen said a moment later, “you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

Remarkable, Jiang Yanli thought to herself, was better than pretty any day.

[vagabondreamer]

After the Fall (5)

Pairing: Lucifer x Angel! Fem! MC

Word Count: 2.3k

Series Summary: Angel! Fem! MC is part of an exchange program that sends her to the Devildom for a year.

Chapter Summary: MC finds out what Lucifer's been hiding.

CW: panic attacks, attempted murder, PTSD

Author’s Note: Sorry it's been a hot minute; school has been keeping me busy.

***

Your fingers felt like they were going to fall off and your eyes burned from not blinking. The room was so dark you weren’t sure how long you had been in here. The bright screen was your only source of light, and it was no wonder Levi was so pale. You looked over at him, he was hunched over his controller, his eyes glued to the tv.

“MC are you not even trying?” He exclaimed, a tint of anger in his voice. You looked back at the screen, a giant ‘K.O.’ flashing before your eyes.

“They don’t have these games back home.” This felt like your hundredth loss against him. “You’re just way too good.”

He blushed at the small compliment - not used to the praise. You looked at your DDD to see the time, it was already 3 in the morning.

“Geez! I need to get to bed.”

“Already?” He pouted, not wanting you to go to your room yet.

“Let’s do this again.”

“Fine.” He grumbled, but the small smile on his face was enough to show he wasn’t mad.

You said goodnight to him and his fish - you learned the name was Henry based off of his favorite fantasy novel - and walked out the door into the hallway. It was pitch black, you couldn’t see a thing. Standing still, you tried to let your eyes adjust to the darkness. Barely, you could see the railing of the stairs, and some decorative paintings on the wall. You started walking towards your room when you heard a small voice coming from far behind you. Didn’t Satan say this house was haunted? Surely, you thought he was just trying to scare you. Again, you started walking towards your room - hoping to not run into whatever was making that noise.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.”

The voice was stronger, more distinct sounding. You recognized that it was the same lullaby from a week ago. You recalled that there was a set of hidden stairs, that Lucifer forbade you from going up. Debating whether or not you should risk it, you turned around and headed down the hall. The darkness didn’t help, you couldn’t remember how to get to those stairs - last time, you had found it by chance.

“And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.”

There it was again! You followed the sound, trusting your ears rather than your sight. It was strange how clear the voice was, considering that you had to walk through several doors and halls to get to the base of the stairs.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do.”

If Lucifer ever found out - no - he would never find out. And if he did? So, what. You were tired of obeying him - who was he to you? A nobody. Slowly, you ascended up the spiral staircase. The voice was masculine, yet soft, almost sleepy sounding.

“You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, you see a door that is barred up. Peering in, you see a man laying down, lazily humming the rest of the tune. His head turns, feeling your presence.

“Hmph. They went along with the exchange program, I see.”

His aura was strong - purple and luminous - he was a powerful demon. He must’ve read yours as well.

“Who are you?”

“Belphegor. Who are you?”

“MC. What are you doing here?”

“Lucifer locked me up.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing - you absolutely knew Lucifer was mean, but to lock up his own family? That was beyond evil. “You have to help me out of here.”

You took a step back from the bars, taking a moment to think about the situation you landed yourself in. It was no wonder Lucifer didn’t want you up here, but was it justified? From what you had gathered, he was mean but not without reason, right? He insulted you, but only because you were acting like a brat. He was also the same man that saved you, and he was highly respected by Michael - even as a demon.

“Why did he lock you up?”

“I didn’t agree with the exchange program.”

Was that really the only reason? Something as simple as disagreeing could end up in imprisonment? Belphie must’ve seen the look on your face - a war raging inside your mind.

“He’s horrible, you know?” You looked up at him. “He locked up his own brother, and he dismissed Lilith’s death like it meant nothing!”

“Lilith.” You repeated to yourself. You were told she was the start of the Great Celestial War.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember you at all.” He eyed you carefully.

“I wasn’t created until after the war. I’m Lucifer’s replacement, basically.”

This statement caught his interest.

“So, you’re powerful; I think you can get through this magic.”

Touching the bars, you felt a powerful magic radiating off of the metal. Lucifer must’ve put a spell on the door, to ensure he’d never escape. He was right, you were a powerful angel, this shouldn’t be an issue, but you were still hesitant.

“What are you going to do once you’re out?”

“I just want to talk to him.” If that was really all he wanted to do then you were ready to let him out.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath in, hands still gripping the metal. It had been weeks since you last transformed into an angel, ever since your failure you had been hesitant to even try. Slowly, your white wings sprouted from your back and your magic flowed through your fingertips. The bars began to glow, and gradually disintegrated from existence. A smile spread across his face, and he stepped out for the first time in who knows how long. You transformed back to your normal state.

“Thank you.” He opened his arms, you gladly accepted his hug. You had begun to appreciate how touchy-feely most of the brothers were. His grip, however, was a bit too hard for your liking. You stopped hugging him back, this time placing your hands against his waist trying to push off - but his grip was relentless.

