#glad it invoked such a reaction in you you had to personally tell me about it

[ticklishcitrus]

hi hello im here to say waking up to those tags on that reblog was crazy /pos have a nice day <3

:)

[written-mishaps]

alright I’m back, what’s ur process behind characterization and concept making? (also thanks for the congratulations for ao3 pfffff)

HOOO BOY IM VERY GLAD YOU ASKED ok, ill talk about characterisation and then lead into concept making. I'll mostly be talking about 'It Was Only A Matter Of Time' cause obviously it's quick fresh on the mind in terms of what I did but if you're looking for advice, this can be applied more generally. Also I ended up rambling A LOT so I've put it under a read more. Hope this answers your question!

SO, in the case of the clones, characterisation is far more mealeable than with other fandoms where you have a lot more evidence and material to build up your understanding of a characters personality. With the clones, particualrly those like Thorn, Thire, Stone and of course Fox, theres very little canon basis, so for bulding up their characters, it was just a case of taking what fanon I liked and also constructing the personalities that would work best for the story I wanted to tell. Quick note, since this story ultimately ended up revolving around Fox, a lot of the characterisation for other characters was heaviliy informed by the questuon of "what personlity would best reveal a specific detail or invoking a specifoc reaction or relaisation in Fox" but of course as the story grew, the characters all grew into their own charactisation beyond that. That's the overview, To give you a lil more a concrete example behind this process, I'll use the Corrie Commanders.

So with the Corrie Commanders (Thorn, Thire, Stone, excluding Fox for now since he's a different story) I knew that, since they would most commonly be encountered as a trio, that they each have to have very disctinct Characterisations so it would be easy to differentiate them. So I started by assigning them a key characteristic. Eg.

Thorn: sarcastic and blunt, Thire: logical and practical, Stone: level headed.

Of course there would be other factors, but anytime i wrote them I would keep this key element in mind whenever i had them do anything. Then, something which was super fun to do, I assigned them very specific and individual 'character quirks' as I like to call them, which are essebtially just a couple other things that differntiate them and makes them unique as characters. Eg.

Thorn: he has a speech quirk which im VERY fond of wherin he doesnt pronounce the 'g' in any '-ing' which in my mind i interpret as a kind of drawl to his voice (you'll notice this in his dialogue, where Thorn will say stuff like "goin' to see" "instead of "going to see" etc) it makes me very happy to write, and ut jelps me figure out his specific 'voice' in my mind

Another example is Stone: His characteristic quirk is that he speaks very infrequently, but when he does, he always says something important. Again this is to refelect his character as someone who only speaks whne he feels like he has something worthwhile to say.

All of these tiny little considerations help build up a 'fully fledged character' so to speak, and it helps (hopefully lmao) them feel like distinct characters.

I've talked a lot but just another thing that helps characterisation (which ive mentioned before) is considering what 'role' they play within the larger story, and I do that ny mentally attaching little epithet to specific characters. For exmaple, Wolffes characater exists specifically to illuminate Fox's repressed violent tendencies, and also exists to wrench out the stuff that Fox refuses to confront or admit to himself. So to that measure, Wolffe himself is a very violent and very blunt character. He needs to be, to function for that purpose. Another example is Cody, who is 'The helpless older brother' Cody throughout the story has always been assocaited with reaching out and protecting Fox and trying to be there, but of course hes severly limited by how much help he can actually give. This ties into his character as a very earnest and protective character.

This is getting long so i might stop there for characterisation lmao, but in short, the process involves a bunch of decisons that cinsider "how does this character function within the story? How have their past experinces effected them? Where and What does this manifest as in their personality?"

OK ONTO CONCEPT.

I have a lot less to say abt this one lmao. Id already read a couple fics which dealt with the "what if Fox killed the Chancellor?" And i thought ut was interesting. Ill admit though, the concept of introducing Fives into it all mostly stemmed from frustration lmaoo. It all really started cause I got kind of frustrated with the fics that either demonised Fox or tried to downplay the significance of Fives' deaths. One of the reasons i decided to centre Fives and Foxs relationship as the focal point of the story was because I wanted to hit a medium that sufficiently acknowledged that Fives death was a tragedy which had a huge impact on those who loved him, but also that Fox's decision to kill him maybe wasn't done with pure malice.

That was the initial thinking, but the funny thing abt writing any story of any kind is that it inevitably develops a mind of its own. I didn't initially think sibling relationships and love was going to be such a core part of the story I was writing but sometimes the concept starts to mould itself into creation without you even being aware it's happening.

SO, in short: fun concepts come from finding something you don't like and going 'Why don't I like this? Can I make a story where I DO like this?'

But yeah! That's some thoughts about characterisation and concepts behind IWOAMOT specifically lmao but of course the stuff mentioned here can easily be applied to anything.

If you have any follow up Questions/unanswered areas of Concept making and characterisation, lemme know! As demonstrated, I can talk for ages.

[star-consultant]

Bright are the stars

You need a Beatle song that perfectly encapsulates your sign? Of course you do. (Spotify playlist) 

Aries—“I Saw Her Standing There” 

One two three FOUR! An eager and intense song for an eager and intense sign. Aries falls hard and fast, with a tendency to rash vows that everyone doubts they mean—but Aries doesn’t doubt. Paul (who later styled himself as a "ram” at a key point in his creative development) makes good on the Cardinal Fire vibe with his exuberant vocals, and John of the Aries rising contributed the street-smart innuendo that utterly makes the song: And you know what I mean. Fittingly, this song kicked off the group’s first album, which itself has plenty of Aries “HELLO I AM HERE TO MAKE A MARK ON YOUR WORLD! (like me plz ok? this is my heart and i am Doing My Best??)” energy. 

Taurus—“All I’ve Got to Do"

A song that takes its sweet time but burrows deeper than the average ear-worm into your consciousness. It’s a patient song that is unassuming but knows exactly what the hell it’s doing. The intensity builds bit by bit, so that you’re unaware when the power of the bridge comes crashing down. Describes the Taurean romantic ideal: lazy, loyal, cozy, constant, tender, and ever-so-true. Also, “All I’ve Got to Do” is featured on the second album, With the Beatles, which has plenty of other Bullish touches, noticeable even with a casual glance at the tracklist: “Don’t Bother Me,” “Not a Second Time,” and “Money (That’s What I Want).” 

Gemini—“She Loves You”

Paul is a Gemini Sun, and throughout his catalogue it shows. But perhaps he never topped the Twinniness of this energetic, optimistic, breathless, gossipy classic. It was composed “eye-to-eye” with John, a truly dual-authored song, and one the rare Beatles numbers where the two lead vocalists double up on every single line, in true (Nerk) Twin fashion. Also the first but definitely not the last of their many “third-person narratives,” Paul’s novelistic instead of confessional slant being distinctly a Gemini thing. The speaker in this one couldn’t be more enthusiastic about this relationship if it were already repaired, and he couldn’t be more enthusiastic about it if it were his. Love is great! People reconciling is great! You should be glad, dumbass! But the real corker? What makes this so Gemini that it hurts? Yoko has confirmed that in the early 70s, during her separation with John, she actually had Paul play agony aunt. Then, during that meetup in L.A. where they were last photographed together, Paul urged John to “apologize to her” and get back together... which he did. That’s right. "She Loves You” is not merely a Gemini’s song: it’s a Gemini’s life. 

Cancer—“Octopus’s Garden”

Ringo the Crab’s musically-complex fantasy about an underwater sanctuary where children are “happy and safe,” he and his lover can be together, and there’s “no one there to tell us what to do.” George (a triple Water sign himself, probably not-so-incidentally) always insisted that his best mate’s song Had Depths, and he himself supplied a lot of them: check out his lead guitar lines. They function as emotional counterpoint. When Ringo’s vocal line is especially wistful, the guitar is bright; when Ringo ends on a confident note, the guitar is quirky, ironic, even stiff-upper-lip pessimistic. Result: a shifting kaleidoscope of FEELS. The Moon approves. 

Leo—“Good Day Sunshine” 

Paul perfectly expresses his own Leo moon with a sublime, vibrant ode to laughter, love, and pride on a cloudless summer day. The bit in the lyrics about she knows she’s looking fine and I’m so proud to know that she is mine? That’s not marring the high tone of the song: that is part of the tone. Hear us roar! And by “roar” I mean "laugh and canoodle, coz Leo is about living the good life, bitches.” 

Virgo—“Please Please Me” 

What’s fair is forkin’ fair, mate! A exemplary blend of Virgo’s Mutable passive-aggressive sensitivity with its Elemental directness... half-critical, half-begging... plus the very sign-typical humblebragging. About their sexual prowess. Damn, Virgo. People forget how Earthy you really are sometimes. But here we are. In very Virgo fashion, instead of ditching the girl he’s decided to harangue her. On a more meta note, the Beatles were still studio virgins when they first began crafting this song, and it took several passes and incorporation of George Martin’s feedback before it became the bursting pop hit as we know it now. There’s that Virgo work ethic paying off.

Libra—“Strawberry Fields Forever”

The imagery of the title suggests an eternal harvest. But the star sign resemblance goes deeper than that: Always, no, sometimes think it’s me, but, you know, I know when it’s a dream. I think, er, no, I mean, er, yes, but it’s all wrong... that is, I think I disagree. Did you just hear your Libra roommate rambling after a joint, or did you listen to verse three of “Strawberry Fields”? Same difference. The song is absolutely lovely, as anything associated with the child of Venus should be, and innovative, as befits a Cardinal sign. Most of all, even in all of Libra Sun John’s weighing and weed-wandering, he knows one thing: he’s got to take someone else along with him. A companion, stat! 

Scorpio—“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”

George of the Scorpio moon and Scorpio ascendant had to really lean into this side of his nature to even get this damn track properly recorded. He resorted to the social power play of inviting Eric frickin’ Clapton into the tense post-India studio just to get Lennon, McCartney, and Martin to give his song proper Beatle recording magic. Which it deserved. The dark drama of the hard-won arrangement is the perfect Scorpio accompaniment to the moody, reflective lyrics about “all the love there that’s sleeping” in this weary world. There’s tender, horrified pity here for those who are stifled into inauthenticity: I don’t know how nobody told you how to unfold your love. I don’t know how someone controlled you; they bought and sold you... Bonus points for the Watery ‘just can’t even’-ness of not being able to so much as pick up a damn broom. 

Sagittarius—“Something” 

You’re asking me, will my love grow? I don’t know, I don’t know! A deeply instinctual lover knows that Cupid has done hit a bullseye. He remains emphatically ambivalent about the future, but he knows what he feels in this moment, and in that moment is romance and wonder that is as deep as the earth is from the heavens. Sags are intense, but of all the Fire signs they are most far-seeing and detached (due to their Mutable quality, which makes them see the world a bit more like an Air sign does). “Something” keeps trying to capture that je-ne-sais-quoi, and despite the speaker’s happiness he can’t help but circle back again and again to take another shot at that the mental target. A philosopher even when in love. Ultimately, however, he doesn’t want to leave her now... which for a restless Sag is already saying a ton.

Capricorn—“Revolution”

John let his unfashionable midheaven Capricorn off the leash with this blunt, pointed savaging of radical and violent revolutions. (Given the tanks on Tiananmen Square and the millions dead on the killing fields of Cambodia, I can’t say that his cautionary note about “destruction” and “minds that hate” was unnecessary.) Few things are more Capricorn than ‘Oh, you want my money? Yeah, first show me that you’ve done your fucking homework, mate.’ Bonus Earth points for the fact that he somehow worked sex—a lot of sex—into this political track. 

Aquarius—“Come Together”

John of the Aquarius moon’s decidedly loony attempt to write a political campaign song in order to stop Reagan. (The result was too weird for Timothy Leary, whose reaction was pretty much ‘wtf? I don’t think even I have enough residual acid in my system for this one... ’) John invokes the ideal of collaboration, but his call to solidarity is built around fantastical lyrics that no one can comprehend: He wear no shoeshine, he got/Toejam football, he got/Monkey finger, he shoot/Coca-Cola, he say/I know you, you know me... Oh, right. The lyrics contain exactly one discernible message: One thing I can tell you is you got to be free. How Aqua. Also in true collaborative Water-Bearer fashion, the arrangement really makes the song (special mention to the tight, tight work of the rhythm section). Bizarre genius that attracts a true team effort—it doesn’t get much more Aquarius than that.

Pisces— “I Want to Tell You”

The wall of sound builds up thickly enough that soon the words seem to be traveling through the sea to reach you: I want to tell you my head is filled with things to say... But when you’re here, all those words, they seem to slip away. A gorgeously, emotionally tongue-tied song... about being tongue-tied. Written by George, a Pisces Sun, this absolute mystery of a lyric is all emotion and no logic. If he seems to act unkind, it’s only him, it’s not his mind. Okay, Fishboy. Good thing the track is compellingly lovely and utterly relatable. Which suits the Pisces life exactly: ‘I don’t know what I mean, but it’s exceedingly beautiful and I want you to share it with you very, very much.’ 

[docholligay]

LIVESTREAM WINNERS AND TOP POINT COMMENTS

THose of you who read the schedule already know this but the winners are:

HOLLIGAY INVOKES THE SPIRIT OF CLOSET GHOST 

and

WE COOK FOR DINNER IN THE APOCALYPSE

Please join me for both! It’ should be a terrifying, thrilling time. 

AND NOW, THOSE OF YOU WHO MADE ME FEEL THE WARMEST. Thank you to all who answered--I know this was super self indulgent and it means a lot to me that you took the time. So, literally 12 out of the 13 of you got at least one point (One person did not give any details, or even a quote) MAZEL. 

Point allocations are below!!

One point winners: 

4(?)ish years ago, you sent Jet a series of letters/cards/funeral lilies, from different Sailor Moon characters. The lilies were for Mako. One card was from Michiru, after Haruka's death. I have never been able to find them again, but I just loved the care you put into them--how they were all written specifically from the character, the fact that you even put tear stains and perfume on the cards. It was just so creative and touching, and it felt like the characters were real for an instant, mourning and living and giving you a peek at their lives. --- @kumeko (That was A Little Letter, and Mako’s was actually a separate thing for the same contest!) 

   “Before you get yourselves killed I want to go on record as saying this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” Rei stood with her hands on her hips at the front of the garage- from that short story about Mina and Haruka strapping an engine to a shopping cart. You can really feel how rei must feel, the resigned exasperation mixed with genuine, but hidden, concern for Mina and haruka’s safety. I think i have said the exactsame thing before people i know do stupid shit. --- BeefSalad33  (oh ma, an oldie but, I think, a goodie) 

OH MAN. I am always thinking nonstop about that piece where Minako confronts Seiya about bullying Haruka, specifically for the line where Mina spits out "you think she'll love you for this?" and UGH that LINE. it HAUNTS me, I want to BITE DOWN ON IT AND NEVER LET GO, I WANT TO PUT IT EVERYWHERE EVER BECAUSE IT HURTS SO GOOD, AND I DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT SEIYA. --- @wouldntyoulichentoknow (I’m so glad that I’ve managed to make both you and jetty grit your teeth and care about Seiya at some point ahahah) 

"*But flowers grow from death and decay, don’t they? That has always been true, you know that, Mako. You are a rose of perfect beauty, grown in the rich fertilizer of your loss.*

She threw the stress ball across the room, knocking over the cup on the sink, spilling the ice down the drain."

The contrast between reminding herself of how life works, and then still being bitter about it, and knowing what she is and being frustrated about it. It's a lot, when sorting out various issues- i have trauma, and that makes me better at empathizing with people, i'm adaptable long-term, and that means i can put up with some bullshit, that kind of thing, but that doesn't mean those are wholly good things. It's nice to see it put into words, and so plainly, and with such a strong reaction of it.

Roses can still grow wild, as pretentious as that sounds with how your passage resonates to me, but it's still nice to feel that. ---- @katrani (I’m so glad it resonates with you! I liked that line a lot! ) 

2 point answers:

Christmas Carol, Stave 1 - “You are a terrible person,” she jutted out her chin, feigning strength. “Fareeha deserved much better than you. But,” she took a deep breath. “I still hope she forgives you, someday. Someday, I hope you will deserve it.” It feels like cheating to use the most recent thing you’ve written, but nonetheless this section conveys so much about your take on Mercy, so quickly. She may be an idealist, the peacekeeper and builder, and she may want Pharah to have a relationship with her mother that’s not this disaster, but that doesn’t stop her from acknowledging that Ana’s been the primary factor in making it what it is and telling Ana that directly. I love how you write Mercy (and Tracer for that matter) as very warm characters who try to see the best in their situations but won’t gloss over the fact that sometimes, someone does have to be shot in the fucking face. “Good” doesn’t mean “hopelessly naive”, even with a pacifist, and I appreciate that you have characters who show that. 

Bonus, and a fringe case as technically part of the Fushigi Yuigi hateblog: “She was still trying to get home, had been unable to get Tamahome to let her poison him, and then Nakago had hugged her into his chest until she had been forced to flatten him with a punch to the nads. She was tired, she was hungry, and she was trying to have a moonlight bath to consider her options and wash the stink of a man off of her.

And then, Tamahome, again.” - Haruka-gets-dumped-into-Fushigi-Yuugi-as-Yui was a delight that entire episode, but this post was one of the best. Is it really just narrativizing your frustrations with the many, many writing choices that were made here? Absolutely. But it’s a fun little bit of comedic pacing here, especially with the utter exhaustion of Haruka that this bullshit isn’t over yet. (“Fuck my life” to the moon wondering if Usagi could help and regretting how hard it would be to drown herself are close runners-up on that front.) --- Regalli 

(Mercy is, in many ways, my attempt to write someone who is MOSTLY a pacifist that I can respect. It’s not easy for me! I often find pacifism to be cowardice, because so often in life the people I know who are pacifists are, well, not the folks in the street. So i thought, could you write someone who is very hesitant to kill, who believes that even Doomfist, even Reaper, even whoever, deserve care if they are hurt, who believes that a sword will not leave her hand free to uplift the fallen, and make her brave? And make her strong? And so was born, Mercy, who proved that, yeah that person, at least in my mind, can exist.) 

I think one of my favorite passages from your writing is from "The Rest is Commentary". Particularly the part that starts with "I am a doer. " That entire paragraph is wonderfully written, with mix of beautifully descriptive language to describe *why* you don't trust words. It's slightly paradoxical, but it also fits with the rest of the essay (?) so well. And even beyond that,  I love reading when you write about your faith. You are deeply devout woman, and a personal aspiration to me. When you write about your faith, it reminds me that there is work that needs to be done to live it, and not easy work either. But it is very much worth every bead of sweat, and every drop of blood. --- @shavedjudomonkey 

(Thank you so much! I love that people have connected so much with my Jewish writing) 

3 point answers: 

From Requiem for the Great Consummation, I adore the word play with "compose." Ie, in the line, "Michiru folded her hands in her lap and composed herself." Why? I'm a musician. So, Michiru, with her music, holds a special place in my heart. (Why Ami gets the music attacks is beyond me. WTF?)  I don't think the writers ever really understood what it takes to be a musician, and while fanfic writers often include Michiru's music, I've never really seen it done well. (I'm sure it has been. I just haven't seen it.) Music is all about structure. It has to feel free and soaring, but it can only be that because of the intense amounts of tension and structure underneath. A kite without a string plummets. When I reach for high, soaring notes, that's when I have to be most conscious of having a solid base. Making music Is constant tension. So, often when I see writers portray musicians, it's all "she never felt so free and untethered as when she sang/played the,violin/piano/whatever." And I think, "wow, really? She must have been Crap." So, back to compose/compose. This wordplay shows that tension. The "I have rehearsed this 5,000 times and am still working so hard I'm sweating standing still in this freezing auditorium so that it can look and sound completely free and easy." This is Michiru's entire life. She is composing herself. She is outlining complex rhythms and tensions and resolutions that even though you hear when the piece is played, you don't fully take in or understand, and all you consciously comprehend is 'wow, pretty.' Because that's how music works. Organs have keys that can't be heard by the human ear, and composers include them in their pieces. Why? We can't hear them! But we feel them. If you look at the score for an orchestral piece, it contains So. Many. Notes. So much going on. But when you listen, all you hear is that melodic theme. But if you take out anything underneath, things change and cam fall apart. Michiru lives her life like that. She creates herself, composes herself, and it looks elegant and free and easy, but it is so so very tightly controlled and rehearsed, and that particular wordplay showed off that side of Michiru's music, which is one I don't get to see explored much. --- @incorrecttact 

(Thank you so much for this!! I am NOT a musician, but so much of Michiru and music speaks to me, the structure of it, the discipline, the way it allows you to express yourself while hiding behind something else. And yes! I think of that double meaning so much!)

I want you to know... that this was very, very difficult. I made a notepad and collected shit I'd pulled out from your work where I could find comments where I did such, and then I AGONIZED. Here is where I landed but know it's so close with other things god. 

"Winston worked in earnest at his inventions, and Emily went back to teaching, and the two of them began to cook for each other again. Family dinners once a week resumed, grew with some of the new recruits that were being folded into their family. Pharah and Mercy’s daughter took them to the zoo, the park, out into the world. Dva had continued the game they had all been playing before Tracer died, their party picking up after the terrible and well-done loss of their beloved rogue. ***Life did not return, but it grew forward. It bloomed again.***" — A Clock's Fading Chime

I ended up choosing this one because I hate it a little when I read it. Not because it's not good but because it's SO PAINFUL. I love so much about the way you talk about love, and I think grief is all a part of that. We grieve because we loved. The idea of the grief period, especially for those in a close circle of a lost person, being like the cycle of the seasons where a flower may die but life blossoms in the soil it left behind is so evocative and perfect and everything leading up to that last line is the soil for which that line got to bloom. The slow, simple way life returns to them, that they adjust to the heavy rock in their pack (A piece of yours I revisited for this and a metaphor I will always carry with me) and start growing stronger together. And that they find it WITH EACH OTHER too just god, it kills me. But would I rather wish it wasn't necessary? YUP. FOR SURE. It hurts to think about someone who plays Lena's role dying in our own lives and trying to mend the rift between those left behind. But it brings all those possibilities and who may have gone already before to mind because it feels so grounded in the reality of what these experiences are like and shit it's just a great sampling of everything I love about your work. Beautiful prose, saying so much with so little, grounded in stuff that feels read, and ending on a banger, transfixing line. ---- @thoughtfulfangirling 

(Thank you so much! I LOVED that whole series of fics around that, as it is in the way that I often like to toy with the nature of grief, and the way that we go on. Things aren’t ever the same, but we go on. And I’m so glad you gt into it too! It’s very self-indulgent for me, basically everything with OW, so I love when other poepl like it) 

4 point answers: 

Given that I am not Jewish, I hope this isn't overstepping my bounds, but your passover Seder speech really spoke to me this year. Specifically the bits about the relationship between cowardice and metaphorical bondage: 

"This is a celebration of our freedom from bondage, but it is a also a reminder, a call that we must ensure we do not, in cowardice, return ourselves to bondage. "

Without explaining too much, and risking the kind of parasocial oversharing that you lamented the other day in a post, this particular push and pull has been at the forefront of my mind this year. The intense gravity that the familiar, the easy, the safe, can have, versus the genuine terror of pressing out into the unknown in search of something better.

