#existing. I wish I was dead fr like I mean that so much I don’t want to wake up anymore

[6ftoverxoxo]

Yall thought I was dead?

Dw I’m dissapointed aswell🤣😝

[jade-kyo]

Red vs. Blue seasons 15-17 retcon pros and cons:

Season 15

I actually don’t mind season 15 so much so it’s a pretty even split between things I’m glad to see go and stuff I’ll be sad about

Pros:

No more Jax (just don’t care for him personally)

Vic is still alive!!

Not dealing with all the film making jokes. A few of them were funny but overall they were just kinda annoying

The implication that Church thinks that Grif and Simmons would have sex in a closet

The emotional gut punch that is all of this being a simulation by church meaning he created a scenario where his friends grieve him and at the slightest hope of him being alive they immediately jump at the chance to save him

This makes Grif quitting even more painful

Tucker no longer has a ton of kids (I just personally never really liked this joke)

Not dealing with the way Sarge’s character was done dirty. This is not the same man who gave several of the best speeches in the whole series.

A bunch of Freelancers are alive again

No seriously Vic is still alive and I’m a big believer in the “Vic was the love fragment” theory IM JUST SAYING

Praying the animation is better than this in the final season 💀

Seriously Sarge is done so dirty. Everyone wants to say red team never got development till now but I disagree. Sarge easily has some of the best character development in the series, it’s just done much more subtly than any of blue teams development.

No. Fucking. Time. Machines. God I hate time travel stories

Loco is not dead

I actually don’t care for the whole bit with Caboose saying goodbye to Church. I like the sentiment of the lesson Caboose is learning but the whole actually seeing Church one last time thing always felt too fairytale-ish to me

VIC IS ALIVE

I just think we really need to consider both the emotional and comedic implications of all of this being Church’s simulation.

Like if Vic really was a fragment then church basically wrote himself sacrificing himself for his friends again.

Church thinks Grif, if separated from Simmons and the group, would go crazy and start talking to volleyballs

Dylan’s whole speech about what makes the reds and blues hero’s would actually be Church

Fr there’s so many implications here

Cons:

Losing the blues and reds (tho I have theories on how they might still be around)

Losing Dylan (tho she still canonically exists in universe)

Kai is back in Blood Gulch and not part of the main crew :(

Just the absolute loss that is the entire episode of the reds and blues introduction in this season

Grif and Simmons no longer canonically had sex in a closet

Just how much Tucker cares for Caboose and the others in this season

Literally every Carolina and Wash moment

Carolina calling Wash “David”

No seriously just everything about Wash and Carolina

The whole Freelancer death room is actually a great scene (even if I do like that the freelancers would be alive again)

Actually love Temple and Biff and their story. Sad to see it go (tho again I do have a theory)

Tucker actually asking Caboose his thoughts on things

Fr the blues and reds are fascinating

Grif and Locus

Caboose learning to cope with death

Wash’s injury

Literally every Grif and Simmons scene

Grif and Kai hug

Verdict:

If everything post 13 is truly getting retconned the way it seems to be implied then I’ll actually be kinda sad to see this season go. It’s not bad! Could’ve definitely been a lot better but it had quite a bit of potential and some strong ideas and moments. Evil sim troopers is a fascinating idea and I wish they would’ve explored it more thoroughly.

[bebop-and-oysters]

TAUNT

Summary: Rooster is in pain and Hangman offers a massage. He rebuffs him at first, but the pain wins out.

Mild Sereshaw | Rated T for language and innuendo!

This is un-beta’d and written in one sitting so please be nice!

Made this lovely little Drabble for my buddy, Kayla who does AMAZING self inserts (fr if you haven’t checked her stuff out go check it out, she’s here on tumblr @miles-rooster)

It had been a long, long, long day for Rooster. Hours of paperwork, training, dealing with Maverick. Even the full roar of the engines that usually calmed him had ill-effects, having caused a pulsing headache timed to the same beat. All he wanted to do was go home, curl up in bed, and sleep.

Apparently, the universe had other ideas for him because there stood Hangman waiting right next to his Bronco. His hip cocked against the side of it, goblin-like grin spread wide across his horrifically good-looking features.

“Oh Roo-Roo~”

Hangman’s voice tilted up at the end, playfully. He was like a cat with a disoriented mouse, playing roughly till the poor mouse felt the sweet relief of death.

Rooster kind of wished he was a dead mouse at this point, at least then Hangman wouldn’t have reason to bother him. Unfortunately he was very much alive and very much human and too tired to put up with Hangman’s games.

“Move, Hangman. I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“Aww Roo, I was just trying to talk a bit! I feel like we never talk any more, dontcha wanna talk to me? I wanna talk to you!”

Hangman’s face morphed into a pout, practically pleading with Rooster to give him some reason, any reason, for them to sit and chat.

“Not in the mood, really, Hangman. It’s been a long day, and I ache all over, and I’d just like to go home. So, move your ass or I’ll move it.”

“Feisty today! I see how it is. But really Roo, if you hurt so bad then why didn’t you tell me? I’m really the absolute best at giving massages. I mean it’s one of my best attributes, being good with my hands.”

Hangman’s gaze drifted up and down Rooster’s tall form, practically eating him with his eyes. His tongue flicked out over his basically non-existent lips.

“Again, Hangman. Not in the mood. Now move.”

Rooster moved to push the man out of his way, sinewy arm coming up to press into the middle of his chest. He could feel Hangman’s heart thrumming distantly beneath his palm. Still, Hangman barely budged from his spot against the Bronco’s door.

“C’mon Rooster, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Hangman gazed lazily up at Rooster, broad smile situated back on his face.

“Well number one, you could break my back cause you’re not careful. Number two, you could annoy me the entire time which would make me blow my brains out. Now, I have places to be so if you’re not gonna move I’ll just move you.”

Rooster enveloped Hangman’s hips with his massive hands, physically picking him up and spinning around before setting Hangman on the opposite side. After setting Hangman down, he immediately regretted it. He felt the strain on his shoulders causing extra tension right in the middle of his back. He winced slightly and moved to unlock the Bronco, placing himself between Hangman and the driver’s door.

Hangman, having been caught in a stupor after being picked up, (which he thought was practically impossible given that he was all of 6’0 and an easy 185 pounds) jolted at Rooster’s wince. His face contorted worriedly, eyebrows creasing together and mouth forming a straight line, if he had any lips they would’ve been pursed.

“Rooster? You alright there?”

“Fine. Goodbye Hangman.”

Rooster climbed into the driver’s seat of the Bronco hesitantly, back twinging.

“No, you’re not. You’re obviously in pain. At least let me drive you home, Rooster. You don’t look fit to drive.”

Rooster sighed, exasperated but too exhausted to argue. He handed Hangman the keys and hopped out of the driver’s seat, moving around to the passenger’s side. Hangman replaced him and started up the Bronco, peeling out of the parking lot.

They sat in silence, Rooster occasionally giving directions on where to turn. They arrived at his tiny house right off base in a matter of minutes.

Hangman hopped out first, and ran out to open the passenger door. He held his hand out to Rooster who batted it away and glared at him. Hangman’s grin just widened.

“C’mon Roo, let’s get you inside and off your feet.”

Rooster just grunted in response, ambling out of his seat carefully.

Hangman locked the Bronco and moved ahead to unlock the front door and hold it open for Rooster who was following closely behind. Upon entering into the living room, Rooster flopped face first into his sectional.

Hangman closed the door behind himself, hanging up Rooster’s keys on the hook beside the door.

He stood awkwardly next to the couch, not quite sure what he was still doing there, and cleared his throat.

Rooster tilted his head to the side and stared up at Hangman. From this angle, the bags under his eyes were all too visible.

“Wanna take my offer up now? I really am good with my hands.”

Rooster huffed but simply nodded and turned his head the other way.

Hangman leaned over and started touching the middle of Rooster’s back, hard planes of muscle firm under his hands. He pressed his palms in firmly, moving them out and away from Rooster’s spine. Rooster groaned delightedly, tension immediately lessening under Hangman’s hands.

Hangman tried to pay attention to the massage, if he allowed himself to think at all he knew his mind would stray to Rooster’s groans and minor whimpers.

It was difficult to really dig into his back from this angle, and Hangman’s own back was protesting at the leaning he was having to do.

“Roo?”

“Hm?”

Rooster didn’t move a muscle, lax and fluid while Hangman worked the tension out.

“Mind if I sit on your back? I’m staring to cramp up.”

Rooster simply made a noise of affirmation, not even bothering to turn his head.

Hangman climbed over Rooster, straddling his hips. He fought down the thoughts that crowded his mind, one’s that placed the two of them in a similar position but in a very different context.

He once again dug his hands into Rooster’s back, drifting up to his shoulders to work out the knots there as well.

Rooster’s breathing underneath him slowed steadily as he worked, and eventually his distant groans died down.

It wasn’t until Hangman heard a distinct snore that he realized that Rooster had fallen asleep.

He chuckled to himself and climbed off of Rooster, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and layering it over the tall man’s sleeping form.

“Night, night Roo-Roo.”

Hangman smiled and strode out the front door, locking it before he closed it behind him.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he was great with his hands.

Hope you enjoyed!! Please let me know how it was! And be sure to check out Kayla’s fics as well! I’ll probably throw this up on AO3 after I get it beta’d

[phoebehalliwell]

4, 6, 8, 9, 17, 18, 19 (Warren Witches or the Coop/Phoebe rival to lovers fic), 23, and 24! I love ask games and always ask too many at once, sorry 😂

4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

I had started a um a Penny/Allen origin fic that involved Penny moving to San Francisco for the first time staying with her aunt bowen there was a familiar there a little cat but it just. i never really got around to it. there was also the phoebe's source baby fic but i'm honestly spoiler alert just gonna loop that in with my calling cupid one idk if that one's gonna be a dency origin story or if i'm going for a new source kids bc idk the source's heir?? what a fun little lad!

6: What are some topics you will never write about?

i mean like. i feel like the obvious one is incest bugs / honestly scares the everloving shit outta me how many chris/wyatt fics are there esp considering how few next gen fics are out there beyond that i don't really know ig i won't know where the line is til i find it but like. what the fuck is wrong with y'all wyatt/chris freaks lmao. y'all are bad people.

8: How do you develop your OCs?

god isn't that a great question. they possess me. but no fr a lot of them come from like. the notion of the bit. like. what would be funniest. like with warren and sheridan i mean they literally came about as a joke like lmao wouldn't it be funny if prue and jack had twins. and then i had a previous idea of the next gen kids world jumping and landing in a parallel universe where p3 still existed and they're like okay where are we gonna find the witches we need to find and then parker just points to a poster for a band called the w!tches like call it a hunch but. and i'm like i should use that. and then i said okay which name is less punk rock and i'm like no the idea of warren being in a rock band too cool it must be sheridan. and then i needed a band i specifically remembering calling my buddy rose who edits all my stuff and i formed the band with them on the line rose actually drew them as i spoke that drawing might still exist somewhere. and then for warren he needed to be not sheridan so initially i was thinking hotel management bc my mom almost majored in that and lets be honest its not very punk rock but i wasn't sold on it but then it's like. okay well i also have mentally illness so goes it. and so like sheridan you know. has a death wish. he's not gonna kill himself bc that's gonna depress everyone too much but he can't wait to die he needs to go down fighting so people can be like wow sheridan so brave gone too soon and then you don't have to worry about your future or getting better because your dead. #lifehack. btw if you think like this deadass you need to be in therapy. but. great character motivation. so if sheridan wants to die, warren should want to live. sheridan's got his plan he's gonna be in a punk rock band and then die young. warren wants to grow old but he doesn't know. what he's going to do. he studies history to better know the craft. he's going to get a graduate degree in it to better know the craft. (lie. he's getting a graduate degree because he's terrifies to move forward, to actually live his life. sheridan lives because he believes he's going to die tomorrow. warren doesn't. his actions have consequences, how is he going to move forward? so rather than attempt to do that, he stays in academia, he stays in stasis, because then he doesn't actually have to face his future.) so yeah. foils. lots of foils. if a is this, then b should be that in contrast. basically everything is formed out of relationships. parental, fraternal, plantonic, romantic, like. that's the meat of it. that and whatever's funniest.

9: Are there any fics you’d love to see but don’t want to write yourself? What are they?

that's a good question. i'm so bad at actually writing things. i really want to also do my prandy kids and the magical morrises and honestly shane and abel since one anon brought them back up I Love next gen kids but beyond that i'd love to see more phoebe/coop fics and paige/henry fics and also honestly phoebe/leslie and prue/jack and like more wildcard piper/kyle obvi lol paige/jinny. it's just. there's so much i Want to write but like. won't lol. i want to. but. know theyself. i probably won't.

17: What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing?

idk man i'm really proud of how far i've made it in my next gen fic and honestly warren and sheridan too love those boys they appear in my dreams a lot. and it's like. this shit it's like almost at the length of a novel you know? and i'm just. i used to write a shitton as a kid i was never able to finish anything tho but with these i've made it so far and i feel like i've come so close and it's genuinely stuff that i personally enjoy reading and it's just. i went through a really long phase when you know #itsmentolillnussluv and i couldn't write so to be back adn to have these characters that live within me i just. isk it makes me happy.

18: Do you feel like your work gets enough recognition? What kind of feedback do you like to receive?

i mean. "recognition??" like probably. but i don't think it really gets seen as much as i would like it too bc you know. it's so niche. idk i do kinda wanna someday publish these stories you know w&s and dency and stuff bc i just. i like sharing stories. i like when people like my stories when they like my characters bc they're my little buddies it's like when you throw a party that overlaps your social circles and it goes really well and you just glow a little because everyone likes each other like <3. but no i love love love love love receiving comments on my work or when people are like can i use your characters in fics like omg that always means so much to me lol like i always try to make my stories you know stories that people can sit in that like. you know. like um wrap yourself in a blanket all cozy like or use that like as like a blanket fort with little fairy lights something fun and sweet and safe and like. idk. you know?