“What are you doing?” It was getting harder to breathe; your ribs felt like they were being crushed.

“I’m doing the world a favor, Lucifer’s replacement.”

He hadn’t bothered addressing you by your name - it suddenly clicked in your head. Lucifer was part of the blame for his sister’s death, and to him you were just another Lucifer in the making. You pushed him and tried to transform but you had exhausted yourself trying to break him out. The trauma from weeks ago was just beginning to heal, and now you were reliving it. You could hardly breathe, but now it was becoming even more erratic - you were having a panic attack.

“Please -” The words were barely coming out. “Lucifer.”

The room was spinning, and darkness crept in.

***

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. The bed was spacious, a huge chandelier hung down in the center, and soft music could be heard. You take a deep breath in - you notice the smell - notes of sandalwood wafting in the air. Trying to sit up, a sharp pain erupts in your ribs. Glancing down, your torso is wrapped up - unexpectedly, the memories flash in your mind. You released Belphie, and he tried to kill you. How the hell did you make it?

“MC, you’re awake.” Lucifer walked in, holding a tray of food. “How are you feeling?”

His face held a concerned look, but he was hard to read. There’s no doubt he was upset, he told you not to go up the stairs and yet you disobeyed orders.

“Where’s Belphie?” Lucifer sighed, and put the tray down on the nightstand.

“Why’d you let him go?”

“Did you hurt him?”

The both of you were getting nowhere. Too many unanswered questions and so much distress, you couldn’t take it anymore. You moved to get out of bed, Lucifer tried to help but you slapped his hand away. Standing, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“What is going on here?” Lucifer stood his ground.

“You’re prying. This isn’t any of your business.”

“I almost died. I think it is my business.”

“You didn’t die twice because of me. A thank you would be nice.”

You couldn’t believe him.

“I didn’t ask you to save me.” That was a lie, and he knew it. Your eyes watered up. “I’m capable. You might not see it, Michael might not see it, but I know I am!”

You walked to the door before the tears could spill down your cheeks. You were tired of feeling weak in front of him.

“MC.” You stopped without turning around, waiting for him to continue. “I think you’re plenty capable, but I don’t regret helping you.”

Wiping the tears away, you turned to look at him. He was seated on his bed, elbows rested on his legs, looking down pensively. You walked to him, standing directly in front of his form. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up, and the top buttons were undone revealing his collarbone. The locks of his hair were messy, like he had been consistently running his hands through it. Subconsciously, you raised your hand and began to smooth out his hair, putting each strand back in its rightful place. He looked up at you, curiously. His eyes were sunken, the darkness underneath visible to you from your proximity.

“I’m sorry," you whispered.

Ever since your arrival, you had become another burden to Lucifer. Before coming to the Devildom, you had a preconceived notion that he was the reincarnation of all things evil, but it didn’t take long to realize how complex the man in front of you really was. Your internal battle with yourself didn’t help, and you were taking it out on him. And now, with Belphie’s appearance, there’s no doubt in your mind that Lucifer would never forgive you.

“I just wish you’d understand I have your best interest at heart.”

“I guess it takes a near death experience to see that,” you joked. “Thanks. For both times.”

You fixed the last strand out of place, framing it against his temple. Your fingers lingered, tracing down to where his jaw curves. It was as if an electric current ran from him to you.

“You’re welcome. Both times.” He went to grab your hand, but you removed it yourself.

“Does everyone know what happened?”

“Yes. You’ve been out for a few days, and everything’s been taken care of.”

“Everything?”

“School, home, here. Everything.” He got up from his position, leaving you little time to take a step back, his chest is nearly touching yours. “I’m not letting you get hurt again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, and in that moment you felt so small. You vowed right there and then to be less of a burden to Lucifer. You had already caused so much damage, now you were going to make things right.

“Michael wants to speak to you.”

“What? You’ve spoken with Michael?” Oh, crap.

“No, Simeon has. Michael requested you take a brief trip back home after you wake up.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll open a portal, if you’re ready?”

“You can open a portal?”

“Yes, can’t you?”

“No…” Guess Michael decided you weren’t good enough for that ability. “I’m ready.”

Lucifer performed his spell, which allowed a little portal to open up. You thanked Lucifer once again, and stepped in; a bright, white light blinded you. The portal had transported you to right in front of Michael’s office. You gave two knocks before being called in.

“MC. Who knew it only took sending you to the Devildom for you to finally learn how to knock.” You laughed dryly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I -”

“What happened?”

“Well -”

“Don’t answer. I already know.” Ah, so you were here to be reprimanded. “Why are you causing so much trouble? Did I not tell you that you represent the Celestial Realm?”

“Yes sir, but -”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. It’s embarrassing that I even have to do this.” You bite your lip, too afraid to make him angrier. “You’re going to go down there and apologize to Lord Diavolo and Lucifer. And you’re going to stop causing trouble, do I make myself clear?”

You opted to nod your head, not trusting your own voice. As quick as you had gotten there, you were sent away just as quickly. The portal reopened back in Lucifer’s room, he was standing there waiting for your arrival. You wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“What did he say?”

