#i do NOT like the bare bones of his verse i need to translate his main better YES

[mythvoiced]

-. alright *cracks knuckles* i wanna get into that xianxia/wuxia gold pot at the end of the rainbow, so i'm gonna actually develop wenzhe's mdz.s verse pls hold

[mxddyhero]

HI ITS ME AGAIN fhfjfjgj

i just..i think about the difference between "loner" and "mirailight" alot and it makes me feel insane

like with how in Loner its almost self deprecating and his conflict is his past,and how he just wants it to change,and wants to become something that he couldnt before

BUT IN MIRAILIGHT like hes THERE now yknow and like the vibes are all different imo the softer tone when singing the way he says (roughly bc i know translations probably arent perfect) that hes been led into the future ,i just think about how all this time he had to do everything himself,always had to be on guard, always had to be someone he wasnt,but in mirailight everything is so different and then i go insane (as usual)

i just think the songs are such good ways to compare their growths as characters and just ARGH i am normal!!

HELLO HELLO,, YESSS !!! They're so good to demonstrate his growth, and the one thing I adore that they did with Mirailight was that he explicitly tells us his journey still isn't over. Like he reached his goal of becoming an actor and he wasn't content with just that, he needs to be the absolute best he can and that's just so fundamentally ingrained in his character.

Loner is so much more sombre and melancholy, not even just the lyrics, but the instrumentation too. Sure it swells at points, but it's kinda like a mirror to his portrait. Rather than pomp and flair, the song uses pure emotion and emphasises the truest desperation. I like to think how it shows he truly was alone before, and he could only rely on himself to express how he felt. It was raw, bare-bones, honest, open and truthful. The couple of lines that always stand out to me in Loner are about how he may as well be himself and it doesn't matter who he is because on stage he can become somebody entirely different. Because yeah, that's initially why he wanted to do this in the first place, he wanted to erase all evidence of the "monster of o high" and just be a normal guy.

But then in Mirailight, as you said he got there, he was led into the future he always wanted. But I find it interesting that he says (roughly, again with translation approximations) "Reflect on someone else's life and weave it into my life", he's acknowledging himself, Juza Hyodo, as a person. There's not just bare bones instrumentation anymore either, there's strings and synth and so much more complex backing, but that clean guitar is still there and pretty prominent above all of it. He's not just becoming another person to escape himself, but using his own experiences to further understand his characters rather than just being a 2d character from a page with no deeper motivations yk? (no offence to tsuzuru ofc, that was yuzo's criticism of aki with picturesque) And he's still looking forward to the future, even brighter, now he has support and opportunities and more than he could have ever imagined. He isn't done growing as an actor or a person, he is still striving for better but he's in a much better place to do so and that's the beauty of Juza I think.

The two are like sunset and sunrise* in terms of how different they are (the sun setting, leaving the world bleak and dark and generally yearning for the warmth of the sun/spotlight contrasted to the dawn of a new day with promise of a fresh start and new possibilities). Hell, it even says as much in mirailight in the first verse.

ANYWAY I completely getchu and am sooo normal about him too :]

*this wasn't related to music, but I think it's interesting how Juza's inital unbloomed SSR is him at sunset and then his second base unbloomed SSR is him at sunrise (AND it's called My Steps Have Become Light Too, are you kidding-). Could just be a coincidence, but he is so sunset/sunrise coded to me.

[groundcontrol21]

Sicktember #27

Prompt #27: Sleepless Night/s

Fandom: Three Musketeers

Title: Survivor’s Guilt

Summary: In the wake of the massacre at Savoy, Aramis’s obsession with medicine and health adversely affects his own.

Notes/CW: This is firmly in the show-verse, as Savoy is not a thing in the books. CW for psychological effects of war and trauma (there are some happy things in the fic though I promise). 

It had likely been around a month since he had been given clearance to rise from his bed and start taking little walks around the garrison, but in all honesty Aramis did not hold much to the passage of time anymore. He had been too half-dead for Easter Mass, and he had not been to a Mass since. He knew it was sometime in summer, likely late summer by the heat of the air and the slant of the sunlight, but he feared to see how deep in the liturgical year his waking nightmare had carried him, and so he abstained, sometimes praying privately in his room as the church bells echoed their melody outside. But just as often he did nothing. 

What had begun to take the place of prayer, though, in regularity and vigor, was Aramis’s study of medicine. In his days at the seminary, the treatises of anatomy and the humors in the library would occasionally catch his eye when the day’s work of translations and dialectics were finished, but now, Aramis hunted for them with the voracity of a predator. Upon taking his morning turn around the garrison gardens, he would hail a boy from the streets, press a few coins into his palm, and tell him to scour the apothecaries for the thickest tome he could manage. At first, he would accept whatever the day’s messenger could find, but soon he entreated the boy to press for recommendations, to seek out the apothecaries with the latest knowledge from Florence, from Geneva. 