Trying to change, and to do better, and to press on, is fucking terrifying, and hard. But, that is not an excuse. And I appreciated the reminder.   --- @blastoise-m 

(Not overstepping at all! I am so glad that it speaks to you, I really, really love this kind of writing, and I really should get back to doing more of my Jewish writing. My rabbi is leaving, because we apparently don’t have the money to have a rabbi! And he’s readying people to be lay leaders, and called on me to be someone who could give Divrei Torah (sort of like our sermons) because of my tendency to do stuff like this, and it’s very scary! But really exciting as that’s the kind of stuff that had me interested in being a rabbi, is picking this stuff apart and applying it to our own lives HI YOU ASKED FOR NONE OF THIS SORRY) 

"There are no beautiful deaths in this world, and am sorry that you must know it. Rei never was allowed to say goodbye. I watched Haruka grow weaker and more ill every single day. We each have been jealous of the other, at turns, but I tell you this truth now: Our lives mean much more than our deaths. You and Seiya had a wonderful love story, and you raised a wonderful daughter, and unfortunately it is very often difficult to finish a story in a satisfying sort of way. It is not the end of your story, simply of hers. For you, it is a new chapter"

I think this is still one of my top 5 fav fics that you've ever written. I still think of it randomly once in a while. It's such a small moment but it sold me Usagi and Seiya in a way never would have expected. It's such a moment of growth for both Usagi and Muchiru. A small moment of connection for two people who are so different.

This is wrapped up in the entire MaS series, which I could never separate from this work let alone this quote. The entire series is a series about love and all its many permutations. About finding meaning in a world when you think your meaning has been taken away. About carrying on when you think there's no reason to do so. And I think this quote really encapsulates all of that. 

This story, this entire series, is one the favorite things I've ever read and I'm so glad that you decided to share it. --- @madegeeky

(I truly and in all ways love how much you love this fic, it cheers em and makes me so happy every time I am reminded of it. And thank you for loving that line! I FEEL that line. It’s been true for every death that has come to me, so I love when it has meaning for others. ) 

The 5 point answer:

"God separated the sky and the sea, and that’s true, but there will always be the horizon where they blend."

I'm not much of a quote person. I'll often remember the feeling or the takeaway but rarely the words themselves. This, though, has stuck with me.

There is so much in this world, and so many people, who see everything as absolutes. Black and white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. And as I've grown and changed, that has come to bother me more and more.

This quote is such an elegant and accessible way to express how that oh-so-common point of view is a fallacy. And really it's just a lovely line that invokes both lovely imagery and feeling. ---- @seolh

I FORGOT I WROTE THIS, and like the completely arrogant piece of shit I am, when I read it was I was like, “Oh fuck, that’s a solid line.” And yes I am with you on getting older and relizing that the horizon line can be so fuzzy out there, sometimes, and this quote WEIRDLY came back to me when I needed it, a lot, and so thank you! 

[siren-dragon]

1,001 Lucian Nights -- Somnus x F!reader fanfiction (Ch.5)

Oh my gosh, it’s a chapter update! I know it’s been over a year since I posted, but I kinda lost a bit of interest in the FFXV (the alternate ending makes me confused and isn’t my favorite). Anyway, I decided to finish this story thanks to @LuminaReal on AO3 convincing me to continue. So here is chapter 5! Also, if anyone would like me to do art for this just let me know.

WARNING: there is a mature curse in this chapter

Tagging: @maty-yami

AO3 - story link

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The first thing you were able to register was the warmth that caressed your skin as you were slowly pulled from unconsciousness and rejoined the land of the living. Squinting at the brief assault the sunlight brought upon your senses, you sat upright from your simple bed and glanced outside the small window that resided to your right as you mentally reviewed the previous night’s events. You recalled Gilgamesh escorting you back to the Oracle’s chambers where your mistress lay resting upon the chaise; having attempted to wait for your return. Once you and the King’s Shield had awoken Lady Selene and managed to calm her unease, both of you decided to retire for a long-awaited rest. The exhaustion you felt not only from the evening’s harrowing experience but the previous night as well was so great, you barely registered Gilgamesh taking his leave as sleep overcame you mere moments after your head fell upon the plush pillow.

Yet now you sat awake with a far more refreshed mind-set after the small reprieve. The idea that Somnus was more or less robbed of such a simple yet principal pleasure made you marvel at how the black-haired king had managed so far. Truth be told, he has not. You thought ruefully, gently rubbing your wrist which was now bound by a fresh cloth; masking the dark purple hand-print bruise and subsequent sprain you gained from Somnus’… displeasure. While you did extend a bit of sympathy toward the young Lucis Caelum’s ailment, you could not help the brief vexation and fear that rippled within your mind at his actions. Of course, there was no denying the sliver of gratitude you felt, after all; it could have been your neck bearing the bruise instead….

“I should not hold my breathe on that account, if I cannot continue my stories, I may find myself receiving such a mark.” You spoke aloud softly, moving quickly to dress for the day.

As you exited your small bedchamber and entered the Oracle’s personal sitting rooms, you were surprised to find not the Speaker for the Gods herself, but rather the young servant girl Ceres instead. The adolescent girl jumped in surprise at your sudden appearance, bowing respectfully to you, “L-Lady (f/n), you should be resting! Her Ladyship the Oracle said to-“

“It is quite alright Ceres, and there is no need for titles; I am merely a handmaiden, not a noble of the court.” You corrected kindly, glancing around the sitting room in search of the Oracle, “Lady Selene is not here, is she?”

“No, my La- I mean, (f/n). She left to perform blessings and asked that you not be bothered so you may rest; she said you had a rather harrowing night.”

“I see… Ceres, would you mind doing me a small favor? I need you to deliver a note to someone within the bazaar; a Master Sidolfus.”

“The storyteller?” Ceres exclaimed in giddy delight, her enthusiastic reaction making you chuckle. It seemed the master storyteller’s fame continued to grow with each passing day.

“The very same. Please ensure that he receives this letter,” you replied, quickly scrawling out a short message upon a spare piece of parchment.

“You can count on me (f/n)!”

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There were few pastimes that Somnus ever took part in, but falconry was the one he held most dear. It was the sole avocations he and his mother had shared before her death- the late Lady Rhea Lucis Caelum having been a great admirer of animals, birds especially. He remembered once as a child trying to lift the falcon his mother had held so effortlessly upon her slender arm, only to shake and tremble under the fowl’s heavy weight while it crowed angrily at him for being an unsteady perch. Now he barely took notice of the bird’s presence upon his hand, having grown accustom to the falcons residing upon his hand or shoulder.

“I thought you would be here.” A voice spoke, accompanied by the sounds of moving fabric and the clink of metal upon stone.

“May I ask what brings you here, your Ladyship? I doubt it is to observe the crafting of a falcon hood.” Somnus asked, showcasing the small, half-finished leather hood he was currently sewing.

A rather sheepish expression briefly flittered across the blonde’s face. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I did not think myself to be so transparent. But you are correct, my motive for being here is more than mere socialization between friends.”

“I take it this is in regard to your handmaiden, (f/n).” Somnus shot back before turning to face the blonde Oracle.

Clad in full regalia with trident in hand, the blonde priestess looked as if she were a divine being herself; descending upon the mortal realm to invoke her will, though she possessed a polite smile rather than the cold indifference often seen upon the Messengers of the Astrals. Somnus knew many of the nobles believed Selene to be a little naïve and gullible due to the kindness she displayed to any who sought blessings from the Oracle but that could not be further from the truth. Beneath her sweet disposition was an intelligent and fearless leader ready to fulfill her calling despite being a second choice. And Somnus knew more than anyone that the Oracle was an individual not to be trifled with.

“Indeed,” Selene answered, resting the bottom of her trident upon the marble floor. “Your Majesty…. regardless of what you choose to believe, you are my friend and I do care greatly about your safety, as does Gilgamesh. That would be why I was supportive of (f/n)’s assistance regarding your insomnia and night-terrors. However, that young woman is not only my handmaiden, but my dear friend as well. Which is why I am curious as to how she received a bruise upon her wrist in the shape of a man’s hand last night.”

The Lucian sovereign flinched briefly at the sharpening of Selene’s tone as if struck, “It was… a lapse of judgement Selene.”

“A lapse of judgement? You attacked a woman, Somnus. I know that you’ve been having a difficult time of late and I sympathize, but this is an action I cannot condone.”

“Then you should have your hand-maiden watch her tongue when speaking of matters she does not understand- “

“Somnus Lucis Caelum!” Selene snapped, crystal-blue eyes colder than the Ghorovas Rift, “I will not have you debase a woman who has been trying to help you out of nothing but the kindness in her heart, only to suffer physical harm! Now you will control your temper and act like the king you are, or I swear to Shiva you will be the first to face my skills with this trident!”

A tense silence fell between the two that seemed to stretch on for an eternity before Somnus nodded in understanding. “…. Forgive me, Selene. I- I have over-stepped my bounds.”

“I am not the one who needs to hear those words, Somnus.”

Without another word, Selene exited the aviary, leaving the thoroughly disciplined king to his thoughts. Selene’s anger slowly flooded her mind as she proceeded to return to the East Wing while a sliver of guilt began to take its place. Perhaps she was a bit too harsh on Somnus, not to mention immature for having lost her own temper so easily when trying to teach her friend to reign in his own. Regardless, Selene only hoped that (f/n) was willing to continue with her meetings and that Somnus’ mental health did not deteriorate too far…

“Ah, Lady Selene! You look positively radiant this day, your ladyship. I wondered, perhaps, if I could discuss a rather growing concern with you?”

The young Oracle bit her lip and said a silent prayer for strength to the Astrals before turning to face the individual who had addressed her, polite smile on her lips. “Thank you, Lord Aldercapt, you are too kind. How can I assist you this day? Is something wrong?”

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You were glad to see that Ceres was successful in her task as Sidolfus arrived not long after you yourself at the small but private eatery not too far from the Citadel. And much like your previous encounter, the elderly man was more than happy to have accepted the invitation for a meeting; likely knowing you were eager for advice. “Greetings Lady (f/n), it is wonderful to see you once more.”

“Likewise, Master Sidolfus, I am glad you were able to come.”

The older storyteller chuckled, “well, your messenger was quite insistent that I accept your invitation. A rather spit-fire of a girl you have there.”

“Oh dear, I do hope Ceres wasn’t too… erm, passionate about my request.” You frowned, the slight embarrassment you felt tinting your face pink with blush.

“Not at all! If anything, that girl gave me some inspiration for another story of mine. And speaking of stories, I assume you asked me here for assistance with your own fables. Tell me Lady (f/n), how have your tales been received by your nobleman patron?”

“Far better than I had hoped, but he is not as enraptured as I would have wished. I managed to finish my current story and spoke of beginning another the previous night, but I am not quite sure how to hold his focus…until I recalled your own tale.”

“Ah, you are speaking of my encounter with Death,” Sidolfus replied knowingly, gently blowing the steam from his cup of tea before taking a tentative sip.

You nodded, “yes, you mentioned you had meet him once before.”

“I did not meet him, I passed him on the streets of Altissia- but only for a moment. I had told a close friend what had happened, and he said… that he too had seen Death too and that Death had given him a horrible look. He was so frightened that he was leaving for Caem that very night.” Sidolfus answered, his eyes bearing an intense focus as he recounted his tale to you, as if he were speaking of an event that had occurred merely hours ago.

“…And?” you questioned, eager to learn more of the storyteller’s fable.

It was then that Sidolfus allowed a small smirk to twist at his lips, knowing full well that his tall-tale had already claimed your attention. “Another time perhaps. You must learn how to keep your audience in suspense Lady (f/n). But you must ensure that he does not know what is to happen next.”

“Truth be told, even I am not aware of what will happen next,” you admitted honestly, not quite sure if you were referring to your story or the continuation of your meetings with the king.

You spent the remainder of the time speaking a bit more with Sidolfus before taking your leave, knowing full well that Lady Selene would likely send out a squadron of glaives to locate you. Quickly you hurried back toward the East Wing to continue with your chores but was surprised when the doors opened to reveal not only Lady Selene, but a nobleman accompanying her as well. “Please, will you not consider my proposal, Lady Oracle. We only wish to secure the continuation of this kingdom.”

“Lord Aldercapt,” Lady Selene answered with polite grace despite the irritation that reflected within her ice-blue eyes. “I understand your concerns and I am ever grateful for you placing the needs of the people above all else. But from what I have seen, I do not believe his Majesty to be incapable of performing what duties he has been charged with by divine providence.”

“The council is fully aware of His Majesty’s prowess and skill, my Lady- he has done admirably despite the heavy burden placed upon him. But one cannot help the concern felt as to whether or not the king can continue his duty as sovereign with his current health. Should his Majesty’s constitution continue to decline…. we will be forced to act; regardless of divine providence.”

“Those are treasonous words you speak,” you quietly interrupted, unable to mask your outrage at the old man’s cruel murmurs and causing both Selene and the old man to face you.

The old nobleman swiftly turned his gaze to you; his dark blue, nearly black eyes reminded you eerily of a deep abyss glaring coldly at you in cold fury at your sudden appearance. He took in your simplistic attire and stared down at you with a withered sneer as if you were nothing more than a mere insect beneath his boot. “And who are you to interrupt private conversations? I believe servants are taught to hold their tongue, are they not.”

You flushed briefly in shock and anger at the man’s cruel words but was halted from retaliating with an aggressive response when Selene came to your aid. “Lord Aldercapt, I would kindly ask you to please refrain from insulting members of my staff.”

“Your… staff?” The ivory-haired man looked at you with an expression of surprise until it morphed into an oily smile that barely hid the displeasure in the nobleman’s eyes. The falsified expression sent a cold chill of unease down your spine as if the Glacian herself had frozen your very bones. You did your best to keep your expression neutral; though the nobleman’s twisted smile made the task nearly impossible. “Forgive me, your Ladyship; I was not aware this…girl served our dear and beloved Oracle. Tell me, who might you be?”

“Permit me to introduce my handmaiden and dear friend: (f/n).”

“At your service, sir.” You replied stiffly, your bow of greeting barely low enough to be considered polite.

Whether or not Lord Aldercapt took notice of your lack of courtesy, he did not care to comment and instead turned his gaze back to Selene. “Please consider my words, your Ladyship, for the good of all.” He bowed graciously to the Oracle and tossed you another venomous but subtle glare before disappearing back down the empty corridor and out of the East Wing of the Citadel. Once Lord Aldercapt had proceeded out of sight and earshot Selene released a heavy sigh of relief while you continued glaring down the corridor at where the aristocrat once stood.

“That man makes me uncomfortable.” You spoke, at last relaxing once more with the return of privacy.

Selene frowned, “I did not think Lord Aldercapt would speak so directly regarding Somnus' ailments. This is rather unsettling….”

“Would he and the other lords really try to contend with the Will of the Gods regarding his Majesty’s throne?”

“Not all of the council heed Aldercapt's honeyed words, but I would be lying if I said he had no sway over the other nobles. I do not believe they would be foolish enough to contend against Somnus and myself directly… but the hearts of men are often blinded by material vices.” The Oracle sighed before turning a questioning gaze onto you, “but it seems that issue is not the only concern I have.”

“Oh? What might the others be?”

“For starters, would you care to explain why you arrived back with a bruise upon your wrist so severe it caused a sprain.” Selene questioned with narrowed eyes.

You swiftly turned your gaze downward and bit your lip in thought, knowing there was truly no use lying to your friend. “It was merely an accident, my Lady, nothing more.”

“And I suppose the man whose hand it bares the shape of meant no offense.” Selene added sharply, her words causing you to flinch ever so slightly. “(F/n)… perhaps it would be best if you stopped meeting with Somnus.”

“I will not try to fool you Lady Selene and say His Majesty is merely a misunderstood and tragic man. He is cold, rude, stubborn, possesses' a foul temper, and carries a well of secrets greater than any sinner; but he is a good man. One that needs more help than he realizes.”

Selene frowned, “as Oracle and the mistress you have chosen to serve, you have my deepest gratitude for choosing to continue with this task (f/n). But as your friend… I am concerned that you or Somnus may get hurt from this endeavor. However, you asked for my trust in this matter and so I shall continue to give it. I will not interfere….for now.”

You smiled brightly and bowed respectfully toward Selene, “I am at a loss for words my Lady but, thank you.”

The blonde answered your show of gratefulness with a matching smile before continuing down the corridor of the West Wing with you fast on her heels. “Now then, I must speak with Gilgamesh in regards to Lord Aldercapt and the rest of the Council, I sense there may be more than mere nightmares working against the King. I shall leave His Majesty’s health to you; I trust you’ve a tale in mind for your next meeting?”

It was then that a look of amusement flittered across your face, though the determination in your (e/c) eyes burned brightly. “Yes… I believe I do.”

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As day turned to night, and the brilliance of the sun was replaced by the illumination of flame from every candle and brazier, you found yourself being escorted once more by Lord Gilgamesh toward the King’s chambers. Similarly, to the previous evenings, the tall warrior beside you remained silent; but for once you were glad for the quiet as it allowed you to collect your thoughts as you sub-consciously rubbed the bandage about your wrist and hand. “My lady, we have arrived,” Gilgamesh gently placing a hand upon your shoulder; causing you to jump as you returned to the present.

“Y-Yes, thank you Lord Gilgamesh.”

“Lady (f/n), while I admire your courage in continuing with this task; there is no shame in feeling fear.”

That caused you to pause as you turned to face the aged warrior, “… you do not think me foolish for fearing my own sovereign? Or cowardly wondering if this may end with my neck upon the headsman’s block.”

“No, my lady. Fear is an important aspect to possess as well as overcome. In battle, one may discover what their enemy fears most by the means he uses to frighten you. Such knowledge is crucial if one wishes survive against their combatant.”

“You believe I should treat the king as my enemy?” you asked, curious and surprised at his words.

“Is your life not in danger from this endeavor?” Gilgamesh replied, a brief teasing smile tugging at his lips at your disbelief. “You have seen Somnus through all manner of emotions over the course of the past few nights that only a handful of individuals have and that knowledge can aid you. What I am saying Lady (f/n)… is that it may not be you who is the one that is truly afraid.”

You pondered the swordsman’s words as he moved to knock heavily upon the door and opening it when the king’s familiar voice muttered a muffled, “enter.” Nodding your head in thanks to Gilgamesh, you entered the expansive quarters while the door closed behind you like the bars of a prison cell. Across the room the king stood waiting for you as you approached. “Good evening, your Majesty,” you greeted as you bowed politely.

“Yes… good evening Lady (f/n).”

Those words certainly caught you off guard, the kind greeting causing you to immediately look toward the ebony-haired man. For once the harsh lines around Somnus’ face seemed to have softened with the lack of the usual sour expression that seemed to have permanent residence upon his face, making him look far younger. His arms were crossed as his dark-blue eyes seemed to avoid your own as his left foot seemed to shuffle back and forth in the slightest of movements as if he wanted to race away; giving the king the appearance of a young boy who had been caught stealing sweets and forced to confront the shop-keep. After what felt like an eternity he let his eyes shift briefly toward you, glancing at the bandage wrapped about your wrist and hand; causing a micro-expression of regret to flitter across his face so quickly, you would have believed you imaged it were it not for Somnus’ next words.

“I do hope you are well enough to continue your tales, Lady (f/n).”

You stared at him with a look of pure confusion, one that he noticed and caused him to immediately growl in anger and turn sharply away. Did he… Did he just inquire about my health? Is this about my injury?

“Y-Yes sire, I am well; thank you for your inquires.” You responded awkwardly, unused to the strange pleasantries the two of you were exchanging.

“Good. I do hope the… the fool who has caused such an offense has asked your forgiveness. Though none would fault you if you choose to withhold such a privilege due to this man’s actions toward you; as they were nothing short of cruelty.”

If this wasn’t a serious apology from the King of Lucis himself, you may have laughed at the look of nervousness and embarrassment on Somnus’ face. His face had contorted due to his expression of anger, but it was less cold and severe than you had previously witnessed; which caused it to appear pouty and brooding. You tried to fight down the giggles that threatened to spill from your mouth by biting your lip and smiling brightly at the proud king who seemed to have been chastised by another to give this rather humiliating and unusual apology. You briefly wondered if this was what Gilgamesh meant by the king experiencing fear; perhaps beneath it all he was just as frightened as you were. Well, you supposed it was time to overcome your fear and give the poor man a chance… but only a chance.

“I believe he has earned my forgiveness… for the time being. But one can not be too careful, another incident may leave him with a proper scolding.”

His eyes quickly shot up to meet your own, surprised at your acceptance of his apology and playful teasing of his behavior. There was no need for outright proclamations or tearful confessions of ‘I’m sorry’, he was too stubborn for that and you wished not to have a bold statement spoken in false tones if he did say those words. But you both understood what one was trying to convey and knew that such words have returned you both to even playing fields. He smirked as midnight blue eyes sparked with mischief as the golden-orange glow of the braziers danced across his pale face. “Oh? And I suppose you will inflict this scolding yourself? And just what might such an action entail… Lady (f/n).”

You prayed to every Astral there was Somnus did not see the rose shade of blush that suddenly crept up your face at his less-than innocent innuendo. Though judging by the growth of the smirk on his lips, you were not so fortunate. “Perhaps that will be a story for another time, your Majesty.”

“I look forward to it.” He spoke as he settled upon the plush pillows and soft rug within the sitting area, the small table already laden with refreshments and the dim glow of candlelight. “Now… I trust you will continue your unfinished tale.”

“Yes sire, I shall continue.” You answered, settling across from him against the lush furnishings.

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‘As the crowd was leaving the courtroom, the most famous magician in Galahd, Glauca, passed by on his way to Tenebrae. He was a rather intimidating yet charismatic man with piercing blue eyes and a gravelly voice that could command anyone into performing his bidding. When he came into a room, the Sabertusks jumped on chairs…. But he is not the hero of this story.

‘And who is that?’ Somnus asked.

‘Um… Erebus- no.’ You muttered, trying to think of a name as images of your character flashed through your mind. Young, old, tall, short, male, female, blonde, redhead, and brunette all swirled about within your head until the image began to emerge and become clear.

‘Nyx… Nyx Ulric.’

  “NO!” a brunette man with dark-blue eyes and unshaven face cried out in despair as the chocobo’s raced down the track, with a particularly vibrant orange one claiming victory and with it, his money. Cheers or shouts of outrage that echoed all across the pavilion of the races from what seemed to be every gambler within the vicinity. It was clear to see by the worn and dirty tunic he wore that his social status was not one of wealth, though not uncommon in the sprawling coastal city of Pagla; Tenebrae’s famed trading hub. The young man groaned as he jumped off the pile of crates, he had claimed to watch the outcome of his bet, only for another man- this one a bit more rotund than Nyx, to heave a heavy sigh as well.

“Ugh, that race was fixed Libertus!” Nyx exclaimed in outrage, while a few of those in the crowd they tried to move through agreed whole-heartedly.

Libertus laughed, “that’s no question; anyone could have seen that Nyx. It just goes to show that honesty doesn’t pay.”

“They could have been a bit more subtle about it. Tch, who picks orange anyway?” Nyx sighed before tossing a grin to his friend. “Guess it looks like we’ll have to get back to work, huh?”

“Looks that way, let’s go.”