19: 15 words to describe the aesthetic of [insert fic].

lipstick stains on cheeks, rosy perfume, dizziness, soft lights, looking away when you laugh, love

23: What’s one piece of advice you would give to anyone who wants to start writing or posting their writing online?

just like. like it. like what you’re writing. and if you don’t like it. ditch it! write something you look forward to writing, something you wanna talk about, something that you like daydream about what you’re gonna do next with. like. bc it’s free man, aint nobody paying you to do this. so just do what you want to do. unless its writing incest fic. then you should just shut the fuck up and reflect.

24: Which fic of yours do you wish people would ask about more? Why?

idk all of them lol i Love to talk <3

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Summary:

The dichotomy between black and white is your constant when it's time for you to meet the whole new civilization Frisk brought along with them to the Surface. As a parent, it's not easy to trust others when they've hurt your child. So when that new civilization decides they owe Frisk both for saving their kind and for still hurting them during that process, you've got plenty to say to them.

Forgive the monsters as easily as you once did with others during a stage of naivety?

Oh, hell no.

They better have a good reason for hurting your child and an even better one for wanting to be a part of their family.

Prologue | Once Upon a Time

[Next]

Finished with a hectic work day, you throw yourself on the couch and beg for it not to give in when you hear it creak. Just as the rest of your home, it's old, worn, and needs replacing. You let out a sigh and bask under what little calm you can find between the worries of a dead-end job and your child recently going missing. 

Many accused the disappearance on your lack of care and overall irresponsibility as their parent, while others blamed it on the myth of monsters existing near the place you suspected they last went to. The first of these assumptions you accepted and blamed yourself constantly for, yet the second of the two was near impossible to even be an option to begin with. Monsters were far away from your village; they were told to be sealed inside the Underground close to Mt. Ebott, and nobody had heard of them in centuries. It was highly unlikely for them to exist there and much less on the Surface, yet there were still some who believed in that myth nonetheless.

Alone in your home, you can only stare at the blank wall before you and think back on the last day you saw Frisk. 

...

"I'm home!" you hear them call, followed by their footsteps thumping against the floorboards.

They make it to the kitchen and throw themselves at you; their arms wrap around your neck and pull you into a hug. Smiling, you return the embrace, pull back to look down, and meet with their eyes. "Did you say goodbye to Auntie Brenda before leaving?" you ask, tucking a stray lock of hair behind their ear. Their bob and bangs had grown longer and many neighbours said it made them look like a girl, but Frisk never minded over those comments and always insisted on keeping their hair that way.

"Yup!" they reply, taking a seat next to yours. "We're… We're gonna spend the whole weekend together, right?" 

"Of course we are, honey." You chuckle upon seeing the worry in their eyes, these holding hope over a positive response on your part. "But first, we've got to study up on History," you add, "Remember you've got a test the day after tomorrow." You pinch their cheek and kiss it better, making them grin and burst into giggles. 

Then, you stand up and head to the living room, where you stop by the bookshelf already covered in a thin layer of dust despite its frequent use. Your eyes scan for the book you'd been recently reading with them, only to find it hidden at a corner, most likely an idea on their part in hopes of delaying their studies for a while. "We'll go over the last chapter. And after that, we can plan what we'll do for the weekend." You turn to them and smile, bumping the book against the top of their head. "But only if you don't try to hide your books away anymore. I know you like school and pay attention all the time, but that still doesn't excuse you from studying up at home."

You walk to the couch, sit down, and see their smile fade away when you open the book to one of its later chapters. It was far away from the one you were currently on, yet based on the look on their face, they seem to know what it's about, an assumption that grows stronger when you remember how one-sided the book in your hands is. Frisk was never fond of the stories it told, yet they never had the courage to go against its written words, either. Now, however, you have a hunch over them about to confront that when you see them frown and later open their mouth to speak up.

"Why do you believe what this book says? It… It says mean things about monsters! Haven't you ever been curious to know what they're all really like?"

You look down at the open book and give some thought to their words. Its borders are worn out and the pages are turning a soft shade of yellow, most likely due to the centuries that'd gone by since it was first published. 'The War Between Us' was its title, yet even though it said 'us', the author was biased at times; in more ways than one. It seemed that the more you analyzed it, the more you regretted having believed these stories when you were younger and having thrashed the possibility of beings like them ever existing. The question you've been given adds to your regret, so you pause and take a quick moment to reconsider.

Deciding it's best to think of a proper response, you flip the pages back to the first chapter and gesture for Frisk to join you. You push your glasses up to the brim of your nose and begin to read the first page.

>> Long ago, two races ruled over the Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell...

You flip past the introduction page, having already memorized it ever since you were seven.

>> Those undergrounds, located near Mt. Ebott, are said to be a dangerous place. It is said that those who climb the mountain never return. Many have taken this warning as a joke, yet none have actually dared to step foot on those grounds. Due to this fear of the unknown, many began to form theories as to what happens to those who travel to those lands. These have varied from such a simple thing as being unable or unwilling to leave, to something as dark and fearsome as death.

>> It is said the monsters residing in this place were not only strange in appearance, but in their actions and customs, as well. Likewise, it is said their way of reproduction is also odd, as it is through their SOULS that they may create another life, and that the way of ending their lives is through the same means. Besides showing their vulnerability through their SOULS, they show it through their words. They advise others to show 'MERCY', as well as to 'SPARE' their enemies whenever possible. 

>> However, many experts on the topic have agreed these are only myths; bedtime stories meant to dull and straighten up a child's behaviour, to frighten them over what is black and what is white, and to keep them strictly in the latter. It is impossible to believe such narrow-minded and saint-like creatures ever existed, unless it is to dumb down our mindsets and persuade us to be kind to a fault, without ever even questioning why it is said that those who fell into their world never came back. After all, it is without a doubt unrealistic and near impossible for people to cohabit in one same world without causing some form of hurt between each other. It is the same reason why these creatures were said to lose a war with our kind, and why we must avoid being weak and preachy like them; to prevent the same from ever happening to us.

You close the book with one swift move, deciding you already have the answer to your child's question.

"Y'know, I… I guess you're right, honey." You sigh, face your lap, and close your eyes, already having a taboo thought at the tip of your tongue. "I've only ever read this book regarding their history. If only I knew more about them, or maybe had another book from a new, different perspective... Then, maybe... Maybe I could know if both sides had their reasons for war, and why we still study them through this book only."

Just as they're about to reply, an unintelligible shout erupts from one of the nearby houses. The sound of porcelain hitting the ground and of people arguing with one another can be heard, and soon after, an eerie, yet recognizable silence takes over. Already expecting the worst, you let out a shaky sigh, stand up, and finally gather up courage to inspect what's going on outside the safety of your home.

"Stay here, Frisk. I'll be back soon."

…

You never saw them again after that day, and that was almost a full month ago. Your eyes have turned irredeemably red and puffy from how much you've cried and mourned over their loss, though you've tried to keep it to yourself as much as possible. Even so, a few things had been leaked regarding your situation. Nosy and loud neighbours meant trouble, and you already had enough with Social Services and Frisk's school constantly breathing down your neck.

The more days passed since their disappearance, the more rumours began to revolve around you. A silent argument over the hints left behind of Frisk going missing had begun to form, and it shows itself through the tense state of those around you, these split into two groups. Tension's risen between those who blame you and those who blame Mt. Ebott, yet you don't want to favour either side. Simply solving the situation and having Frisk in your arms again was enough for you, even if they were taken away from you by Social Services the day or even the hour after.

Hearing your stomach growl, you shake your head, finally realizing you're becoming too immersed in your own thoughts.

Dinner wouldn't make itself, and though you hated cooking only for yourself almost as much as you loathed the absence of your child and the silence of your home, you have to stand up, dust off, and keep on going.

Fairy tales weren't real; monsters weren't, either. In other words, Frisk's all alone in the world now and nobody's gonna help besides you. Whatever happened to your child, they were most likely suffering or in great danger, and for once, you can't help but wish over the Underground to be real in spite of the myths told about it. Perhaps then, you could have some sense of direction and an idea over just where Frisk could be; and perhaps then, they wouldn't be alone at the knowledge of monsters providing them with shelter and company until your arrival.

Perhaps then, you could rest a bit easy without crying yourself to sleep every weekend with the reminder and the remnants of a broken promise, one you feared would never be fulfilled.

[Next]

[bellamygateoldblog]

THE 100 7X07 LIVEBLOG

Warning: Long. I’m sorry. I was excited.

• First thought, I'm being forced to watch without subtitles & and it might just be me but these actors are impossible to understand on the first listen.

• "The shepherd teaches us that winning the last war brings upon the final evolution of a species" so....aliens? ALIE? Ascending into a 'higher' form of existence meaning either life after death (ALIE style) or these people want to become Gods?

• They "believe in transcendence" so i must be on the right lines.

• Bardo have "different plans" for the two killers. Void!Echo might be cominggggg.

• "Death is life" / "may we meet again" / "death is not the end" — "winning the last war brings upon the final evolution of a species"???? I’ve connected the dots.

• I'm sorry but all this hyper-focus on Clarke and being "The Key to everything" is kinda embarassing me, like 😳 it's just so odd. That this alien cult from another part of the galaxy/universe is fixated on this random teenager born on a space station around Earth. I know, I know it's to do with Becca's tech, but it's still very much sounding like the "super important special protagonist" trope which I hate and until that detail about the code/tech is revealed it will continue to make me rme. LMAO.

• "Rise and shine errand boy" OK MA.

• Indra is out looking for their friends which confirms LGBT wrath squad literally told nobody they were leaving, and since Gaia was kidnapped, there's no news from them at all.

• Emori trying desperately to help Murphy stay out of hell. At first I thought she was reassuring him, but she was explaining why he needs to do these “errands,” because she believes in his ‘vision’ of hell last season.

• "besides [Murphy's] worshipped me for years."

• Memori is the inverse of Bellarke. There, I said it.

• "You don't know me very well-" / "i know you went into that tavern to save a child at great risk to yourself..." is the pretty much the exact same scene as Murphy's with Luna in s4: "you don't know me very well" / "I know you stole medicine to save [a child]..."

• Luna's spirit followed them across the galaxy/universe this season.

• I don't know anything about chess but the fear on Murphy's face when Slim Sheidy moved his Queen makes me think Emori is in danger this season for as long as he's still alive.

• Echo indirectly preaching "love is strength"

• "You don't talk about yourself much and you're a shapeshifter"

• Dude maybe Echo really is getting an arc this season.

• "Bellamy this isn't real" implies she's had to shut “this” down before, and that there's been something between them for a while. And Bellamy literally shut her up with a kiss, telling her and us that she’s being silly. Also, Echo was the one putting it off.

• Tall girlfriend short boyfriend rights!

• The shot of the ring becoming Echo's eye. Oh my GOD.

• "I know you're in pain Echo, I feel it" what a dumb fuck thing to say LMAO what gave it away?????? The way I'm crying right now in front of you??????

• "I'm the monster from Hope's bedtime stories"

• Octavia:

• WE'RE VOCALISING THE PARALLEL NOW HUH?!

• Octavia is telling EVERYONE else what we already knew. The parallel was NEVER to Finn. It was to Octavia. After Lincoln died. TELL EM.

• "I wish I hugged him instead"

• Octecho Murphamy parallel oh jesus.

• Octavia is like "no Murphy Echo! I'm not letting you go until you admit you're not useless! it's not your fault!"

• Octavia telling Echo love is the answer, love is what she needs, not death or violence. Love is strength. Here we go bitches.

• "YOU'RE MY FAMILY TOO"

• !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “YOU’RE ONE OF THE HUNDRED”

• Am i actually right with all these Echo theories i’ve had? I’m feeling so validated.

• It’s a shame none of these scenes will be edited and made into gifsets by fandom the way other Clarke/bellarke/anti-Echo-centred ones have been them with their none-existent Finn ‘parallel’ lmaooooo, because nobody cares for Echo and Octavia.

• Everyone is yelling for Echo. I feel that.

• Diyoza is checking her nails. I feel that too.

• "THAT'S DISHES YOUNG LADY" ajaksjajsjskasjsjdkskdjdj

• I'm so sad we're back in Sanctum����😔😔

• Emori is fr pregnant.

• Are we really doing a sexism thing, here with Shiedheda and Murphy? I thought those things didn't exist anymore?🤔

• "how you respond to the loss of your Queen will tell me which you are (a leader or a follower)" — I'm going to be unhappy if Emori dies just so Murphy can become a "leader" by the end. Don’t. Especially not after this conversation about “not liking women very much.”

• Well there goes that theory of Hope favouring Murphy from the stories because she was told he was similar to her father. Sigh.

• "I like you John, you amuse me" is a pretty good way of summarising how his character has been used this season.

• "Everyone I ever loved was killed fighting in wars. Some that didn't need to be fought"

• "I LIKE OUR CHANCES" callback.

• Men who?

• "Violence and rage will only destroy your soul"

• “Revenge is a game with no winners” motherly advice vs “They loved people too. Where does it end?” / “it doesn’t end here. I don’t believe in karma” motherly advice.

• These quotes are making me nervous about void!Echo. I hope she gets brought back from the dark eventually. Or makes the dark her bitch.

• This Diyoza-Hope scene looks paralleled to the Octecho one! Thus Echo also wants to "go back to the way things were."

• "They took my mommy away" — Like ‘they’ took Octavia's and Echo's. Two other warrior women in the same group. Clarke dealt with the loss of hers. Madi with the loss of hers. There’s Gaia and Indra’s strained relationship. Emori + being cast out by her parents. The child sacrifices. Murphy + Sheidheda’s mother throwing him in the conclave meaning he doesn’t like women. Is this season about mommy issues?

• A little confused why he’s talking about Lexa as if she directly stole his legacy. Wasn’t he in power when Indra was a child?

• Octavia is laying there staring at a blank book.