Within a month, Aramis had spent his meager savings on books and supplies to practice his poultices and stitchings. The pittance he received as sick pay barely paid for the ink with which he scribbled his notes in the margins, and so it was a gratitude when he was finally cleared to return to light duty and could resume receiving his normal pay. Even with this increase in income, though, in order to keep buying the newest knowledge the physical sciences had to offer, he knew he would need to choose between the books and the laudanum the physician had prescribed for the headaches his injury had caused. Aramis chose the books, as he would every time, because they would help him be prepared. If, God forbid, there was ever another Savoy, he would be prepared. He would be able to heal them better, heal himself better, do anything better, so that twenty of his brothers would not die again in the snow.

For the past week or so, Aramis had been cleared for light duty, and so the rhythm of his days consisted of whatever chores Treville set him, his walk and rendezvous with his bookboy, and then all the study and practice he could muster. Yesterday, he had managed to steal a bit of pig skin from the kitchens, and so he had practiced his sutures over and over into the wee hours of morning until he was sure he could do them blindfolded. 

Tonight, Aramis tested himself, seeing if he could recreate a drawing of the muscles and bones and where they attached before he continued his reading. He was a bit cold and then a bit warm, and so he alternated tugging a blanket on and off his shoulders, and rubbing at his aching head and turning pages with the other. He was awake until the sky turned misty pink with dawn and the birds began to twitter, at which point he must have dozed off a bit at his desk. But he must not have dozed for long, for he woke feeling wholly unrested and the quality of the sunlight not much changed besides.

“Heh’eshhh!” He turned sluggishly, barely in time to catch his nose in the blanket at his shoulder, and blinked away sleepless tears. 

The sneeze and the scratchy soreness it left behind in his throat did little to convince him he wasn’t catching cold on top of it all. But if it meant that his brothers would be safe and sound, that never again would Aramis find himself too helpless amongst the wounded to save even one life, he would take a lifetime of colds and sleepless nights. 

It would soon be time for morning muster, and indeed, he expected today Treville would release him to the practice grounds on account of needing all hands to train the new recruits. The thought gratified him; that way he could show Treville there was a point to having him around still, a reason he alone had been saved in the forest. But in the meantime, he could manage another chapter of Exercitatio Anatomica de Motu Cordis before he had to dress for the day. 

**********

Porthos caught Aramis by the arm as the man trudged miserably toward the armory after muster. He had been a bit surprised at first to see Aramis heading that way, having heard Treville say that, barring a relapse, he would begin easing Aramis back into a full duty rotation after a week of light tasks, and it had been a week and a day. But Aramis was wheezing and listing to the side, and Porthos hated even to think it for all the man had been through, but he had seen dead men who looked more alive than Aramis did at the moment. 

“Captain Treville seems to think I am little more than a maid,” Aramis said, and surely his voice had to hurt him as much as it hurt Porthos to listen to. 

Porthos stayed his grip on Aramis’s arm, afraid of what might happen if he let go. “Give it a few more days, and I’m sure he’ll give you the all-clear.”

“It’s been long enough, Porthos. I can stand a bit of target practice.”

“Aramis,” Porthos said quietly, heaving a sigh, not wanting a row but also loathe to listen to the man he considered a friend wallow in such self-contempt. “You’ve been through–”

“I’m not made of glass!” Aramis snapped hoarsely, descending into a fit of coughs. He tugged himself free of Porthos, folding into his sleeve. “Ehh’KSSSHH’uhh! Heh’KSSHH!”

“You do sound a bit sick though.” Porthos frowned, changing tactics to chance the bit of sympathy Aramis might give himself into. He reached to give Aramis a brotherly pat on the shoulder, but the man ducked away. “Maybe it’s for the best. At the very least, there’s no one you can infect in the armory.”

Porthos had meant to get him joking, but Aramis merely stared at him blankly with those watery, sunken eyes, before shaking his head and taking off in the other direction. He had been doing that a lot of late. Porthos got the feeling that he had made some grave mistake, but he worried it would be even more grave if he chased Aramis down, so he just stood there, helplessness lapping at his ankles like a hungry dog. He’d been doing that a lot of late, as well.

*********

As he passed, Athos heard a noise from inside the armory, and paused to poke his head through the door. Aramis sat at a stool in the corner, leaning sideways against the wall as if it were the only thing in the world keeping him from landing in a heap on the floor. His hands moved so lethargically along the barrel of a musket as he swiped a cloth back and forth to clean it that Athos watched, certain that the next time he would fall asleep mid wipe, no the next. But he continued doggedly, foolishly, his eyelids, blackened and puffed with sleeplessness, drooping but never shutting.

There was the sound again, and Athos saw now that it had come from Aramis; a wet, soupy sniffle that advertised thick congestion. Sure enough, Aramis folded forward with an explosive sneeze, and it was the most vitality Athos had seen from the man in ages. “HRSHHHOOO!” Aramis rubbed his nose on his sleeve and caught a few terrible, barking coughs against it before returning to cleaning the musket.