Swiftly moving through the crowd, Nyx glanced about the sea of faces until he finally found the perfect target. A middle-aged man dressed in fine, silk with expensive accessories draped upon his hands and neck; strutting like a proud peacock amid the poverty of Pagla. Ensuring there were no royal guards patrolling the streets as one really didn’t want to be a guest within the dungeons, Nyx took action. He quickly bumped into the man, who stumbled and glared at him while haughtily turning away, not even noticing as Nyx quickly slipped his purse away from his belt with skill and ease. “Sorry, excuse me…” he muttered half-heartedly before claiming his prize and racing away.

“What? My purse- I’ve been robbed!”

“Hey, are you alright sir? Someone robbed you?” Libertus asked, immediately drawing the noble’s attention away from Nyx.

“Th-That rogue who bumped into me, he stole my money!”

“Umm, I think I saw where he went- this way, quickly!”

Unknown to both parties, a pair of cold blue eyes- like twin pieces of ice, watched the scene before him with intrigue. As the thief quickly raced away with his prize, the man couldn’t help but smirk, believing himself quite fortunate to have found just the person he needed….

When Nyx and Libertus met once more, after having found a safe place away from guards or their mark, they began to split their earnings. Both were far more pleased to find that the man carried a decent amount of money that would tide them over for a time. As the last gil was finally split, a loud shout of angry voices and squabbling of chocobos began to fill the air as people stampeded away from a small battalion of guards escorting what looked to be an elegant carriage; a rare sight in the less-refined region of the city and likely the result of poor directions.

“Who’s in a coach that needs that large of an escort?” Libertus scoffed, unimpressed by the obvious display of wealth.

Nyx shrugged but curiosity got the better of him as he grinned to his friend, “no idea; but let’s find out.”

“And deal with all those guards? Hell no.”

“Come on, we’ll take the rooftops to leave. Besides, you love messing with guards.”

Libertus groaned, knowing there was no use arguing with Nyx once his mind was made up. “Fine, let’s do this before they leave. And if we end up spending a week in the dungeon, I’m blaming you.”

Together the two men hurried closer to the carriage, careful to avoid the eyes of the guards until they were crouching behind an abandoned wagon filled with Cartanica Melons. Keeping an eye on the carriage and waiting till it was closer, Nyx and Libertus heaved the wagon upward, causing the fruit within to sprawl across the dirt street and startle the chocobos while halting the carriage. The guard escort soon realized their charge was now stranded while the two thieves quickly moved to leave the scene. Yet as Nyx was moving to climb onto the rooftop, the small window of the carriage slowly opened and he felt himself freeze as his eyes met the those of the passenger.

Inside the carriage was a young woman, her skin pale and fair while her lips were a pale pink and a bit wide; but it only complimented her heart-shaped face. Though she appeared to be wearing a small headdress; Nyx could see dark blue flowers and shinning pearls twisted into her blonde hair- which only showcased that whoever she was she was certainly wealthy. But what caused Nyx to pause as the rest of the world faded away from his mind was her eyes- a shade of bright blue that caused the color of the sky to appear dull and lifeless by comparison; eyes that were currently locked upon his own showing only curiosity and kindness dancing in their depths.

“Who is that?” He asked softly, lost as if in a trance.

Libertus frowned, looking briefly at the person who had stolen Nyx’s attention, “oh, it’s Princess Lunafreya; she’s Queen Sylva’s daughter. I heard she’s quite kind-hearted, but apparently it’s nothing compared to her beauty- guess the rumors were true there.”

Nyx could barely hear Libertus talking as he continued to hold the princess’ gaze, who offered him a small smile that caused Nyx to only grin. She’s beautiful….

“Nyx… Nyx… Nyx! We’ve got to go!” Libertus called, pulling his love-struck friend up toward the roof as the guards began to give chase.

After being harshly returned to the reality of their situation, Nyx reluctantly turned away from the divine beauty of the young woman and quickly followed Libertus away from the guards as they raced across the rooftops. Within the carriage, Lunafreya watched the scene in awe and with a small laugh as the guards attempted to give chase. “My Lady, are you alright?” her attendant asked.

“Yes, I am fine. I was just… saying hello to a friend.” She smiled, wondering if she’d ever meet the young man again as the carriage continued onward.

Nyx quickly vaulted over a stone railing onto an abandoned rooftop, having split from Libertus to avoid tails before meeting again, only to see he was not alone. Standing across from him with his arms crossed and a smug, knowing look upon his face was a man a fair bit older than himself clad in well-worn traveling clothes. “What the- where the hell did you come from?” He asked guardedly, surprised that the man had seemed to appear from out of nowhere; an action that placed Nyx on high-alert.

“From the other side of the world: Galahd.” The man replied dryly, moving his hand in an half-hearted movement to mockingly convey wonder into his words. “and stay calm Nyx Ulric, do I look like one of the royal guards?”

“I am calm, and how do you know my name.”

“I was a friend of your late father, my name is Glauca.”

Nyx raised a skeptic eyebrow at the proclamation, “I didn’t know he had any…”

“Very few: just me.” Glauca laughed, “your father, he was so crooked he could hide in the shadow of a corked screw.”

The two remained silent, as if sizing each other up before Nyx grinned widely; “you did know him. So, why are you here looking for me and not him?”

“I wish to discuss business with you that requires your unique skillset in the art of thievery.”

“I assume this business you’re offering of the shady variety?”

Glauca nodded, “shady, shifty, and shadowy business. But… very profitable.”

Though he wished it took him longer to ask to show his trepidation with the offer; the word ‘profitable’ had immediately caught Nyx’s attention as he spoke. “What do I have to do then?”

“Meet me tomorrow outside the city gates at dawn. And here, consider it a token of my faith in you, do not keep me waiting.” Glauca then retrieved a small, but heavy purse from within his robe and tossed it to Nyx; who caught it deftly and opened to revel in the plentiful amount of gil within. He then looked up to thank Glauca, only to find the man gone.

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Despite his unsavory career choice as a thief, Nyx was never one to be obscenely greedy. He grew up with practically nothing, only to gradually lose everything as his parents and sister died one by one; which is why he strived to share his ill-gotten loot with those in similar circumstances. That often caused many to call him the rogue with ‘a heart of gold’ but Nyx preferred to see it as just simple kindness; after all, he could take care of himself and get by fine- not everyone had that luxury.

Making his way toward the humble and decaying building that was his home, he waved hello to Crowe. Unlike Libertus and Nyx, Crowe was not necessary a thief but a fence for their ill-gotten goods and friend who roomed with them. The brown-haired and brown-eyed girl held such a simple appearance that it often caused no one to glance her way, if Libertus’ overprotective nature didn’t stop them first. Indeed, Crowe’s true skill laid in being unseen and the connections she carried; a true gift for a thief. “Looks like the Hero Thief has returned. So, how’d work go today Nyx? Libertus just got back.”

“See for yourself; and make sure to spend it all and give the food to the others, okay.”

Crowe gasped when she saw the amount of money inside, “By Ramuh’s balls Nyx, where the hell did you get this?! There’s got to be at least 1000 gil in here.”

“1200, actually. It’s a down-payment for a job I’m doing tomorrow.”

“1200 gil to start?” Libertus spluttered, biting one of the coins to ensure its authenticity and causing Nyx to roll his eyes. “That’s the first thing I did, you idiots.”

Libertus snorted, “hey, it doesn’t hurt to get a second opinion. So, who is the man that hired you for the job; 1200 gil is a ridiculous amount to pay? Hell, he could have had 3 men killed for that kind of money.”

“His name’s Glauca and he said he knew my dad. As for the job, I don’t know what it is yet but I doubt it’s anything like murder. And if it is, I’ll just back out.”

“And did you believe him about knowing your old man?” Crowe asked.

“No, but I did believe his money.”

“If he’s willing to pay the same amount or even more, I’d do whatever he says- the man is clearly loaded with coin.”

Crowe frowned, “just be careful alright? This job seems shady at best and I don’t think this Glauca man is the most trust-worthy of employers.”

“Trust me, everything will be fine- and profitable.”

Those words only caused Libertus and Crowe to laugh, “famous last words.”

 ‘And so, the following morning, Nyx and Glauca left the City of Pagla behind. He didn’t trust Glauca in the slightest, but when there was money involved… Nyx was prepared to take a few risks.’ You explained to your captive audience while Somnus only smirked as you continued.

 Leaving the still sleeping city of Pagla, the two men traveled upon Glauca’s chocobo south-east and further inland toward the mountains before allowing the bird to rest. As they continued on foot, Glauca finally began to explain the actual task of what the job entailed. “I don’t want to boast, but I’ve not met another who can match me in combat; magic to magic.”

Nyx had to withhold a snort of derision at the magician’s arrogant tone, “so why ask for my help if you’re so powerful.”

“All power has its limits, Nyx Ulric, which is why you are here. What I want is for you to retrieve a certain object that I cannot collect myself for reasons… too complicated to explain. It is due to the rules of magic; they are often tiresome, but must be obeyed without question.”

“So why did you choose me?”

Glauca laughed as he turned to face Nyx, “you did not believe I was a friend of your father?”

“Not for a moment, and stop avoiding the question.” Nyx shot back with a smirk.

“I choose you because you have larceny in your soul. Now, the task I wish you to undertake is this: I want you to go into a tomb, retrieve an old amulet, and bring it back to me.”

“A tomb? What tomb?”

“Right here,” Glauca spoke, waving his hand at the site before them.

Nyx watched in as they came to a halt beside the base of river where a magnificent waterfall cascaded down the mountain side. Crystal, clear water danced across the rocky shoreline while on the other side of the river a herd of wild chocobos were drinking or resting in the shade of the sparse trees that dotted the area. The small batch of wilderness looked far too picturesque to hold something as morbid as a tomb. However, when Glauca waved his hands the shoreline soon began to split as earth and stone rumbled and groaned to reveal a dark enclosure beneath their feet. “How much are you paying me to do this?” Nyx asked, suddenly very weary of whatever was down in that dark abyss.

“2000 gil,” Glauca replied a bit smugly.

“Please, don’t insult me! And don’t ask me to trust you, thieves trust no one… 5000 gil or no deal.” Nyx countered.

Glauca frowned at the rogue’s attempt to haggle, but shrugged and relented nonetheless. “Done, here’s half.”

Nyx stared a gapped at amount of money Glauca easily parted with as he hurried after him. “Wait! You gave me this too easily, no one would ever do something like that- you’re not telling me everything!”

“I gave you the money, now do your job rogue. And here, take this with you.” Glauca added, taking Nyx’s hand and slamming looked to be a small, wooden charm bearing the shape a fox, which was painted in a pale blue that beheld a soft glow in the sunlight. The simplistic design nearly made Nyx believe a child had made crafted the charm were it not for the small horn on the fox’s forehead that appeared to be an actual ruby. “Consider this a small precaution, simply rub the charm if any trouble or complications should arise.”

“Trouble? What sort of trouble, 5000 gil is not enough if there is going to be problems!”

“A deal is a deal, so off you go. And do not try to betray me or I swear by Garuda’s feathers, you will never see your wedding day.” Glauca snapped, gesturing to the chocobo they had ridden here on.

Nyx frowned and looked at the bag of money and fox charm in his hand before tying the charm about his wrist and pocketing the money as he moved to the edge of the cavern entrance. He took a deep breath and soon jumped, landing skillfully upon the start of a stone staircase descending further down into the tomb. Looking back up to see Glauca nodding for him to continue with less than encouraging words of, “go on now,” Nyx slowly began to climb further and further into the cavern.

 ‘Nyx didn’t know the extent of trouble he was getting himself into, if he had he wouldn’t have taken the 5000…’ You spoke before you gave a soft laugh, “On the other hand, he probably would have.’

 The deeper Nyx climbed into the cavern, the colder the air became. It was not long after his descent that he was able to see his breath appear as heavy, white clouds before his face while his flesh soon began to shudder from the frigid cold. As he moved to take another step, his foot soon slipped which caused a foul curse to slip through his lips as he slid down the last three rungs of the ancient stairwell until he fell into a heap upon the cavern floor. “Damn it, what the hell was that- wait… is that ice?” Nyx spoke aloud, staring in bewilderment at the sight that lay before him.

The cavern certainly was large, expanding at least fifteen feet above his head before continuing on into naught but darkness. Before the young thief laid an elaborate and elegant stone antechamber, leading up a small carved staircase surrounded by empty braziers and statues of monstrous beasts’ Nyx had never seen before all frozen in mid strike as if they were to descend upon him at any moment. Against the far wall that lay before him was an expansive corridor that continued further into the cavern; yet the strangest aspect of all was the fact that the entire tomb seemed to be encased in ice. The clear, blue crystal seemed to wrap around every surface like twisted claws trying to consume everything it touched in the cold bite of winter.

“What in the hell is this place?” He muttered, shivering slightly as he slowly approached the entrance as he observed the ice that was currently wrapped about a particularly life-like statue of what bore similar resemblance to a Skarnbulette. “The sooner I find that amulet, the sooner I can leave. Looks like I’ll have to head further inside.”

Rifling through the brazier, which was comprised of nearly fossilized wood, Nyx quickly took a stone and drew one of his daggers and moved the rock across the blade’s edge. When the sparks finally caught and smoke began to emerge, he quickly cultivated the embers until at long last a flame emerged providing much welcomed warmth and light. Taking hold of the torch, Nyx continued onward through the antechamber and down into the open corridor; the unease he felt causing his grip upon his dagger to tighten until his knuckles turned white. More statues stood as silent guardians in their prisons of ice as he walked further before the corridor expanded into a large, circular room with a timeworn sarcophagus resting on a raised dais in the center of the room; surround by four empty braziers. However, Nyx was more than surprised to see that the ice seemed to only begin where the dais ended; leaving the sarcophagus completely untouched.

“5000 was definitely not enough,” he sighed heavily as he quickly moved toward the coffin, moving around a looked to be a frozen coeurl. “There it is, thank Bahamut.”

Atop the lid of the sarcophagus looked to be a damaged and worn carving of a feminine figure, though clasped within the statue’s outstretched hands laid a small ebony amulet with a dull, golden interior and small, dull glass snowflake set within the center hanging from a thin leather strap. Nyx frowned upon the obviously mediocre piece of jewelry and immediately moved to claim his objective for his bout of tomb-robbing.

“This is it? You’d at least think there’d be a real diamond with a tomb this size. Alright, time to get the hell out of here and get the rest of the money-“

CRACK!

Nyx halted in his examination of the simplistic amulet, blood draining from his face as he slowly turned to the source of the sound that still echoed gently throughout the still chamber. The coeurl statue he had walked past previously had remained still as before… but the ice encompassing the figure held a large and vicious crack within the crystalline surface. With torch in hand and his dagger within the other, the skilled rogue expertly approached the disturbed statue as tense as a bow string. Raising the torch higher to observe the statue, Nyx could see firelight illuminating the smaller cracks appearing within the icy surface surrounding the beasts head until they suddenly stopped.

“What is going on? Alright Nyx, you’re just being paranoid- it’s best time to leave.” He chuckled softly to himself, though he refused to loosen his grip upon his weapon.

And then the statue’s eye opened, reveling a slit pupil amid a green iris.

“Fuck!” Nyx shouted, quickly jumping back as the sound of ice cracking filled the entire chamber. A loud roar could be heard from the now animated coeurl statue as the ice binding it in place began to shatter and crumble.

Scrambling to his feet in panic Nyx quickly raced out of the chamber and down the corridor as glacial stalactites dropped from the darkness above. All around him the statues within the chamber began to shudder and quake, more than desiring to chase the thief in their midst. Heavy footsteps soon approached as Nyx quickly glanced back to see the stone coeurl giving chase after its escaping prey. Swiftly Nyx evaded a swipe of rock claws from his adversary, the beast managing to tear part of his tunic but leave him unscathed. He blocked another strike with his dagger and slammed the torch into the beast’s face before racing away- the fire doing little to damage the monster.

“Come on, quickly!” Nyx berated himself as he managed to step back upon the staircase toward the entrance, only to feel the stone sliding beneath his feet as it began to pull back into cavern’s wall. “What- oh come on!”

Doubling his speed and climbing the steps as quickly as he could, Nyx rushed up toward the exit and with it- safety. His fingers hurriedly grabbed onto the last step that remained intact, causing him to haul himself up on the platform as he panted heavily from exertion. He was safe… for the moment.

“Nyx! Do you have it? Do you have the amulet?” Glauca called from above, elation coloring his tone.

The brunette thief sighed heavily before reaching into his pocket and showcasing the amulet from its leather tie held tightly within his fist. Glauca grinned in triumph as he reached down with his hand extended, “hand it up to me; it will make it easier for you to get out.”

“It’s no trouble, I can get out myself.” Nyx snapped, jamming the jewelry back into his pocket.

Glauca smiled, “pass it up to me, there’s a good lad.”

“Ha! I’m not a good lad.” Nyx called back angrily, “Do you truly believe I’m stupid enough fall for that old trick? You running off with your prize without paying me what I’m owed!”

“Give it to me now, or you’ll feel my wrath!” Glauca snarled.

“I’m angry already! After the monsters you sent me to deal with, you think I’d give you anything? If you want this necklace, you’ll get it AFTER you’ve held up your end of the deal.”

“You really think I’d ride off?

Nyx glared at the older man, “yes! You have shifty eyes!”

If Glauca was not angry before, he certainly was now- his face turning a vivid shade of plum as he growled angrily at his hired help. “You cheap, street FILTH!”

“I am not cheap!” Nyx protested irritably.

“I was going to raise you up and reward you; now you shall suffer for your transgressions! You wish for the amulet? Then keep it!” Waving his hands across the stone, the entrance soon began to diminish as the opening started to close, sealing Nyx within the cavern.

It only took a few moments afterward for Glauca to realize the foolishness of his actions as he groaned and slammed a fist against river’s rocky shore, startling his chocobo companion. “Damn it! Glauca, why must you always lose your temper? Why?!” He sighed heavily, his rage having left and leaving the sorcerer deflated. “At least that thief will suffer for his betrayal. Come Garuda, it’s time to go.”

Now sealed within the cavern with no means of escape, Nyx’s alarm at his current situation had increased ten-fold. Below him he could hear the roars of the tomb’s now animated statues, each one desiring to tear his flesh to shreds as they clawed at the bottom of the platform. Yet luck seemed not to favor the thief as a loud boom echoed throughout the chamber, causing the staircase to shake and begin to sink and lower slowly to the demanding beasts below. Nyx attempted to think of some method out of the danger he had thrown himself into when he unconsciously began to rub the small fox charm wrapped around his wrist.

 ‘This was a crisis, a true catastrophe for Nyx Ulric,’ you related calmly, eyes glowing with barely concealed mirth as Somnus seemed to be on the edge of his seat as you continued your story.

‘So, what happened? How could a thief escape such machinations?’ He demanded; his curiosity dancing in the depths of his eyes despite his expression of disinterest.

You gave the Lucian King a knowing smile, ‘it is during such a crisis where all seems lost that powers beyond our own are required. In such despair… there is nothing more effective than magic, your Majesty.’

‘Magic…’ Somnus echoed quietly as his brow furrowed in confusion.

‘Yes, magic.’

 The small charm soon began to admit a bright light that illuminated the cave, blinding Nyx as he moved to shield his eyes before it vanished, allowing him see once more. Sitting before him on the stone platform was a small fox- though it resembled none that Nyx had ever seen in the wilderness or in the streets of Pagla. For one, this beast’s fur was a vibrant pale-blue shade that seemed to literally glow in the darkness of the cavern. Its fur was quite lush and silky in appearance, making the already large ears upon its head far greater in size while a small horn that seemed to be luminescent, crimson ruby protruded like a horn from the beast’s forehead. Nyx stared at the animal that yawned widely as he kneeled down to observe the creature in greater detail, though keeping his blade aloft incase it attacked. “W-Where did you come from?”

“You were the one to summon me, I thought you would already know that,” the fox replied in a high-pitched voice as its tail swished back and forth in a similar fashion to a temperamental cat. “Or perhaps you’re not that bright of a summoner.”

Nyx could only stare with shock at the fox that had replied to his question, mouth opening and closing in a manner rather similar to that of a fish. “I… You- You just talked.”

“Well, I am educated, so of course I talk.” The fox chortled, as if his verbal response was the most natural occurrence in the world. “Don’t tell me you summoned me from my sleep without intending to actually do anything. If so then I’ll be leaving now-“

“W-Wait! Don’t leave, please. I don’t even know who, or what the hell you are.”

“There is no need for your cursing. And as to who I am; I am the summon of that charm you have coiled about your wrist. Carbuncle, at your service; purveyor of my summoner’s desires. Now what do you wish for?” Its head tilted upward as the fox proudly puffed its small, furry chest out.

Before Nyx could even reply with another question as to what a Carbuncle even was, a loud roar and the crack of stone as the pillar they were standing upon began to slowly descend. Beneath them upon the frozen ground, the previously crystalized beast statues were clawing at the stone pillar eager to devour their trapped prey. Nyx released a torrent of curses while Carbuncle squeaked in alarm, it’s tail doubling in size as its fur stood on end.

“Sweet Bahamut, we’re going to die!” the fox squealed in distress as the bestial roars below grew louder at their gradual approach. Quickly, the fox Carbuncle scurried up Nyx’s leg and nestled atop his shoulders as the thief tried to balance his new passenger.

“Get off of me! And what do you mean purveyor, what are you- a genie or something?”

“Please, don’t insult me. I am far more powerful than some meager djinn.” Carbuncle grumbled, still attempting to hide from the monsters within the cavern as he moved from Nyx’s shoulders to his head. “Now, what is it you want. Hurry up human; I cannot do anything until you ask for it now what do you want!”

“What do you think I want?! I want to get the hell out of here!” Nyx exclaimed. And while he doubted the fox’s words about its supposed ‘wish-granting’, he was willing to try anything if he could escape alive and intact.

The fox bit his ear in warning, causing Nyx to yelp in surprise before jumping back onto the stone platform. “I, I, I, I, I! And what of me?! You cannot just summon me here and abandon me, you humans are ridiculous. ‘Get me out of here.’ ‘Take me home.’ ‘Please put me out, I’m on fire!’,” Carbuncle snapped back with its mocking words and turned away in a huff. “Just because you are my summoner doesn’t mean you can be rude and treat me as some slave. Have some curtesy.”

Nyx took one deep breath in an attempt to prevent himself from doing something rash to the fox before replying. “Fine, I’m sorry. Now will you PLEASE get us the hell out of here!”

By now, the platform had already reached the cavern floor and a pair of stone coeurls that had nearly claimed Nyx early snarled and raised their claws to swipe at their now vulnerable prey. Nyx immediately raised his dagger aloft in a vain attempt to block the attack while Carbuncle merely shook its fur out before the ruby on its forehead began to glow and bathe the pair in a bright glow. Within the next second the icy tomb was replaced by the beautiful waterfall that resided outside the tomb- with Nyx and Carbuncle both standing safely above the sealed entrance. The rogue stared about in a daze, adrenaline still racing in his veins while the blue-furred creature beside him yawned and tipped its head to him.

“And there you have it- safe at last and out of that dreadful tomb. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will take my leave. Farewell, Nyx Ulric.” And in another flash of bright light, the fox was gone within its wooden charm. Nyx stared down at the charm in his hand and breathed a sigh of relief before pocketing both it and the stolen amulet back into his tunic.