• I'm dying at Octavia monologing, completely oblivious to Echo cutting her face with broken glass behind her. LMAO. She's become so accustomed to Echo's whimpering she's not even phased anymore.

• Dying again at Echo out of nowhere just going DO YOU KNOW WHY AZGEDA WARRIORS SCAR THEIR OWN FACES?

• Octavia, again:

• "We do it to symbolize that the pain is over. The wound is healed."

• That's such a good explanation. And here begins Echo's healing journey. As her wounds heal over the next few episodes so will she. And by the end her scars will symbolise that journey.

• Here Echo goes again being the smartest person in the room, always. "We're not prisoners, we're recruits."

• Tasya is making me super uncomfortable with the jittery, eery way Echo is moving around. I love it.

• The way Echo casually saunters out of the fucking room with not a single care in the world oh she knowsssss. AJDKSHFJSF

• Echo leading again!!! Making the decisions. Octavia following after her (literally) and backing her.

• "This is how my people show they're ready to go to war" — making everyone extremely uncomfortable and I love that for her. Also, "my people."

• Embracing her Azgeda-ness.

• Octavia understanding and jumping in to aid Echo's plan combined with the close-up of Echo's determined abliet slightly unhinged expression makes me believe Echo is leaning into her "spy" along with her Azgeda and going undercover, making them believe she's on their side when she's not. But there's still a part of me thinking Echo is spiraling and is going to war out of habit and because she feels she has nowhere else to go/ "no home." Aka, the detail to finish off the S7 O/E parallels: "this is who I am" / "I'm here for the war."

• Furthermore, her scarring herself could be a callback to Octavia telling Ilian to help her feel something.

• I love this season a lot.

• Back in Sanctum again😒

• How does a chess game take all fucking DAY?

• OH 🙂 That's how.

• Yeah it makes absolutely no sense Raven would ask about Octavia before Echo.

• Raven looking at Clarke when finding out Bellamy's dead as if she isn't the only one there who's his actual family, who spent 6 entire years with him + more. Raven Clarke-Prop Reyes strikes again.

• Clarke's like *sad confusion*

• The scene of Clarke finding out about Bellamy's death didn't feel so much about her as it did "well what does this mean for them now?"

• "From the ashes we will rise" becomes "from the ashes, through the bridge, the shepherd will rise" Gotta say, not as catchy.

• "please call me Bill" - No. No Bill. Only Cadogan.

• We're going back to Earth this season aren't we?

[johannesviii]

Top 12 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2014

The “least good” of the three best years of the 2010s. This is still a top 12. Because I can, and I will.

I know. People also call it a bad year. And I think they’re wrong.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

New job, which is the one I still have currently. Also, I discovered Doctor Who in December 2013 and you know exactly what happened in 2014 because I dived head first into the extended universe as soon as I finished New Who and I’ve never really recovered since then. The end of the year was highly stressful, with my cat being sick, my father needing a very dangerous surgical intervention, and me being so stressed out I was basically unable to sleep for days. Might explain why there’s a lot of cute songs on this list, I needed cute stuff.

That year wasn’t very generous in good albums from bands I liked. Epica released The Quantum Enigma, and it was okay, Within Temptation had Hydra, and it was also okay, and Coldplay had the very underrated (in my opinion at least) Ghost Stories, a mostly melancholic album full of bittersweet post-breakup songs. So I’m left with no choice but to declare The Birthday Massacre’s album Superstition my album of the year for 2014. They had stayed at a consistent level since Pins And Needles so I wasn’t expecting anything better from them, but boy do they delivered. Here is Divide, it’s about a subterranean world and it might be a metaphor but as you know I’m very literal-minded! Here’s Beyond, about a lady falling in love with a strange woman who might be some sort of fae or supernatural entity!! I love most of the album and there’s only one subpar song on it. I know they’ll never get a crossover hit but they’d deserve it so much. Look at the state of the world. We’re so ready for a new mainstream wave of energetic, angsty, weird music. Just bring it on.

There’s only one non-elligible song that truely pisses me off this time, and it’s Traffic Girl by Indochine, another single from their Black City Parade album. It’s about a policewoman in North Korea who has to wave and smile at non existant traffic all day long and the song presents her as a modern hero. It’s one of my favorite songs on the album and I’m so mad it didn’t make the French year-end list.

Here’s a list of honorable menti-holy shit why is this list so long

Albatraoz (AronChupa) - Riiiiiight at the limit between catchy and annoying. But it’s blissfully short.

Chandelier (Sia) - I would like this more if it wasn’t that painful to listen to, I swear.

Magic in the Air (Magic System) - Insert my usual comment about these guys and their fun & happy songs.

Un Jour Au Mauvais Endroit (Calogero) - Great music, good lyrics. It’s still Calogero and I tend to dislike how overdramatic he usually is. Not enough to ruin that one song for me though.

Je Garde le Sourire (Black M) - This isn’t the last time he’s gonna appear in this post.

Prayer In C (Lilly Wood & The Prick) - A bit repetitive but in a good way.

Budapest (Georges Ezra) - A bit repetitive but in a good way 2, the return but in a completely different genre.

The Monster (Eminem & Rihanna) - We’ve now entered the songs which I considered putting on the list, and yeah, there’s a lot of them even if this is a top 12. “Bad year for pop music”. Yeah. Right.

Addicted To You (Avicii) - This is good, and the music video is great, and I want to stop feeling emotional about Avicii. Please.

Don’t Tell Em (Jeremih) - I. Uh. What the f█ck. Okay. There’s no way I can justify this. I simply adore this beat even if the lyrics are really, really bad. It’s just visually stunning and I really wish the song itself was better.

Photomaton (Jabberwocky) - I don’t think this would have charted without the success of Kavinsky the previous year. But still. Wonderful stuff. Well deserved.

Madame Pavoshko (Black M) - This was on the first version of the list but in the end I really had no room left for it. It’s a song about a guy telling his old teacher he made it in life despite the fact she labelled him a hopeless case at school. With such a premise, it could be an angry song, but no, it’s upbeat, sarcastic and fun. Wonderful stuff.

Le Graal (Kyo) - Kyo? Wait, you mean the embarrassing emo guys from my 2002 and 2003 lists? These guys?? They were back on the charts after ten years?? And suddenly everyone thought it was cool to like them again?? Including me??? Sounds fake but okay

Turn Down For What (DJ Snake) - The last cut. Stim music at its finest, sharp, aggressive and colorful. Everything I ever wanted from a hit song.

Well, that was long. Here’s the actual list.

12 - Wake Me Up (Avicii)

US: #22 / FR: Not on the list

“So wake me up when it’s all over, when I’m wiser and I’m older” should make no sense. You can’t get wiser if you’re asleep. At least that’s what I would probably say if I didn’t feel this. There’s a lot of times in my life I wished I could be switched off and woken up a couple of years later and be like “hello I’m back, I feel better now, what did I miss”. I totally get it.

The only reason this song is so low on the list is the drop. I don’t like it very much. The rest is damn good.

11 - Boom Clap (Charlie XCX)

US: #34 / FR: #84

Boom! Boom! Boom! CLAP. That song got me after its first seconds. Love its atmosphere, very cotton candy-like, very fluffy, with a sharp voice. Doesn’t work well if you listen to it on a loop, though, and that’s the only negative thing I can say against it.

10 - Stay The Night (Zedd)

US: #94 / FR: Not on the list

This on the other hand works very well on repeat and that drop is golden. I’m afraid I don’t have anything very interesting to say about it. It stayed on my playlist from 2014 to summer 2019, though, so that’s an impressive feat.

9 - Rather Be (Clean Bandit)

US: #41 / FR: #18

Several critics I follow have commented this song is 1) mostly meaningless 2) too perfect to say anything about it and I agree. It’s also too perfect to be really passionate about it, unfortunately, but still, very, very good stuff.

8 - Magic (Coldplay)

US: Not on the list / FR: #66

You already know I don’t really like lowkey emotional songs and I also hate the first act of Coldplay’s career, so why on earth did I like Ghost Stories so much and why is Magic making me feel so emotional, you ask? Well it’s because the music itself isn’t bland. It’s lowkey but rich, dense and colourful, and it works much better than whatever they were doing before with their slow boring songs. Also, I really struggle with dramatic vocal performances on quiet emotional songs (which is why I tend to have issues with Adele’s voice on some of her stuff), and here the balance is just ideal. Soft colors, soft textures, soft voice, this is like a colorful plushie you’ve lost for years and just found in the attic and it brings you to tears. I adore it.

Also the part of the lyrics that goes “And if you were to ask me / After all that we've been through / Still believe in magic? / Oh yes I do”, that makes me want to hug someone and never let go.

7 - Waves (Mr Probz)

US: Not on the list / FR: #15

This is completely hypnotic. It’s perfect to drive, to walk, to draw. to sit on a bench and look at the trees. It’s just wave after wave of pastel colors with a good beat and it washes away your anxiety slowly but surely. Therapeutic and beautiful without ever feeling bland. Wonderful stuff.

6 - Uptown Funk (Bruno Mars & Mark Ronson)

US: Not on the list (#1 on the 2015 year-end list) / FR: #3

Everyone loved it and I wasn’t an exception. You all know it and I’ve got nothing new or interesting to say about it. A ton of fun. Love the lyrics.

5 - Sur Ma Route (Black M)

US: Not on the list / FR: #7

If you’re wondering what’s going on in this picture, the guy is parodying a lot of famous movies or series in the music video. It’s a simple but super energetic song about trying to trace your own road in life and all the problems you encounter and how you can’t always count on people you thought were your friends. It’s very propulsive and motivating and it’s my favorite song from that guy even though he made a lot of good songs. Just great stuff. Check it out if you’ve never heard it.

Speaking of being on your own...

4 - Ain’t It Fun (Paramore)

US: #47 / FR: Not on the list

I miss hearing that kind of thing on the radio and yes, I’m aware that makes me sound like an old idiot. Oh how I wish this had been released in 2010 when I just started to work, that would have been perfect. I know the song is supposed to be sarcastic with the whole “ain’t it fun being on your own” angle, but yeah, when your life wasn’t great before, it’s actually liberating to “live in the real world”, even if it sucks at times, even if it’s difficult and you have responsibilities and all.

Also the music video is super cute. Love it.

3 - Pompeii (Bastille)

US: #12 / FR: Not on the list

I’m honestly surprised this is only #3 on this list considering how much I loved this one back when it came out, and don’t get me wrong, it’s still a song I love to this day, just... a bit less. Maybe it’s because of overplay? I’m not exactly sure considering #1 was also played very often and I never ever got tired of it. And it’s well written, and it’s not every day that you hear a song about two dead people talking about the wrath of the gods after their city was engulfed in ash.

So yeah. Not sure what happened there. I hope this band is eventually gonna have another hit like this one. Bastille, more of Pompeii and less of Happier, please.

2 - Dangerous (David Guetta)

US: Not on the list / FR: #8

A few months ago I heard Memories by Maroon 5 and I was instantly filled with a truely disproportionate amount of rage for such a bland pop song. See, I love it when music uses well-known classical tunes and completely changes their context and tone, but Memories doesn’t do any of that, it’s just the Pachelbel canon with some bad lyrics on top. So yeah, it’s a pet peeve.

Dangerous, on the other hand, is a song mixing a small loop of Toccata & Fugue in D minor and it basically uses it as an ominous pseudo-police siren in a song about illegally cruising a car with your possibly criminal, possibly gangster crush and not knowing if you’re scared, in love or feeling the thrill of adventure, or all of that at once. I. Love this damn song.

When the only bad thing I have to say about a song talking about driving at night way too fast is “eh this isn’t as good as Kavinsky”, you know you’ve found gold.

1 - A Sky Full of Stars (Coldplay & Avicii)

US: #51 / FR: #9

As much as I love Dangerous, there wasn’t any doubt about what would top this list. I’ve spent about ten lists explaining how my appreciation of Coldplay kept growing over time and four lists explaining how much I loved Avicii, and this song is the best of both worlds. The first time I heard it, I was driving and, no joke, I was so overwhelmed I had to park my car to properly concentrate on the song.

One day I will have to paint this song to explain how fantastic it looks and I’d have to use purple, china blue and pink watercolor inks and basically paint a psychedelic night sky full of little lights and yeah, this is basically another of these songs that are deeply satisfying on a synesthetic level, and it joins this very select club with the blue song called “Blue”, the song full of bright flashes called “Lights” and the song that looks like gentle pulsing lights called “Fireflies”. I’m trying (and failing) to learn how to play it on the piano. I know the chords, and I suck, but I’m very determined.

On top of that deeply satisfying visual, there’s the soft vocals so specific of the Ghost Stories album, and the very simple, very cute lyrics, and I simply hear “'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars, I'm gonna give you my heart” and I die instantly. This is high quality musical fluff. Come to think of it, this list is full of it, and this is the Ultimate Fluffy Song. One fluff to rule them all.

Sidenote, considering I fell into the DW audios right when this song came out, that’s one of my theme songs for Eight and Charley. Because of course it is.

Next up: The beginning of a progressive drop in quality but you wouldn’t be able to tell considering how long this list of honorable mentions is

[apptowonder]

Dear Orthodox Progressives

I love you. I really do. And for the most part I love your work. Many of you have given me hope as a queer Orthodox Christian that not only is there a place for me in our tradition, but that our tradition is in fact very much about the sacrament of the human person, and the love that emerges when all of us, gay, bi, trans, and queer, live into Christ’s resurrection life. Your thoughtful, kind and luminous words rehabilitated church for me when I left the arid, rigid evangelicalism of my youth. You help me to stand strong in the face of the demagogues, the Orthodox fundamentalists, Byzantine imperialists, and all the people who seek to distort our beautiful faith in service of their own arrogance and fear of the other.

So I hope you know I appreciate you. And we need to talk about who you are, who we are, and where we’re going. We need to talk especially about the notion of respectability.