Athos weighed his options. He could continue on with his day, buy a few bottles now while he had a spare moment to ensure he was well stocked tonight; after all, he was there when Treville had assigned Aramis to this very duty. But the man was very clearly not up for it now, and much as it was against Athos’s sworn code of conduct after all that had happened, he was beginning to worry about the Musketeer called Aramis. In the long term. His headcold, bah, a few days of rest and the man would be fine. But Savoy… Athos had joined the regiment scarcely a week before the deployment, had gone to Palm Sunday Mass with a hangover at Aramis’s behest. The man had a charm, Athos remembered thinking, the sort of charm that could get him killed if he wasn’t careful, but then he’d come back alive and silent and no one else had, and Athos wasn’t quite sure if he’d been right or wrong in his thinking.

Aramis coughed again, and murmured something that sounded like ow, and that pulled Athos back to the present and made up his mind. He went to the mess hall and grabbed Porthos, knowing that the two of them were closest, and marched the large man to the armory without saying a word. Athos nudged his shoulder, and they both peered inside. Aramis hadn’t shifted position, still slumped, still wheezing, and by the looks of it, still cleaning the same musket. 

“Look at him,” Porthos grumbled.” Looks like the walking…” Porthos trailed off, swallowing uncomfortably, but Athos knew both what he had almost said and why he hadn’t wanted to say it about Aramis. “It’s bad,” Porthos said instead. “Like permanent charcoal beneath his eyes.” 

“HETSHHHH!” 

Aramis fumbled the musket, blinking dazedly.

“He’s sick, too.”

Athos snorted drily. “What gave you that impression?”

Porthos shook his head, and the sorrow in his eyes was so heavy, so genuine, that Athos felt guilty for his previous quip. “He’s been through so much. Treville keeps saying we need to give him space…”

“Yes, well I’m starting to think space is the last thing he needs right now.”

Porthos looked him in the eye, and something warm pulled at Athos’s stomach, the likes of which he had not felt in a long, long while. It was warmer than the burn of any wine, and infinitely more pleasant. “Me, too,” Porthos said, and clapped Athos on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

[border-spam]

Does troy really have a split jaw or is that fanon?

It's total fanon!

The design of the split lines across his cheekbones and chin coupled with the cheek clips and v shaped hinge outline next to his ears lead to a lot of people coming to that same outcome, that there is something up with his mouth from a prosthetic/mod standpoint.

So much of his design is never mentioned once or referenced in any way (hightech spinal rig with tattoos under it, neuro connector, mech arm that's much older and doesn't seem related to the spine and neuroport, implants on bicep, face mod etc) that like Tyreen's scars and possible lower body Siren markings, fandom took over when it came to coming up with logical explanations for 'em.

This actually touches ground with some Ao3 comments I wanted to share as they are all Leech Lord compliant, so I'll list them here alongside links to the fics they were related to (note warnings!)

You leave no avenue for characterization unexplored. Troy's facial prostheses finally receiving backstory is amazing

- Maw (Gore/Bodyhorror)

I LOVE the idea of it being not just decorative shit on his face, but my MO for any content I make is always based around asking why, over and over, and trying to make sense of what material I'm using in the first place. The modded mouth is a popular piece of fanon but you know... why? Why would he do that shit to himself. WHY would he want to be grotesque, why would he be chasing the reaction people would have to it when canonically he seems to really not be interested in fan attention the same way Tyreen is, what's the difference to him between being adored as his persona or being lusted after as a monster, etc. I just love deep-diving into the logic behind character and world building? It's what adds meat to the bone for me.

Big 'ol character and worldbuilding / lore responses list under the cut -

He could afford better robots but these ones UNDERSTAND Ty, don't you get it?

- Good night in (tooth rotting fluff)

Hey just because it's mangled and broken, and can't perform its intended function to a degree expected of it by everyone around it... and it's got rusty sharp bits it accidentally hurts you with sometimes... and it's cranky but it doesn't mean it... and sometimes it errors out in a way that's mildly disturbing in a way you can't place.. uh.. doesn't mean you should just GIVE UP ON IT you know? He can fix them :) They will be fine :) No one should just throw away something that's trying so hard just because it's damaged... haha... :')

It's so hard seeing how much they tear each other down when they're the only thing they have left. And what a poor self-image Tyreen has beyond all that glitter and bluster...

- Wolf in sheep's clothing

The twins function well enough as a unit till tensions rise, and I was trying to seed in The Leech's influence on them in earlier work like this too - towards anyone else Ty would become MORE aggressively confident, more assured in her complete and utter dominance of the situation, her flawlessness, but against Troy who see's her for what she is, it turns inwards and eats at her instead of lashing outwards. He switches from relatively submissive around her to almost surgical levels of dissection, he knows exactly how to go for the jugular with words, and doesn't hold back. She's The Leech's mouth but he's its eyes and it's only when they lose control emotionally enough for it to claw to the surface of their psyches that you get an idea of how much it really affects them individually. GB had an absolute goldmine on their hands here of cosmic/body horror and the concept of toxic family when all you have is each other, there's so much to work with, and I figure it's a factor in why some people still really enjoy messing around with Calypso content.