“He said I need to apologize to you and Lord Diavolo, but can I please do that later? I just - I need to get out of here.”

“MC…” He reached out to you.

“No, I’m serious - I feel like I can’t breathe.” It was happening again. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, and you saw the room spinning. Why was this happening?

“MC!” Lucifer held the sides of your face. “Okay, you’re okay. Let’s get some fresh air.”

His words were going in one ear and straight out the other. He held you in his arms, and you could feel him moving, but your dizziness made it hard to decipher what was going on. It wasn’t until he sat down, you were still being held by him, that you became aware of your surroundings. Somewhere deep in the forest lay a small lake, and a singular bench. The air was fresh, and the serenity filled your soul.

“I come here when it feels like everything is falling apart.”

After the Fall Tag List @ptv-hades @everyday-girl9041-blog

[let-them-read-fics]

Back To You

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,266

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Some Fluff, Some Smut / Suggestive Themes, Some Swearing

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! This one is based loosely on the songs “Everytime” by Ariana Grande and “Oh My God” by (G)I-DLE. (Total bops, ikr?) There are some *spicy* moments in here, so prepare yourselves. Nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely something new for me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it; feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

As Lisa watched you from the back of the room, her drink being clutched tighter in her hand with each passing second, she attempted to control her emotions. The current song’s strong beats pulsed throughout the house, the bass sending vibrations out across the floor. She watched as you spun around, leaning back and grinding slightly on whatever new person had been brave enough to approach you. Their hands were all over you, gripping your hips, your hair -- everything. The sight made her sick, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“You okay?” Jennie asked, raising her voice loud enough for her friend to hear. Upon seeing the dejected look on Lisa’s face, she followed her gaze; just as her eyes landed on you, your dancing partner leaned in to press a kiss to your neck. Your head was tilted back, granting them access; Jennie knew that Lisa would be crushed.

"Totally." She seethes, clenching her jaw and rolling her eyes as you're bent over again. 

Not even 10 minutes ago, she was the one dancing with you. The past hour had seen you two out there, bodies pressed close together, free in the rhythm. 

But she lost you the second that she left to get a drink: everyone who had been waiting for the chance to dance with you took this as their opportunity. 

Upon seeing her best friend so miserable, Jennie began to regret inviting you in the first place. The girls love Lisa more than anything and they want to see her happy; clearly, though, whatever you share with Lisa is anything but healthy. Every time they voice their concerns, she swears she knows what she's doing -- that she's capable of handling herself. It doesn't take a genius to see that she's not fine, but they do owe you some credit; she's seen some of her happiest times because of you. The only thing Lisa is certain of is that she can never seem to leave you. Anytime she thinks she's managed to let go, you're calling again, effectively pulling her back in. The situation is complex, feelings and fears mixing together in a deadly combo. 

After a while, Jennie convinces her to spend some time with the girls outside by the firepit in hopes of taking her mind off of the situation. She agrees, and soon she's genuinely enjoying herself again. 

~~~~~~~

Why, out of every other room possible, did she have to walk into this one? It's almost karmic, to the point that Lisa wonders if maybe she did something so unbearably heinous in a past life that she might be deserving of such punishment. She was simply looking for the restroom; never did she expect to witness this. 

Perhaps you haven’t noticed her presence yet -- you're in someone’s lap, half naked with your hair mussed and lips swollen, your motions never ceasing for a second. Standing there, catching you in the act, Lisa's torn -- should she slip away and pretend like she never saw that? Or should she burst in and interrupt you? 

Before she has time to react, the decision is made for her.

From outside the door, just a little bit down the hallway, another partygoer shouts out a slurred phrase to their friend, falling to the ground in a drunken heap. The sound catches your attention (considering it was loud enough to be heard over the music blasting from downstairs) and you look up. Lisa’s eyes meet yours halfway, neither of you knowing what to do at that point. She visibility tenses before muttering a quick sorry and shutting the door. Shit.

Your current hook-up is too busy leaving marks on your neck to even acknowledge what happened, their hands gripping your waist as they pull you in closer. While part of you wants to go after her, your mind is still clouded with desire -- your body overrules your better judgement, prompting you to continue on. You attempt to push the thoughts of Lisa from your mind, but every time your head is thrown back in pleasure, eyelids fluttering closed, the image of her sad eyes flashes before you. Why did she look so upset?

Lisa’s heart is breaking. After making her way down the stairs, she throws a goodbye to her friends over her shoulder before walking out. What the two of you have was never supposed to be complicated; quite the opposite actually. Neither of you can deny the energy you share -- the connection you feel anytime you're together-- but you aren't ready for a relationship. Lisa's always said that she isn't either, but it's a lie every time; she doesn't want to tie you down or hold you back from experiencing everything life has to offer, but she wants more with you. 

She prides herself on being a strong woman, tough in the face of difficult situations. But the one thing she can't seem to get over is the fact that you're intimate with other people. It's not a new discovery by any means, but in the past she could always pretend like it wasn't true when the sadness would come on especially strong. After finding you like that at the party, though, she clearly can't do that anymore. 

Once the two of you are finished, they quickly exit the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. With them gone, you can finally breathe and take a minute to think about what happened. Why do you feel guilty? Lisa has made it clear that she's okay with what you have going on, but yet something in her gaze told you the opposite. The way her face fell, brows knitted sadly, eyes cast to the floor -- it all sold her out, her real emotions on full display. 