We are part of a conciliar tradition. What that means in the modern world is increasingly difficult to define, but I do feel that one of the strengths of our tradition is that we place a high value on consensus, contemplation, and harmonious accord before moving forward. This ethos has made us much more resistant* to splits and schisms, and has generally preserved a certain degree of humility among our leaders. That said, one of the things I feel we forget is that part of waiting for the Holy Spirit to “confirm” our councils and decisions as godly is that we need to step out in faith and give the Spirit something to work with. The Spirit did not tell the Apostles to stay in Jerusalem after they received the baptism by fire, but they heard the word of God to go to the ends of the Earth. We are still a part of that motion of bringing the good news to all people, and if we remain static then we are not doing our part to offer up the world for the life of the world to God.

Why am I talking about this? I’m saying it because I’m concerned that there is a tendency among Orthodox progressives to stagnate and balk at the work of faithful Christians (Orthodox and otherwise) who use more radical approaches to try and speak prophetic truth about God that we deeply need to hear. Nik Jovcic-Sas of Orthodox Provocateur carried an icon of the Theotokos with a rainbow halo gradient in a Pride parade in Belgrade, Serbia. This unsurprisingly sparked a conservative and fundamentalist backlash. More surprisingly to me, it sparked a progressive backlash. Many of you said that he was “profaning” the sacred icon by blending it with the rainbow. Some have even attacked Nik’s character and theology as being antithetical to Orthodoxy. I am troubled by our willingness to turn upon our own people. Would I have done a protest in the way Nik did? I don’t know. I’m not in touch with the Slavic Orthodox communities in the Old World. As a convert primarily running in American Greek circles, my witness to justice and inclusion will necessarily be shaped by the situation of my community. But given the long history of violence against LGBTQ+ people in Serbia and elsewhere, much of it sanctioned or even led by the Church, forgive me if I feel it’s a bit gauche to condemn someone who is clearly trying to witness to the love of Christ in a way that is very visible and frightening to the oppressive powers that be. 

We may not agree with someone’s approach, but think of it this way. Radical activists are on the front lines of the fight we’re all engaged in, to make our church more clearly reflect the transformative love of the gospel. We don’t all have to be fighting on the front lines. There is much to be said for creating hospices for the wounded, for holding space within a more traditional understanding. But the forces that seek to oppress us don’t care whether we’re using their language or not. They will come for the Orthodox moderate who writes thinkpieces on re-evaluating the role of women in ministry and measured historical pieces on adelphopoiesis just as vehemently as they will attack the “Orthodox drag queen”. Look at what happened to Fr Robert Arida. Consider the backlash that Met. Kallistos Ware, a bishop, has received for what are really very mild critiques of the church’s pastoral approach to LGBTQ people.** Radicals create a space of freedom, liberation and hope we can all operate in. There are many gifts, but the same Spirit. Not all of us need to be doing what Nik is doing. But all of us need to come together and support especially those who are pushing and expanding the boundaries of what Orthodoxy can be. Those people make it safe for the rest of us to do our more introspective, thoughtful wrestling with the Truth. But if we force the radicals to conform to our ideas of what isn’t “rocking the boat”, we leave ourselves open to censure once those radicals are pushed out of the public eye. When it no longer is socially acceptable to make Pride icons or talk about the possibility of sanctity in, say, non-monogamous or non-marital relationships (for example)***, when no one will speak up for the radical, then the conservative bishops and hierarchs will begin to come down hard upon the moderate-progressive, and soon instead of the vibrant, multifaceted truth of Christ we will only have the cold voice of traditionalism, fundamentalism and idolatry.

I know my words may land harshly on some of us. I hope it’s clear that they are offered in a spirit of love, and exhortation to greater good works. We have all of us a part to play, but we need each other. I pray that we might all abide in God together, and never forget that we cannot truly make our church better unless we are willing to fight for the dignity and inclusion of all people, especially those whose ideas of church are more radical than our own.

Sincerely,

A Layman of the Eastern Church

*Though not immune, there are Orthodox splinter sects, whether we wish to acknowledge their existence or not

**This is not a call-out or a criticism of Met Kallistos’ remarks to the Wheel Journal. I really respect his willingness to speak out. I bring this up to call attention to the fact that he has suffered a disproportionate degree of backlash, and has likely avoided censorship primarily because of his high ecclesial rank. If even bishops aren’t safe, then what hope do priests or laity have if the space for prophetic critique is taken away?

***For the record, my own views on these matters are complicated. The point here is not to state an opinion one way or the other, but rather to say that these kinds of conversations can’t be silenced if we’re going to have a chance at surviving the onslaught of suppression, queerphobia, xenophobia and dead traditionalism. We may not agree with the answers that some of our siblings in Christ arrive at, but so long as they are pushing to make the Eucharistic assembly wider and more inclusive, it is imperative that we listen and come together.

[tanadrin]

Reordberend

(part 18 of ?; first; previous; next)

They went on, down through the rough, channeled terrain at the mouth of the valley, down onto the icy strip of land that lay between the hills and the sea. There was no path here, no markers of any kind, and Katherine wondered how far she was from the place where she’d come ashore. Finally, as the twilight glow on the horizon had begun to fade, Ælfric started walking a little faster, moving with more purpose. Katherine had the feeling they were getting close to their destination.

They rounded a rocky outcrop that jutted up through the ice and snow, a big dark shoulder of the land; and on the other side, framed against the dark sky, was an immense shape. Katherine couldn’t make heads or tails of it at first; it was too top-heavy to be a hill. As they got closer, she realized it was the hull of a ship. A pretty big one, to be all alone out here on the shore, maybe two hundred meters from one end to the other. When they were close enough for their lanterns to cast light on it, she saw white-painted walls, streaked with dark rust; great big holes in the side, some clearly made by hands scavenging steel, some, perhaps, the result of reefs or weathering. Katherine paused near the bow, and lifted her lantern-staff up, trying to make out the markings high above her head. WINC- -R was all she could read.

“Come,” Ælfric said. He led her along the keel of the bent-over ship, until they came to a crack at ground level that seemed to go all the way up to the top; it was big enough for several people to walk abreast into. She could see stars through it. It ran all the way through the ship, as though it had been ripped in half. They went in, and Katherine found the ruin provided a decent shelter against the the constant shore-wind. It was actually pretty peaceful inside. But the looming darkness overhead did unnerve her a little.

“Be careful,” Ælfric said. “Stay close. This place is old; it is dangerous.”

But he went confidently forward; he seemed to know the path. They did not go up; they walked through what must have been the cargo hold, until they came at last to the far end of the stern. Old crates and pieces of debris littered the ground here; the floor beneath them was ripped away, exposing ice-free, stony ground. Ælfric leaned his staff against a bulkhead, then went to a big bowl-shaped thing in the middle of the space; Katherine couldn’t see what he was doing at first, and then a fire roared to life, beating back some of the darkness. Ælfric dragged a crate a little closer to the brazier, then sat down on it, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting out a long breath. He suddenly looked rather tired. The bright firelight threw the lines of his weather-beaten face into deep relief. He motioned for Katherine to sit, too.

“Is this ship what you wanted to show me?” Katherine asked.

“Almost. Not yet,” was all Ælfric said. He took some jerky from his pack, and tore it in half; they ate together in silence for a few minutes. Then Ælfric stood, and walked to the very back of the room. Katherine followed.

There, where the ragged, torn bulkhead met the ground, there were seven long, low mounds scraped in the dirt. Above them, on the steel plate, gouged into the surface, were drawings. Faces, animals, words. Words, Katherine suddenly realized, she could read without effort, words in English. The largest were names and numbers. Dates, actually. Katherine realized she was looking at graves.

“What is this place?”

“Look,” Ælfric said. “Read.”

Katherine read. ALFRED ROBERTS. 2175-2229. Of Milwkee, Wisc. Even after all other dfficulties, our dparture ws delayd--the govt of NZ refused at 1st to give us permission, saying they did nt wish to be rsponsible fr our rescue. Dspite our assurance, tht we neither dsired nor needed thr assistance, they hindered us 4 weeks. Then very bad weather; we cd not set sail. JULIA TOAL. 2182-2222. Dparted 8th May, far later thn hoped. Winter closing quickly. Too late in summer by far. Bt we were unanimous; would nt wait another year. Wd accept any difficulty, for wht we wished to accomplish. PERRY MILLER. 2160-2219.

It was a record of a journey, interspersed with names and years. There were many more names here than just seven; if these were dates of birth and death, all these people had died frightfully young.

Ælfric pointed to the first name. “Ælfræd, son of Lawrence. His son was Ælfwine; Ælfwine’s daughter was Ælfgyfu; Ælfgyfu’s daughter was Ælfsteorra; Ælfsteorra was my mother. He is my ancestor.”

“What happened here?”

Ælfric looked at Katherine, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“These dates.” Katherine pointed at the first few names. “Dates of death?”

“Yes. Ælfræd died in the tenth year. Julia, in the third. Perry, in the first.”

“They were not old.”

Ælfric cocked his head. “This land makes old men of the young. It carries off the child and the father and mother alike. The first years here were the hardest of all.”

“But there are only seven graves here.”

“No.”

Ælfric took his lantern-staff up, and pointed it down, back the way they had come. In the brighter light of the fire, Katherine could see that this was not the only bare patch of ground here in the cargo hold; the floor had been pulled up in even intervals, down along the length of the ship, all the way back to the place they had entered from. There were more than forty more graves here.

“These were men and women honored among us,” Ælfric said, indicating the seven graves they now stood next to. “But many gave their lives in the landtaking. It was not easy. Few had dared to try to make a home in this land of winters before we came. None tried for a long time after. It seems, from all you have told us, that they even forgot we were here.”

“You must have come during troubled times.” Katherine looked at the dates again. “Right in the middle of the Collapse. You might have even been alone here for many decades.” Katherine had done a bit of research on the history of the continent before she came. Amundsen-Scott had closed right around the turn of the century; McMurdo had lasted only a decade or so longer. For most of the 23rd century, the only human presence in Antarctica had been a few Chilean and Argentinian bases on the Peninsula, a desultory claim to what everybody thought of as a worthless patch of ice, held on to more for reasons of national pride than anything else.

The hundred years or so from the middle of the 22nd century to the middle of the 23rd had not been a good time for anybody. For various reasons, the whole human race at once had seemed to find itself in the middle of a dark forest, with no clear way forward. A vision of the future that it had carried with it, in one form or another, for centuries, the vision of steady (if not monotonic) forward progress, the vision of hope, the vision of a world they could make better eventually (even if they did not know how just at the moment) had absented itself. And instead, for a long time, nations started looking inward. Governments feared to look weak, feared to rely on their neighbors, feared that expressing hope for peace and prosperity made them seem naive. Instead, they seemed to decide, now was the time for all the serious people to admit, once again, that struggle was the real truth of existence.

It wasn’t that civilization fell. The Collapse was a fairly dramatic name for the period, albeit one that had stuck, because to many of the people living through it, it did feel like the end of the world. What it had really been was a series of political and economic shocks. Even throughout that entire century, the world had not stayed still. There was new art, new technology, new ambitions, if you knew where to look. But the tenor of the era was one of paranoia, nativism, and tyranny. Katherine’s own homeland had spent the better part of it under a series of right-wing dictatorships. Other parts of the world--India, China, Japan--had fared much worse.

It had broken, like a fever ending, in the 2250s. There were lots of reasons: advancements in technology and medicine, and the economic revolutions of the global south finally ended the endless series of shocks and recessions that had plagued the world. Geoengineering finally stabilized the climate. Some even said the real credit went to the artistic revolutions of the era. That it stopped being unfashionable to dream again, to imagine what a utopian future could look like. And all that long darkness--and all the time before it--had been repressed. Not forgotten, exactly. But you didn’t like to dwell on it. That was the dark ages. Nevermind that it had not been all that dark. That many millions had lived and struggled (and wept and laughed) in that time, that it was a time as suffused with human life as any. It was painful to think about. And so, few people did. Katherine was just as guilty of that as anybody. Why trap yourself in the past, when there is a bright and endless future ahead of you?

“Why did they come here, Ælfric? If it was going to be so hard?”

Ælfric gave Katherine… a look. She wasn’t sure what kind of look. Like he was sizing her up. Or nailing her down.

“You survived.”

“What?”

“You survived. You are a survivor.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ælfric nodded, more to himself than anything. “Mæwstan found you on the shore, three days from here, after you had walked God alone knows what distance; we found the rest of your ship some days later, and the crew. They were all dead. Killed by the storm that marooned you here, or by the freezing sea. You should not have lived.”

“I’m not baseline, like you. I have, uh,” Katherine searched for the word, “I have improvements. Machines, in my body.”

“Your machinae have not functioned since you came here.”

Katherine stiffened, startled. “How do you know that?”

“I have watched you. You have suffered fatigue, soreness, pain. You have eaten with us, eaten our food, and had pains in your gut.” Well, that was embarassing. No, the food had not always agreed with her. “You have slept badly. The long nights, they make you depressed. Anxious. I have watched you closely, outlander Katherine. You have endured what few outlanders would endure, or could. I have noticed. Also, Leofe told me.

“I was wrong to want you exiled. In my defense, I did not think it would be your death, not truly. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Perhaps I wished to absolve myself of that guilt. But I really thought that one who had walked the ice from the northern shore would find a way to survive, even if we turned her out of our hearths. But that was wrong. Even if it were true, you did not deserve that, and I am sorry.”

He said it flatly, like he was simply observing a fact of nature. The ice is cold. Penguins like to swim. I was wrong to try to have you killed. Katherine resisted the urge to give him a hug.

“It is the prejudice of my people that all outlanders are weak of spirit. That they do not know what they live for, and so they do not know how to fight for it. Perhaps it is not so. Perhaps some of you are strong. Leofe also said you are not like the other outlanders; that you come from a people apart even in your homeland. A people who have not forgotten their past, and so are not wholly of the present. If that is so, I see now why John sent you to us. You alone, perhaps, could understand.