I like how you allow Troy to be a disabled character, how his congenital defects and prosthetics colour his outlook and appear in ways big and small in all these vignettes. It's easy, I think, to see him as largely untroubled by his health apart from when he needs a charge from Tyreen in the game, but you allow him to struggle with his weakness.

- Chronic (Drug use)

I'm really glad to hear that's coming through in the writing because it's something I noticed a lot too. Very often when Troy, or other characters canonically disabled / chronically unwell are written it's "told" and not "shown". Chronic pain, illness, it's not something that is just a little tickbox in a life or some descriptive terms added to a character synopsis, it's something you live and deal with. There are bad days. There are times it is a negative that has to be worked around or faced in ways that aren't pleasant. It doesn't make you lesser or weak to have times where illness does leave you unable to function to a level you want to, it's not a failure for you to be unable to perform tasks when a disability or flair up means it's not viable. I feel personally that by showing scenes like this where his health and body issues do have a very visceral and impossible to ignore the effect on his ability to function, and going through his mental processes of dealing with and managing them, it brings the character across as stronger than if he never seemed to be shown dealing with symptoms or weaknesses. People are more than their disabilities and conditions, those aren't just kinda taglines to add onto a character's description and then never address. I feel like doing that in a way undermines what people deal with who manage chronic illness, pain, and who have disabilities that affect their daily lives negatively. Appreciating the effort it takes to manage them is important.

What I really like about these is that you can really understand as a reader how their dynamic must have evolved. How even before Leda's death Tyreen would have felt demonized while Troy got the attention because of his condition, because he was less willful.

- Starlight, Moonbright

Ah man, absolutely - and that shit stayed with them. It wasn't his fault and he never wanted it, but of course their parents would have had their extremely ill child at the forefront of their thoughts, especially during weeks when he was.. bad. Tyreen by nature even without The Leech's influence is a little attention seeker, she'd be the life of any party and she BLOSSOMS if she's got the spotlight, but as a little kid who's got literally no one but her parents and her brother, and who all three of which can't give her nearly as much time as she deserved? That's rough. That's really unfair. That coupled with The Leech's warping effect on their egos as they grew up and the bitterness and resentment they harbored in different ways created a reverse dynamic. She'd never be out of the Galaxy's attention again, and he'd have no choice but to take his rightful place in her shadow.

I love how you illustrate both how much more, and yet how much less Troy is now. How the blameless child, full of potential, is inextricably linked to the brutal, larger-than-life avatar he fashions.

- DeLeon ( Graphic Violence / Gore / Hallucinations)

He's molded the monster he is now out of the bones of the man he should have been - there's no going back really. There's nothing left to go back to. He broke Troy DeLeon apart to build the persona that acts like an iron lung now, suffocating him breath by breath while forcing him to still take them. That life is over, he killed it before it had a chance, but the idea of it is still there in his subconscious. Somewhere in the absolute trainwreck of Troy's brain is the tiny, flickering belief that maaaaaybe one day this will all be over and he can shuck off the bracer and spines, peel off all the shit he's covered his skin with, and just go back to not being Calypso. DeLeon here isn't some aspect of his mental state or his sins haunting him - it's The Leech, spitting venom at a host it loathes in something that's not sound or comprehensible language. His subconscious has just translated it into something it can understand - his greatest regret.

On if Borderlands Humans originated on Earth -

There's a really tenuous link between BL verse and rEarth, but it's there and can't be ignored. The cultures, accents, terminologies, so many are Earth specific despite these people being spread across galaxies, so hell yes - Earth as an emergence point makes total sense. The next question then, is why is it never mentioned - and you can cover for that with a lot of things like say, tt was so long ago that it's not relevant to anything that would ever be discussed, or it could be a mass evacuation from a catastrophe there is little record of now. I like to go with something along those lines, that the first human Siren host emergence on earth just absolutely decimated the planet. Like, we were doing fine till this random woman somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere develops weird markings overnight, then goes apocalyptic. The first Leech maybe, not understanding her powers and having them rip across continents in a spread of crackling electric death that only left husked shells of plants and animals in its wake, or the first Firehawk who went nuclear and burned the sky, or the first Voidgrasp who lost control and began to collapse the planet's core - some extreme shit that had humans fleeing en masse with barely any preparation and HUGE swathes of history and knowledge left behind. That would cover so many social things surviving into the BL verse, cultures, accents, cooking, that shit comes with us regardless of what we were able to throw into escape ships. Like so much data would be stored on any tech and data arrays within the vessels people would use to leave a dying planet even in an insane rush, but that shit waters down over time - if you're farming barely edible plants on some planet that smells like farts, are you really gonna be that stressed about teaching your kids history from a lost planet when your current concerns are not being eaten by something with 19 legs and 4 buttholes? Don't think so.