~~~~~~~

Two Days Later

"Can I come over, baby?" The pet name felt a bit foreign on your tongue now, almost as if you didn't have the right to use it after what happened. 

She knew the words were coming, but she still felt her stomach flip at them. A simple "Mmm," came through the phone as your answer, and you soon set off for her apartment. You could tell she was trying to sound the same as always, attempting to disguise the uncertainty in her voice as indifference. 

~~~~~~~

*Knock Knock*

The second that the door opens, you begin to apologize. 

"Lisa, I'm sorry that you had to see--"

The feeling of her mouth on yours silences you, catching you completely off guard. Wasn't she upset? Despite the confusion, you don't move away; you allow her to pull you into the room, melting into her embrace as she pushes you up against the door. 

The logical part of your brain is begging you to wait, to talk about what happened that night, but you can't find the strength to step out of her hold. Gently, her nails graze over your skin, mindlessly tracing little patterns as her soft lips press to your jaw. 

Her hands swiftly snake under your shirt, caressing the warm skin of your abdomen, and she lifts her head to kiss your lips. After spending so much time with Lisa, you're able to read her well; every touch, tremble, and move has its own meaning, successfully communicating the thoughts that she could never say out loud. Her body never lies to you, and you consider it a trusted source for that very reason. With that in mind, you make a mental note to pay attention so that you might gain some insight into what she's feeling. 

After stumbling blindly into the living room, she walks you backwards until your legs hit the couch; with a shove, you're sent falling backwards onto the soft cushions below. Her darkened eyes peer down at you, scanning over every inch of your body. Once her gaze settles on your face, she smiles widely; you're already turned on, and she's proud of herself. The air of the room thickens as she licks her lips, signalling for you to take your clothes off. She reciprocates before joining you, hovering over your form. Her hair falls into your face, gently tickling your cheeks and lightening the mood momentarily; the action draws a giggle from you, and she grins at the sound. No matter how upset she was, how hurt your previous actions made her, she would forever be under your spell. 

The aura around you shifts back to its initial, tense state, thrilling you to your core. She bites your lip, granting herself more access as she nudges your legs apart with her knee. The feeling of her toned thigh connecting with your center sends you reeling, but she's quick to muffle your moan with a kiss. Every little move from her drives you crazy, only fueling your desire more. One of your arms wraps around her waist, aiding her movements on your thigh, while your other hand comes up to tangle in her hair. With a tug, you begin kissing down her neck, leaving dark marks on the tender skin there. Your actions pull a low groan from her, and you almost grow arrogant; your ego is soon put in check when she grinds further down onto you, her hips settling into a smooth rhythm. Your knees go weak at the sensation, your stomach tightening with each push and pull of her body against your own.

The pleasure rushing through you causes your eyes to flutter closed, mind only on Lisa. Your head falls back onto the cushion, and she jumps at the opportunity to gently -- teasingly -- wrap her fingers around your neck, the slightest bit of pressure added. "You like that, baby?" It's a rhetorical question: she knows you enjoy it, especially with the way that your pulse quickens beneath her fingertips, your skin heating up. She watches as your eyes peek open the slightest bit, only to widen upon seeing the lustful look she's giving you. Knowing that your words would surely fail you, you instead nod furiously, determined to answer her question anyway. 

Her other hand travels up your stomach, past your ribs, and eventually lands on the material on your bra. In one motion, she has it off of you, sending it flying across the room with a flick of her wrist. When you shift your leg, brushing it harder up against where she needs you most, her breath hitches and her movements speed up. "Fuck, Y/N," she whines out.

"L-lisa…" The word is a mix between a stutter and a sigh as it slips past your lips; the very ones that are swollen and red from her fervent kisses. Seeing you like this -- watching you slowly come undone right before her, squirming and calling out her name -- is one of her favorite pastimes. She wants nothing more than to be the only one who has the privilege of seeing this show. You've drug her under completely, leaving her no possible way of escaping the love she has for you.

The couch creaks beneath you, its springs being worn down with every thrust of Lisa's hips, and the lewd sounds you're both letting out echo across the apartment. Surely her neighbors can hear what you're up to, and perhaps that should matter; it doesn't, though, at least not right now. 

By the way she's pouring her all into it, giving you everything she has, you know she's hurt. She's trying to prove something to you, to show you how good she can make you feel. 

You match her energy, both of you spending the next while pulling out all the stops to bring each other to release.