“So understand this. Our foremothers and our forefathers came here because they could do nothing else. Those were grim years in the countries they hailed from. Years of dark hearts, years of narrow sight. Years in which the troubles of the world pressed in on them, hard like a prison, from which they could not escape.

“This--” and he gestured at the carved steel surfaces around them “--this is the annals of the first years of our people. It is written also in our books, but I wanted you to see with your own eyes, how it was at the beginning. The letters we carved into the hard metal and the graves we scratched into the hard ground. Because in the hardness is a lesson.

“They were not hard people, not at the beginning. We do not prize hardness of heart. We are not cruel, whatever--whatever our failings may sometimes be. We do not value cruelty. Because we would not be cruel, because we would not admit the darkness into our hearts, because we would not surrender, we could not remain. Perry, Julia, Alice, the others buried here, they kept a jewel hidden in their breasts, a jewel which burned like fire, a jewel which even in the long darkness to which no Antarctic winter can compare, warmed them and gave them purpose.

“They wanted a place where they could be themselves. Where they could, despite the purposes of other men and women, build a community of the heart. But how could they do that? The world was crowded and claimed, with high walls at every turn. They were few in number. There was only one place where the laws and walls did not run.”

“Antarctica?”

Ælfric nodded.

“The land of many winters. They bought a ship. They gathered all the things they needed; they expected much hardship. Even so, it was harder. But they fared forth, came to these icy shores, and sought a refuge here.”

“You make it sound almost religious.”

“The separation of the religious from the secular is a contrivance of your world, Katherine. We do not have a religion you would recognize, but yes, we are religious in our fashion. And we do not separate that from the other elements of our life.”

“You make it sound like you’re primitivists. Some kind of intentional throwback.”

“Ha!” Ælfric seemed to be genuinely amused by this. “That because we speak a dead tongue, we wish to recreate a dead people? A dead culture? Do you think we are Angles in spirit? Playing at the ancient world?”

“You live a difficult life. Not unlike the people who spoke your tongue before.”

“Our foremothers and forefathers did choose this tongue for a reason--but it was not because they fancied themselves ancient folk of Britain. I don’t think any of them were even English.

“They chose it because it had been forgotten. The study of the past was deeply unfashionable in their day. I gather, from your ignorance, it has grown only more so since they set out. They wanted a language that they could make their own. And they wanted a language they could give to the voiceless land that they chose to inhabit. We spoke of names before, yes? They wanted a new tongue for their landscape, both the landscape around them and the landscape within themselves. They sought a new understanding of what was possible for them. They sought something the world around them lacked--hope.”

“And they needed a new language to find that?”

“Or an old one. A language from a time when, as then, the world seemed to be dreary, and speeding towards its end. A language from a time when the people huddled together on a cold island surrounded by the deep, dark sea, and wondered what lay beyond it. A language from a time when we knew what value the knowledge of the past held, and we husbanded every little scrap of it, fearful to lose the meagerest portion, lest we forget it was possible to hope for a better future. We, of course, do not look to Christ for our salvation, as they did. We find it in different places. But we find it.”

“The world has changed, you know. It’s not half so dark, or half so dreary. It’s been a long time since the time of your forefathers and foremothers. Why do you stay here, where life is hard, where you have to struggle to survive? Why not rejoin the world?”

“We would not lose ourselves.”

“The world is a big place. It has room enough for you.”

Ælfric shook his head. “Not for us. You are too optimistic. You do not understand. Our tale does not end with our arrival on these shores. It does not end with our move from the wreck to the Valleys. It does not end with our adoption of the Tongue, and our building of the fanes. You do not yet understand. Maybe you will, in time. But not yet.”

With that, as if Katherine had somehow transgressed, Ælfric’s urge to speak seemed to end. He sat quietly, staring into the fire, leaving Katherine to peruse the writings on the wall on her own. So she read. She read the record of the first years of the Dry Valleys People, read the records of their deaths and their griefs, the records of the things that had driven them forth, and of the hope they retained, even when it seemed to her they had little enough to hope for. The cramped, telegraphic style of the language only got more so as it went along, and then it began to lapse into the new tongue, and then it ended; and when it did, Katherine looked back at Ælfric. He was asleep now, wrapped up in a bedroll close to the fire. Katherine suddenly realized just how tired she was, and using her pack as a pillow, lay down next to him. She closed her eyes, listening to the rushing of the wind through the bones of the old ship, and before she knew it, she was asleep, and dreaming of the sea.

[liturgicalliving]

Rituals, as seen through Memorial Day, by Fr. Andrew Stephen Damick

WHY DO PEOPLE NOT REMEMBER THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEMORIAL DAY AND VETERANS DAY?

(NB: If you do know the difference and always remember it, this isn't a criticism of you. In fact, it's not a criticism of any person nor of these civic holidays. It's an analysis of a phenomenon. If you're interested in that, read on.)

Every year, we see article upon article and numerous social media posts reminding everyone that Memorial Day and Veterans Day are different. A handful will also mention Armed Forces Day.

In case you're confused, Memorial Day (last Monday of May) is about those who died in military service (sometimes including all veterans who are dead), Veterans Day (Nov. 11) is about those who served in the past but did not die while doing it, and Armed Forces Day is about those currently serving. (For my non-American readers, these are all American civic holidays. This is the context I'm writing about here.)

But why is it that people seem to mix these up? Why do we see so many reminders that the day isn't about backyard barbecues? (With apologies to people who, like me, use the word "barbecue" to refer to a dish and not an event nor technique -- Eastern Carolina pulled pork forever! But of course I will happily eat all barbecues. Anyway...)

Here's my theory: Holidays -- holy days -- in the traditional religious sense, whether Christian or anything else, are marked not merely by a date on a calendar or simply a theme to remember. Rather they are marked by liturgical celebrations.

In other words, there are specific rituals that people engage in that allow for participation in the (usually historical) event that is being connected with. And there are also usually pre-seasons of anticipation and post-seasons of denouement.

So, for Easter we have Lent and Holy Week and then finally the explosion of joy at the Paschal vigil itself, and for Christmas, we have Advent and then the somewhat quieter happiness of the Nativity. And there are 40- or or 12- or 8-day seasons following. And there may well be gifts and parties, etc., that go along with these feast days, but the heart of the celebration is ritual participation.

Even in non-liturgical churches, you get something ritualistic for these feast days, though often rather reduced in comparison to the liturgical churches -- think of candlelight services, caroling, sunrise services, etc.

But there is something that has been happening to those feast days in some of those churches that I think gives us the key to why Memorial Day and Veterans Day are so muddled in so many minds.

In many churches, the lead-up to those feast days may be reduced or even non-existent. So the actual celebration on the day is often also much less in terms of time and complexity. This makes human sense -- with less anticipation, it's not as big of a deal when you arrive. And there is often zero post-season denouement. And it is exactly in those contexts that we see the rise of reminders for "the reason for the season."

Christmas trees and bunnies and candy and presents are the key markers for those holidays for many people. Why? Is it because they're just bad people?

My sense is that it's because those are the rituals they're participating in. In other words, the things that you do regarding a holiday are what defines its themes for you.

You may not think of Christmas morning present-opening as a liturgical ritual, but it absolutely is. The same is true of Easter egg hunts. And if those are your rituals for those holidays, then that is what those holidays will "mean" for you, no matter how many "keep Christ in Christmas" sermons you hear or bumper stickers you read.

Or what about Thanksgiving? Why do so many people call it "Turkey Day"? Well, what ritual are they engaging in?

Okay, back to Memorial Day in particular (since that's today).

Memorial Day once was marked (and still is, for many people) by decorating the graves of departed soldiers, sailors, etc., and was appropriately referred to as "Decoration Day" historically in many places. (The history of Memorial Day in the US is rather complex but kind of interesting. There doesn't seem to be a single origin-point that can be indicated as the "authentic" historical celebration. It's a collection of merged local traditions.)

So the ritual people engaged in was to visit cemeteries, honor the dead, and perhaps say prayers together. And there was often even a ritual meal of sorts, sometimes eaten off the top of the graves. Some people still do these things, but I'd be willing to guess that most don't.

If that is what Memorial Day is for you, I can see no way that you would not know that it is about the departed.

If, however, your ritual participation in Memorial Day is about parades or grilling in your backyard or a day off school or work (which are all fine things that I enjoy myself), then it is rather easier for the commemoration to get muddled in your mind.

There might be some kind of military imagery happening in those rituals (especially parades), but it's not like they're going to be parading dead soldiers or gravestones, so the element of death may well be less easy connect with.

My point here is not to criticize anyone's celebration of Memorial Day or any other day. Rather, the point is that if we want a holiday to connect us with its intended meaning, we should think in terms of ritual and not so much in terms of reminders. Reminders are great, but in the end, who you are and what you know has a lot more to do with what you do than with what you think or agree with.

And when it comes to holidays, even if we try to get away from it, the rituals are what makes them what they are. Without rituals, a date on the calendar is unlikely even to get remembered.

I mean, how many of you started this little essay not having even heard of Armed Forces Day? (It's on the third Saturday of May, by the way.) Aside from a few parades, it almost doesn't exist for most people.

And when we do have rituals for these various days, we should think about exactly how the rituals connect us with what is being marked. So, if you don't have anything about death in your ritual for Memorial Day, it's probably a good idea to ask yourself how well it's doing the job.

I wish blessed memory and everlasting repose in Christ to all your departed.

[dragonlover56]

I posted 1,261 times in 2022

That's 1,039 more posts than 2021!

18 posts created (1%)

1,243 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@valenrambles

@dracofelin

@spookywitchnerd24

@shiftythrifting

@sylvaniian

I tagged 1,256 of my posts in 2022

#not my art - 247 posts

#aesthetic - 116 posts

#art prompt - 84 posts

#warrior cats - 80 posts

#cats - 52 posts

#nature - 38 posts

#me - 36 posts

#blood/// - 26 posts

#pokémon - 26 posts

#religion/// - 24 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#they even agreed not to tell priya’s family bc it might set them off (i think she’s hindi so that adds another layer bc stereotypically the

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

If I had a nickel for every person I know who has a cat named after the serial killer Dexter, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

The fact that they know each other has to be worth at least two more.

1 note - Posted August 31, 2022

#4

Body horror ahead beware

I got my wisdom teeth out Friday and it’s healed to the point I can actually feel the meaty holes in the back of my mouth and I absolutely hate them

The worst part is I’m incredibly paranoid about getting stuff in the holes, especially now that I can feel them, but the back of the mouth is where humans are supposed to chew most foods so I can barely eat anything, which as you can imagine is doing wonders for my digestive tract (/s), which means I’m super nauseous, especially because I can feel the awful texture of the big meaty holes in the back of my mouth

Long story short, I hate it here

1 note - Posted July 13, 2022

#3

I haven’t changed my bio since 2016 and don’t plan too anytime soon or in the future so

Dead/Frog /// They/He/She /// 20

If you’re looking for the FR stuff that’s at @dhm-rising

My trigger tags are formatted as #subject/// but sometimes I forget

I also don’t tag death mentions unless it’s a spoiler but I do tag dead things

Please don’t look for discourse here it is never the day and I am never the one unless I ask

5 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#2

Honestly, as much as I liked Velma x Shaggy when I was a kid, I am absolutely over the m o o n that we finally got confirmation that Velma is canonically gay

I could’ve used that kind of representation as a kid, (even if my parents probably would’ve banned the show in our house bc ooga booga gay people bad) but that wouldn’t have made it any less important just by it’s existence

I do kind of wish it could’ve been a more permanent character (maybe even bring back Marcie bc I adore Marcie), but we don’t know if Coco will be reoccurring just yet (unless she was actually the villain, but I haven’t watched the movie yet so I digress), but that’s honestly probably an entire other bridge to cross in probably not the near future just because it’s taken us t h i s long to get confirmation of what I think we all know

Also bonus note: I had no idea that Haley Kiyoko was Velma in the 2009 film series until just before writing this post, but my gods talk about dramatic irony lmao

13 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I call this “Smokey Ponders The Orb”

13 notes - Posted January 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[guidanceofficer-fr]

Astral Discoveries

Prompt: Space-themed lore!

I decided to actually focus on the stars for once.

Summary: A troubled flight controller of the Baikonur Spaceflight Agency contemplates the importance of his role. A stranger from the Starfall Aisles helps him deal with grief after two cosmonauts died on his control team’s watch.

Warnings: Extensive discussions of death, guilt & spaceflight disaster. Also, very long. I’m sorry, mobile users. (It’ll read-more on reblogs, I swear!)

@fr-community

Clear skies were a rare treat in the Shifting Expanse. They came only once a month, or every two months, if at all for a whole season. The breaks in stormy weather were traditionally a time for Lightning dragons to cram in as much outdoor labor as possible, while they weren't under the constant taunting of the stormy sky. Though there were no electrons hopping busily from atom to atom in the few clouds above, the dragons who harnessed them were busy far below making their own sparks of creative magic happen. Even dragons working desk jobs like Pathfinder felt the rush of the sunny swells; as projects were completed quicker down at the Launch Base, the demand on the workers in Mission Operations grew too.

But Pathfinder had no urge to rush now, under a clear starry sky. He'd been rushing for the past seven months to keep up with a tight schedule from the Spire. The whole agency had. It was an old story: the Stormcatcher needed things done /now,/ so people cut corners to get the work done. He'd notice, after all, if you faked a few figures. So the work had to be done honestly, and fast. But quality takes time, time the Baikonur Spaceflight Agency hadn't had. They all rushed like workers under sunny skies to complete the newest crewed spacecraft and the systems that would support it. Hasted decisions were made; "it'll have to do" became the unofficial motto in all the Agency's divisions, adopted by dragons who didn't have time to relax, to think deeply and thoroughly about the problems they'd been given, and solve them in the best manner. Everyone knew if they'd pulled off the mission, it would be a miracle.