On if the other Siren entities are as influential to their hosts as The Leech -

I touch on it a wee bit throughout LL, but the others are FAR more passive and meld more to their host's whims. The Firehawk Siren wouldn't.. like.. care? If the host was burning down a planet or fighting off an evil corporation? They are removed from any nonsense happening on this side, they might not even really be able to tell, it's like asking an amoeba or a collection of sentient atomic particles what its opinion is on Brexit. That's not really its priority. The Leech is so aggressive in its control of the twins and desperation to drive them towards an outcome it desires only cause it's split, broken, removed from the song, and completely lost. We're talking a caged, half-mad animal removed from its natural environment and left totally isolated from its own kind for millennia. It's in pain, it's confused, it wants to find its way back to the song and the others and where it belongs, but it's stopped by a barrier it can't comprehend ( the twins and being ripped between them), so in its impotent rage it feeds back that hatred onto them. It's not really sentient in the way we would describe functional intelligence, but it wants, and craves, and FEELS. And it feels very, very angry.

Big thanks to @undergoingcalibrations for talking through so much of this with me!

Asks are Open!

[naivesilver]

6, 10, 17 and 20 ;^)

AAAAAH thank you my friend 💗💗💗💗💗

Meta Asks For Writers

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Gonna be really predictable for a sec and say Lampwick. Not only because he is such the bare bones of a character that one can build off him to their heart's delight and not be afraid of contradicting the text, but also there is such an innate irreverence to him that it's almost mandatory of him to give scathing opinions about anything and anyone. Compared to say, Pinocchio, who in any universe's post-canon content I headcanon to be more guarded and more prone to sugarcoat the narrative even to himself, Lampwick demonstrates right away that he doesn't give a shit, so his stream of consciousness MUST be the stuff of legends. It's very entertaining to play around with insults and nicknames and also to rebrand past events to suit his personal view on them.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Both extremely chaotic and terribly rigid all at once? LMAO the thing is, most story ideas spark as a single scene or cluster of scenes from my daydreams (the best ones, as I've said often, always come mid-practice session) that I feel the need to describe through specific words and let out into the world, so it could literally be ANYTHING and come out of ANYWHERE. I have been inspired by stuff ranging from my sister showering with her child to herding my teammates around a ship to bloody Spotify shuffle, and you'd never guess which ones of these ideas became angst-riddled fics and which turned into crack instead.

But as soon as I open the Word document, then I become neurotic. I have mad respect for those people who can write shit out of order, because I could NEVER. Scenes must be written from start to finish, and even editing starting from the bottom up is something I still struggle with. It breaks the creative flow or whatever, I have given up on making sense of my brain. If there's a scene I like less, then I force myself to power through it to get to the good stuff, otherwise I know I'll never write it at all.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I'm not sure actually??? I don't really know what transpires from my work, tbh. Probably a cockier, more melodramatic person than I am in real life, which is valid considering what I write, but doesn't reflect just how anxious I am about my writing.

I think what doesn't always reach the reader is that when I write, sometimes I black out for my own good AND theirs. There are times where I know that if I try to edit a passage any further, I will begin hating the whole work and maybe elect to toss it away, so a less polished scene to me seems a small price to pay for saving an entire fic. I can always go back and fix mistakes later, but last year it took me months to get back on track after my little perfectionist crisis, and I'm not going there again, thank you very much. That's why I only ask for typo alerts at the very end of the notes every time.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

OKAY THIS IS ONE I WAS REALLY EAGER TO RECEIVE so I have a couple different things I want to share that I hope won't sound too stupid

in my OUAT fics I always take particular care of how characters refer to each other and/or the entire matter of names. In a world where separate names address separate identities all within the same person, the way two people call one another is fundamental when it comes to expressing their personalities and relationship. Like, take Marco, for example - in the show Snow calls him Marco and he likely refers to himself as Marco, because that's who he's been for them for 28 years, but I'll never make August/Pinocchio refer to him as anything but Geppetto, because for his son he's never been anything else. Similarly, characters' feelings about their curse names are taken into account for this: so in my Thousand Problems verse (the cursed!Pinocchio AU) Pinocchio is only ever called such by everyone except Lampwick, because he has bad, triggering memories about being Giuseppe, and Leroy goes by Leroy even if his gf would rather be called Nova because in Storybrooke being Leroy means more than being Grumpy. I hope it makes sense?

this is way more niche, but there is a sort of recurring theme in all my Pinocchio-related stories regarding Pinocchio himself and leadership/kingship. Not only because in the book he has this magnetic personality that attracts both respect and betrayal and turns him into the center of every plot event, but also because the book itself begins denying the presence of a king - there's no king, to the readers' dismay, only a piece of wood. I have read so much meta about this that I WISH had been translated in English because it still makes me scream and I'd love to share it with everyone. So even if it's not always intentional, the symbolism around this juxtaposition has become sort of a background activity for me - the harvest crown scene of Two Stars is a nod to this, as is Lampwick kneeling in the AU where he survives and the Fairy's desired endgame in the fic I devoted to her. There'll be probably more in the future, but I don't want to spoil it or jinx my ability to finish it jskhfafjhjl

[pynkhues]

3 7 22!!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

I answered this one here, but I will say I forever want to write more scenes with just the girls, particularly pre-canon scenes, so I thought I might share a scene from my ridiculously belated prompt-a-thon fill which is 10 times Ruby’s danced, and this scene is about Beth and Ruby while Beth’s in labour with Emma, and Ruby’s pregnant with Harry. 