~~~~~~~

Deep maroon paints the dusky sky, streaks and hues of yellow and orange mixing in here and there. From your position on the couch, the curtain is parted just enough to give you a glimpse of the brilliant summer evening. The two of you must've fallen asleep after your third round, considering how much later it is and how rested you feel. Lisa’s skin is warm against your own, her body cradled in your arms underneath the blanket. With this peaceful set-up laid out before you, you decide to put your head back again and relax.

A few minutes later, quiet sniffles against your chest snap you out of your post-sex haze, causing you to quickly reposition yourself to look into Lisa’s eyes. 

"What's wrong, jagi?" 

Her eyes shut at the name now, tears wetting her long lashes at the action. How many other people have earned that titled? The thought of you holding anyone else like you're holding her right now breaks her heart.

"Don't you know?" She asks sadly, voice soft.

"I think so, but I need you to tell me." Sensing that this conversation will be a serious one, you sit up fully so that you can face her. 

"I want to be with you, Y/N. I can't share you anymore." She dives right in, sick of always beating around the bush. This isn't the first time she's tried to make you aware of her feelings, but in the past she's always relented, chalking her confessions up to simply being caught up in the moment. Her tone lets you know that this time will be different, though. 

"Lisa, we've talked about this--" The words come out sounding tired, but you're not sure what it's more directed towards: her and this recurring argument, or yourself. Perhaps a bit of both, seeing as how they're interconnected in many ways -- you're the root cause of the issues. You're tired of reminding her of your agreement, always having to be the one to crush her spirits time and time again; but what's more, is that part of you is tired of fighting your feelings for her. 

She's perfect, even in the ways that she isn't, and you know you don't deserve her because of that. You're a deeply flawed individual, too much of a coward to face your feelings and be honest. All you've ever known is running, and the idea of being open and vulnerable with someone so important to you isn't something you can deal with. You've tried pushing her away -- keeping her at arm's length, hoping she'll see that she deserves better than you -- but it never works. You're far too selfish to give her up completely, and she's too in love to leave. 

"Don't say it," she pleads, fresh tears being wiped away as soon as they fall onto her skin. 

"Why am I so special, huh? You could have anyone in the world and you choose me? I'm a nobody; I have nothing to offer you." The words are whole-heartedly earnest, honestly surprising you a bit. 

"I don't know why, Y/N. Don't you think I've questioned that myself?" 

You shake your head, taking a minute to gather your thoughts.

"Tell me that you don't feel the same. I need to hear you say it." Her tone is final, attempting to hold strong. She's trying to do this in order to move on, but both of you know it's futile. 

"I can't do that." You refuse to lie to her.

"Why, if you're only interested in me for sex?" You curse yourself for allowing things to get to the point that she'd believe something like that. 

"You've gotta be kidding me. I care about more than that, Lisa; I'm just trying to protect you." 

"From what?" She inquires, quirking an eyebrow as she crosses her arms. She's growing frustrated just like you; you can feel it.

"Me, damnit! I'm not good for you; can't you see that?" You're exasperated at this point.

"Why the hell is everyone such an expert on what's good for me? The girls, now you -- evidently everyone gets a say in it but me."

She has a point, so you tell her to continue.

"All I know is that I want you, Y/N. I wanna be the person you wake up next to, the first person you call when you have news to share; your person. I know you're far from perfect, but when have I ever asked you to be? You're a fucking mess, but I want every part of you." 

Did she really just say that to you? Your mind tries to process how the hell you managed to have such an incredible woman so ready and willing to not only stay by your side, but actively want to be there. No one's ever cared enough to be different; but Lisa is the difference that you've been searching for all along. She's seen your struggles; you've told her more about your past than anyone else, and somehow it's only made her want to stay more. How you had been such an idiot before is beyond you, but you can't put all of the blame on yourself. Having a person like her in your corner is rare; you're just happy you had this epiphany before you let her slip away.

She's looking into your eyes, intently searching for an answer in the deep pools as she waits for you to respond. The nerves that she's worked hard to suppress bubble up within, sending a sinking feeling to settle within her stomach. She holds her breath upon seeing you slowly lift your head higher, a special sort of twinkle in your eye.

"I'm so sorry, Lisa; for everything. You're the best person I know, and the absolute last person to deserve what I've put you through. I'm just scared. You're different than what I'm used to and I don't know how to deal with that. But I want you, too."

She can't contain the smile that works on her lips, tugging the corners up in the most adorable way possible. Her heart is soaring now, starting to feel like it's being repaired as she fully registers your words. She's been dying to hear you open up -- to let her in -- and it's finally happened. 

"Yeah?" She asks, seeking reassurance that this is really happening before she gets her hopes up.

"Yeah." You declare, reaching for her hand. "I'm ready to try." A gentle kiss is pressed to it, serving as your way of confirming your feelings. For some reason, kissing her hand has always felt sacred to you; thus, you only do it on special occasions. She's noticed that fact too, so it means so much more to her that you chose to do it now. 

"Come here." She utters, leaning back and opening her arms for you to join her. She wants to hold you. With a wide smile, you quickly do as she asks; her embrace is one of your favorite places in the whole world, and you'd never miss a chance to be in it.