But miracles don't exist in Lightning. The sky strikes wherever the land beneath it is vulnerable. If you leave yourself exposed, you're struck. Miracles don't save you. Preperation does.

That day at work had been the hardest day of Pathfinder's entire career. There are no words to describe the feeling in your bones as you watch a rocket explode eighty seconds into its launch. Dragonkind, for all its ingenious, couldn't invent a language capable of describing the inescapable sickness of watching a vessel of hope--a physical testament to the dreams and work of an entire world of dragons--turn into an atom bomb, shaking the windows of the blockhouse with a terrifying force, obliterating the poor crew within. There was nothing in Pathfinder's lexicon that could describe the horrifying beauty of cracking a firework in the dawn on the high desert, the blinding light which cleansed Sonrieth briefly of the unforgivable sin of incompetent engineering, an angel of probability, judge of Murphy's law, carrying out its awesome duty to smite down any vehicle vulnerable to its own flaws. It paralyzed him, even now, to remember that day.

And yet, in the moment, Pathfinder had been anything but paralyzed. The holy fire had cleansed him of any emotion, and all that was left was cold, dead precision. It became an obsession, checking over the logs for any funnies in his own console, then moving to help his more paralyzed team members process the information while it was still fresh in their minds. He'd been given congratulations (or, more accurately, been acknowledged) for how his actions helped out his team. In the moment, he'd performed the best he could have.

Doing his best work wasn't a comforting feeling anymore. Doing his best work hadn't saved two starry-eyed cosmonauts. No. The agency had been unprepared. And he was a part of that agency, meaning part of that guilt lay on him. He wished he'd had some of the experiences of the military types in the control center, who had trained with the Air Force before being transferred to Baikonur. At least they had some experience with mortality. Comparatively, Pathfinder had lived a sheltered life, teaching at computer museums and studying software engineering.

Then again, he shared a space with people who'd worked with test pilots, not all of whom came back. They hadn't seemed any less shocked than he was. But what did he know? Social cues were the last thing he was looking for when he was stressed.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

It took Pathfinder a moment to realize someone had spoken to him. When he did, it startled him, and he froze and turned an ear to the speaker.

"The- The stars, I mean. You guys must not get to see them much from out here."

Pathfinder nodded. He wanted to speak, but a pain in his throat told him when his voice came out it would be unstable.

The dragon behind him was silent for an awkward portion of time. Pathfinder wondered if he was waiting for a response. He didn't quite understand what he was supposed to say, though, other than a note of affirmation... It wasn't worth revealing how shaky his voice was feeling just to add a "yes." Still, though, the stranger stayed silent, so he closed his eyes and beckoned his courage to speak. Just when he was about to, though, he heard the other dragon's voice again:

"If it's alright, I'd like to sit with you."

Pathfinder gulped to keep his emotions from getting the better of him. "Yes. That's alright."

He heard motion behind him, and a fairly large Imperial lay on all fours next to him. Without waiting for another word from Pathfinder, he spoke again. This time, he was softer, about as soft as an Imperial could hope to be. "They called us all out from the other launchpad in the Aisles. My flight came in a few hours ago. I don't- I don't know what to say."

Pathfinder's voice was barely a whisper. "Me neither."

He was tempted to introduce himself, but he stayed quiet. An introduction to another Agency member would mean reciting his title as Guidance Operations Officer and Software Engineer for Baikonur Mission Operations, and MO wasn't something he wanted to think about right now.

"Thiore sure is bright tonight."

Pathfinder nodded, though he wasn't sure how the other dragon knew the fifth planet from the sun apart from the other stars in the sky. "Hmm."

As if reading his mind, he shifted his weight to point. "She's the bright one up there," he said. "The one just to the- to the left of that lightning tower to the northeast."

"Interesting. I thought planets didn't twinkle."

He couldn't see his companion, but he practically feel the expression change. "Twinkling has nothing to with whether it's a star or a planet. See- see, it has to do with- with the atmosphere. The atmosphere distorts the light from the star, or the object, so planets appear to twinkle too."

"Well, I stand corrected."

"Don't- don't feel bad about it. I've heard that same question from plenty of other smart dragons."

He smiled, and Pathfinder could hear it. He considered that a fair response, and didn't feel a need to add anything else to the conversation.

The pair lay under the stars for hours. It was hard for Pathfinder to fully relax; he was used to being on top of everything, or trying his hardest to be on top of everything, needing to know exactly where the spacecraft was and everything that could be pushing it off course. It was why he worked with a team to start with. No one person could handle that task without other dragons there to process data and hand it to him to use, and they needed his information as much as he did. So everything was a conversation, every little funny, every speck of error... and every number in the trajectory of a broken spacecraft that led the Range Safety Officer to explode the remains of a decapitated rocket before it hurtled down towards the town miles downrange.

"I- This is- This is an odd question... I'm not sure how to phrase it..."

Another awkward silence passed. He figured he couldn't complain, considering he could barely talk at the moment himself.

"Do you think they're up there?"

He turned his head. "Who?"

"The cosmonauts."

It hit Pathfinder like a brick to hear those two words. He felt a painful lump in his throat that he didn’t know was there. He shut his eyes quickly, trying to keep hot tears from rolling down his face. He wasn’t about to sob in front of a colleague. It had never happened, and it wasn’t going to happen today.

“I can’t think of anywhere else for them to be, can you?”

He heard a sigh next to him, as if it took physical labor to bring words to his comrade’s lips.

“No. I- I can’t.”

The wetness of tears on his eyes felt cold in the desert evening.

“And you know what?”

Pathfinder didn’t turn his head, fearing his tears were more visible than he wanted them to be. “Hmm?”

“I think- I think-” He sighed. “I think they’d want us to keep trying.”

He felt a grin form on his lips. He blinked, trying to keep tears in, but he felt one on his cheek.

“I think that’s a good guess.”

“No… You see… They didn’t die because they wanted to give up. They died because they were as determined as we were to get up there and touch the stars.”

“And we rushed them,” Pathfinder almost spat out. “We were too caught up in the stars, we didn’t focus on what we could have done down here-”

“We did what we could, and-”

“But we didn’t!”

Pathfinder’s breath was heavy. He was whispering, but with such force his words were practically a hiss. “We didn’t do what we could! We did shoddy work, and now two innocent cosmonauts are dead! While you guys were out-” He gasped- “While you guys were out at Tereshkova launching tracking satellites, we worked our asses off to keep up with deadlines that we knew we couldn’t meet! We knew we weren’t ready, and now two dragons-”

He stopped himself. He’d never thrown a tantrum at work before. But he’d never had blood on his hands, either. He didn’t know how to wash it off.

The air was silent. A satellite passed by somewhere up above. Pathfinder focused his vision on it. He wondered if he could judge the height of the object by how fast it was orbiting. But he’d already missed when it crossed over the horizon; there was no use counting how long it took to cross over the other. Ah, well. He kept his eyes fixed on it. It was like a miracle, he realized, all the work it took to put that thing up there, that it even bothered to stay.

Was that what he was supposed to be? A miracle worker?

“... I think you’re right to be angry, and I think they’d think so too.”

He sighed. “You think?”

“Well, I- I can tell that you have a lot of passion for what you do, even if you don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t know you, but out in the Aisles, well, we don’t ignore things like that. We channel our passion. That’s why Arcane dragons can be so intent on being dreamers. They use those dreams.”

“So what, am I supposed to dream of cosmonauts not being dead?”

“No, I- Listen. Passion doesn’t have to be a dream. It just has to energize you. It has to be enough to wake you up in the evening, or the morning, if you wake up then. It has to be the driving force behind what you do. You need to let it invigorate you, let it ignite the breath inside of you.

“What I’m saying is, I think it’s good that you’re so angry and regretful. In Arcane, we don’t throw that away. We use that anger to remind us to do better.”

Pathfinder nodded. “So I have to feel it fully, so I remember that I never want to feel it again.”

His companion was silent.

“Well… Something like that.”

Pathfinder lay in contemplation for a few moments. It was late, and perhaps it was getting to him; while he thought he’d been contemplated, he’d been thinking of nothing at all. He watched the stars pass above, and realized he’d been watching a constellation get closer and closer to the horizon for the past… god, what time was it? He’d better get back to his dorm; the last thing he needed was to be sleepless during the next weeks’ briefings. He was barely prepared as is. Sleeplessness wouldn’t help.

He stood up and brushed off his feathers. But before he left, he turned to the stranger.

“Thank you for talking with me.”

The Imperial’s eyes were still fixed upwards, searching the skies for lost wanderers of the cosmos.

“It was no trouble at all.”

As he headed back to his dorm, Pathfinder felt a strange sense of ease about him. He wasn’t at ease at all; on the contrary, he was still turning the events of the past few weeks over and over in his mind. But he knew he wasn’t wrong in doing so.

Starting tomorrow, he’d be sure he and his colleagues were exacting in their work. They would be slow and methodical, and refuse to proceed to the final steps of a launch until they were sure that their data was nominal. They would design and construct all the devices necessary for a launch with excessive care, leaving no room for dragonmade error in their work. They would leave as little up to the hands of fate as possible; Murphy was too harsh a judge to trust with cargo as precious as life. When the crew climbed the gantries and strapped themselves into their capsules, he wanted them to know their lives weren’t in the hands of fate, but in the claws of the dragons who’d welded its seams and sottered its avionics, and the few who watched over the craft’s telemetry with care at the launch site and back at Baikonur Mission Control.

He’d wronged those first cosmonauts, and he knew they’d want him to right things again, so no more would die as they had. It was Pathfinder’s duty to ensure that; the stars themselves had told him.

[dramarising-replacement]

Flight Discourse.

Arcane: Total Tumblr rejects: whether this means "soft autistic spacegay uwu", an #aesthete who types in size one right centered pale pink cursive, "HAHA SPACE IS SO COOL (neil degrasse tyson quote)", or one of those people who roleplays their DDLG my little pony OC sex scene on your unrelated post depends on which one you talk to. All, unfortunately, are completely disorganized and borderline ADHD because they can't get a single thing together... except the Celestial Council, ahahahahahahaha

Earth: Now about 5% Facebook grandmas, 85% people piggybacking off their recent Dom success, and 10% people who were there all along for some reason who still believe they are the ""underdogs"" and are better than former champions Ice/Lightning/Plague/Light used to be because they have 5% Facebook grandmas and about 100 people in the whole flight. Can get their flight together for Dom but not for festivals, which are consistently below-average.

Fire: While Earth has their 5% Facebook grandmas, Fire consists of approximately 100% Facebook soccer moms-- the ones who post Minion memes. Or wine memes. Literally the most whitebread flight in existence, between their forgettable userbase, forgettable lore (dragons...that breathe FIRE), zero attempts to capitalize on their Dominance potential unlike fellow small flights Earth and recently Water, and absolutely horrendous ""meme"" Flambebes. I'm sorry, it's terrible. It's Flight Rising minions. Face it.

Ice: Catty rich bitches and accent/G1 whales. The kind of people who have an entire boring lair of color-coordinated gem-gened G1 Wildclaws with expensive accents and the exact same silk/flowerfall outfit. The kind of people who snipe G1 auctions after they've been sold. The kind of people who would secretly take you off G.A.S.P. so they have a shot at a new release. The kind of people who try and buy Kickstarter items with real FR cash on the black market. The kind of people who use the black market. Unfortunately, all the money in the world can't buy a win against Water, who at that point had not won a non-fest conquest in about two years.

Light: Sort of a horrible combination of Earth and Ice: not as good as Dom as Earth, not quite so many whales as Ice, but with an ego big enough for both of them and then some. Despite hosting a large contingent of horrible people, will defend all of them unilaterally because.... they don't like being criticized, and after all all Light members are sweet and innocent rays of sunshine!! Only Light is allowed to criticize people, considering their moaning on both DR and AR-- most users of both are Light. Most of the Dom vultures have flocked off after their humiliating loss to Earth, which is some small consolation, but it only goes to show the kind of people who are left. Interesting but underutilized lore and a wholly boring aesthetic means that if you don't like what Dom there is left or gossiping about other Flights there isn't much for you.

Lightning: They attempt to portray themselves as the "lore flight", but it's all so one-dimensional and repetitive (and a wholesale Portal ripoff) that they really have nothing going for them whatsoever. Eyes? Boring yet still somehow obnoxious on any non-matching dragon. Aesthetic? It's sand. Dominance? Hahahahahaha. That's literally all I can think of, which if you look at every other flight in this post is not a good thing. At least be memorably terrible, not boring terrible.

Nature: Nature is the nice flight. The caring flight. The succulents-and-kitty-cats flight. Sorry, wrong post. They're actually backstabbing cliquey adolescents who try and put up a cutesy front to bring in new members, which fails anyways because they are second-least-attractive after Earth. "These dragons are nice and like plants. But actually THEY HAVE A DARK SIDE OOOOOH" but so does every single other flight except like whitebread Fire so ???? who gives a damn. When they aren't R or those people who vehemently hate R and write essays about all the things that are wrong with R, they are the people who post dashboard-long screeds on animal abuse because someone posted a joke about bear racing and maybe some rich people will capture bears and ride on their backs I guess, which in my book is about on par with Rhea/anti-Rheas. Also the bunny mod is in here.

Plague: Used to be THE dom tryhards, but after their wholly embarrassing and pitiful fall from grace is now about 50% edgelords and 50% the whiniest losers on the face of the planet. Edgelords - You know the drill. Whether it's just dumb "teehee my dragons like BLOOD and drink BLOOD from BABIES" edgelording or straight up like borderline-alert-the-authorities-incest-rape-sex slavery-regular slavery-abuse-whatever-edgelording, Plague has it. Crybabies - You know them. It almost seems like they joined Plague to be personally victimized by every move the admins make, and in fact they did. Non-Plague venue? No gory accents? Shared lore with Nature? God forbid, zombies? These are all personal attacks on Plague and are signs that the admins literally wish they and their families were all dead.