Below a cut to save your feeds!

-

“I kinda figured we’d just arrange the thing.”

She’s only half serious when she says it, but it’s worth it to see Beth’s head jerk, her eyebrows somewhere up near her forehead even as her cheeks are still flushed red, her chest still heaving.

“You have been watching way too many old romances,” she tells her, amusement thick in her tone, and Ruby shrugs, rocking the baby carrier beside her when Danny starts to whine.

“Please, you’re the one who made us go see Fiddler on the Roof three times at the Revival Theatre. If it wasn’t for that, I’d never even know about the whole matchmaker thing with your people.”

“My people,” Beth scoffs, red creeping up her neck. “Besides, the whole point of Fiddler on the Roof was that he had to learn how to let his daughters choose who they married. That they couldn’t just arrange -  - ah.”

Beth exhales sharply, squirming back into her seat, hands balling, white knuckled at the arms of the chair, and she has to be close, Ruby thinks, dropping her hand to Beth’s back, rubbing soothing circles there as she tries to catch the attention of one of the nurses. They barely seem to even see them though amidst the crowded waiting room, beelining to patients with - - what even is that? A rash? Ruby side eyes the nurse taking the man out of the waiting room, before turning her attention back to Beth.

“What was that whole do you love me song about then, huh?” Ruby says. “Him and his wife had been matched, and those two were in it, y’know?”

“It’s generational. The parents do what they have to so the kids can have it better,” Beth insists, but she hasn’t opened her eyes yet, her eyelashes matted together with her clumping mascara and tears, and Ruby sighs, sitting forwards as best she can with her own pregnant belly in the way. New plan, Ruby tells herself. They are never pregnant at the same time again. One of them needs to run point, and she can’t send Stan out with Kenny and Sara forever.

“Where’s Dean?”

“I called Boland Motors,” Ruby promises. “He wasn’t at his desk, and honestly that new secretary of his is - -”

Well, Ruby thinks a little dryly.

She’s something.

Beth squirms back in her seat, panting a little now, and the contractions really are getting closer together, even if her waters haven’t broken yet. Maybe they’ll have to pop that bag for her – they had to do it with Danny after all –her gaze darts sideways to check on him in his stroller, but he’s fallen asleep again.  

“So, how do you wanna do it?” Ruby asks, keeping her tone light. “We gotta get this thing on paper.”

It’s enough to make Beth twist her neck sideways, to peel open her watery eyes in confusion, and Ruby waits until she has Beth’s full attention before she gestures down to her own swollen belly.

“Stan Junior here is gonna be a catch. I’m just saying. Beth Junior there might want to lock it down.”

Beth’s laugh is strangled between her breathlessness, the pain of her contractions, but god, it’s music to Ruby’s ears.

“Oh, Stan Junior will definitely be a catch,” Beth agrees, the sweat curling her hair at her temples. The contraction seems to pass, and Beth smooths her own hand over her belly, still panting. “Lilies for the wedding?”

Ruby hums in approval, only to pause, squint a little below the bright glare of the hospital fluorescents.

“Wait. Do they get married at a church or a synagogue?”

“Neither,” Beth says, brushing her hair away from her face with a trembling hand, her eyes fixing briefly on Danny, sleeping in his stroller. “I feel like we should get a vacation out of it.”

“Oh, you’re planning a beach wedding now?” Ruby asks with a grin, the thing only faltering when the doors open again but - - no. Just a nurse, brandishing her clipboard. Still no Dean. Typical.

Beth hums, like she hadn’t even noticed, looking back at Ruby, her blue eyes bright, and there’s something that feels like Beth in it again, something warm, impish, as she wrinkles her nose, considering, and Ruby can’t help it, the way it feels like a key that unlocks her.

“White sand, the ocean,” Beth says. “We’d probably need to hire a marquee.”

“And a beach bar,” Ruby agrees, grinning a little when Beth rolls her eyes, waving a hand at her innocuously, before she says:

“Well, that goes without saying.”

And Ruby just laughs at that, sinking back briefly into her hard backed hospital chair (which is one-thousand percent not designed for anyone at all ever) before leaning forwards again, standing up two of her fingers like legs and walking them from one side of her belly to the other, over the arms of the chairs, and up the side of Beth’s twitching belly.

“Miss Boland, before you depart your mother, do you take this little man growing inside me to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

It really is magic, Ruby thinks again, the sound of Beth’s laugh. The real one she hears less and less often, the one that makes her throw her head back, her eyes crinkle, the sound a little low, a little husky, the one she knows Dean can never get out of her, and that at least feels like a truth. That Beth is still hers. That she’ll never lose her, not entirely, to Dean, no matter how many photo ops she goes to, no matter how many times she defers to him, no matter how much she dims her light to grow his.