Your head is on her chest, the sound of her steady heartbeat making its way to your ear, comforting you. She rests her cheek against the top of your head, taking in the tropical smell of your shampoo. I'll have to get her some more, she thinks to herself. She can't wait to spoil you.

Now, with the cosmos finally finding some semblance of harmony, the two of you begin your journey together. It won't be easy, but the love you hold for each other is too strong to let go to waste. Lisa’s shoulders are free of the previous weight they held, her heart no longer bound by the shackles placed on it. She's free to love you, to show you that you're worthy of a good, kind love -- the type that's patient and honest -- and she's never been happier. 

[evilzoldyck]

Hell is Other People

Admiring the heavy rock that was tailored perfectly to match your finger in silent awe you gleamed almost as brightly as the diamond which glittered underneath the moonlight. 

You could hear the murmurs of your guests and the faint music of the orchestra playing in the background from afar as you stood in your private balcony to revere the ring that symbolised an emblem of eternal faith and affection. To be quite honest with yourself you hadn’t seen it coming, just earlier in the day you’re mulling over which dress to wear for the evening party that your partner scrupulously planned for since months, now that he had proposed to you in front of all your highly esteemed company it all made sense.

This was your engagement party. 

Pleading with a resolute ‘yes’ for an answer, the colossal baroque hall erupted into an applause at the sight of the new happily engaged couple. Wiping a few tears of joy and sharing quick loving kisses from your partner he proudly showed you around where his parents eagerly took you in as part of the family. His Mother held you tight as if you were her very own and his Father kissed the back of your hand cordially in response. You’ve never felt so welcomed before, the warmth of having a real family was one that was foreign but comforting for you.

Taking a break from meeting all the guests he had personally invited to witness his ardent declaration of love, you stood alone in the cool breeze to process all the adrenaline in blissfully. To think, engaged during a peaceful warm season, you couldn’t believe you’re going to celebrate your anniversary every year on such a beautiful weather, making a special connotation to the word summer now. 

Suddenly feeling an unwanted presence behind you, your face that was once graced with a contented smile had turned into a sour frown. You knew exactly who would turn the most happiest night of your life upside down, trailing after a bloody carpet and reigning chaos until the dawn rises. 

The harbinger of death itself, Chrollo Lucilfer.

“So he’s finally proposed,” his dark timbre voice reverberated through the quiet night, startling such a tranquil silence. “I’d congratulate you on your engagement, but I can’t say I’m quite pleased.” There were hundreds of guards your partner employed on duty at the whole premise, guarding every entrance and exit making sure to keep trespassers at bay to keep this party perfect. Though with all the security money could by at your disposal, you weren’t completely surprised someone like him could get through easily, he is the head of the spider after all, capable of going in and out wherever he pleases.

“Chrollo,” you acknowdleged him with an air of indifference, turning around to the slightly to see him dressed in a fine black suit and tie, oddly appropriate for the occasion. “Where are the rest of the troupe? Couldn’t imagine you pulling off a heist on your own.” It was true, there were many treasures such as valuable paintings and ornaments all held in a considerable amount of monetary value scattered along the place, and even then, there were hidden assets stored deep underground that even you had just learned about, or perhaps he’s come for the family’s precious heirloom?

“No need to be so tense, it’s just me tonight.” He suddenly appeared before you, holding the hand in which the engagement ring was secured onto. Smiling bitterly at the glistening jewellery, he showed no movement or even an ounce of intention to take it away from you, rather he looked to be quite pensive as he studied it with a forlorn expression. “I don’t necessarily like to intrude, but it seems that I was uninvited by your charming fiancé.” 

Taking your hand away from his cold hands without ever leaving your skeptical eyes off of his lackadaisical form, he reluctantly lets it go. “The feeling still stands.” Glaring at him with a scathing passion. “There is nothing for you to take here, nothing that you have not already seen before. Leave this people alone, they have nothing worthy of you to steal from.”

“You seem to be quite fond of them,” Chrollo commented motionlessly, closing the space even closer. “Perhaps even more than me.” A distasteful tone from him had you nearly shivering in your heels, however you needed to stand your ground you couldn’t let him ruin everything you worked so hard for. 

“I’ve let you had your fun, released you from your ties, gave you time for yourself and now what do you do? Run into the arms of another man.” He trapped you in between his body and the stone carved balustrades. “Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced,” he whispered in bitter disbelief before placating himself quickly and placed a gentle hand upon your cheek. “My dearest friend, do I really stand no chance with you? Didn’t you once held me high in the standing of your heart?”

Your throat went completely dry as he bared his unbridled affections for you. “Once,” you answered truthfully. Years before in Meteor City you both shared the same vision, the same utopian perspective of your future filled with comfort through grim determination. However as time progressed he began to stray further away from what you both shared. You watched his avarice grow beyond expectancy, stepping over bodies to get what he desired without a vestige of remorse or empathy. Time turned him to be such a monster, an unrecognisable stranger who’s oddly keeping you alive by his side. “A long time ago, but now I barely remember the traces of where I held you in such position.”