Shadow: Shadow is entirely Plague edgelords except if they were all age 7 and this was their first time on Teh Interwebz XD. Actually, if their first time on Teh Interwebz XD was reading horribly bad creepypasta at their slumber party, and this was their second time. Their lore either attempts to be scary but fails miserably (creepypasta XD) or attempts to be funny and also fails miserably, because Shadow Isn't Funny. It isn't. Ever. Of course it isn't, because all of its members are literal children or timetravelers from 2007, when things such as cookies and drooling and le dark side might have been still novel and sort of cute. It is no longer 2007, and/or most people are no longer children. Also, that introduction post that people use to recruit is stupid and I hate it. Terrible eyes also.

Water: Water still manages to slip under the radar hatewise, so I don't have a good unifying theme for this one. Give me a year when they are probably the new Dom flight and I'll have something. Instead, have a collection of things: Their April Fools "jokes" peaked two years ago and have been going from semifunny to baffling. People who say Tidepappy make me want to rip out my tongue through my sinuses. Their forums are about as fast as a dead sloth. The "oooh water is so mysterious" is so constant that they are actually not at all mysterious and are actually just annoying. Horrid eyes. No Foddart this Wavecrest. Has like two or three mods when other flights have zero mods despite being like 10x bigger. Anyone remember that illiterate edgelord who was in Water who basically told someone to kill themself iirc???? ...Give me a year.

Wind: Wind is exactly the same as Shadow, but replace the creepypasta kiddos with an equal mixture of weeaboos and DeviantArt kiddos and the cookies with their stupid meme dog. Their eyes are better. Otherwise, go read Shadow.

[swanqueeneverafter]

19. The Crocodile, Pt.1

Storybrooke. Present day. Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop. (Mr. Gold is putting a necklace on Belle.) Belle: (Voice breaks:) “It's, um... it's very beautiful. So, what's the occasion?” Mr. Gold: “The occasion is us. We haven't really gotten out much since Storybrooke awakened, so I thought we should see it together.” Belle: (Turns and kisses him:) “Thank you.” Mr. Gold: (Chuckles:) “Don't get your hopes up. The nightlife is extremely limited.” Belle: (Laughs:) “No. That's not what I meant. Thank you for... (Sighs:) for what you're doing, for how you're changing.” (Door bells jingle.) Leroy: “Okay, 'Stiltskin, I want my axe.” Mr. Gold: “I'm sorry, but we're closed.” Leroy: “It's mine. Give it to me.” Mr. Gold: “And yet, still closed.” Leroy: “Just 'cause you possess something don't mean it's yours. Nothing in this shop belongs to you. (To Belle:) And you? How can you be with such a monster? Or maybe you're just another possession, too.” Mr. Gold: “How dare you?! You want your axe? Fine!” (Shoves Leroy against the wall.) Belle: “Rumplestiltskin!” Mr. Gold: “You can have it buried in your chest!” Belle: “Stop! Stop! This isn't you anymore!” Rumplestiltskin: (Turns to her in his old form:) “Oh, it's me, dearie. Always has been, always will be.” (Belle wakes up from a nightmare. She sees that Mr. Gold isn't in bed with her, and she goes to investigate. She heads outside, and sees him practicing magic in the basement.)

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Rumplestiltskin has just arrived home.) Rumplestiltskin: “Milah? Bae? I'm home. Bae. Hey.” Baelfire: “Papa?” Rumplestiltskin: “Where's mum? (Baelfire doesn't answer:) Well, she probably just lost track of time. Grab your cloak. We'll find her.” A tavern somewhere in the Enchanted Forest. (Milah is playing a dice game with some pirates.) Milah: “Ahoy, my three!” Ship Crew: “Ah!” Rumplestiltskin: “Milah. Milah. It's time to go.” Milah: “Good. So go.” Killian Jones: “Who's this?” Milah: “Ah, it's no one. It's just my husband.” Killian: “Oh. Well, he's a tad taller than you described.” Rumplestiltskin: “Please. You have responsibilities.” Milah: “You mean like being a man and fighting in the ogre wars? Other wives became honored widows while I became lashed to the village coward. I needed a break. Run home, Rumple. It's what you're good at.” Baelfire: “Mama?” Rumplestiltskin: “Bae. You were supposed to wait outside, son.” (Milah gets up takes Baelfire home.) Enchanted Forest. Past. Rumplestiltskin and Milah's house. (Rumplestiltskin is sat by the fire as Milah is in bed.) Rumplestiltskin: “You don't really wish I'd died... during the ogre wars, do you?” Milah: “I wish you'd fought. Don't you?” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, I- I'm alive, and I'm here with you, with Bae.” Milah: “This isn't a life, not for me. Why can't we just leave?” Rumplestiltskin: “We... we've talked about that.” Milah: “You don't have to be the village coward. We could start again, go somewhere no one knows us, see... the whole world beyond this village.” Rumplestiltskin: “I know this wasn't the life you wanted, but it- it can be good here. At least try, if not for me, then... for Bae.” Milah: (Whispers:) “Okay. I'll try.”

Storybrooke. Present day. Mr. Gold's House. (It is morning, and Mr. Gold is in the kitchen. Belle approaches him.) Mr. Gold: “Hey.” Belle: “Hey. What are you doing?” Mr. Gold: “I was, uh, gonna make you breakfast.” Belle: “No. In... in the basement. I saw you practicing magic.” Mr. Gold: “Want some breakfast?” Belle: “No, we need to talk about this.” Mr. Gold: “It was just a couple of spells. Nothing to be concerned about.” Belle: “Okay, then be honest with me. Why did you bring magic here?” Mr. Gold: “I've told you. Magic is power.” Belle: “Why do you need it? Tell me. (Gold stays silent:) You don't need power, Rumple. You need courage... to let me in.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (A woman knocks on Rumplestiltskin's door and he answers it.) Village Woman: “Rumplestiltskin, you need to get to the docks now.” Rumplestiltskin: “The docks? Why?” Village Woman: “The men who came into port last week... they've taken Milah. They're setting sail. You must hurry.” The Enchanted Forest docks. (Rumplestiltskin is hobbling towards the Jolly Roger. He climbs the stairs to get on the ship and falls down on the deck.) Rumplestiltskin: “Uhh!” Ship Crew Member: “On your feet for the Captain.” (One of the crew members hauls Rumplestiltskin to his feet and thrusts his walking stick at him.) Rumplestiltskin: “I- I remember you, fr- from the bar.” Killian Jones: “It's always nice to make an impression. Where are my manners? We haven't been formally introduced. Killian Jones. Now what are you doing aboard my ship?” Rumplestiltskin: “W- well you have my wife.” Killian Jones: “I've had many a man's wife.” Rumplestiltskin: “No, you... you see, we... we have a son, and he needs his mother.” Killian Jones: “And see, I have a ship full of men who need... companionship.” Ship Crew: “Ah!” Rumplestiltskin: “I- I'm begging you. Please let her go.” Killian Jones: “I'm not much for bartering. That said, I do consider myself an honorable man, a man with a code. So... if you truly want your wife back (Throws a sword in front of Rumplestiltskin:) all you have to do is take her. Never been in a duel before, I take it? Well, it's quite simple, really. The pointy end goes into the other man. Go on. Pick it up. (Rumplestiltskin does nothing:) A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” Rumplestiltskin: (Voice breaks:) “Please, sir. What am I gonna tell my boy?” Killian Jones: “Try the truth. His father's a coward.”

Storybrooke Mines. Present day. (The dwarves and David Nolan are mining a wall with some pickaxes. Leroy is watching.) Leroy: “Keep swinging, dwarves.” (Ruby enters with some food in a basket.) Ruby: “Did they find any fairy dust yet?” Henry Mills: “No, not yet. But they will, and when they do, we'll figure out a way to get Mary Margaret and my mom back.” Ruby: “I'll be back later with lunch.” (She leaves.) David Nolan: “I hate mine dust. Leroy. If you find anything, I'll be at the sheriff's station.” Leroy: “You taking over as sheriff?” David: “Stepping in until Emma gets back.” The Enchanted Forest. Present. (Mary Margaret, Aurora, Emma, and Mulan are walking back to the safe haven.) Aurora: “I don't know if I can do this. I'm not a very good liar.” Mary Margaret: “Well, it's not really a lie, Aurora. Lancelot did die an honorable death and Cora did escape. All true. Just... leave the particulars to us.” Emma: “There's no reason to cause unnecessary panic amongst your people.” Aurora: “I'm not so sure it's unnecessary...” Mulan: “Wait. The tower. We always have sentries guarding the entrance. (Drawing her sword:) Stay close.” (They run into the camp to find everyone dead.) Emma: “Oh my God.”

Storybrooke. Present day. Granny's Diner. (Ruby places an iced tea in front of Belle.) Belle: “Thank you.” Ruby: “Are you okay? That's your third iced tea this morning. Wouldn't wanna have to call you a cab.” Belle: “No, I... I've never had it iced before. It's- it's delicious.” Ruby: “I haven't seen you in here before.” Belle: “Well, I-, uh, I've been a kept woman until recently.” Ruby: (Sits opposite her:) “Let me guess. Bad breakup?” Belle: “I think I may be headed there.” Ruby: "Do you have a place to stay? Any family here?” Belle: “Uh, I'm- I'm not sure. I'm still looking. But I'm on my own for now.” Ruby: “I could ask Granny about a room here.” Belle: “Really? Thanks. Uh,” Ruby: “Ruby.” Belle: “Belle. What I really need though, is- is a life, a job.” Ruby: “Well, uh, what do you like to do?” Belle: “I- I do love books.” Ruby: “The library. It's been closed forever, but, uh, things are changing now. Maybe they need a librarian.” Enchanted Forest. Past. (Rumplestiltskin, now The Dark One, is in the same tavern that he first met Killian Jones in. A trader approaches him.) Trader: “It really is you. The Dark One, in the flesh. Or whatever that is.” Rumplestiltskin: “You've gone to a lot of trouble to meet me. You better hope I agree it's worth my time.” Trader: “I've heard you've been looking for something, and as luck would have it, I'm a man who trades in hard-to-find objects. (Whispers:) Like a bean. A magic bean that can transport you between worlds.” Rumplestiltskin: “I've been told they no longer exist in this land.” Trader: “Not in this land, no. But the ships that dock here often return from far off lands with treasures they don't always understand.” Rumplestiltskin: “And yet you do.” Trader: “It's my job, as is knowing the rumors of who might pay the highest price for said treasures.” Rumplestiltskin: “And what rumors could they be?” Trader: “That you were once a great coward but that you became The Dark One to overcome that and protect a- a son who you lost despite all-” Rumplestiltskin: (Uses magic to stop the trader from talking:) “It's not nice to spread rumors. The bean! Where is it?” Trader: (Choking:) “I don't have it. But I can get it. I- I swear. (The Dark One releases him:) You haven't heard my price.” Rumplestiltskin: “I spin straw into gold. Price shouldn't be a problem.” Trader: “Oh, I don't want money. I want eternal life.” Rumplestiltskin: (Laughs:) “Only The Dark One has life eternal. Tell you what, my son. What I can do, what about youth? Spin the clock back till you're a little boy again.” Trader: “Close enough. Deal.” Rumplestiltskin: “But remember, you fail to deliver, I spin the clock forward and turn you into dust.” Trader: “Thank you. Thank you.” Server: (Approaches Rumplestiltskin:) “You sure you don't want anything?” Killian Jones: (Enters the tavern:) “Where's my scurvy crew?” Ship Crew: “Ah! Here we be, Cap'n!” Killian Jones: “Where's my beer?” Rumplestiltskin: (To the server:) “You know, I suddenly find myself quite thirsty.” Killian Jones: “Cheers.”

Storybrooke. Present day. (Belle is outside the library and is peaking through a window at the books.) Smee: “Excuse me, miss.” Belle: “You startled me.” Smee: “I- I was just wondering if you had any spare change.” Belle: “Oh, no, sorry. I- I don't have any money.” Smee: “What- what about a friend? Are you meeting anyone here?” Belle: “Uh, no. Why?” Smee: “I just wanted to make sure.” (Grabs Belle.) The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Killian Jones is walking along in an alley with his shipmates. Rumplestiltskin walks by, hidden under a cloak. He bumps into Killian Jones and continues walking.) Killian Jones: “Hey, you! Stop. Even gutter rats have more manners than you just displayed.” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, I'm so sorry, Sir.” Killian Jones: “Ah. I was wrong. Not a rat at all. More... (He leans in and hits Rumplestiltskin's cup that he is holding, causing it to spill coins all over the ground. Rumplestiltskin kneels down and tries to pick it all up:) more like a crocodile. What's your name, (He pushes Rumplestiltskin over with his foot:) crocodile? (Rumplestiltskin reveals himself and giggles:) You. I remember you.” Rumplestiltskin: “Always nice to make an impression. Where are my manners? We haven't been properly introduced. Rumplestiltskin, or as others know me, The Dark One. Oh! I see my reputation precedes me.” Killian Jones: “It does.” Rumplestiltskin: “Good! That's gonna save us time during the question and answer portion of our game.” Killian Jones: “What is it you want to know?” Rumplestiltskin: “How's Milah, of course?” Killian Jones: “Who?” Rumplestiltskin: “Only too happy to, uh, dig out the memory, but it gets really messy.” Killian Jones: “She's dead. Died a long time ago. What is it you want?” Rumplestiltskin: “We didn't get a chance to finish our duel. (Jones draws his sword:) Ah! Not now. Tomorrow at dawn. I am not a cruel man. Get your affairs in order. Also, you can spend tonight knowing it'll be your last. (Giggles:) Maybe I am cruel. And don't think about trying to escape, because I will find you, and I will gut your entire crew (Italian accent:) like the fish.” The Enchanted Forest. Present. Safe Haven. (The foursome stand amidst the bodies of the dead.) Mulan: “This can't be. Our land, we were protected here, hidden. How did the ogres find us?” Mary Margaret: “Ogres didn't do this.” Mulan: “What?” Mary Margaret: “Cora did. Their hearts... they were ripped out. This was her magic... twisted and evil. We have to stop her.” Mulan: “Too late. She killed them. She killed them all.” Mary Margaret: “We have to stop her before she hurts anyone else.” Emma: “Hey. Hey. Look.” Aurora: “There's someone under there. He's alive.” Captain Hook: “Please.” Aurora: “It's okay.” Captain Hook: “Please help me.” Mary Margaret: “It's okay. You're safe now we won't hurt you.” Captain Hook: “Thank you. Thank you.”