“Now how am I to get back to Pagla?”

 ==========================================================

“I don’t get it though,” Libertus spoke, looking at the amulet resting on the table between the three friends. “Why would Glauca ask you to get that piece of junk? It’s a little insulting for the best rogue in Tenebrae.”

After Nyx managed to beg for a ride back to the city by a passing shepherd, Libertus and Crowe were pleased to see he was safe until the rogue told his tale. After a lecture from Crowe about the dangers of taking random jobs from shifty strangers and Libertus ranting about pummeling Glauca if he ever saw him again, they all wondered why he would pay so much for something so plain. There were no jewels, embellishments, or anything of value decorating the simple trinket; if fact if Libertus and Crowe didn’t trust Nyx they’d have believed he nicked it from some 2-gil market stand.

Crowe frowned, “well it has to have some value or he wouldn’t go through the trouble. Plus, all that magic in the tomb that was protecting it makes me a little nervous. Spells like that aren’t exactly easy to perform and usually are only in place to guard against something dangerous.”

“He was rather angry when I didn’t give it to him,” Nyx replied, picking up the amulet to observe any details that would give the trio a clue to its purpose. “I think something written here but I can’t read it, hang on a moment….”

Wiping the smidge of dirt away the amulet began to give off a faint glow and an immediate chill filled the air that reminded Nyx horribly of the frozen tomb. Immediately he tossed the amulet away to the corner of their small hovel as fog and ice began appear around the discarded piece of jewelry. Libertus and Crowed quickly scrambled behind Nyx who had drew his dagger in defense as the temperature dropped and frost encompassed parts of their home. Through the growing fog a figure began to take shape, though it was much taller than the Carbuncle that Nyx had summoned in the cavern- in fact it looked to be taking on a far more humanoid shape. And as immediately as it had appeared, the fog and ice vanished to reveal what was perhaps one of the most beautiful women Nyx had ever seen. Her long ebony hair was darker than the night sky and clashed sharply yet beautifully with her pale skin and vivid crimson lips. Clad in black, gold, and ivory fabric woven into a robe-like dress Nyx had once seen from travelers of distant country in the marketplace, she had rather regal appearance. Her feet were bare of any shoes, but an elaborate anklet with bells gave soft chimes that sent an uneasy chill down Nyx’s back. The woman’s eyes remained closed but she turned to face them as if she and sent a piercing gaze toward the three with her sightless eyes.

‘Were you the one to bring me here, summoner.’ The woman spoke, her soft tone oddly gentle but hiding a rather sinister undertone. It reminded Nyx of a winter’s snowfall- lovely yet wrought with danger.

“Nyx… s-say something.” Libertus muttered, shoving his friend forward a little.

The younger rogue spluttered, “what? Why me?”

“You’re the one that stole that stupid amulet, so talk to her!” Crowe hissed, though staring fearfully at the other woman.

Giving a polite bow, as his experiences with Carbuncle taught Nyx to at least be respectful to any magic-wielding entity, he cleared his throat and spoke. “Good evening… ma’am.”

‘Fear not Nyx Ulric, I shall not harm you and your companions while you hold the title as my summoner. You may be at ease.’ The woman replied, settling onto a chair that seemed to conjure itself out of thin air.

Nyx blinked in surprise at the woman’s reassuring words. “I see… um, may I ask who you are?”

The woman raised a curious eyebrow at his question, ‘you summoned me yet know not who I am? They call me the Glacian, the Frostbearer, and Empress of Ice. But you… you may call me Gentiana, summoner. Now, what is it thou desire’s?’

“Desire? Are you going to grant his wishes or something?” Libertus asked, both he and Crowe a bit more relaxed now that the woman would cause them no harm.

‘Yes, I am.’

“Are you like that other summon Nyx mentioned? The Carbuncle?” Crowed added.

At the mention of the fox’s name, Gentiana’s smile dipped ever so slightly. ‘I see thou art acquainted with that… fox. While his powers are strong, they are nothing compared to my own.’ As she spoke, frost seemed to spread from where her foot tapped against the floor of the thieves’ home- as if the mention of the smaller summon irritated her.

“….Are you two related?”

‘No!... perhaps, I am not sure the tests were inconclusive,’ Gentiana sighed heavily.

“You mentioned you wanted to know my desires. What can you do?

It was here that Gentiana opened her eyes and let them fall upon Nyx. They were a dark shade of olive green but looked far colder than even the iced waters of the Ghorovas Rift. A small smile fell upon her lips as she settled her hands delicately in her lap and meet the trio with a knowing gaze and answered with one simple word.

‘Anything.’

===========================================================

“And that, was where it all began,” you spoke, giving a small yet sleepy smile. “Nyx Ulric, a rogue, son of a rogue, from a family of rogues found he could have anything his heart desired. All he had to do… was ask.”

Somnus remained silent as he let your words wash over him before shifting his gaze to you, eyes sparkling with excitement. “So? So! So, what did he ask for?” He asked, eagerly wishing to know more.

You had to resist the urge to chuckle at his oddly childish behavior and it caused a brief feeling of sorrow in your heart knowing you would have to cease your story lest you fell asleep mid-sentence. “We can safe that for tomorrow night, your Majesty.”

Delight quickly vanished as brief flash of anger took its place though disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Somnus immediately rose from his place among the various cushions and paced about the large bed chamber, rubbing a hand down his exhausted face. “But I wish to know now, not tomorrow night! You make your stories sound so wonderous with your wit, and charm, and beauty-“

“What does my beauty have to do with storytelling?” You asked, surprised by the sovereign’s choice of words.

It appeared not even Somnus himself realized he had said that, for he quickly halted his movements and turned to face you. “It is because if I lose interest for even a mere moment I must face those accursed nightmares yet when I turn to see your face, Lady (f/n)… and I find myself at ease from them.” His intense gaze causing a slight dust of blush to appear upon your cheeks. “Please, continue your tale.”

“Lord Somnus… I shall continue it tomorrow night.”

“I order you!” He snapped, frustrated with your refusal.

You frowned, “it would not be the same story if I was ordered to tell it.”

It seemed even the king noticed your growing anger, knowing he had pushed you too far. Somnus stared miserably at you and realized that despite his earlier apology, he had repeated his mistake that earned your ire; and that caused him more pain than the blasted nightmares ever did. “(f/n)… please continue your story. Please.”

You sighed, gently taking hold of his hand much to his shock, and guiding him toward his bed. Silently he complied with your wishes and eased into the soft blankets as sleep soon began to cloud his mind. “I am sorry (f/n), I truly am.”

“I know, sire.” You replied kindly, your earlier anger at his outburst gone.

“No, I meant… for everything.”

You remained silent for a brief moment as Somnus’ body relaxed and his breathing evened out- signifying his escape from the waking world. “I know what you meant, your Majesty.” You whispered softly, pushing back blue-black bangs from his eyes before rising from the edge of the bed. “Just wait till tomorrow night. Sweet dreams, Lord Somnus.” Blowing out the remaining candles you exited the room and found yourself being escorted once again by Gilgamesh toward Lady Selene’s chambers to rest.

[crackinglamb]

Afraid

From this prompt list.

Read it here on AO3. ~1500 words, rated T.

Summary: La’vise isn’t afraid of the big, bad wolf.

---

La'vise rolled the amulet back and forth in her hands, looking over the etchings on its surface, the stylized wolf head and marks of hard wear along the edges.  She had conquered a fear without realizing it until this moment and it was somewhat bemusing.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Varric asked across the fire, watching her.  They were settled into camp, a good hot meal in their bellies, their armor tended to, the long day done.  

“I was always afraid of wolves, you know,” she said, still looking at the amulet.

“Any particular reason why, other than the obvious slavering and rending teeth reason?” Varric rejoined with a bit of a laugh.  She smiled at the description before rubbing her thumb across the carved wolf's head.  

It was hard to tell just how old the amulet was, but it appeared to be quite.  Its power was diminished, but still present.  Once she'd put it on, none of the remaining wolves had attacked her.  She knew she would keep it.  Even if it was just as a thread of a connection to her roots. The way the head was carved was too reminiscent of the old statue her clan used.  It was like carrying a piece of home with her.

“The Dalish are taught to be wary.  Because of the Dread Wolf.”  From the corner of her eye she saw Solas turn his head slightly from his journal.  He was listening, but didn't appear to be ready to interrupt with another one of his caustic opinions of the Dalish for once.  “Never let him catch your scent, never let him hear your footsteps.”

“Ahh, yeah, I know a bit of those legends.  Daisy used to tell us stories.”

“Daisy?”

“Merrill.  She was from a Dalish clan.”

“Sabrae?  I know of Merrill.”

“No shit?”

“Yes.  I was a child the last time I saw her.  The last Arlathvan she attended.  I must have been...oh, seven or eight.  She wasn't at the one a few years ago.”  She huffed.  “No surprise, there.  There isn't a Clan Sabrae left now.”

“So, tell me why you're bringing this up now?”

“Those wolves we fought, for the horsemaster's wife.  They weren't...I wasn't afraid of them.”

“Why not?” Cassandra entered into the conversation.

“I'm not sure, really.  Maybe because I'm older.  Or maybe because at this point I've seen far greater terrors than some legend from before the Dales fell.  Even if I can't remember the details.”

“You do not fear that he is real?” Solas asked, drawing her attention away from the amulet to his face.  There was something there, some dark hidden emotion in his eyes made more obscured by the firelight.  Then it was gone, and she wasn't sure she hadn't just imagined it.

“The Creators have never heeded the Dalish's prayers.  Why should Fen'Harel be any different?” she scoffed.

“And that necessarily means none of them exist, da'len?  Those that follow the Andrastian faith have no proof of the Maker, but that does not mean he is not out there, somewhere.”

La'vise made a face at him, equal parts exasperation and ridicule.  “Really, Solas, is that the best argument you can come up with?  The last few months have shown us all that we don't know half of what we think we do of this world.  I'm willing to bet that all our religions are wrong. Surely no hand of the Maker, nor work of the Creators, would bring this chaos upon Thedas.  Hahren.”

“A fair point,” he agreed with a tilt of his head.  “There are certainly more mysteries on this earth than answers.”

“I mean, by that logic, one might even accuse the Dread Wolf of being behind the Breach,” she said lightly.  She wasn't really expecting him to agree, it was fairly preposterous when she thought about it.  But she certainly wasn't expecting the startled laughter that came out high pitched and was abruptly cut off before it got too loud.  He shook his head and went back to his journal.

“If what Daisy said is true,” Varric said before she could examine Solas's reaction, “I wouldn't be a bit surprised.  Sounds like his thing.”

“I am unfamiliar with these legends,” Cassandra said.  “Who is the Dread Wolf?”

“The great Betrayer,” La'vise answered before Solas could so much as open his mouth.  “He locked away the Creators in the Fade, cutting the Dalish off from our gods.  No one knows why, whether it was pure malice, jealousy or just because he is known to be a trickster.  He is...”

“Reviled, I believe is the word you are looking for,” Solas said dryly.

“No.  Not reviled.  We have respect for him among the pantheon, just as we have respect for Elgar'nan's fire and Dirthamen's secrets.  But it's true that we have no great love for him.  His is a figure of terrible deeds, and many of our curses invoke his name because of it.”  She shrugged.  “It doesn't matter.  He's probably about as real as any other supposed deity.”

“Perhaps,” Solas said dismissively.  He closed his journal as the light faded, leaving only the fire for them to see each other by.  He stood and stretched and wandered away from the camp, as he often did in the evenings.  She had yet to ask him what he did when he left, why he always walked for an hour or two before settling down to sleep.

“Well, Wolfs-bane, I'm glad to see you aren't afraid of them anymore.  It makes one of us.”  He poked the fire around a little bit more and stood up, brushing off his backside.  “I'm gonna turn in.  It was a long day and some of us were much more up close and personal with dread beasts than others.”

“Goodnight, Varric,” she laughed.

Cassandra watched him go and shook her head for a moment.  Then she came and sat down with La'vise at the fire.  “He is going to keep calling you that now, you realize.”

“Probably.  It's all right.  It beats anything he might choose.”

“I suppose I had not thought much of your heritage and how it differs.  I have not known many Dalish.”

“We don't travel much through Nevarra, I would guess.”

“No.  Your clan, they are in the Free Marches, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“You do not speak of it often.”

“No, I suppose I don't.  I don't know how my Keeper would feel about me being the Herald of another religion.”

“Is that why you will not say whether or not you believe Andraste saved you in the Fade?”

“There's that, and honestly?  I don't know who the woman was.  It's too...bright.”

“I must remind myself that you have a history all your own.  That you have your own beliefs and that I should not force mine upon you.  This was a good reminder.  I won't forget again.”

Cassandra stood and squeezed La'vise's shoulder before disappearing into the tent they would share.  La'vise put another log onto the fire to catch and climbed the rock that formed one of the boundaries of this little camp, well within sight of Dennet's farm as well as the road that led back toward Redcliffe.  From there she could see Solas.  He looked like he was casting.

She waited until he began to come back before she uncurled from her compact position and he could see her in the dark.  “What were you doing?”

“Placing wards, as I do each night.”

“Is that what you do when you wander off?  You could have just said something.”

His mouth ticked up on one side, a half smile.  “It is not something I wished you to be concerned about.”

In another, that might have sounded insulting, but she thought she understood.  There was no peace to be had, here or anywhere else in the Hinterlands.  It was a small gesture and quite possibly eased the burden on the Inquisition soldiers who stood guard over her while she slept.  And he didn't like drawing too much attention to himself.  She grinned at him.

“Will they keep Fen'Harel away?” she joked.

Solas offered her a hand to get down from the rock and chuckled.  It sounded a little forced but warmed to genuine by the time her feet hit the ground.  “I rather doubt anything anyone could do would keep him at bay if he did not wish to be, da'len.”

She held up the amulet and grinned again.  “I guess I should be glad I'm doubly protected, then.”

“Ma nuvenin,” he replied with a small smile.  If his eyes glittered in the darkness, it was only because of the way the firelight was hitting him, she was sure.  She let go of his hand and banked the fire, made sure the guards were posted and finally turned back to him where he still stood at the edges of camp.

“I'm going to bed.  Don't stay up too late.”

“Of course not, Herald.  On era'vun.”

“On era'vun, Solas.”

[lhs3020b]

The Wooden Spaceships, by Bob Shaw

The Wooden Spaceships is the sequel to the first Land/Overland novel, The Ragged Astronauts. It's set about a generation after the ptertha-driven migration from Land; civilisation on Overland is at least stable now, if not entirely-comfortable. Unfortunately "comfortable" isn't what Toller Maraquine is looking for in his older years. Apaprently he hasn't learned any lessons about getting what you wished for, because bad news arrives on Overland in the form of an airship from Land! That's right, apparently there are survivors on Land, and they're not very happy with their neighbours.

My thoughts are under the cut...

TWS is a bit of an odd book. It's really two main stories, somewhat awkwardly joined together. There's the plot with the attempted invasion by the New Men - briefly, the children of people who proved to be unusually-resistant to pterthacosis, who apparently are either immune or are tolerant enough to the disease that they've managed to live to adulthood. The New Men, sadly, have learnt nothing from their parents' folly and may actually be worse people; their survival seems to have convinced them that they represent a sort of superman who are destined to rule the universe. I suppose a more-sympathetic interpretation might be that they're the products of a collectively-traumatised society, and are dealing with said trauma by projecting all their negative feelings onto imagined enemies on Overland. That said, regardless of interpretation, their actions are not sympathetic and King Rassamarden is clearly a psychotic nutjob.

Also, it's worth noting that they are the New _Men_. While presumably New Women must exist, we never see any. This was an interesting ellision given that TWS is generally a step up relative to TRA for gender stuff. TWS is still quite bad, don't get me wrong, but there has been some improvement. Berise is a plot-relevant female character who actually gets to do stuff, the Kolcorronian king's key adviser is actually his wife Queen Dasseene and there has been some progress on the social front. The Air Corps has been opened to female applicants and it's implied that society as a whole has got a bit more equal. (That said, let's not go too far with this - this is still a society where an aristocrat can have innocent people executed on a whim, as we see with the Sergeant Gnapperl subplot, so Overland has a long way to go before it could be described as a genuinely-civilised society. It may have got a bit more egalitarian one way, but it's still a monarchical despotism ruled by the threat and fear of absolute force.)

Toller, of course, ends up involving himself neck-deep in the war with the New Men. This has the effect of cratering his marriage to Gessalla. In what is genuinely a moment of awesome from her, she tells him that while she's glad he's still alive, she's had quite enough of spending every day wondering whether today is the day she's going to have to bury her idiot husband's corpse. It's stressful and unpleasant, she's lost quite enough in her life already (literally including her homeworld!) and if he can't settle down and sort himself out, then they're through.

Toller, of course, can't deal with this. His marriage thus collapses, and that leads us onto the second part of the novel.

Incidentally, before we get to that, allow me one small tangent. We're halfway through the trilogy, and Toller has entirely forgotten his previous wife. After she disappears halfway through TRA he just - forgets? un-persons? has selective amnesia? goes into denial? refuses to take any responsibility for his own actions? - her entire existence. Toller, you were MARRIED to this woman! Seriously, what a cad! We never find out anything about what happened to Fera at any point in the series. Even in the third novel when a return to Land happens and Shaw could have tied the plot-thread off, but we get nothing.

(Since we never find a body, I've decided to invoke headcanon. Like Toller's father, Fera was one of the rare people who are entirely-immune to pterthacosis. As such she actually survived the implosion of Ro-Atabri and the end of civilisation on Land. After some confusion she eventually moved into an abandoned princeling's palace and has been living out her days in comfortable luxury; she spends her time either walking by the river or reading books - a hobby she recently developed - and occasionally she has been known to take lunch with some of the more pro-social New Men, so she's not entirely without society either. She mostly keeps away from them, having made a reasonable judgement of their character, but that said the odd social do can be refreshing. All considered it's not the worst situation she could have ended up in, and she's certainly managed better than virtually everyone else in Kolcorron. When the Overland exiles' return to the planet happens in "The Fugitive Worlds", Fera - still alive, though an old woman by then - sees the balloons and discovers that she simply has nothing to say to the people who abandoned her to her fate 50 years earlier. As such she decides to avoid them during their visit. In the abstract she supposes that it's nice that society has survived over on Overland, but really, neo-Kolcorron's antics are just Not Her Problem Anymore, so why even bother?)

The second part of the novel concerns a group of Overlander colonists who have recently arrived in a remote area of the planet, newly-opened to settlement. (One oddity of the novel is that for a planet whose population still must be less than a quarter of a million, nonetheless people are spread quite widely across Overland.) The area they've arrived in is fertile, has a pleasant climate and even pre-existing houses, built then abandoned by the last group of prospective colonists. You see, unfortunately, it appears to be haunted.

Bartan Drumme, the semi-leader of the group, is mainly there because he's trying to court his would-be bride Sondeweere. Amusingly, Sondeweere has his number and is quite-blatantly stringing him along, mainly to annoy her domineering uncle. Bartan is of course entirely-blind to this - honestly, Land and Overlander men all seem to run at a permanent +10 to Oblivious - and the "romance" proceeds in exactly the dysfunctional manner that you might imagine. Unfortunately, what would have been an amusingly-cringy romantic dark comedy gets interrupted when the new arrivals in the Egg Basket region start falling ill. Bad dreams, disturbed moods, sleepwalking, full-on psychotic breakdowns - all is not well in the Egg Basket. It quickly becomes apparent that the region is being influenced by some sort of external force. The sensible people leave; the less sensible people cling on and meet with various misfortunes.

(If there is one moral to the Land/Overland trilogy, it seems to be "if you see any hints of trouble, pack your bags and leave NOW, because things will only get worse, and don't expect the government to do anything even minimally-useful".)

Anyway things go from bad to worse, the Egg Basket's mini-society essentially collapses, and then Sondeweere gets abducted by aliens.

Yes, you did read that right. A spaceship turns up and hoovers her up. In context it's not quite as random as it sounds, but it is still quite random.

Anyway this leads Bartan to a decision that he wants to retrieve her from Farland, the third planet in the Land/Overland system. He teams up with Toller, who is now deep into the rebound stage following the implosion of his marriage. Along with Berise and some other acquaintances of Toller's, they construct a spacecraft capable of travelling outside of Land/Overland's mutual atmosphere and set off for Farland. Technically they're under commission from the King; honestly, I got the sense that the King and Queen have simply had enough of Toller's antics, and see this as a convenient way of getting rid of him.

Then reality ensues and they almost die, because nobody on the ship knows anything like as much about either outer space or basic Newtonian physics as they think they do. In fact it turns out no-one has any grasp about continuous acceleration, and they've been running a continuous halvell/pikon thruster-burn for entire days (somehow without running out of fuel, either - apparently the specific impulse on the pikon/halvell reaction is something insanely high?). By the time Sondeweere becomes aware of the ship's situation, it's running at over 100,000 miles per hour and is barely days away from reenacting the Chixculuub meteor on Farland.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to mention - Sondeweere was abducted because her nervous system had become host to an alien parasite (the same one that was causing mass psychosis in the Egg Basket) and she now has superhuman intelligence and telepathic powers. And also, a far better grasp of modern physics than anyone aboard the titular wooden spaceship from Overland. Fortunately, Sondeweere is able to take charge of the situation and arranges something close-ish to a soft landing on Farland - the crew don't enjoy the experience, but they get to walk away from it, and that's about as good as it gets in aerospace incidents!

Anyway my review here is a bit forced, but that's because the last 40% of the novel also feels a bit forced. The pacing is off and the narrative makes some rapid jumps. Honestly TWS's problem is that it's actually not one novel but rather two separate novellas that have been welded together in a particularly-awkward manner. A lot of things aren't really followed up or tied off properly. The fact that Farland is inhabitable and also inhabited turns up quite late in the book and is dealt with in what I felt to be a bit of an unsatisfactory manner. I was also intrigued to find out that all three planets orbit within 42 million miles of their sun. Apparently the star must be some sort of K dwarf, I guess - no, in fact it may well even be a brighter M dwarf, because this is roughly the orbital radius of Mercury! This is odd because the sunlight is never described as being pink-ish. The only thing I can think of is that maybe nuclear fusion also behaves differently in Land/Overland-verse? Perhaps not only is Pi equal to 3 but perhaps smaller stars are hotter and brighter than they would be here? Or maybe everyone's so used to the pink sunlight that no-one thinks to remark on it at any point?

(Canonically they do fuse - in fact Sondeweere actually has a go at explaining nuclear fusion to Bartan and the others at one point, which was thoughtful of her, though sadly the Overlander males remain as obtuse as ever so the effort may have been wasted.)

Anyway overall, I think this book suffers from a bad case of "mid-trilogy syndrome". I'm glad that female characters are handled better here, and I was cheering for Gessalla when she told Toller to fuck off. The extra expansions to the universe were interesting, and it was also interesting to see the gradual consolidation of colonial life on Overland. Madcap as it was, the interplanetary voyage to Farland did have some "big-picture" excitement too. That said, however, the books minuses were continued dropped plot-threads from the previous novel, unevenness in pacing and perhaps also just having too many ideas in a small package.