Beth props her own fingers up then, mirroring Ruby’s action and walking them up over the swell of her own belly, meeting Ruby’s fingers in the middle.

“My daughter is running a little late, but I believe I have the permission to speak for her this evening,” Beth says gravely, lowering her voice. “And she says ‘I do’. Now, Mr. Hill, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“He does,” Ruby says, face split in two with a grin. She lets her eyes slip shut and her tone lower in faux-seriousness. “Finally, our two houses united.”

“Well, our husbands’ houses,” Beth says wryly, and Ruby tilts her head, conceding.  

“That’s true. I think ours have been united a lot longer than this.”

She smiles over at Beth affectionately, but it just - - it floors her, the look Beth gives her back. Her eyes wide open, suddenly wet again, pupils darting across Ruby’s face like she’s - - like she’s looking for the lie, and when she doesn’t see it, she tangles her fingers with Ruby’s, quick as she can, mumbling something about a first dance and holds Ruby’s hand tight to her belly, swaying a little – as if to hide the fact that maybe she just wanted to hold her.

To be held.

And Ruby holds her hand back all the tighter.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I am sure everyone would love me to stop talking about light and using ‘- -’, haha. 

But honestly? I actually don’t know how others perceive my style. Like I’ve said in other posts, I’ve been told my writing is extremely feminine by industry professionals, which I believe translates to being interested in women’s lives and writing fairly descriptively (masculine prose is usually v bare bones ala Raymond Carver and, of course, Hemingway). 

I think some of the characteristics of my writing is that it’s sensory and descriptive, that I like untidy endings, that no relationship is perfect. I think (and hope) I prioritise relationships between women, even with shipper fic, that my sex scenes (again, hopefully, haha) never feel pointless or isolated from the story, and I think I’m pretty good at metaphor, but others might disagree! Who knows! 

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Y’know, I usually don’t? By the time I post something, I’ve usually re-read it so many times I lowkey hate it, haha, and reading it just makes me feel very self-conscious. I can see the machinery of my own writing I suppose. I can see the bits I’m proud of, sure, but I can also see the bits where I got lazy, the places where the pacing isn’t quite right, the parts where I think I’m too heavy-handed. 

That said, I did re-read all of C&C recently as I was building the timeline masterpost I posted about a month ago now, but also building a better story bible for myself to write new stories, and I was really surprised by how much I enjoyed being in that world again as a reader? 

Particularly the last installment I posted of Playing House - ‘Animalia’ (otherwise known as the zoo chapter, haha) - I really, really hated when I posted. I’d had a few set-backs in my original writing professionally at that time, and then I had seen someone make an unkind comment about my fics which just sort of hit a nerve at a bad time. It meant I was extra critical of my own writing, and I loved the story in my head, but felt it wasn’t translating well onto the page. 

I got to a point where I was like - - well, whatever, I don’t want to look at it, and I know people like this ‘verse, so maybe they’ll overlook how crap it is’. I got such a lovely response to it at the time, but I still felt badly about it, and so re-reading it this time, and being like ‘hang on, Past Sophie, you’re an asshole, this is pretty good’ was a nice feeling, haha.

[gothamincarnate]

mandalorian joint verse w/ @nighttknight

– he’d been a scrapper before– or, a scrapper-in-training under ma-gunn’s heavy hand. a life of brutality where abuse was mitigated by how much scrap metal he’d managed to pull off a tourist.

then he’d picked the wrong target. a manda-fuckin-lorian’s ship. after a chase, a burned arm and an angry negotiation pidgened together out of tusken raider sign language and GB sign language, robin finally agreed to repair the ship in return for the mandalorian teaching him GB sign.

a foundling, the bat had called him. according to tradition, the mandalorian with the bat signet offered him a place crewing the very ship he’d gutted. he was a member of the bat clan now, like it or not. he was a child in need, and now he’s got a– a dad? this was the way. and, well, robin had no reason to turn down free food and shelter. learning to fight was pretty fun too. he’s damn good with a pulse rifle.

robin took the creed and passed the trials at 16, donning a yellow cloak and a green-and-red helmet with bat ears. the helmet has an external mic and an internal relay to bat’s helmet. the relay helps him hear what bat’s saying, while the mic lets him hear others. he has trouble hearing what others are saying, as the external speakers are often muffled by wind or damaged by sand or snow. he knows northwestern and southern mandalorian sign, GBS & TRS. he uses a pad and written galactic basic to communicate when bat’s not around to translate back and forth.

he was a mandalorian now, and he was a member of the bat clan. they lived by their own code, still following the way while helping as they wandered through the war torn galaxy. helping where they could, in whatever way they could.

 it was supposed to be easy, just a distress call from another mandalorian. then the dynamic duo realized it was a setup. that was nothing new. robin knew how to handle setups, how to take on uneven numbers. they’d been doing this for years.