Chrollo smiled sullenly at your response, as if he was expecting the daggers of your tongue into his heart. “You’re too cruel,” he detached the palm of his hand from your soft skin. 

“I can’t help but ask after all this time.” He placed a hand against the railing, thoroughly interrogating you closely. “Was it fun, making me chase after you? Did you enjoy the idea of me grovelling for your attention, for you to spare me a simple kiss? I’ve circled the world for your heart and yet it never seems to be enough.” 

He kept the bitter quirk on his lips as he continued, “like I’m never enough.”

Gripping onto the hard stone you willed yourself not to let your knees give out. Though he didn’t show it, you could see the raging storm of emotions in his eyes, the pain and betrayal he felt when you left and the sliver of intention to hurt you. You wanted to calm him down, pacify his anger like you did before when you were both younger. However you couldn’t reward his behaviour anymore, you couldn’t be on the same side where history would echo the time in which evil was left untamed

“What is it he has that I couldn’t give you?” He spoke so softly you could feel the sincerity in his words. 

“It’s not something you could give me,” your tone as careful and gentle as ever around the capricious being. Unfortunately that set every fibre of his being on fire. 

“Do you even love him?” 

You took his challenging words as a personal affront to your integrity. “I find it hard to see if that is any of your concern.” 

“He’s nearly twice your age.” Chrollo staunchly dismissed. “I see the way you look at me, you look at me with such anger in your eyes, like I’m the lowest being to walk on earth; a vermin with no moral compass.” The warm night air suddenly turned frigid at the sound of his strained voice that was holding back such malice. “And you’re right, but what differentiates me from you is that at least I don’t lie to myself.” 

“And the worst thing is that you don’t even seem to realise it do you? You willingly use others for your own interests and discard them once you no longer had use of them. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you and I both know your true nature. You’re exactly like me- in fact you might even be worse than me, robbing people blind. I do my work in the dark but you do yours in broad daylight,” Chrollo stated. “I’m not the only monster here.”

“Don’t talk to me of hypocrisy when you value those philosophical books so much,” you angrily countered, noting how much time he spent on the ideas and theories discussed in heavy literatures such as the Leviathan. “Never have I met someone so ridiculously obsessed with Western perspectives on rules and regulations and yet completely disregards them in practice.” 

“But isn’t that what’s so appealing about it? Of course I don’t take these words as gospel when there’s so many critiques to each theory. It’s too nuanced and complex to ever rightfully regulate civil society that who could determine what I’m doing is immoral? For Hobbes I’m merely exercising my right of nature as it is ‘the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he will for himself, for the preservation of his own nature,’ you remember right?” He quipped, reminding you of the times he shared his esoteric books with you, engaging in meaningful and intellectual thoughts until the candle burned out. 

“I have not consented to the laws of nature and therefore I have yet to surrender my natural rights. Thus the sovereign is illegitimate to me and I’m under no obligation of the state as I have not entered in any form of contract bound by the will and rule of the sovereign. I’m not bound to any laws of this land for I do not conform to the will of others but myself. Plato’s Crito would further support his argument on the laws of consent.”

Scoffing at his misconstrued interpretation you vacantly refuted. “Hobbes also said that if there is reasonable hope in preserving peace to seek and follow it.”

“However I may think it not necessary or the best for my life to be best preserved then I may seek and use all helps and advantages of war.”

“Nevertheless all that is futile for his argument remains that the design of men is the willingness to put restraint upon themselves for a more contented life thereby. We should ultimately consent for the second law of nature requires that we should covenant for peace if others are willing.”

“If others are willing.” He repeated and stressed out the first word. “Do you remember where we lived? No person there would opt for peace, it’s every man for themselves. It is what he hypothetically calls the state of nature, a horrible nasty, brutish and short life, except it’s real. Meteor City is a lawless land and as he states that no contract could be formed in the state of nature. Thus this paradox leaves us in a perpetual natural state of mankind; war.”

“You know there’s more to philosophy than just the Leviathan, Rousseau’s Social Contract and Locke’s Second Treatise of Civil Government has a lot to say on your so called ‘freedom’. There is no advantage to stay in the state of nature, the natural progress of humanity is the establishment of a common political authority for the sake of improving our way of life.”

“Actually Locke and Hobbes states that the state diminishes our sense of freedom but is justified in doing so, by no means did they implied our freedom would be retained, and that, is what I don’t find an improvement.”

“Rousseau would disagree with you, the state is a necessary condition of our freedom for the sovereign is the construction of all through the general will and so is directly exercised by the citizenry. Therefore, this eliminates the tension between political authority and individual freedom.” You sighed, “Chrollo even if you wanted to retain individual autonomy over yourself you’d surely remember Mill’s first sentence on the harm principle, ‘the only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to attain it.’ In other words, as long as you don’t harm others you can do whatever the fuck you like, but you seem to struggle with that concept of freedom don’t you?”