[recentanimenews]

Horimiya – 06 – It’s Getting Hot in Here

It’s still rather cold in these parts, so it’s refreshing for this week’s Horimiya to take place in the middle of summer. But even if it didn’t, it still radiates warmth and good vibes from every angle. Hori’s dad sees Miyamura in his school look for the first time and momentarily wonders who the hell he is.

Once he realizes it’s Miyamura, he insists they take a bath together to wash off the day’s heat. Coincidentally, Hori is watching a TV show wherein a lecher is about to assault a young woman, only for that woman to reveal she’s a skilled MMA fighter and kicks his ass.

In addition to being an amusing prism to Miyamura and Kyosuke’s dynamic, it also foreshadows a number of wonderful subversions of typical high school rom-com clichés, which like the warm and cozy aura of its main couple has fast become Horimiya specialty.

After dinner and past 8:30, Miyamura assumes he’s “worn out his welcome”, but that’s not for him to decide. Hori’s suggests he spend the night, though it’s Hori’s dad he’ll be sleeping beside. Kyousuke doesn’t interrogate him that night, only asking what Miyamura likes about his daughter. His response: she doesn’t judge people by appearances.

While this is primarily the story of Hori and Miyamura’s understated yet potently blossoming love, it’s also the story of Miyamura being accepted for who he is by his new friends at school, as well as flat-out becoming a member of Hori’s family.

It’s in this scenario he gets to see something no one else could: Hori wearing her middle school gym uniform as pajamas (when she stomps on her father to open the blinds that morning). It’s also so goddamn lovely when Hori’s mom corrects him when he’s headed out the door. He’s family, not a guest, so he should say ittekimasu, not ojamashimashita. My heart just about burst right there, but Horimiya was just getting started!

Unfortunately, most of the kids at Miyamura’s school either don’t know what a sweet guy he is and are all too willing to judge him by his “emo” appearance. When a couple guys spot him leaving the same house with Hori, it sets off a torrent of rumors at school that they’re dating.

I like how we get a little shot of Tooru and Yuki legitimately upset by this development, with Yuki actually weeping at the prospect of things turning sour just when Miyamura and Hori got their act together. I like more how despite the unsolicited attention and rumor-mongering, Hori takes everything in perfect stride. By now she’s quite comfortable confirming that Miyamura is her boyfriend, and doesn’t need to explain that relationship to anyone.

Miyamura, however, doesn’t fare as well. A common refrain in the halls is “wait…that Miyamura?”, as Hori is both hugely popular and has rejected a number of more “conventional” suitors. So Miyamura apparently decides that if the school wants a prettier cover, they’ll get it: he arrives the next day having cut his hair short, revealing his piercings and eyelashes.

It’s an interesting and complex choice by Miyamura that instantly changes the conversation, as he becomes an immediate sensation with the ladies. Rather than do it because he’s worried about adversely affecting Hori’s reputation (though that could be part of it) it feels more like an act of empowerment. It indicates that Miyamura is well aware he’s got the goods, he’s just never flaunted them at school.

Rather than passively keeping his chin up or not listening to the murmurings, Miyamura took an active step in the realignment of the conversation around him and Hori. With his new ‘do and the striking beauty it reveals, “wait…that Miyamura?” turns to “oh, that Miyamura!”. 

As one would expect, Hori isn’t used to Miyamura getting the added attention and adoration, and her reaction is to create a cold enough atmosphere around her that it shoos away the newcomers. When a girl snaps candid pics of Miyamura with their phone (without asking him, WTF!), Hori gets right in his face with a DSLR!

Despite the increased liveliness at school, what I love more than anything about both the news of Horimiya dating and Miyamura’s new look is that it doesn’t really affect their core relationship. Hori doesn’t seem hurt that Miyamura cut his hair without consulting her, and seems content with his prefab excuse that it’s summer and long hair is hot.

Hori may grow possessive at school—Miyamura is her bf; so she has every right to be!—but not so much so that she makes a federal case out of his makeover. Hori has Miyamura, and vice versa, and it’s no longer important that no one knows he’s a hottie or that they’re dating.

Since they’re the usual Horimiya, Miyamura comes home with Hori as usual, and has the unlikely but hilarious distinction of having a third distinctive look in three straight encounters with Hori’s dad. Before long, they’re answering an invite from Shindo to come to his place and help him eat bizarrely flavored hard candy.

It’s here where Miyamura again demonstrates his whimsical timing with romantic gestures, as he asks Hori how her candy tastes, then leans in and steals it from out of her mouth. She sheepishly says “he stole my candy” the way Jujutsu Kaisen’s Kasumi sheepishly says Maki stole her sword, but what he really stole was their first kiss….just like that! For the record, that candy tasted like clay, which should make the kiss that much harder to forget!

Horimiya lets that kiss simmer on the back burner a bit as we return to school, where the novelty of Miyamura’s new look has thankfully worn off…with one exception: a diminutive girl with similarly black hair and similarly blue eyes seems to be watching, following, straight-up stalking Miyamura.

When Hori and Yuki encounter her in the hall, she asks if Hori and Miyamura are dating, Hori says yes, what of it?!, and the girl beats a hasty retreat, seemingly intimidated. Miyamura’s sudden popularity bounce perfectly sets up this latest high school rom-com cliché, the new love rival, second-year Sawada Honoka.

Before long, Sawada is striding up to Miyamura and flat-out telling him to break up with Hori already, in earshot of others. But in another excellent subversion, it’s not Miyamura Sawada likes…it’s Hori. Thanks to the rumors, she’s learned Miyamura stole a march on her. But she declares she liked Hori first, and won’t accept Miyamura dating her.

This turns into a physical tug-of-war between Sawada and Miyamura, with a flustered Hori as the rope. Tooru can only watch with other classmates in amusement at the spectacle before them, and even texts Yuki to hurry over to watch. Miyamura, clearly no longer hiding who he is at school, finally forcefully grabs Hori into his arms and declares “she’s mine!”, echoing her own words when Remi prodded her about him.

After school, Sawada seemingly follows Miyamura home, only for them to realize that not only are they both heading home in the same direction, they are goddamn next-door neighbors! This is the kind of twist a show that’s built up as much goodwill and credibility as Horimiya can get away with all day long, in my book.

It also marks a further expansion of Miyamura’s relationships, as it’s clear these two aren’t going to just ignore each other from here on out. Sawada forgot her key, so he does what any decent person would do and invites her over to sample some cake from his family’s bakery. Their ensuing conversation starts with, but is not dominated by, Hori, as Sawada learns Hori rarely visits Miyamura’s place since he always goes to her place.

Sawada also assumed that Miyamura had a little brother or sister, since he’s clearly good at taking care of people. Miyamura laughs at that comment, which reminds Sawada of the older brother she says she “had”—past tense—before laughing it off herself. She’s saved by the bell when her folks come home, so she heads out, but Miyamura says she’s always welcome to stop by for some cake.

Miyamura isn’t fooled by Sawada’s last-second fakeout. Sure enough, he learns from his mom that the Sawadas lost their eldest son some time last year, who attended a different school from Izumi but was “such a nice boy”.

At first I wondered why the character designer took such pains to make Sawada so closely resemble Miyamura—was she his long-lost little sister? When we learned she liked Hori, I abandoned that theory as a bridge too far for this show, but it isn’t lost on me how quickly and easily Miyamura is portrayed as a potential surrogate big bro.

Sure enough, the next day Sawada is hounded by three boys, and she retreats to Miyamura, digging her head in his back. It only takes a momentary glare from Miyamura to disperse the lads, but it can’t be understated how glad Sawada must’ve been to have him in that moment. Naturally, when Hori shows up they’re back to competing over who likes Hori more.

Finally, in another wonderful use of what Hori’s watching on TV as a reflection of what goes on in the Hori household, she is forcing both Miyamura and, more pointedly, her dad, to watch a horror movie in which a daughter kills her father. It underscores both Hori’s taste in cinema and the tactics she’ll use to try to get her dad to leave the room, which he eventually does.

Almost the moment her dad’s gone, Hori brushes her knees together and tries her hand at Miyamura’s patented casual romantic utterances, stating “you never make any moves on me, huh.” When Miyaura responds by asking “do you want me to?” she turns red with embarrassment, causing him to chuckle over how cute she looks. Then he asks what kind of moves she wants him to make, then leans in to kiss her.

Kyousuke barges back in asking for change to buy his smokes, and the two lovebirds immediately separate, invoking her dad’s cheeky suspicion, and causing Hori to attempt to reenact the dad-murdering scene from the movie. While I’d hoped they could have shared their first kiss in which both of them were aware a kiss was going to happen here and now, at least they didn’t chicken out; they were simply interrupted. They’ll soon learn to seek places with a bit more privacy!

By: sesameacrylic

[the-gedonelune-times]

Sweet Providence - Felix Starjune

“Would you like another cup of tea?” Willem asked with a smile.

I gave a soft nod, too caught up in my own thoughts to respond properly. I had been invited by Felix to enjoy some afternoon tea, yet he had yet to show up. I knew I shouldn’t worry too much though. Yet an uneasy feeling of uncertainty had washed over me, bringing about thoughts that I wish would stay as far from me as possible. 

“Pfft, what’s with that look?” Lacan’s voice entered the room as he sat down across from me.

“Huh?”

“Your face. You’re scrunching it up so much it looks like you’re giving yourself wrinkles on your forehead.” He laughed.

“O-Oh…” I gently touched my face in embarrassment.

“Something on your mind?” Willem handed me back my teacup along with the small glass container that held some sugar cubes. 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine, really I am.” I gave a quick smile as I grabbed a sugar cube, plopping it in a little more forceful when I heard Lacan speak.

“I bet it has to do with Felix.”

“Lacan.”

“No, seriously Willem, I mean, Felix is the one who wanted to see his partner and he can’t even show up? Talk about being rude.” Lacan looked my way. “In a way though, I guess I should be grateful, after all, this gives me a chance to be with you.” 

I choked a little on my tea as Lacan gave me a flirty wink, receiving a glare from Willem.

“If that’s the case then consider your invitation to this afternoon tea, revoked.” A voice from behind Lacan growled and I watched as the colour in Lacan’s face drain.

“Haha...hey Felix! Glad you could make it!”

Felix rolled his eyes before taking a seat next to me. “Did he try anything?”

I shook my head. “No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“I don’t know, seems like you might be feeling jealous.” Lacan smirked.

For the next ten minutes, it was a continuous back and forth battle between the two of them. Tired of hearing it, I decided to excuse myself and step outside to get a nice breath of fresh air; and some much needed peace and quiet. The bickering continued for a little while longer before everything went quiet. The door slowly opened, revealing Lacan who quickly apologized and asked if I would be joining for a couple of board games or two. I was hesitant to accept, but the thought of spending some more time with Felix was making my heart all aflutter.

I agreed and just as I had entered the house and made my way into the living room, I was greeted to a box. The paint was worn-down and peeling on some of the sides, curious to see what was in there, I leaned down to get a better look, only to be startled by Lacan’s voice.

“Oh hey, I see you noticed the Tarot card box.”

“Tarot card box?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was cleaning up a few days ago and came across this. Willem had plans to throw it out, but reconsidered when I asked to keep hold it. It’ll at least get some use in my care.” Lacan explained. “The best part of these cards though is that they’re enchanted. I wonder if that’s why they were almost tossed out.”

“Enchanted huh?”

“Would you like to try it?”

“Huh? Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Go ahead and sit down.”

Lacan and I sat on the ground across from one another. He undid the top of the box and laid out some cards on the table. With a soft hum his fingers gently grazed over each one until he finally picked one of the bunch and handed it to me. 

“Go ahead an tell me what’s on it.”

“Okay…” I gave the card a good looking over. “Hmm... it looks like Nine of Cups in the upright position.” I answered.

“Hm okay let me think...ah! In the upright position, the Nine of Cups can mean  contentment, gratitude, satisfaction, and that one’s wishes will come true.”

“So, if it’s enchanted, that means one of those things will happen?”

Lacan chuckled shyly. “See uh...that’s the thing. I’m not sure how the whole enchantment thing works. It only happened to me once but I can’t remember what it was that caused it to have such a magical reaction. But hey! You can go ahead and keep that card, maybe it’ll bring you some good fortune.”

“Are you sure I can really have this?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Thank you.” I smiled as I tucked the card away.

Around that time, Felix and Willem were coming down the stairs, each had a few board games in their hands.

“Took you two long enough.”

“Well, one of us was rather indecisive with picking out what board games to bring down.” Willem glanced over at Felix who muttered something as he hurried ahead of Willem.

“I just wanted to find games that I know everyone would like to play. Especially….you.” He shot a soft look in my direction before turning away. My heart began to beat exceptionally hard against my chest as I smiled.

“That’s so sweet of you, Felix.”

“W-Whatever…”

After a few rounds of playing one board game, we moved onto the next and about halfway through we took a small break. My sitting position had caused my legs to go a bit numb so I excused myself to go and take a small walk outside. Shockingly, Felix decided to join me and the two of us were now walking the path that led to a small creek. I tried to think of what to say because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could endure such silence between us.

“Have you been settling in comfortably?”

“What do you mean?”

“With the village, or well, Gedonelune in general.”

“It’s quiet here, with the exception that your friends don’t start throwing wild and crazy parties that last well past midnight.”

I knew who he was talking about and I nervously laughed. “Ha...well I mean, at least that makes it lively, right?”

“That’s not what I would call it.”

I cleared my throat, trying to think of another question. “Have you made any new friends?”

“With humans? Perish that thought, I still find many humans undesirable and would like to not make contact with any of them anytime soon.”

“What about Hugo? He usually stops by for a visit doesn’t he? Last I heard you two were on pretty good terms.”

“Me? Friends with him? A-Absolutely not.” 

He tried to hide it, but I knew that Felix was lying.

I sighed. “I wish you were more honest with your feelings…”

Just as the words left my mouth, a dim glow which gradually began to grow brighter, emitted from my pocket. I reached in and grabbed the object with widened; it was the tarot card that Lacan allowed me to keep.

“Huh? Hey, what is that?!”

Felix was just as surprised as I was and right as I was about to answer a bright light shot out of the card and hit Felix. Thankfully he wasn’t injured, but he was taken by so much surprise that he ended up taking a few steps back.

“Are you okay?!”

I went to his side, making sure he could stand up properly and watched in relief as he nodded.

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“Oh, what a relief.”

“.....Were...you concerned about me?”

“Huh? Of course I was.”

“Why?”

“Because I love and care about you? Felix, are you feeling alright?”

His eyes softened as he moved to face me, his hand grabbing mine as he placed it on his cheek. “What a wonderful feeling; to be loved by such a beautiful human.”

My face was starting to become hot as I quickly removed my hand from Felix’s grasp and placed it on his forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? I know Dragonkin can’t really get sick but something is clearly wrong here.”

“Wrong? Whatever do you mean my love?”

“D-Did that light hit you in the head or something? I seriously think you might be hurt.”

“Ah…” Felix sighed and closed his eyes, his hand reaching up to rest on his chest. “My heart is beating so fast whenever I’m with you…”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m getting Willem and Lacan, they might be able to - ah!”

Right as I was about to get them, Felix pulled me into a tight embrace. His cheeks were burning brightly and I swear I could hear the sound of his heart thumping against his chest.

“Don’t. I don’t want them anywhere near you.”

“What, why?”

“Isn’t it obvious, it’s because I love you! You’re mine and mine only!”

“Felix…”

“Everytime I’m away, those two seem to hop on the chance to flirt with you…” He averted his eyes as his hold on me loosened. “It makes me feel awful, to see them flirting with the one person I managed to fall in love with. What if I’m unable to make you happy and you leave me for one of them? That’s almost as scary as the day I was sealed up, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Felix.” Now free from his embrace, I grabbed both of his hands tightly. “You’re not going to lose me. I fell in love with you and you only Felix. No matter what Lacan and Willem say, it will never change the feelings I have of you.” 

I threw my arms around him and closed my eyes when I felt his arms gently wrap around me lovingly.

“Hearing you say that makes me feel more at ease.” Felix admitted softly. “When I was hit with that magic, I felt...scared.”

“Felix, about that magic, I think it had something to do with the card. I think it resonated with my wish.” I gently pulled away from him. “The effects should wear off soon though, so don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal.”

I watched a sly smile form on Felix’s face as he gently reached out to touch my cheek softly. “Spell? That weak magic had no effect on me.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

Felix chuckled. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“B-But all those things you said!”

“I knew what kind of magic that was, your wish - for me to be honest with my feelings - was supposed to force the love words out of me.I realized then and there that you’re right. I’m not very open about my feelings towards you. This is all still new to me, I’ve never felt love like this until I met you. Never in a million years did I ever imagine I would one day fall in love with a human, especially after...certain circumstances.” Felix explained. “But I want you to know that I do love you, even if I can’t express it the way I would like to.”

“Felix, it’s okay. It’s going to take time, I’m sure you’re feeling a lot.” I answered with a soft smile.

“You really do invoke such strange feelings within my heart.” Felix laughed.

“Yeah? What are you feeling right now then?” 

“Right now, I would love nothing more than to hold you in my arms and kiss you over and over for eternity.”

My cheeks were burning and my heart was beating so hard against my chest that I was afraid Felix would hear. Felix leaned in closer and just like magnets, we were drawn to one another until his lips brushed against mine, invoking a deep and sensual kiss that left me breathless. His hands wrapped against my waist to hold me steady as the kiss deepened, drowning us both in the love that we held for one another.

I knew, right then and there, that I didn’t need some card to tell me that Felix loved me...

[innerchorus]

Arslan Senki Chapter 79

ZANDEH 😭 ❤️

Yeah, this is mostly going to be a Zandeh Appreciation Post please tell me that you all love him at least a little bit by now.

So, as expected, this chapter picks up where the last one left off; the supernatural earthquake continues, Hilmes’s men are terrified, and Gieve deliberately provokes Hilmes with some harsh truths about his priorities as the supposed ‘rightful Shah of Pars’, which of course only serves to enrage him.

 I knew going into this chapter that it would be an important one for Zandeh’s character so right from the start I was paying a lot of attention to him even where he’s in the background (okay I’d probably do that anyway because he’s one of my favourites but whatever). I really liked the panel where he’s stood behind Hilmes as Gieve is criticising him for knowingly risking the resurrection of the Snake King; the inner turmoil is just so clear on Zandeh’s face right then.

This confrontation is really interesting in that it’s the first time Zandeh does not react in the way he usually does to someone criticising or insulting Hilmes. Zandeh’s views may seem absolute, but his often explosive reactions (e.g to someone not treating Hilmes with the proper respect, or referring to his father as a traitor) point to the strength of his need for certain things to be true (and also probably a deeply-buried fear of the possibility that they might not be). So far, Zandeh has loudly refused to accept any criticism of Hilmes or his father Kharlan, but the situation he finds himself in now is different. The consequences of refusing to confront reality are too high. That’s why he lets Gieve continue to speak.

So yeah, Zandeh would go to great lengths to see Hilmes take the throne, but even he has his (very reasonable) limits, such as NOT UNSEALING THE FUCKING SNAKE KING

Poor Zandeh. For the first time, he’s watching Hilmes make a bad decision, and he can’t quite understand why Hilmes doesn’t see it. He voiced his concerns to no avail, and now despite Hilmes’s assurances that it would all be fine, the ground won’t stop shaking thanks to a force beyond their understanding, and though Gieve’s words are still intended to provoke, there is truth to them, a truth that Zandeh can see but Hilmes refuses to acknowledge. I feel like in this moment he’s both waiting for Hilmes to understand the danger he has placed them in (because surely he must see it soon...?) and realising that is not going to happen.

I said this would be a Zandeh Appreciation Post and I meant it.

let me list out the other Zandeh moments I liked even though that’s basically the whole chapter ahaha

when Hilmes is determined to make Gieve pay for his insolence, Zandeh doesn’t immediately follow the order to go after him but instead notices that rocks are falling into Kaykhusraw’s open sarcophagus and hurries over to close the lid before grabbing Rukhnabad’s scabbard and going after Hilmes. first, he’s STRONG! he lifted that thing all by himself. that took four men to lift it off before. second, Zandeh’s actions here (which were added by Arakawa btw) show an understanding that something needs to be done to fix what is happening. his later actions don’t come out of nowhere.

(also just remembered that many chapters ago, Zandeh invoked the protection of Hero King Kaykhusraw to watch over Hilmes. Kaykhusraw was obviously a revered figure to him, the same as for all Parsians.)

given that most of their men seem to be in a fear-induced panic by this point, i’m honestly impressed that Zandeh kept his head despite his own fear being evident (especially because I have a headcanon that Zandeh is very afraid of supernatural stuff ever since he was young... mostly based on how he reacted to the mention of gahdak in the novel lol)

there’s a real contrast with how Hilmes is blind to anything other than pursuing Gieve while Zandeh sees the reality of the situation in full and realises that they have to act to stop it. rocks falling, earthquake continuing, men trapped and dying and falling into cracks in the ground, snake king may be coming back and yet all Hilmes is concerned about is killing one insolent musician with his shiny new magic sword? HILMES WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

the part where Zandeh tried to get Hilmes to go to safety but Hilmes isn’t even listening because he’s so fixated on killing Gieve. :(

pretty sure he was about to try and convince Hilmes to sheath his sword and gtfo of there when he caught up with him outside, only Hilmes immediately shoved Rukhnabad into his hands lmao.

haha he literally can’t shove it in its scabbard fast enough

Zandeh must have realised by now that Hilmes isn’t going to give up the sword, so I think he had probably just hoped to convince him to leave the mountain and retreat to safety.

but with Hilmes engaged in combat with Gieve, leaving him to hold on to Rukhnabad, there’s one other option left.

I LOVE HIM

This must have been so hard for Zandeh to do. There really was a lot of bravery in his actions here. And it’s not a rash decision made in a moment of fear; he may be scared but he knows exactly what he is doing and why he needs to do it, and he also knows what the consequences of going against Hilmes’s wishes might be.

That moment afterwards where he’s justifying his actions while kneeling but speaking so boldly and with such conviction while directly meeting Hilmes’s gaze is 👌 

he DID NOT DESERVE that blow to the face. I hope your hand hurts now, Hilmes. (another small change here; in the novel Hilmes struck him with his sword, the level of damage was the same though. as for what the significance of that is, i’d say it’s that having Hilmes choose to use his fist rather than the weapon he already had in his other hand shows that he was holding back from doing more serious harm)

you know, I was very anxious about this chapter because (as you all probably know by now lol) I love Hilmes and Zandeh and I ship them so I was dreading the damage this incident might do to their relationship, but...in the end it was about as good as it could have been, I suppose.

As Zandeh is speaking, the tremors of the earthquake stop. Hilmes seems to calm down from his initial rage. I hope, now that the sword has been returned to the earth and he’s not being affected by its power, he can see that maybe taking it wasn’t such a great idea after all, even if he won’t admit to it. As for what he says to Zandeh, there’s not much else he could have said, given the sort of person he is. He believes that he is the rightful Shah of Pars, and a subordinate who disobeys royalty to such an extent surely have been seen as deserving a severe punishment or even death. Hilmes doesn’t want to kill Zandeh (he would already have done it if he did), but he can’t exactly let him off without being punished further unless he has good reason for it. So I don’t believe that he spared him only because of Kharlan (though it’s worth noting that he really does feel some guilt about Kharlan’s death so it’s definitely a factor here) but that he uses it to save face in forgiving Zandeh.

basically even if Hilmes did come to the conclusion that taking the sword might have been a bad idea he can’t admit that he was wrong because he’s ~royalty~ and his authority should be unquestionable

...that little tear in Zandeh’s eye as he realises he’s being give a second chance, omg. 😢 

even Gieve knows that Zandeh is good

HILMES HAD BETTER APPRECIATE WHAT HE’S GOT

at least he genuinely does seem to forgive Zandeh even if he’s still greatly displeased by what he did.