[littlelovelymemes]

✰ * º ❛ even more popular text posts ask meme. ❜

‘  my kink is getting some fuckin sleep.  ’ ‘  omg here goes your lil crybaby ass.  ’ ‘  the beatles wouldn’t even fucking exist if big time rush hadn’t paved the path for them so shut the fuck up.  ’ ‘  don’t start buddy. don’t you dare.  ’ ‘  gay rights? true, as a gay, i am always right.  ’ ‘  not to vent, but: fuck.  ’ ‘  the worst pain is to make small talk with someone you once told everything to.  ’ ‘  i think i accidentally break my own heart a lot.  ’ ‘  sometimes ‘brb’ stands for ‘be ready bitch’ so you have to be careful.  ’ ‘  i want to kiss you in a way that makes you not want to kiss anyone else ever again.  ’ ‘  shout out to the people who are still friends with me even though i’m a fucking idiot.  ’ ‘  it’s safe to assume that at any given moment i want to go back to bed.  ’ ‘  i’m a big fan of anything that will help me chill the fuck out.  ’ ‘  i don’t go through people’s pictures on their phone cause i wasn’t raised in the jungle.  ’ ‘  i think we, as a people, just need to have a glass of water.  ’ ‘  i don’t have enough black clothes.  ’ ‘  sweetie, i could sleep for ten years and i’d still be tired.  ’ ‘  i would sleep so much better with your arms wrapped around me.  ’ ‘  me??? tired??? sleepy??? yes, constantly.  ’ ‘  i’m pb&j -- petty, bitter, and jealous.  ’ ‘  the fact that sloths aren’t extinct somehow proves that if you go at your own pace and mind your own fucking business you too can succeed.  ’ ‘  i wish i could be the person i want to be, but i’m too tired.  ’ ‘  i always look sleep deprived. is that hot?  ’ ‘  just because there’s always room for improvement doesn’t mean you’ll never be good enough.  ’ ‘  my heart is a soft and sensitive mess.  ’ ‘  all i want is a big garden and no responsibilities.  ’ ‘  honestly someone not liking beyonce is a deal breaker and not for any political reasons, but just like you’re probably, definitely really boring.  ’ ‘  hey guys, i’m a huge fan of genuine love and affection.  ’ ‘  now i’m falling asleep and she’s calling a crab and he’s having a smoke and she’s kissing the crab.  ’ ‘  i’ve been ever since i heard ‘lonely’ by akon at 9 years-old.  ’ ‘  my new years resolution is to stop.  ’ ‘  i’m irritated cause i’m not lovable in a romantic soulmate way.  ’ ‘  i hate knowing that people that ruined parts of me still live and function like nothing ever happened.  ’ ‘  i know i’m cute, but you can remind me.  ’ ‘  hey, just wondering, but are you fucking kidding me????  ’ ‘  i can’t wait to be in love with someone who is also deepfuck in love with me and we love each other forever n’ ever.  ’ ‘  me? clingy? yes. please don’t leave me.  ’ ‘  girlfriend application compatibility question: do you keep your depression pile on the bed or on the floor?  ’ ‘  anything heart shaped is automatically 200% better. this is a fact.  ’ ‘  today’s agenda: screaming into the abyss.  ’ ‘  going from ‘today is a good day’ to ‘i hate my life’ takes me approximately 2.6 seconds.  ’ ‘  everyone needs to wash their face and go to bed.  ’ ‘  i’m worth so much more than the ways i’ve been treated.  ’ ‘  hey, can i claim you guys as dependents on my taxes?  ’ ‘  i really just ignore phone calls. like leave a message. i don’t check those either but like  ’ ‘  i honestly just want to pack my bags and go travel the world and see and explore everything possible.  ’ ‘  remember being little and thinking dandelions were fun or a pretty color or something and every adult in an 80 mile radius wouldn’t let you say that without screaming IT’S A WEED.  ’ ‘  why did we just accept catdog? 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only straight thing i know about is the edge of my beloved sword.  ’ ‘  i highly recommend never having feelings.  ’ ‘  self care is going into a cornfield at night to get abducted by aliens.  ’ ‘  staying up late with another human is such a weird thing like you get this special bond and a what-is-this feeling  ’ ‘  do u ever feel like ur not even friends with ur friends?  ’ ‘  um no offense but whom’st’ve going to loveth me?  ’ ‘  date a girl who fucks everything up.  ’ ‘  not all who mcfreakin wander are mcfreakin lost.  ’ ‘  i may legally be an adult but don’t be fooled. i have no idea what i’m doing.  ’ ‘  a fun and interesting fact about me is that i’m a fucking idiot.  ’ ‘  you can start again anytime!  ’ ‘  all you can do is learn your lesson. there’s no point in wishing you had did differently. the past is the past.  ’ ‘  i can’t believe an angel like me has to suffer so much.  ’ ‘  you’re all so obsessed with love and being loved. what about just going to sleep?  ’ ‘  i’m smart, but i do dumb shit anyway.  ’ ‘  tbh i never deal with my emotions. i just let them ravage my body and then go to bed and then i wake up and do it all over again.  ’ ‘  first of all: i don’t know shit, so jot that down.  ’ ‘  i’ll just ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ my way through life.  ’ ‘  i’m tired of things costing money.  ’ ‘  don’t you hate it when you’re dead inside and run out of apps to refresh?  ’ ‘  who cares? do better, move on.  ’ ‘  i don’t need a significant other. just a significant income.  ’ ‘  appreciation for everyone who’s ever talked to me bc i’m annoying and dumb.  ’ ‘  thnks fr th mntl llnss.  ’ ‘  what  hasn’t killed me has just made me overly sensitive and defensive.  ’ ‘  i don’t know shit ya’ll!!!!! i’m just out here.  ’ ‘  binge-watching is great until you run out of the show and have to start watching it weekly like some sort of medieval peasant.  ’ ‘  i’m in the wrong realm and i think everyone can tell.  ’ ‘  this might come as a shock but I’m Not Feelin too good my dudes.  ’ ‘  i’m alive, but only ironically.  ’ ‘  there she goes again being over dramatic and by she, i mean me.  ’ ‘  do you ever feel like have tried Too Hard to a friend and now you have become That Obnoxious Weirdo?  ’ ‘  lgbt: lasagna! garfield’s beloved treat.  ’ ‘  my favorite phrase in the english language is ‘i shit you not.’  ’ ‘  i’m a real boring bitch! a snoozer!  ’ ‘  i honestly look so good lounging in an oversized t-shirt and no pants. when will someone experience the blessing of domestic living w/ me?  ’ ‘  you don’t understand how hard it is to take a selfie when you’re ugly.  ’ ‘  you son of a mumford!  ’ ‘  hi, i’m here to ruin everything.  ’ ‘  you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their hands. for example, if it’s a skeleton hand then they’re dead.  ’ ‘  the year is 2020 and i am found guilty of treason against the united states for vague blogging that i hate someone and donald trump thought it was about him.  ’ ‘  everybody calm down, we’re going to be fine! :))) we’ve weathered worse than this! :) :) :) :) really all this panic just seems like a huge overreaction imho   ’ ‘  no beta readers. we publish our crap writing like men.  ’ ‘  i need $$$$$ not feelings.  ’ ‘  ‘idk imma see’ = i ain’t coming, never was coming, never considered it, never gave it a single thought, only remembered cause you asked again.  ’ ‘  oops, i don’t care lol  ’ ‘  why girls always crop the halo out of their selfies? stop being so modest. we know the truth.  ’ ‘  maurice, you’re not gonna fucking believe this,  ’ ‘  i always get told i look like a bitch bc i’m always glaring while i walk, but i’m not glaring, i’m squinting. i have sensitive eyes. they’re watering.  ’ ‘  concept: it’s 3 am. candle lit room. a record is spinning. you’re kissing me. we have no worries in the world. we’re warm and content.  ’ ‘  i need to go into the forest and scream for an hour and a half.  ’ ‘  pls kill all men who yell at girls from cars.  ’ ‘  life really isn’t what i expected it to be. less quicksand. almost no quicksand to be honest. lots of metaphorical quicksand tho.  ’ ‘  i have a question for u: like are u done... like is it over?  ’ ‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive.  ’ ‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive. for me, it’s myself.  ’ ‘  whenever i see police i always try not to act suspicious and fail internally even though i never did anything wrong.  ’ ‘  new years resolution: less bitter, more glitter.  ’

[uclaradio]

Good Charlotte @ The Wiltern (11/21/18) // Show Review

article and photographs by Gomi Zhou

I hopped in an Uber super early that day and arrived about 2 hours before the doors would even open at the Wiltern, considering that it was the day before Thanksgiving and everyone was trying to rush out of the LA traffic jam. Once I saw the line that was wrapping around the venue I knew I’ve committed a crime. How could I possibly wear COLORS to a Good Charlotte show? This is just pure disrespect. The ONE day oh my god, I generally don’t even wear colors on a daily basis. I tried my hardest to not feel ashamed as I walked through the monochromatic crowd in my bright blue sweater, but the stares were definitely there. 

After camping out at the boba place across the street for two whole hours waiting for the doors to open, I got to Will Call with the hope that I can just get a balcony ticket. Of course, I got floor instead. It was a very guilty wish to have for me, since Alt Rock is indeed my favorite genre and tonight I was going to see both Good Charlotte and Sleeping With Sirens; but at this point I’ve already gone through another lecture on top of my 8am major class (for reference I was supposed to have three but I just had to skip one or else it would’ve been inhumane towards myself), few more hours being stuck in the LA traffic, all using the non-existed fuel I’ve got from my 5 hours of sleep from the night before. I had my camera, a prism, a jacket and guess what--a John Green book--stuffed in my backpack. I really should be excited for this, I thought to myself, but in reality, I was just exhausted from weeks of hard work and the resulting breakdowns. This better be a good night, I needed it. 

This was one of those nights that had to start off early because there were just so many opening acts. The Dose and Knuckle Puck took the stage for a good hour. Although it was clear that most people came for the other two bands performing that night, the crowd was actively trying to pump up the spirit by being supportive and energetic. From screamo to pop rock, everyone was aware that the first two bands were just the pre-gaming for the night; but the quality of the performances had sure kept everyone’s interest.

Because of how exhausted I was, I sat down behind the soundboard area in between different acts. Thus, I was completely oblivious of the flow of the crowd until the lights went off once again for Sleeping With Sirens. The size of the audience had at least doubled its size since Knuckle Puck had left the stage. Everyone was cheering and screaming nonsense off their lungs--just how one would expect at a rock show. Shortly after, the long-awaited band went on with one of their classic numbers, “Do It Now Remember It Later”. I had very basic knowledge of Sleeping With Sirens prior to the show. Knowing that they are one of the most noticeable figures for the emo community, I always have massive respect for the band. Although their music is really not something I would casually listen to while I’m skateboarding to class, this performance they were putting on tonight was everything a rock fan could ever ask for. It was the first time in a good while where I felt like my beloved passion in photography was becoming a chore, all I wanted was to put my camera away and devote all my attention to the performance. From “Empire of Ashes” to “Congratulations”, the crowd and I gave our all. There’s something very unique to the genre of rock, no matter what the particular branch is, rock music never fails to make someone feel more alive. Of course, this wasn’t just any rock show, it was literally Sleeping With Sirens on stage opening up for Good Charlotte. I was mostly immersed in the atmosphere throughout the band’s 10-song set, but the speech on mental health made by the lead singer Kellin Quinn really stuck with me. He mentioned his own struggle with depression, and how even though he is the lead singer who was currently standing in front of a crowd performing, depression is something that can get to anybody. “This one is for all of you who’s struggling,” he said as the band latched onto “Better Off Dead”. I could only compare the crowd to Panic! At The Disco’s crowd during “Girls/Girls/Boys” and Fall Out Boy’s crowd during “Thnks fr th Mmrs”. It was obvious that this song was particularly special for both the band and its fanbase, that it carries a meaning connecting the artists and their supporters. When it comes to Emo and Rock bands, there is always the stigma attached to them saying that this is depression music and people who listen to Emo are a group of sad losers. But to me, it is moments like this that are able to prove that Rock only connects people and brings life back for them.

By this point, I’ve forgotten about how I was severely sleep deprived. Despite the fact that Sleeping With Sirens was potentially the best opening act one can ever get, Good Charlotte was extraordinarily legendary. Though the crowd at the Wiltern that night was huge, Joel Madden, the lead singer of Good Charlotte tried his best to sneak in as much conversation as possible. He went from talking about how the band started back when they were still teenagers and how many fans were probably listening to them back in middle school, to his perspectives on the political and social climate today. Specifically, Joel even talked about how many of their songs were written from a different time when things were different from today’s context. For example, even though the song “Girls & Boys” is obviously written as a satire in my perspective, the band still took their time to explain how the stereotypical and materialistic approach mentioned in the song is not valid in today’s society. It was obvious that these genuine talks brought the crowd closer and everyone was experiencing some kind of nostalgia in their own ways. For me, it was the song “Life Changes” that brought back the nostalgia for me. Despite the fact that my roommate and I really don’t have the most sentimental friendship, we have been friends for almost 6 years and have only gotten closer even with all the changes that had happened in our lives. Even though most members of different rock bands tend to keep their own lives private, most bands want their songs to be open for interpretations and want their fans to be able to relate to their life stories. With a band like Good Charlotte, everyone has their own journey with their music, and a night like this one serves to bring the pieces back.