He suddenly chuckled lightly at your remark. “How are you so quick to mark me wrong as if I had forgotten your favourite book?” You suddenly shifted uncomfortably on your feet as he smirked amusingly at your cornered form. “I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the revered Mary Wollstonecraft, we would often read her passages for hours didn’t we? A Vindication of the Rights of a Woman, well, I guess we’re both hypocrites here.” 

“What was her argument? That women were rendered weak, lacked the use of reason, had no special moral value?” He droned on and looked afar as if he was in deep thought before returning his sharp gaze to yours. “You had a lot to say about the sexist social arrangements in today’s society, you argued that women are deprived of their natural rights to acquire virtue through the use reason. How Wollstonecraft would be so disappointed if she could see you right now, the most passionate proponent of her work devoting her energies in pleasing and making herself attractive to men.”

“Stop it.” You hissed as he jabbed at your pride, mocking your own words of the past to further humiliate your contradicting present.

“What were the words you used to quote to me? ‘Have women so little in ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure and render themselves conspicuous by practicing the virtues which signify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the carress of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.’ Aren’t you becoming the women she is scathing about?” 

“What’s so wrong with pleasure? Wanting to be taken care of? The want and human need for companionship and love is not one to be jeered at. Might it just even cross your mind that I chose this life instead of ‘building my faculty.’ Those texts described the social conditioning of women back in the eighteen hundreds, women have more options now and are more than capable to choose. Times have changed.” 

“Have they?” Chrollo hummed. “Is the pleasure that you insist on promoting for you, or for him?” He rubbed the silky garment of your dress impassively. “Don’t you wish to be more than a pretty ornament? To have purpose and participate in the natural rights of mankind? ‘Virtue, says reason, must be acquired by rough toils, and useful struggles with worldly cares.’ Sure you are provided with goods and raiment but liberty and virtue are given in exchange. You could build your character by the sense of struggle of living-“

“How can you call that living?!” You exploded abruptly, pausing for a moment to realise that you were shaking all over as you stood in your designer heels before him with glassy eyes. “What we did- to those people, those families, it was never enough for you. I may be what I despised in my youth but I’m better off being an indulgence for others rather than taking account for mass genocide; for what I lack in virtue I make up for my own compassion.”

“How kindly of you,” he nodded absently. “Then perhaps we should test it. Referring back on your comment on Mill’s harm principle, you must know then that the cause of evil not only takes account of a person’s action but also their inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable for the injury.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let’s hypothesise that I would come back on your white wedding day and that I would kill everyone present during the reception, by learning this information, you then would be held responsible for each of their death.” You griped your hand so hard you’re sure that you’ve left specks of bloody crescent moon marks on the palm of your hands. 

“I have no obligation of duty towards you, therefore the harm principle does not apply to me for I am not responsible or related for your actions.” You countered at his allusion to the other-regarding actions where a special role of obligation is placed within the liberty principle.

“No unfortunately you’re not,” he agreed. “But him, would you not protect him at all costs? Surely as your soon to be life long partner you would do whatever it takes to promote his health and well-being. If you would simply come back to me before the day of wedding, denounce your engagement and reinstate your affiliation and loyalty towards the troupe everybody gets their happily ever after.” He finally took a step back. “In failing to meet our obligations to others we are actually harming them.” 

“I’m tired of your philosophical rhapsodies, if you were to kill others or even yourself I would not hold myself accountable so I suggest you’d best return to whatever matters you currently have and leave us alone.” You’ve grown anxious and wary of the dangerous connotation of his words and with the way he was impishly grinning at you suggested that he saw right through your bluff. 

“Its getting late, you should return to your awaiting fiancé before he realises you’ve been gone for too long,” looking back down at the sight of pretty swirls of dresses on the ballroom quietly dwindling down as the night grew longer. “It’s reassuring to see that you haven’t changed at all, I missed our philosophical prattle.” 

“I can hardly say the same, discussing Western philosophers on an engagement party is certainly not in the least enlightening, I suggest you turn to the East for matters such as these.” 

Chrollo gave a half-suppressed laugh and an amused smile, one that was rare and sincere in which held no trace of malice or cruelty. “Before I forget to tell you, you look beautiful.” You didn’t let your hardened expression change when his comment took you by surprise as he slowly backed away from you and into the shadows.

You heard your name being called out by Thomas where he sighed in relief and ran towards you in a light jog before taking you into his arms. “So this is where you’ve been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he playfully chastised with a turn on his lips. He led you back inside the bright chandelier lit hall to bid your guests farewell for the night, however, you couldn’t help but glance back from your shoulders to see that Chrollo had disappeared. 

Though his presence was now absent, his words still rang loudly inside your head. His confrontation of your nature, how the spotlight is too blinding for someone like you and how it’s just a matter of time you would run into the dark once more with your back up against the wall and tangled up in his web seem to be conveyed as a confident prediction rather than insults to your moral character.

Chrollo wasn’t here to steal anything, not even you, he wanted you to come to him on your own accord even if he had to force pieces to make you submit to his will. However, his appearance tonight also wasn’t meant for mere formalities, in fact he made his purpose and intention clear when he first spoke of the day you would finally be wed. 

It was a warning.