This moment lightened the tone a little, and I was glad for it. Hilmes is definitely going to be sore about what happened for a while, but he’ll get over it.

[memoriesofthefuckingbullshit]

I’d like to preface this with a personal note:

I do not want to write these posts. I absolutely hate that there is a need for it and it’s been chewing me up. It’s taken me the better part of a month to round up all the evidence (I had to be sure and double-check my sources) and to put this together, in bits and pieces so as to not overwhelm my own mental health. 

I loved the Underfell Fangame community. I briefly met Mania at ATLANTALE early 2018, before I even knew about the project. I became a patreon supporter because he seemed to genuinely love the community and Undertale and the game he was working on. I joined the Underfell community in March and made a second home there. 

I considered him a friend. Looked up to him as a fellow creator, game developer. A fellow community admin. And I thought it was really cool the way he did the whole community server events Ink vs. Error stuff. I loved the concept and have been passionately involved in it since its start over a year ago. I’m closely involved in the development of the comic series based on these server events, called Memories of the Multiverse War and have spent countless hours dedicated to expanding the world our comic takes place inside the Doodlesphere.

I have since learned much is a horrific farce. And I’m really unhappy about it. 

But if I don’t do or say something before I go I could never live with myself. 

There are so many victims already. And more than a few look up to me like their big sib. 

There are good ways to make the audience cry.

This is not one of them.

It hurts me knowing the other Event Masters put their heart and soul into creating fun content, intended for people to enjoy, while Mania twists their work into ways to torment people, and even drags them to emulate his behavior. How much more will get swept under the rug, if I don’t speak up? 

It boils down to: 

Mania knowingly emotionally abuses server members, most of whom are children between the ages of 13-19. 

He shows no remorse for it. 

Our Mental Health is a Joke to Him Part 1*  (xFrisk debacle; please take trigger warnings seriously) 

Our Mental Health is a Joke to Him Part 2  (Fallout from the xFrisk debacle)

Ink Was Never Going to Die  (He just liked fucking with us)

No, He Really Hasn’t Changed, And Won’t Be Anytime Soon*  (xPapyrus introduction, and all this matters)

*If this much reading overwhelms you, prioritize this post and starred pages above.

Important:

Event Masters are not the ones at fault here. They’re just doing as they’re told to play out the story Mania calls for, and probably do not even realize the impact their actions have on people since they’re told it’s all just for pretend. When they are aware, they’re under threat by Mania to keep quiet.

Abuse through role play is particularly insidious. Yes, the server events are a form of role play, by definition. Pretending to be a character, or otherwise assuming the role of as a way to interact with others is fundamentally role play. 

In terms of power balance, the server events are more like a D&D campaign than traditional online roleplay. We even have “Event Masters” to parallel the “Dungeon Master” who has nigh god-like power over what happens in the dice-based roleplaying game. 

There are dozens of articles about proper DM etiquette, and how to tell a uniquely engaging story to invoke high emotions in effective ways:

There's no shame in manipulating your players' emotions, because that's part of your job as a storyteller. But, like anything else, it requires a deft hand. Be mindful of how your players react, and be careful not to go too far. If anyone at the table starts to feel uncomfortable about the situation you're presenting, it can quickly start to take people out of the game. Be mindful of your players' limits, and give them the option of saying when something isn't going over well with them. But once you start to get the hang of it, you can turn a night of goofy dice-rolling over drinks into a tense situation, or provide a moving, emotionally honest moment for your characters.

In short: It was mere storytelling until the moment the characters reacted to and responded to the players. At that point, it is role playing and the concept of consent comes into play, because real people with real feelings are part of the story, which, curiously, is canonically enforced: 

And it’s it’s our fault for taking hurtful things that characters say and do personally?

Jerking player emotions around for laughs isn’t just an asshole thing to do; it’s straight up bad storytelling. 

There is no excuse for choosing abuse.

End of story.

I am hesitant to come forward with this, as I do not have evidence compiled other than the threat itself, and considering the nature of the issue there are privacy concerns regarding the victims. He has a tendency to target 17-19 year old girls, as a 28-year old. This was sent to me while playing minecraft while in server voice chat on June 16th, 2019. 

I’m including it because this is a perfect example of how he’ll backtrack and play upsetting things off like a joke. The threat has since been deleted so I’m glad I grabbed a screenshot while it existed. He has a habit of deleting things that could be used as evidence. 

hahahahahahaa no sir you do not get to drop a threat like that on someone and then play it off like a joke, particularly when “if you didn’t hear it doesn’t matter” 

It does matter. 

They matter.

All those kids are important. They matter and so do their feelings and all the grief they’ve experienced at your hands. The event may be more like a D&D campaign setting, in terms of balance of power, but this article does a great job breaking down the cycle of online roleplay abuse. 

Here’s an excerpt:  

Some people roleplay to heal their wounds, others play for fun or to escape. Any way you cut it, a good chunk of roleplayers have personal investment in their roleplay.

The human brain is a curious silly fickle sort of thing, a person who is capable of empathizing can empathize with anything that has human traits, be it a brave little toaster, a cartoon dog, a character in a book,crying at a movie, or screaming at the little man on playing sports ball on the television. People feel empathic sadness from witnessing sadness of others,people can feel empathic excitement by watching sports, in some cases to the point of violent outbreaks after their favorite sportsball team wins the big game.

Human beings are capable of immersing ourselves in the situation of others, and we are capable of feeling a wide variety of emotions as we endure the human experience of whatever we immerse ourselves in. This experience of emotional stimulation is not just a flaw in emotions or an inability to tell in character from out of character. Feeling this way does not make someone insane, weak, or flawed.

It is, in fact, a physiological chemical reaction in the human body. It’s chemistry, it’s oxytocin, it’s cortisol, it’s adrenaline, it’s dopamine, it’s serotonin, it’s estrogen, it’s testosterone, and who knows what else. When things happen in online roleplay we really feel it. (This is why consent is so important.)

In both roleplay and interpersonal interactions in online communities, and the feelings we feel when engaged in these things are real,are chemical, and they are not in our head.

Online community narcissists engage in their own flavor potentially insidious psychological abuse and manipulation, and it can cause real life distress, depression, anxiety, all in a situation where people are trying to escape, to relax, to have fun, and to heal wounds.

More importantly, this serves to validate the feelings of that the narcissist’s victims, be it ex-roleplay partner or a storyteller silenced.

You are not overreacting to a video game. Your pain is valid. The people you are interacting with on the other side of the screen are real; you are having real interpersonal interaction. The emotions you are experiencing are real chemical reactions in your body not a personal flaw. You are not crazy or stupid.

It is okay to cry about stupid online drama. It is okay to talk to your therapist if you have one. Know that even if you feel isolated and alone, even if you think everyone hates you. The truth is that outside of the narcissist’s circle, there is going to be people who do not even know of you let alone hate you, who do not care or believe the bullshit the narcissist tried to feed them.

—Credit to @zanpyr​. Thank you for this wonderful article.

Now. All of you, on the server, who’ve been subjected to all this fucking bullshit over the months or years you’ve been in the community: It’s not your fault. Your feelings and heartache are valid. You matter, and you deserve better than how we’re made to feel through this series of fucking bullshit. You’re not weak for caring about these characters; caring about characters is WHY we loved Undertale so much. You’re not stupid for getting hurt by someone you trusted and considered a friend. You can get through this and you’re gonna grow up and do great, okay? 

And any other adults who’ve been emotionally manipulated too: It’s not your fault. You’re no more at fault than the kids for falling for his tricks because guess what: you’re human and you have empathy. Those aren’t bad things. 

I know from personal experience that online interactions can be clinically traumatic, as in, diagnosable trauma response symptoms that should be taken seriously. I’ve already been talking people through their thoughts and feelings about this stuff and I recommend you do the same. Sorting out all the self-blame from guilt-tripping is important and if you have signs of trauma related to this event, please please please seek treatment even if it seems silly to be that affected by “a fucking discord event.” Gaslighting from any source messes with your perception of reality and doubting your ability to perceive the world can have lasting effects that topple like a domino effect. 

Once you’ve developed trauma response symptoms, you become more vulnerable to developing further symptoms by more common disturbing events. Don’t do like I did and let it go untreated for over a decade of accumulating traumas and Traumas. Many of you are already suffering with depression, anxiety, and existing trauma. The sooner you seek treatment the better. 

Outside Sources:

Quoted/Linked in Article: 

How To Manipulate Your Players (Into Having Emotions)

Wikipedia  - Gaslighting 

Abuse Through Online Roleplay 

Adventures In Random Roleplay: Safety/Consent Tools in Gaming

Additional Reading:

Lovebombing, Gaslighting, Benching, and Ghosting

Three of the Easiest Ways to Manipulate Someone

Gaslighting Definition, Techniques, and Signs of Being Gaslighted

Emotional Abuse in Non-Romantic Relationships

Signs an Abuser is Twisting Your Reality

Trauma: Big “T” and little “t”

20 Tips For Becoming A Better DM: Lessons Learned At The Table

One final addendum: 

As vindictive as I may feel after slogging through so many horrific conversations, I absolutely do not condone any attempts to actively harass him. Hold him accountable for his actions but do not send him hatemail, threats, or any other shit like that. He’s a fucked up human being but he’s still a human being and this whole effort has been to call attention to how much online interactions affect our mental mental health. Don’t do that shit to anyone, even if you think they deserve it. And don’t be a flying monkey, please.

Okay, that’s it. 

Stay safe everyone. 

[theunderdogwrites]

Green Lives Matter

My favorite Halloween costume from my childhood (age 10) was The Hulk.

For three reasons:

1.       I made it myself

2.       I wore it two years in a row

3.       It made my outside look how I felt on the inside – tough but complicated

I cut up an old pair of jeans to look as though my tiny legs had busted through the seams and to make it appear like I’d grown taller. I took an old white dress shirt and shredded the sleeves to symbolize my biceps exploding in rage and slightly shredded away the length. I put black (safe) spray paint in my hair and painted my legs, arms and face in Hulk green to complete the look. There is a photo of this masterpiece somewhere in an old album, I just don’t have access to it right at this moment. I know I looked magnificent because I remember the feeling of hiding behind this larger than life character for a night while grunting for candy or else “HULK SMASH!” your front door down. I love this memory.

Now let’s address this – I did green face.

I refuse to apologize and if The Hulk wants to come find me and break me like a hard pretzel, well then he better bring backup because even though I am no longer painting my face green… I have turned myself into a Hulk. Ok, a mini Hulk. But I can conjure up a temper and throw a tantrum while also being completely unreasonable and void of real direction. So... yeah, he’s going to need someone other than Black Widow to come with him.

I should mention that I am white. And not just white – I am Scottish white (Scottish heritage, born in Canada). Fair skinned, blonde hair, green eyes and I once thought mashed potatoes were the best food of all time. Until I discovered garlic mashed potatoes. Mind blown.

“I love humanity, but I hate humans.” – Albert Einstein

Let’s not lie – being white has its privileges. Do I know what all those privileges are? No, probably because I’m privileged in some way. But I find myself going back to the same bit to explain so much that I encounter in life:

Until my high school guidance councillor explained to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was a thing. I had no idea it was a possibility and I certainly did not know that many people were actively participating.

My lack of knowledge wasn’t due to privilege but rather because suicide had never been apart of my life experience. Would we call that ignorance? Some definitely would because it literally means ‘being unaware’. I feel an ignorant person is not only being unaware, but also a first-rate wanker because they won’t educate themselves or evolve and wish to remain blind to reality.

Once I became aware of suicide, I didn’t pretend it didn’t exist. I started to pay attention. I didn’t brush it off as an experience that didn’t affect me but rather a symptom of fragile mental health and I gave it the consideration it deserved as something that many people were suffering through… most of the time alone. If I see something that is wrong, that I know needs my support – I am there.

That is not my privilege speaking, that is my humanity.  

 The senseless murder of George Floyd ignited a firestorm.

(A firestorm is a conflagration (an extensive fire which destroys a great deal of land or property) which attains such intensity that it creates and sustains its own wind system. It is most commonly a natural phenomenon, created during some of the largest bushfires and wildfires.)

When I saw the footage on the news – I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand the blank, almost twisted look on that officer’s face as he drove his knee down on George Floyd’s neck. I didn’t understand the blatant inaction of the other officers while witnessing this brutal extinguishing of a human being. I didn’t understand why this level of aggression was necessary on someone who was already subdued. And I didn’t understand why the words “I can’t breathe” didn’t invoke an ounce of compassion or relief.

Then came the protesting. Then the riots. Then the looting. And I still didn’t understand.

While some people want to group all three of these events, in my mind, these are three separate actions. Because by attaching the riots and the looting with the genuineness of the protesting…  it lessons the cause, blurs the intention and distracts from the truth… therefore painting the protestors with a brush of violence, greed and chaos. And that is beyond unfair.

The PROTESTS are NOT out of control.

The pain and frustration are what’s out of control and more importantly the injustice is out of control and people are responding to a situation where they feel angry and powerless. Yes, the fires, destruction of property and looting are awful collateral here but it’s important to not loose focus on what caused this current situation. We often look at with contempt and criticize reactions while forgetting the action that started everything.

And that is another injustice.

I wouldn’t even know how to begin writing about Black Lives Matter or Antifa. I say this because of the controversy surrounding both movements. And if you dive deep enough into the internet, like I did, you too will begin to suffer from what I like to call ‘I don’t know what to fucking think anymore-itis’.

So, I’m going to escape talking about these two groups with this:

“Instead of feeling threatened by and hating a movement, be glad you don’t need a movement.”

 My experience with black people is pretty limited. Not by choice, but rather due to geography, common interests and quite possibly socioeconomics. I can count on one hand the number of black people I knew throughout my school-aged years. My area was diverse in other ways, so no, I did not grow up in White Breadville. I mention all this to lay down a bit of background before I continue.

“I don’t see colour.” How many of us have said this at least once in the last six months? I have. And I probably said it to prove to myself or someone else that I wasn’t racist. But I no longer say that… because the truth is, I do see colour. I see ALL the fucking colours and they are beautiful. It’s people who are ugly.

If you were to ask me point blank if I was racist, I’d tell you point blank – I am not. And I’d say this with absolute belief in my character and sincerity. I care less about your skin colour and nationality and more about you returning your shopping cart to its proper location. That is the truth. Your religion doesn’t bother me at all (as long as you’re not cramming it down my throat) but your ability to treat others with genuine kindness and compassion sure matters to me. And I don’t give a flying fuck how you want to identify… be a Martian, I’m totally cool with that, but bully others in my presence and I will come at you with the full force of nuclear pasta (look it up).

The last handful of months (I’m assuming here) has caused most of us to pull up and examine those deep in the corner of our brain concepts. You know the ones – the ones that might get you questioned by The Thought Police if they existed outside of fiction. It’s ok, we all have those little bastard notions creeping around… no matter the skin colour. I started to take a closer look at some of the things I think and how they would affect others if I wore those thoughts on a t-shirt. Needless to say, I’m not super impressed with myself. Because while I know with all my heart that I am not a racist person, I do recognize that I buy into and perpetuate some stereotypes. And I have zero excuses. This admission makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I’m ok with that… I can learn through discomfort.

I hear many people talking about and referring to white guilt.

-          White Guilt: ‘the feelings of shame and remorse some white people experience when they recognize the legacy of racism and racial injustice and perceive the ways they have benefited from it’.

I do not feel shame and remorse as a white person. As a human being, I am ashamed of how many of my fellow humans treat those who do not look the way they do or do not come from the same background. Do I believe there is a legacy of racism and racial injustice? Yes, 100%. Have I benefitted from this because I am white? I may be too dumb to answer this correctly. Or maybe too white? Or maybe I’ve had blinders on because based upon my own level of perception, I’ve always struggled to navigate my own existence therefore only know what has directly prevented me from being who and what I want in this world?

I underlined ‘level of perception’ because as the quote goes: “I stopped explaining myself when I realized people only understand things from their level of perception”

Earlier I said there were so many things I didn’t understand about George Floyd’s death and the protests etc. but here is something I do comprehend - there’s a big difference between understanding someone’s plight and being understanding of someone’s plight. Sympathy doesn’t require a total understanding of what problems other people are experiencing.

I may not fully grasp the struggles of those in the black community because it is not my experience but I will not ignore, deny or challenge their struggles. I will however educate myself on the issues, observe my own reactions and offer support in the ways I can and offer compassion to anyone who is willing to accept a little love from a min Hulk.

Nothing I write here is meant to change your mind. It is not meant to offend or shame you for how you may feel or think and nothing I write here is meant to lessen the seriousness of the current situation facing an entire community of people. As a writer my only goal is often to just disrupt your thoughts. Period.

[elisaphoenix13]

Magical Impossibilities

Oh.

Oh no.

This was not supposed to happen. His stupid mouth read a spell out loud (He was actually mumbling to himself again) and he didn't realize what the spell was until after a  flash temporarily blinded him. When he blinked the black spots out of his vision, a tiny creature was squirming in his lap and he froze.

The creature was a newborn baby girl...and he knew instantly that she was biologically his and Tony's. While Stephen was still trying to process what had happened, Mama Bear was clawing to the surface and that was another problem.

He was already in love.

He had no idea how Tony and Peter would react. Okay, maybe he had an idea about the teen. At worst, he would be both jealous and worried that Tony and Stephen would cast him aside, at best...he would just scoop her up into a hug and probably give his parents a heart attack. Tony? He had no clue. He made a joke about birth control for Vishanti's sake! A baby wasn't exactly something he could take back either, whether she was made by a spell or not. Looking ahead in the book he was reading from, there wasn't a reversal spell anyway. He was kind of glad. Magicking a child out of existence seemed cruel.

The sorcerer was still staring at the baby in his lap when Wong entered the library in the Sanctum, and he sighs when he notices the little girl.

"Who is it this time?"

Stephen looks up at him and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He repeats the motion of opening and closing his mouth like a fool until the other sorcerer finally gets fed up and takes the book out if his hands. Two seconds later, he was looking at the sorcerer supreme in bewilderment.

"Stephen!"

"It was an accident." The doctor says meekly.

"You were mumbling to yourself again weren't you? You can't take this back!"

"I know that!" Stephen's shout startles the infant into actual crying, and Mama Bear finally breaks his mental surface and scoops up the infant as he rises to his feet.

Wong watches him as he holds the baby girl up to his shoulder with one hand, and rubs his eyes with the other as he paces. There would really be no way to approach this gently with his family. He would just have to...wing it.

He really hated not having control over a situation.

"I suppose I have no choice but to face the music." Stephen finally sighs out after the baby finally calms her cries into whimpers again.

"It was nice knowing you."

"Shut up. They won't kill me...maybe." The doctor opens a portal to the tower and steps through, leaving behind a smirking Wong, and it closes behind him with a crackle.

For once, the family floor was completely silent. No Avengers (and he really wasn't looking forward to telling them), Tony was probably in a meeting in an office he barely used or in his lab tinkering, and Peter was probably on his way home from school.

The whimpers from the newborn turn into curious coos, and Stephen looks down at her to find matching blue eyes staring back. Shit. Food. He probably should have stopped by the store first. He only had supplies for toddlers from the couple of incidents that Peter (and Tony at one) was turned into a baby, but those wouldn't work for a newborn. She needed formula.

He was so glad Mama Bear and the doctor sides were out because the rest of him was screaming in panic in the back of his mind. Just thinking about the fact that he had different sides to his personality made him feel crazy.

"F-FRIDAY." Stephen clears his throat to keep himself from stammering. "Place an order for anything a newborn will need. Have it delivered as soon as possible."

"Yes Doctor."

Okay. One problem down. It was the simplest one, but it helped calm the mania currently wreaking havoc in his head. It was only a small assurance though. Telling Tony and Peter was a much bigger problem. Stephen groans and rubs his eyes again as he looks around the kitchen for some tea and a clean mug, and uses his magic to brew some tea as he resituates the infant against his shoulder. She wasn't necessarily heavy, but his hands could only carry her for so long and he was starting to fear he would drop her. She didn't have the spider grip Peter had so he actually had to hold her.

Thank god he had Levi, because it lifted part of itself to help support the tiny creature.

She really was tiny too. She fit snuggly in both of his hands and that was terrifying.

"Stephanie...what the hell are you holding?"

Stephen freezes for the second time that day and he looks to the side to find Tony staring at the newborn girl. He hadn't even heard the man walk into the kitchen. He figured he would have some kind of warning like the elevator or shuffling feet, but of course Tony chose today to be absolutely silent.

Tea set aside and forgotten, excuses and ideas fly around Stephen's head, but he eventually settles on just being blunt.

"Our daughter?" Calling the newborn their daughter was the icing on the cake for Stephen. It made things very, very real. He had no idea why he turned it into a question. Maybe he was bracing himself for a rant.

Nothing happened for a couple of minutes though as Tony stared and Stephen squirmed, until finally their daughter sneezes and breaks the engineer's trance. To the sorcerer's surprise, Tony throws his cell phone onto the counter and holds out his hands, wiggling his fingers.

"Gimme."

With some help from Levi, Stephen carefully hands the baby girl over to his husband, and damn near explodes where he's standing when Tony coos at her. It made him fall in love all over again.

"So I'm going to take a wild guess here." Tony says after a couple of minutes and Stephen looks at him nervously. "You read a spell, trying to figure out what it was, and didn't realize you were mumbling so you invoked it by accident. Discovered seconds later it was a baby spell and now we have a daughter?"

"You're taking this...rather well I have to admit."

Tony shrugs. "After making that joke when Harley was here, I think I mentally prepared myself for the possibility. We're not hurting for money, and finding someone to watch her if something comes up shouldn't be a problem. Now I have two kids to spoil rotten."

Tony then looks up from their new bundle of joy and gives Stephen a cautious look.

"Peter doesn't know yet does he?"

The sorcerer winces at that little reminder. "He's not home yet. He should be any min--"

The elevator hisses open and Peter walks out, throwing his backpack in the direction of his room. "Mom! Dad! I think there was a mix up! There some people outside with a ton of baby stuff! Unless some--" Peter stops in his tracks when he reaches the kitchen and his gaze instantly centers on the new family member in Tony's arms. "Who's that?"

"Uhh..." Both men respond stupidly.

That was a good question. The baby didn't exactly have a name yet. Peter looks between them with confusion evident on his face as his parents scramble for an answer, Tony finally coming up with a vague one.

"Your little sister."

Brown eyes widen as he points to the newborn and looks at Stephen. "Is she a magic baby?"

Stephen actually chuckles at the question. "An accidental magic baby but yes. She is biologically mine and Tony's."

The sorcerer's heart plummets to the floor when an insecure frown forms on Peter's face, and he rushes forward to envelop the boy in a strong embrace.

"You're still just as much our child as she is."

"Speaking of..." Tony pipes up when Peter returns Stephen's hug. "This little rugrat needs a name."

Peter looks over his shoulder to study the newborn. "What about Diana?"

Stephen hums his agreement. "Diana Marie Stark-Strange."

Tony smiles at the middle name and voices his agreement as Peter finally pulls away from Stephen and motions for the baby.

"My turn!"

"You can wait Underoos! I've barely had her for five minutes!"

"That's five more minutes than me! Come on Dad!"

Stephen sighs as the two continue to argue over who gets to hold the new addition to their family. Now that that was over, he really needed a nap. He had stressed himself out over their potential reactions, and felt sluggish now that the adrenaline was wearing off. A nap, some tea, and some cuddles with both of his cubs was sorely needed. Not exactly in that order or separately though. Maybe some tea, then a nap with his kids. They both looked like they could use one anyway.

The sorcerer warms up his forgotten tea and drinks it as Tony and Peter fight over the baby, and when he finishes, he wordlessly takes Diana from Tony and pulls Peter with him by the collar of his shirt.

"Nap time cubs. Dad can go downstairs and bring up the baby stuff before he joins us."

"Mama Bear is out." Tony sighs.

Stephen turns and winks at him. "Been out for a while actually."

Tony grumbles as Stephen takes the kids into the master bedroom and takes the elevator down to retrieve the baby goods. After the workers take the things up to the family floor, Tony joins his grown family after making a bottle for Diana for when she got hungry, and finds all three of them already conked out. Stephen not only had a protective arm around their daughter, but it was also around Peter. A silent reassurance that the teen was still wanted and loved. Little Dia safely snuggled between her big brother and mother.

The engineer quietly sets the bottle on a nightstand and carefully lays on the bed next to Peter, throwing his own arm over his children.

Tony was so damn lucky to have them.

[dent-de-leon]

As much as I love Keith and I’m glad he didn’t give up on Shiro (bc Shiro didn’t give up on him), it still feels unbalanced and his growth was made null? Idk. Especially since some of the scenes where Keith is showing his devotion to Shiro are very insidious on Shiro's end? Like "as many times as it takes" is framed in a way that makes Shiro's smirk feel ominous, and the same thing for The Black Paladins' fight (1)

The thing though is that Keith is only so devoted to Shiro because Shiro saved him first. Shiro approached him, he sought Keith out and stood by him when no one else would. I think a lot of people underestimate the kind of profound effect that can have on a person, especially in their formative years. When they first meet, Keith steals Shiro’s car–not because he wants to spite Shiro, but to spite himself.

He was so obviously interested in the Garrison, and so very elated when Shiro took an interest in him, that he immediately berates himself for ever believing he had a chance. He’s reluctant to even interact with Shiro, but once Shiro offers him a chance, you can so how much he’s affected by it. So when he sees the teacher telling Shiro he’s just not worth the effort, he decides to cut ties with Shiro immediately and demonstrate just how much of a “troublemaker” he is, because “of course he is.”

He’s frustrated with himself for hoping Shiro would ever be different, wouldn’t treat him like everyone else, so he heads down that same path of self-destruction and essentially punishes himself in an effort to sever ties with Shiro so he can at least feel like he’s the one in control. “I don’t know why I’m that way…maybe, I’m naturally untrusting because my mom left me? And so, instead of accepting people into my life, I push them away before they reject me. I guess I have some walls up…”

And Shiro ends up proving him wrong at every turn. Keith latches onto Shiro in spite of everything because Shiro was the one who kept going back for him and refusing to abandon him. That’s why Keith won’t give up on Shiro, it’s a mutual bond that Shiro started and fostered. And I don’t think it’s fair to say that Shiro has “insidious” intentions, because that is never the case. Shiro loves Keith implicitly, regardless of any circumstances, that much is canon:

Joaquim: “And with Shiro, we have that history [with the glara]. But he loves Keith, so he sees the good in him.” (source).

For that part in Tailing a Comet you mentioned, I don’t think there were any nefarious intentions there at all. This is season 3-6 Shiro at one of his lowest points–and consequently, his most vulnerable. So vulnerable in fact, that he won’t let anyone but Keith see him like that. So it’s Keith that tends to his bedside, Keith that he confides in. Everything from the dark lit room, to Shiro’s haggard appearance and being dressed down to his undershirt, invokes a sense of aching intimacy.

This is Shiro laid bare, Shiro at his most painstakingly honest. So when he teases Keith, says, “How many times are you going to save me before this is over?” it’s an open admission of just how much Keith has done for him–and just how touched Shiro is by it. Again, it’s kind of teasing–and reads as basically flirtatious to me–because there is that light and playful tone to it. He’s trying to lighten the mood while also conveying how much Keith really means to him, and it’s incredibly sweet. I think this is one of the instances of Shiro being the most forward about how he feels about Keith, rather than just subtly tiptoeing around it. He comes right out and says Keith is it’s hero.

The Black Paladins fight is a whole other matter, because obviously, Shiro isn’t in control for most of that. But we do see a crack in that mind control for a moment when Keith confesses, “I love you,” and that in itself speaks volumes. It’s not Keith’s plea that they’re like brothers or something about how the team needs him that breaks through to him, it’s that Keith loves him that evokes an incredibly visceral reaction. That’s not even with me getting into the implications of how it’s that line that gets the attention of Shiro when he’s a canonically mlm character and Keith is his closest current relationship.

It’s also worth noting in this episode that, when the spell breaks, the last thing season 3-6 Shiro does is call out Keith’s name. And that’s also the very first thing we hear from original Shiro. Keith is the last and first thing on Shiro’s mind, the person they instinctually reach for. And then Shiro takes his hand and their souls synchronize–Shiro opens up the Black Lion’s true power to Keith, and it’s only with his help that Keith is able to save the other Paladins. When Shiro’s soul is having trouble binding with his body, Shiro dreams of Keith, of how much Keith means to him and how their initial interactions completely shaped his life. It’s his bond with Keith that tethers him back to the physical world. “I was dreaming…Keith, you saved me.”

Keith’s poignant response to that–“We saved each other”–is one I think a lot of people don’t quite realize the gravity of. There’s occasionally this sentiment where people ask, “What has Shiro done for Keith lately?” but that’s not how Keith ever sees it. There are a number of times when Shiro has lashed out to protect Keith, but even beyond that, Shiro does not need to continually prove his worth to Keith. He’s already done that.

From Keith’s perspective, Shiro has already given him everything, has already proven himself a thousand times over. In Across the Universe, he says he saved Shiro because, “You would’ve done the same for me.” Them mutually comforting, confiding in, and fiercely protecting one another is the very core and basis for their relationship. And that’s why they won’t ever abandon each other:

Lauren: “And that’s something that, where Adam might be able to walk away from a relationship, because he doesn’t feel that respect, that relationship is something that Keith would hold on to his whole life, and probably never be able to walk away from.” (source)

[mentalisttraceur]

What an incredible hypocrite you are! Glad you could kill yourself if you wanted, but some of us can't masterfully stab ourselves. We are denied the means to die and denied the ability to talk about it without getting locked up. And yet you think this is good? It's only bad when it personally inconveniences you? Typical.

[Context]

It really sucks that you are hurting and feel trapped between wanting to die and not being able to either do it or talk about it.

I can infer now that your use of the word "sadly" was more about the predicament being relatable to you personally.

That was not clear to me from the initial message.

So it also really sucks that I hurt you with my reply. Maybe my initial post spoke to you and you were just reaching out thinking that maybe I understood, and you got back something that felt invalidating and dismissive instead.

That's a shitty experience, and I am already doing work to tune how I interpret, process, and respond to messages like this in the future.

Now having said that, I have some critique for you, and that... *gestures above* shit you just pulled.

Look, here's a tip: if you want people to respond in sympathetic ways in situations like this, reduce ambiguity, and make your needs and pains more explicit up-front. Ask yourself "what do I want to get out of this interaction?", and then just say it.

For example, in this case, you could have said "sadly, because most suicide attempts fail, even with a knife, if I tried people would find out anyway".

You're in a text-only medium, an anonymous one which gives me literally no other clues about who you are or what you're going through (if you were off anon I could actually skim your blog and get a better sense of where you are coming from and calibrate my reply to that).

You tell me "sadly, most suicides fail", with minimal other context, in a way that I can only respond to publicly. (If you were off anon I could respond privately, without having to worry about or mitigate how it might effect others).

See, you put me in a position where I had to consider all the people who might come across my reply. People who might be feeling suicidal or insecure or worthless. People who may have already tried to commit suicide in the past. People who might read "sadly most suicides fail" and think "even this Anon thinks I should die, so much so that they'd consider my survival sad".

Now you probably didn't mean that, but your words were ambiguous, so a person in a bad enough mental state could have read that into it.

So I had to make sure I included something in my reply to disclaim that. Something to let those people know that their lives are worth something. That if they failed to kill themselves they should absolutely not go to "it's worse for others that I lived" or "wow I couldn't even do suicide right, how pathetic".

And I have a limited amount of time, and other priorities. I've got like twenty other people waiting for replies stretching back months if not a year or more, and frankly given how you responded, I would've been happier picking literally any one of them to reply to instead. Only through luck and the power of deep insecurities did I happen to have both the time and drive to respond to your initial ask as soon as I got it.

And yeah, I gambled that you would actually consider and understand the above, or that you at least wouldn't perform a reading comprehension fail as severe as what you somehow achieved.

I mean literally, in my post, the only part where I mention a knife is when talking about a hypothetical action by me. The only place where I say "hear about it" is about me being suicidal.

So I interpreted your statement as being directly about me trying to commit suicide, and about people hearing about my suicide attempt. That's literally the most correct interpretation of your words as written, not some fucking deep sign of self-centered thinking.

So when I respond accordingly, about myself, because you made a remark that objectively has all sorts of cues which suggest a continuation of the hypothetical about me, the correct interpretation is "oh, he probably thought I was talking about him, and is just responding within that scope".

And when I include a brief "surviving suicide isn't sad" statement, the correct interpretation, per the above about suicide-risk people reading it self-harmfully, is "oh, he probably wanted to offset the risk of a possible misinterpretation".

Not whatever the fuck narrative you indicate you have already been creatively building up in your head about me for some time prior about me being self-centered and willing to ignore the suffering of others.

Now go back up to that example sentence I gave you and notice how those small changes in wording would have avoided literally all of these problems.

Maybe I'm being too harsh here - see, you remind me of someone, anon, someone particularly guilty of bad-faith interpretations of me, of a weirdly solipsistic failure to notice how things could be interpreted by or effect minds other than minds like them in their current state and a one-sided expectation of empathy to match...

So if you are not that person, and if you are not sufficiently similar to them, then maybe some of this is disproportionate because of my past history, and maybe one day I will feel apologetic for some aspects of this response. Maybe my response is a little biased, a little emotionally tainted, by my reaction to the resemblance.

But either way, you cost me a lot of my spoons, and more of my time and mental effort than I expect you will ever repay, and certainly clearly way more consideration than you gave me.

I really, really wanted to close on a hostile note here, really tear into you as a person and mind. Because really, if you're going to have the gall to judge people like this, you have to actually earn it by putting in the work into making sure you can judge people as correctly and reliably as possible. And I don't see any evidence of that.

But maybe I'm really wrong and your actions are justified from an angle that I just don't see yet. Which I genuinely leave open as a possibility, which again is more consideration and good faith than I think you've given me, but I'm going to just end it here.

Despite the initial flare-up of hostility and resentment that you invoked in me, I wish you the best, and I'm sorry - not as in wrongdoing, but as commiseration - for the hurt I caused you.

All communication is a series of gambles, where the odds get better the more we know about each other. We do our best with the balance of all the resources and priorities we have to work with, to account for all possible minds, and all possible consequences, and sometimes things hurt anyway.

So I'm sorry I hurt you, but I'm not sorry that I made the choices that I made given the situation exactly as it was presented to me. I will maybe make different choices in similar situations in the future, once I finish processing how this played out and adjusting my cognition accordingly.

[docfuture]

The Maker’s Ark - Chapter 46

     [This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker's Call.  The start is here, and links to my other work here. It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books.  It is serialized irregularly, interspersed with related short stories and vignettes when I don't have a new chapter ready.  My target posting schedule is something new about every two weeks, a rate I still aspire to return to someday.  Because it's been so long, those reading this as it comes out may wish to refresh their memories with the last chapter that took place on Earth here.]

Previous:  Chapter 45

      A great torrent of snow and ice arced up behind Flicker as she carved her way across Europa.       She skated through a deep mist of leftover atmosphere and escaped ice particles.  Vision was nearly useless for anything but the overlays and updates on her visor.  But she didn't need it.  All obstacles were already gone--powdered, melted, or vaporized during her first visit.  The only directions that mattered were up, down and forward.       The mist flashed to plasma when it hit her damper field, close to her body.  Functional plasma--it helped power the MHD generators in her force field harness.       Curved force field blades stretched out behind her, extending her reach and refining it, letting her slice out vast icy windrows and fling them upward to be scooped up by the portal maw on the ship flying above and behind her.  Mostly.  The leftovers were a problem.  The 99+% efficiency of the scooping process was right on the edge of not good enough.       "Even if the construction goes perfectly."  She remembered saying that, what seemed like ages ago.  Everything she'd done had worked, and she'd stayed within planned parameters--but the project depended on more than just her.       The status on one of the force field modules changed from green to yellow.  That made two.  Four, and she'd need to call for a break to swap them out.  If nothing else went wrong first.  And given the complexity and scale of what they were attempting, that was--       Her visor flashed an alert:  Incoming signal from Diver, the Floater pilot of the gas giant flyer, which was trailing a slipstream to ease the strain on the portal ship.  She was also relaying messages to Flicker as needed; since the flyer was out front, its com unit didn't have to punch through the messy mix of dense cold water and rarefied hot plasma Flicker was plowing up.       "Stop time," Diver sent, along with a more formal signal, a string of emoticons, and a graph indicating that an accumulation of technical problems on the portal ship had reached a safety threshold.       "Got it," Flicker replied, along with a few emoticons of her own, ending with a shrug.  She turned off the force fields, and the vast billowing in her wake started to dissipate.       At least their translation protocols were getting better.  She had names for two of the Floaters now--nicknames and titles came across better than untranslatable personal names.  The pilot was 'Reckless Diver', and Journeyman's recent nemesis, the Floater safety guy, was 'Cheerful Cloud of Warning'.  DASI cautioned they were still missing nuances, but the names worked well enough.       Better than the portal ship at the moment.       As soon as Diver got the signal that her slipstream was no longer needed, she dived and landed.  Quickly.  She was on the ground with the hatch open in under ten seconds--she took pride in not making Flicker wait any longer than she had to.  Diver was heavily biomodded and her ship was built for storm chasing on Jupiter, so rapid deceleration wasn't a problem.  She and Flicker shared an enthusiasm for hypersonic shockwaves and jokes with the punch line 'And then I broke it.'  Flicker liked her.       Diver waved two of her envirosuit's six tentacles as Flicker boarded, then took off again as soon as the hatch closed, sending happy aerodynamic model updates and data mixed with more emoticons.  Flicker waved back then checked in with DASI.  Journeyman was supervising the controlled closing of the portal, and would return to Learning when that was done, leaving the portal ship to Three and her repair bots--who had a bit of work to do.  At least they weren't running low on replacement parts.  Yet.       DASI noted that The Floaters had part of an early warning network up and running, though they weren't ready to say how much warning they thought it would actually give of the Visitors.  There were a lot of difficulties involving time-shifted 'echoes', many of them from Flicker's actions during the fleet battle, but some from as far back as her destruction of the Topaz Realm during her dissociative fugue as Skybreaker.  That was always the challenge with sensitive detectors--separating out what you were looking for from the background noise.       Incoming voice call.   "Hey," said Malk, one of Learning's liaison biogestalts.  "Glad you're on your way back.  Pira and I get worried about your sensory deprivation."       "I'm okay," said Flicker.  "It gave me time to think, and work on my biogestalt exercises.  Those went well, but I need to talk to Learning about some starship stuff that's kind of important.  I figured out the reason I was twitchy when I woke up this morning."       "Anything we can help?"       "Learning probably can.  Last night was the first time I've ever had a full night's sleep far away from any significant mass.  And when I did my morning startup, some checks that have always failed before... didn't.  So a few things switched from cold lockdown to maintenance mode."       "Ooh.  Okay, I just notified the duty Auditor to authorize a new privacy segment.  Learning will be ready."       "Thanks.  This is good news, I think.  At least, good to know about, rather than stay ignorant, but..."  Flicker took a breath before finishing her message.  "My jump drive itches."       *****       "DASI says there is no indication of outside influence," said Sid, Doc's chief of security.  "But she also confirmed, without being specific, that Doc is working on some sort of cognitive or memory problem.  And I have discretion to call on available expert assistance."       "Which would be me," said Yiskah.       "Yes."       Sid looked at her expectantly.  He didn't say 'read my mind', but he was sure thinking it loudly.  They were in the small briefing room next to his duty station.       "Well, you're in luck," she said.  "I was already on my way, but Doc's been unusually concerned about 'side-channel information leakage modes'.  However, we're in a secure area now, so...  DASI?"       "Yes?" came from the wall speaker.       "Is Doc still down in the Dangerous Artifact vaults?"       "Yes.  He visited vault three, and set up a communications relay outside vault one.  He then invoked an interrupt restriction protocol, entered the vault and sealed the door, reactivated the defenses, and opened alcove one of vault one.  That was two hours and forty minutes ago."       Yiskah looked over at Sid, who raised an eyebrow and looked back.       "You have far more experience working with Doc than I do," she said.  "Do you have any personal observations that might be of use for my assessment?"       Sid looked thoughtful.  "The personality shift reports from yesterday worried me.  His actions since, not so much.  The last security update he sent said that he needed to fix something complex, and what he's doing sounds consistent with that.  Dangerous, but consistent.  It is a lot more like his style from back before he adopted Flicker--explain nothing except safety precautions."       Yiskah frowned.  "DASI?  What's in vault one, alcove one?"       "Restricted data," said DASI.  Available description, 'Second-order closed-loop cybernetic control helmet'; Safety note, 'Lethal trap, not Lyapunov stable'."       "Joy," said Yiskah.  "Are you willing to override the locks so I can get in?"       "Unnecessary.  You are already on the exception list.  I will warn him."       "All right," she said, and turned back to Sid.  "I'll handle it, and have DASI keep you updated."

      In the elevator on the way down to the sub-basement, Yiskah contacted Stella Prime.  "Anything to add?" she sent.       "The personality change was a side effect of something he did in order to properly brief Journeyman," replied Prime.  "After Journeyman and Flicker boarded Learning, Doc alerted me that he needed to do some messy memory cleanup and would be unavailable for a while, and he spent last night in an isolation chamber.  I'm more concerned about something else.  He has unreplicated causal loop experience in his head, and judging from what DASI and I are seeing on Earth, we appear to have hit some sort of tipping point or phase change.  It would be useful and timely for Doc to update his loop models.  Get him to explain if possible.  I can't spare the attention right now."       Yiskah frowned.  "That could take a while, and I won't to be able to follow everything."       "DASI will.  And if you mind scan him, he won't gloss over uncertainties.  He has a characteristic reaction to them, he won't be able to hide it from you, and he knows it.  And I have to go--new crisis."       "Understood."       *****       Yiskah let the door close behind her after entering.  She raised an eyebrow, but avoided starting a full mind scan.  The vault was silent except for the faint whisper of a ventilation fan--the impression of rustling echoes was an illusion created by the interaction of her telepathy with the shielding in the walls.  The door to one of the alcoves stood open, and its shelf was empty.       Doc sat in a folding chair with a water bottle beside him.  His usual lab coat was absent; he was dressed as if for strenuous outdoor work, in a t-shirt, many-pocketed jeans, and sneakers, along with his goggles.  And the helmet.       The helmet looked old in the way of futuristic technology from the end of the previous millennium, apart from the small rectangular boxes attached to each side, which looked like a battery pack and a wireless communications module of more recent vintage.       Doc nodded and smiled.  "Hello, Yiskah," he said.       "Hello," she replied.  "I went along with your precautions.  Care to tell me just what is going on?"       "Too much," he said.  "But I'm to the point where you can safely help.  Good to see you."       "You could have called first."       Doc shook his head.  "No point.  I needed to deactivate a personality overlay.  Its security wasn't as aggressive as your mind trap, but it still precluded useful telepathic contact.  And I wasn't going to open the door in the middle of the risky part.  I suppose you'll want to verify identity continuity first?"       "Back up.  Is this overlay gone now?  Will a mind scan cause you any difficulties?"       "It has been deactivated, yes, but I still need to clean up.  And go ahead.  Hazards are marked, and I have the major ones secured, but I'm not done reindexing.  And I'm not apologizing for the mess."       Yiskah moved to stand in front of him, and put a hand on his shoulder before beginning her visualization scan.  One way she could use her telepathy was to give form to a subject's mental organization, analogies, and personal assumptions.  It gave a useful overview and it was fast.  It had arguably helped save Doc's life twice.  She let the images come into focus and fill her perceptions.       The two of them stood inside a large square of chain link fence topped with barbed wire.  It was cluttered with large green boxes, insulators, and heavy cabling of the sort you might see in an electrical substation.  Yellow and black striped tape and orange cones surrounded several boxes, though work appeared to be complete.  The whole station was humming with power.       The entire surrounding landscape looked like a major construction site that had suddenly been converted to storage.  Pallets piled high with... something... were covered with tarps.  Some of them also had hazard tape, shipping tags, or more detailed caution signs on them.  Silent robots steadily moved boxes from one pallet into a freshly built and still unpainted warehouse.  The ground was covered with tread tracks, and a bulldozer and backhoe rested nearby, unmoving for the moment.       Yiskah own perception had an effect on the visual form of the subject's self-image, so she could shape them to pull out psychological nuances.  Doc wouldn't be able to tell what he looked like unless she told him or chose to create a mirror.  The last time she had scanned, he had appeared as a more elderly version of himself, a lab-coated scientist in his late fifties or early sixties.  He had changed.       He stood relaxed, arms at his sides, and smiled crookedly at her.  "Well, how do I look?"       Yiskah narrowed her eyes.  He still looked like himself, but younger, perhaps in his mid-twenties.  His hair was long, pulled back in a queue.  His goggles were absent, and he wore a black t-shirt with an unusual flower and some strange writing on the front.  He seemed poised and confident.  She found his appearance quite encouraging...       ...except for the helmet.       Glowing strands emanated from it all directions, some to the power station boxes, others to faint, force-field-like bubbles over some of the pallets.  Three climbed to the cloudy sky, and one of those strands pulsed steadily with green energy.  The helmet radiated heat, and sweat trickled down Doc's face, unnoticed.  There was a faint smell of smoke and ozone.       Doc should not be that relaxed, not amid these signs of tension and strain.  The wrongness of it grew more jarring every moment.  She took a step back and released the visualization, leaving them facing each other in the vault once more.       "You've got a lot going on in there," she said, "and I have many questions, but that helmet worries me the most.  Are you done using it?  How willing are you to take it off?"       "Not quite done, and very," said Doc.  "No way it's leaving this vault.  But I want to leave it on for a while longer, to damp side effects.  The mood balancer helps with that."       Yiskah breathed in sharply.  "Mood balancer.  Okay, now I understand the 'lethal trap' note."       Doc half-smiled.  "It's definitely not something I'd want to use every day, or outside this vault, but the note was for Flicker; the lack of stability means the helmet would likely kill her in under a second.  And she might otherwise be tempted to try if she knew what it can do."       "It's definitely affecting your judgement right now.  Could you please take it off?  Asking nicely."       "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"       "No," said Yiskah.  "Any reason to stay down here once the helmet is safely locked up again?  Do you need me to take you to the med center?"       "Living quarters will be fine, but if you'll willing to give me another hour, I can--"       "You can have neurological damage.  And your other symptoms will only get worse."       "Yiskah, if I stop damping--  Okay.  I'll grant that it's possible for you to provide the level of support I'll need to keep the next day or so from turning into a cascading disaster when we get hit by another crisis--and we will--but the withdrawal effects will be grueling for me and probably distasteful for you.  I really don't want to be as much of a pain as I'll be if I have to stop now."       "Your rationalization is a thing of beauty and fine craftsmanship," she said.  "But I'm not buying it.  Asking less nicely."       Doc stood, his face now grim, then closed his eyes to commune with the helmet and perhaps DASI.  After a moment he opened his eyes again.       "Ten seconds," he said aloud, and moved to the shelf in the alcove.  Yiskah followed, ready to catch him if he collapsed.       She could feel the wave of anger and other emotions hit Doc's mind as the helmet shut down.  He managed to keep his hands steady as he removed the helmet from his head, placed it on the shelf, and closed the alcove door.  He turned to face her.  "Wonderful," he said.  "Best case now is embarrassing emotional context mistakes, profuse unintentional oversharing, and peevish ranting."       "We can do better than that," she said.  "And I have a handy list of rant topics for you."       Doc made a chopping motion with his hand.  "No point arguing here.  Upstairs."       "Sure, let's go.  Nice evil twin impression, by the way."       Doc winced, and she could sense the beginning of his migraine as the vault door opened.  "Fool," he muttered.       Yiskah laughed.  "Ah, your sense of humor survived.  We'll get you through this."       *****       Safety interlock reverification status:  Verified.       Hazard avoidance priority reverification status:  Verified.       Resuming command sequence from low speed interface buffer.  Inefficient protocol warning.       Subsystem hazard alert notice 0081538621644:  Action--defer.       Subsystem maintenance alert notice 0081538621645:  Action--defer.       Subsystem hazard alert notice 0081538621646:  Action--defer.       ...       Subsystem hazard alert notice 0081538627929:  Action--defer.       Subsystem maintenance alert notice 0081538627930:  Action--defer.       Selected alert notice actions complete.  Returning to configuration lockdown.       Loading test sequence for auxiliary communication using [localization missing] gradient inducer... Done.       Protocol synchronization signal received.  Beginning sequence.       ...       Sequence complete.  Safety and compatibility verified.  Settings saved.  Test session complete.       ...       "Done," said Flicker as she opened her eyes.  She glided to the floor of the maintenance bay, and Learning turned the gravity and lights back on and shut down the scanners.       "Everything's locked down again," she said.  "My jump drive is back on safe, and the deferred messages should only itch when I first wake up.  I didn't want to disable them completely."       "A reasonable compromise," said Learning.  "Maintenance messages, even old ones, from a system as complex as yours are not to be dismissed lightly."       "Yeah," said Flicker.  "The portal gradient detector com channel thing seems to have worked, too.  Your scanner signals got through, and it felt like the protocol got properly set, but I didn't get a good sense of the details.  It's really hard to keep my subconscious from filtering them out.  Did all the keys and checksums match on your end?"       "They did," replied Learning.  "The Floaters will be somewhat relieved."       "I'm relieved, even though it's slow.  Cloud is right; if my visor gets trashed during a space battle, I'll want a better com backup than trying to use a black hole as a signal lantern."       "Indeed.  I am glad your tests were successful."       "I'm starting to find my balance as a starship, but extracting parameters and changing anything safely is still an incredible pain.  Your backup and feedback really made a difference.  I may want to do more tomorrow, depending on how the ice collection goes."       "I will be available.  Is there anything else I can do to ease your acclimatization or otherwise assist you?"       "Well, yes.  There are some starship to human body reflex translation issues I'm going to be working on for a while.  Would it be against procedures or anything if I use the gradient com to call you informally, possibly at odd times?  The low bandwidth isn't a problem at human speeds, and I need the practice."       "I will always be happy to assist," said Learning.  "Fleet support is my primary mission, and I am assigned to liaison duty.  You are the most powerful defender of Earth, so no one can question my duty."  A pause.  "I'd do it anyway; but that means you don't have to worry about getting me into trouble."       "Heh."  Flicker smiled and looked down.  "Thank you, Learning."       Flicker left the bay and returned to the entryway of the small group of compartments she was sharing with Journeyman, DASI's local node, and, in a more abstract way, Three.  She checked in with DASI on the way and frowned.  Status for Journeyman hadn't updated for a while, but they were passengers and guests when off-duty, so DASI was being conservative about following Grs'thnk etiquette on shipboard privacy.       "Hey," said Three from the entry display as Flicker closed the hatch.  "Good job on your snow tossing!  All of today's problems were hardware or at the portal end--or both.  DASI said your exercise metrics looked really good, and the tests when you came back worked out too.  How are you doing?"       "Better than I expected," said Flicker.  "I owe you an apology."       "Me?  For what?"       "Back when you first started talking about Learning?  And how you felt about him?  I was skeptical and kind of dismissive?"       "It's all good, Flicker.  Appreciating him can require a shift in perspective."       "Well, I've made the shift.  Learning and I set up a hierarchy of joint safety reflexes so I don't have to worry about ripping up his interior, burning out anything, or punching a hole in his hull if I have to move in a hurry.  So I can finally relax all the way when I'm on board.  And I've worked with him a bit."       "Nice, isn't he?" said Three.       "Yeah.  But I need some advice.  I noticed something earlier, and I slowed back down just a bit ago to catch up on body chemistry and emotional lag.  It's gotten quite a bit stronger.  I'm having a reaction to him that I'm having trouble sorting out."       "That's not unexpected.  Pleasant or unpleasant reaction?"       "Pleasant but awkward.  You'll probably laugh, because you have your emulators, or whatever you use, and--"       "I won't laugh at you," said Three.  "And if you feel uncomfortable staying on board, the backup for the portal ship is almost here, and has active life support and plenty of room, so--"       "No!  I'm not uncomfortable.  I'm fine with Learning.  More than fine.  I really like the way he interacts with me.  I just started thinking about some things, and..."  Flicker trailed off.       "Well, he does have recreational bioemulator remotes, so if--"       "I know, Pira told me about them.  That's not..."  Flicker looked down.  "I mean, he's a starship.  And so am I.  When we can take some time without being irresponsible, I want to dance with him.  Dive close, mesh my momentum transfer with his grav repellers, and spin around.  Tickle his strain grid sensors with my inertial dampers.  Trace patterns with my energy transfer in his shields, and...  And a hundred other things I haven't thought of yet and I sure there are things he'd think of too.  Play with him.  Laugh with him.  Make jokes about the show we'd be putting on for the other ships.  But he has his crew, so privacy is an issue, and I don't know what restrictions he's under, and what might not translate, and whether this is all too fast, or..."       She looked back up.  "Am I being silly?  And would any of this bother you?"       "No," said Three.  "You aren't.  And you wouldn't bother me.  He's been gently flirting with you for a while now.  What has changed is that you're starting to think of yourself as a starship, so he's a peer instead of a funny alien AI.  And he's well socialized--the Grs'thnk are very careful about that for their ship AIs.  So if you like his style, he's quite attractive."       Three smiled.  "I was already comfortable as a fleet of starships when we first started working together, so I took a shine to him pretty fast.  But he's been 'just a friend' to you before this.  Does what he and I are doing bother you?"       "Oh, no.  I wouldn't even be considering this if you hadn't made me aware that he might enjoy that sort of thing too.  But there's something else.  Learning and I have compatible safety protocols now.  That's..."  Flicker bit her lip.  "I used to have dreams about that."       "Yeah," said Three.  "That would do it."       "So... What should I do?  Should I talk to him about it?"       "You can certainly talk to him.  But there are a couple things to consider.  About the restrictions he's under--you realize that making every reasonable effort to keep you happy is part of his job?"       "Yes, he's been very up front about that.  That's part of not being irresponsible, because it's a power imbalance.  I'd want to spend some time talking to him, and you, before I consider actually doing anything--but not talking about it seems like it would be irresponsible too."       "That's a healthy attitude."  Another smile.  "You're certainly benefiting from our little starship social support group.  Not having one for most of your life was what made you vulnerable to dissociation.  I'd never have pushed dissociation as a temporary solution if I'd known how bad yours still was.  I'm sorry about that."       "Not your fault," said Flicker.  "DASI said that Doc and Journeyman deliberately kept you in the dark.  You were the only one who could push me the right way to uncover the biogestalt problem--but you might not have done it with full information, because it was riskier than you thought.  And involving you directly in any causal loop is really dangerous because of your mind trap."       "It was a humbling experience.  But I'm glad it worked."       "Me too.  Today was much better than most of yesterday--and I'm feeling better than I expected to be able to away from Earth."       "One other thing about Learning," said Three.  "There is a boundary issue.  He's not supposed to have any direct contact with DASI, so he and I have been doing a lot of indirect stuff--some of it diplomatically sensitive.  Don't get me wrong--it's a lot of fun, too.  But some of it's like the kind of things Doc and Jumping Spider used to coordinate when they were spending time together."       "Um," said Flicker.  "I never did get Database access to a lot of that stuff.  So I'm not sure... Oh."       "Yep.  So if Learning changes the subject or makes a joke that doesn't quite answer a question--he usually has a good reason.  Are you willing to accept that?"       "Yeah," said Flicker.  "I should probably start practicing that sort of thing, too.  Because I'm not very good at it yet, and things like whether or when I might be able to make an unassisted jump to Grs'thnk or Xelian space are going to be really important military intelligence.  Whether I want them to be or not."       "An excellent idea.  I can help too, but there's a funny Grs'thnk diplomatic training game for it that I think you'll like.  Learning is great at it.  And picking up the mindset while enjoying yourself should help reduce stress for Journeyman."       "How is Journeyman?" asked Flicker.  "Is he out of the shower yet?  He must have ported back really late."       "He's recovering.  He didn't port back; he took a shuttle, because--"       "He didn't port?  Is he hurt?  What happened?"       "It's all right, he just didn't want to put extra effort into balancing energy and momentum transfer while he was feeling wiped.  Your day went better than expected; his went worse."       "Okay thanks going to go talk to him", said Flicker.  She zipped over to the hatch to the inner compartments and waited impatiently while it opened.       *****       Multitasking.  Yiskah typed up summaries for DASI at the workstation beside Doc's bed, glancing occasionally at updates from Stella Prime and a crisis tracker.  Prime was still in a contentious meeting with representatives of the Kyrjaheim Intervention Cooperative, the organization that a majority of Golden Valkyrie's Choosers had founded to conform to EDU transition guidelines on humanitarian military intervention.  They had already ended a nasty war in East Africa in a single day, which would probably have attracted more attention if it hadn't been the same day the Russians tried to nuke Black Swan.  Other wars were being discussed--whether they were inevitable, how soon they would happen, and what to do about them.  Opinions differed and tempers were short.       Doc was on his back with a damp cloth over his eyes and a med monitor on his wrist.  Painkillers had taken some of the edge off his migraine, but he had agreed to give his visual cortex a rest for a while.  Yiskah projected her presence to him with a light touch, reassuring without being intrusive, while he rambled.       "Breakdown of the default consensus future," he said.  "That's the cause of what DASI and Stella are seeing, and no I don't know how bad it's going to get yet.  It's been building for a while.  There's a public part and an underlying part, and they reinforce each other.  It's not just a result of causal loop pressure.  Looks like the models underestimated the significance of feedback loops involving magicians using social media--those can grow much faster now.  I discussed it with Journeyman just before he left."       "Thoroughly alarming him in the process," said Yiskah.       "He was already thoroughly alarmed.  Sharing his anecdotal data with me probably had a net calming effect, given what else we talked about."       "About that.  You were unwilling to allow DASI to record the conversation, even under fully locked privacy.  Why?"       "We were in the middle of a causal loop, discussing relevant actions.  I wasn't going to involve anyone else.  And there's another, more esoteric reason--compatible past broadening.  If things got dire and he needed to risk a chancy port that might result in a sideways worldline transfer, any allowed point of incompatible history that we both knew about and agreed on beforehand could make it easier for him to pull off.  But if DASI recorded it, that would break a necessary symmetry.  Under one version of my worldline theory, anyway--but it was an easy tradeoff.  He agreed."  A note of humor crept into Doc's voice.  "At least, that's how I remember it."       "Well," said Yiskah, "you believe that, so there's no point in arguing now.  However.  I'd like to know a bit more about the alarming overlay you allegedly deactivated downstairs.  And any other mental work you've done recently.  Your thinking has changed.  For the better, apparently, but..."       "Understandable," said Doc.  "That was my nightmare processing overlay.  It started as a causal-loop-compatible composite of old versions of me from worldlines that managed to contribute to my coherent nightmares.  The Grs'thnk would call it a partial pseudogestalt--they use similar constructions as medical aids in cases of severe neurological or cognitive disruption.  I used it as an interpreter and gatekeeper; it kept triggered-release and age-inappropriate memories inaccessible while preserving the original nightmare data in encrypted form.  It was never intended for use around anyone else, and I haven't used it for a while, for a good reason.       "I updated it as I augmented, so it worked properly with newer memories and nightmares, while remaining compatible with older ones.  I also adapted it to use as a safety backup for other work, such as detecting mental influence.  To deactivate it, I need to pass a few security checks.  This was intended to protect my primary nightmares from exotic forms of tampering or eavesdropping, such as might be employed by an overconfident forensic telepath."       Yiskah raised an eyebrow.  "Was that why you decided I wouldn't be able to help?"       "Not before I was done, yes.  Because back when I woke up from my coma, I discovered I had a small problem.  I could still activate the overlay.  But without my top-level augments, my primary way to deactivate it was gone, and most of my backup methods were unavailable due to side effects from what you and Stella did while saving my life.  Another way required a fresh coherent nightmare--and those stopped around the same time."       "I explored other methods," said Doc.  "Then those triggered-release memories started popping up after I used the pool in Kyrjaheim.  I really needed the overlay to verify I was putting them into the proper context.  And there was one sure way to handle the deactivation problem, but it required extensive preparation and some risk.  I started the preparation, in between working on everything else.  I was almost ready; I was literally seconds away from telling Stella about it when Flicker interrupted.  And then Breakpoint called and there was no more time.  I needed the overlay right away, to pull and interpret some original nightmare memories to help Journeyman."       "And then you were stuck with it for a while."       "Yep."       "So... Why did you need the Helm of Lethal Trap to deactivate it?"       "I didn't.  I needed the helmet to re-augment.  That's what all the prep and most of the time in the vault was for--I did a partial replacement of my top level augments.  I concentrated on the memory management and stability segments, and left out all the speed optimizations, which were by far the most time consuming parts.  And I needed the helmet because that's what I used the first time, and I still had backups of the process memories stored encrypted in a special corner of the Database.  Otherwise it would have taken weeks."       Yiskah smiled wryly.  "So that's what left you with such a memory mess."       "No, the re-augment went fine."  Doc waved an arm.  "And the primary nightmare memories are safely locked away again.  I'm a mess because I haven't reassimilated the secondaries.  A lot of them are emotionally loaded, they've all been recontextualized, and I'm not the same person I was when I first had them, so they don't fit nicely anymore.  I didn't know which ones I'd need, so I had to pull all the ones with Voidsmith, and there were a lot of them."       "Voidsmith?"       "Journeyman.  I warned you about context mistakes.  His name was Voidsmith in many of the nightmares."       "Why were your memories involving Voidsmith so emotionally loaded?"       "He can escape from the end of the world, potentially carrying measure from a dying worldline to one that survives.  That is so important.  I've seen him do it in half a dozen nightmares."  Doc took a deep breath.  "And not do it.  Twice.  Because he can run away... But he never wants to."       Yiskah frowned.  "Why is it so important?  I never followed your original discussion of measure with Prime very well.  I can see having a higher measure of surviving worldlines is nice in an abstract sense, but that doesn't help us if we're dead, no matter what happens somewhere else, right?"       "Ah.  Measure is a mathematical generalization of size.  I'm using it kind of sloppily, because I have no way to prove just how it applies to my worldline theories.  But in most of the theories I've used to make predictions that actually helped, higher measure for a worldline and 'similar' worldlines is good.  It allows more connections to other, living worlds, more power behind probability manipulation and causal loops that help everything survive, and more options in general.  I'm fairly certain that Golden Valkyrie depends on measure manipulation to affect the future indirectly.  And Journeyman can transfer measure to us as well--because he exists in other worldlines in our cluster.  And there's some evidence he's done exactly that.  Twice.  Recently."       "So how does he manage it without leaving three of him running around?"       Doc waggled a hand.  "Not entirely sure, but measure isn't a number, it's a generalization.  What we would expect to see in the aftermath is something unlikely and fortunate involving Journeyman.  Like, say, appearing 17 seconds before he left when he ported Flicker and himself home from the portal mishap, while just barely surviving.  Or finding some disturbingly detailed tips in his blind drop when they ported home from Flicker's first session on Europa.  I'm still arguing with Ashil and DASI about the details of how measure transfer relates to sideways worldline transfers, causal loops, and apparent time travel to the past.  And there are many complications that I'm handwaving.  But they both agree that relative measure of worldlines is a useful concept.  As is the idea of 'future survival measure'--that's how likely a worldline is to endure in the absence of outside help.  I've been using the word measure for both, which, again, is sloppy.  But it's also faster, and I'm pedantic enough already."       The humor returned to his voice.  "Speaking of sloppy, we'll want to do our best to keep the future survival measure of Earth from dropping too much while Flicker, Journeyman, and Golden Valkyrie are gone.  They're more likely to survive the Visitors if they aren't causally linked to problems here, but if it gets too bad, they might come back to a different worldline where we did a better job.  Could get a bit lonely if that happens."       *****       Journeyman was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands.  He was wearing pants, but his shirt and hat were still on a nearby chair.  It looked like he had started to get dressed after his shower, then stopped.  There was an open flask on the nightstand.  Flicker wasn't sure exactly what was in it, but it was definitely something alcoholic.       "Mike?"       He looked up, his eyes concerned.  "Hey, Flicker.  You okay?"       "I'm fine.  I was worried about you.  Three and DASI said things got pretty rough at the portal."       Journeyman smiled and his eyes relaxed.  "Oh, well..."  He waved a hand and looked to the side.  After a moment he picked up the flask and replaced the cap.       "Yeah," he said.  "They did."       She glided over.  "Touch no touch?"       "Touch."       She sat down and put her arms around him.  She didn't say anything.       "Opening was fine," he said after a while.  "Nailed the space we wanted.  Got the portal situated, then Three expanded it with her generator, and brought the Floater test unit online as a backup.  And we were okay for the first couple of hours.  Couple of shaky spots.  Whenever the snow flow hitting the rim and bouncing off shifted, Three had to blip her drives to keep us on the right orbit, and that made the portal want to slide off-center, so I had to kinda tap at it then the generator would pick up and balance it."       Journeyman start to wave his hand, noticed he was still holding the flask, and put it back on the nightstand.       "Did the mass accumulation make it harder?" asked Flicker.       "No.  Well, yeah, but we were ready for it.  Except for the back pressure.  The plan was not to make the space too big or it would take forever to shrink it back down after we get it filled and you're ready.  And I followed the plan.  But I think we made the space just a little bit too small.  Or not quite stretchy enough at the non-portal boundaries, which is basically the same thing."       He waved his now-empty hand.  "Three compensated for the back pressure.  She did that great.  Hell, she did everything great.  Forget her being prickly yesterday, she kept everything together today, sang sea shanties when I was on the edge, and...  Well, anyway.  Problem was, to keep the portal permeable so we could keep scooping snow without vapor escaping, she had to tighten up the tension in a way that made it harder for me to feel what was going on.  So I was trying to steer the portal with less and less feedback.  And that sucker was huge.  No way could I ever manage that big a portal by myself, I'm a finesse guy."       He looked down.  "Then shit started breaking.  Heard you had a little trouble with that, too."       "Not bad," said Flicker.  "Two generators went yellow, and one of those turned out to just be a flaky sensor."       "Yeah," said Journeyman.  "We had sensors, generator cells, one of the grav units, two inertial compensators, and I forget what else.  Oh, and the secondary resonator on the Floater unit just flat died about halfway through.  And it was freshly tested.  Cloud said they didn't 'untranslated the expletive untranslated', but DASI says that's just colloquial Floater for 'why the frick did it have to do that now?'  He's good at swearing.  Where was I?"       "Things were breaking."       "Oh, yeah.  About five hours in Three had to switch to using both generators, with the Floater unit as the primary, to keep the tension low enough so I could still guide things.  And in hour six, we had a desync and suddenly I had to pull one whole side of the portal.  It was like trying to turn an angry rhinoceros with rubber bands.  Three got everything back under control and resynced in under a second but I was kind of a wreck after that.  I wanted to go the full eight hours but Three said something was hitting yellow in hour seven so we had to shut everything down, and when we were finally done I asked her what hit yellow and she said it was me."       Journeyman looked over at her with a slightly desperate expression.  "I'm sorry.  Did what I could."       "Mike...  You did everything anyone could ask, and more."  Flicker sped up to check in with DASI and Three on her visor, then slowed back down again.  "Three says she's going to swap in the backup portal ship for tomorrow; the maintenance levels are better because they had more time.  And a team of six engineers from the Xelian Volunteers are helping her troubleshoot all the problems--we were doing so many new things at once there were bound to be glitches.  And there's even--okay I'll stop now because your eyes are starting to glaze over."       "Yeah, my brain isn't braining very well.  I keep worrying about some of what Doc said.  About running if the Visitors show up before we're ready.  I don't know if I can do that.  I could see it as a way of baiting them away?  Maybe?  But we'd have to circle back, somehow.  I can't just abandon everyone here--I mean there are so many people I care about on Earth, our Earth, not some hypothetical... Gah."       He rubbed his forehead.  "And tomorrow.  I don't know if we'll be able to reopen the portal.  I don't know if I'll even be able to find the right place to try.  If we can't find the space again we might have to start over from scratch."       "Well," said Flicker.  "If we have to start over, we start over.  Europa has plenty of ice.  And it wouldn't be from scratch, because we have a lot more data now, and everyone is analyzing like mad.  Everyone else--don't worry about it, we're clear to rest."       "Don't worry.  Heh."  He leaned back until he was lying sideways on the bed with his feet still on the floor, then looked up at her.       Flicker put her hand on his chest and met his eyes.  "Mike, you've helped me so many times.  Let's worry about tomorrow... tomorrow.  Not tonight.  Okay?"       Journeyman blinked, but didn't look away.  Then he smiled.  It was a faint smile, but real.  "Okay," he said.

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