but this was a trap set by death watch, led by a strange fellow with a red gash painted across his helmet in blood. he talked with his hands near enough to be it’s own sign language.

things went south fast. the cantana was under siege. bat was down, they were about to finish him off, then robin offered himself as a hostage, saving the lives of a dozen others with his own. to save his father. it was a noble death. it would be a noble death.

there’s a blade to his neck as napier and three others drag him across the sand. bat’s right behind, but it’s no good. robin’s already given himself as a hostage. he’s made peace with it.

then there’s a tug at his jaw, the helmet’s ripped off before he can stop it. it feels like his brain’s being pulled out through his ears as the wires yank out of his ear canal. sunlight singes his eyelids. wind in his hair feels cold like death’s hand soothing him.

he blinks, stumbling in the sudden light. there’s a ravine right next to them and he nearly stumbles in, catching himself on the side of the cliff. he’s exposed, had his helmet taken off by an enemy.

napier laughs, tosses the helmet over the side of the ravine. it falls into the darkness and robin pulls himself out of the pit, rolling away from the maw.

then napier’s foot meets his face. robin grabs his ankle in his right hand, scrambling for a hold on the rocky ground with his left. he rolls himself out of death’s door, kicking napier to the ground and passing the guard like he’s been taught.

it’s bloody and terrible, rolling in the dust in a struggle for the death. robin’s instincts take over, it’s not an honorable fight at all. but robin managed to pull napier’s helmet off too, laughing as he flings it into the maw alongside his own. napier’s nose is broken, blood dripping down a wide and wild grin to match the one painted on his helmet. he’s got a blade and robins’ got– well, robin’s got both hands and a fire in his chest and that’s got to count for something.

napier pauses the attack and robin struggles to his feet. they’re both blinking blood away as bat appears on the sand dune. he’s saying something, it’s too bright to see in the desert sun. but he knows what it is– his dad wants him to stop, but he can’t. it’s to the death.

robin takes a second’s pause to smile at his dad, busted teeth and all. taps a fist to his forehead and holds it up in the air. i love you.

napier takes the hesitation to end the fight. he grabs robin’s cape and leaps over the edge. they’re falling, falling, falling. robin screams, grabs for rocks, clawing at ledges as his shoulders pop. napier fights him the whole way down, kicking and punching even as they’re both about to die.

seconds before they land, robin managed to switch their positions, using the madman as a cushion. it’s how he survives, if only barely. the bones crunching beneath his feet are incredibly satisfying after the beating he’s just been dealt at the man’s hands.

robin looks up at the sliver of lavender sky. it’s already dark. there’s a light beam, his dad’s looking for him. but he’s looking in the wrong end, didn’t realize that napier had changed their trajectory. he calls– isn’t sure if his father responds or not. he calls and calls until his voice is hoarse.

he stays put for as long as he can, letting himself heal and giving bat time to find him. the moons go through a full cycle before he’s well enough to climb out, surviving on what he could catch and what supplies napier had loaded himself up with.

speaking of, his own armor’s been stripped, and napier’s got some very nice quality beskar.

then he has to move, has to find food and shelter that’s not this damned canyon. he pulls his own helmet back on, pops his left shoulder back in place. he ties napier’s helmet and extra rations around his waist as he begins to climb.

it takes him a full day to get out of the maw, and by then bat’s gone. of course he’s gone, robin had been defeated in battle, left faceless, left for dead. he’d died an honorable death, hopefully. bat had seen it, right? had seen that he’d died a warrior’s death? or did he see the fear in robin’s eyes, the panic, the– weakness.

the boy sits and stares at the maw for a while, watching sunrise and eventually sunset. bat still isn’t here. napier’s painted on grin seems to move as the shadows shorten and lengthen. robin’s own helmet is cracked, a giant hole knocked into the left side. no use wearing a broken helmet. so, he slips napier’s face over his skull.

he heads for the ship. heads for home. as soon as he’s in range, the defense systems kick on. he’s in such a panic, he doesn’t even think about the fact that he’s wearing other’s armor.

of course the defense systems try to kill him. robin’s been abandoned again. he doesn’t bother waiting for bat to see what’s setting off the alarms and the turrets.

he’ll just play napier for a while, take his pucks and make his own way. he’ll be a clan of one, wearing a dead man’s clothes. he’ll grow into the armor after a few years.

after two years as napier, jason runs back into death watch. they take him in as a leader. if he’s wearing napier’s helmet, he must have beaten him in battle, which is reason enough to accept him as a new leader.

the new napier tries to balance the tensions of death watch’s want for violence with his  father’s raisings. he can’t do much to sway them, he hasn’t been in charge that long. the second in command, quinn, is the true leader. she questions him constantly, and it’s all napier can do to keep one of the team from stabbing him in his sleep. he has to keep the team happy, he has to be a leader.

he’s leading death watch now, or at least this splinter cell of it. and, within limits, he tries to redirect the group’s rage and limit the civillian casualties. he lets quinn come up with most of the attacks, slowly navigating this give and take between terror and heroics.

he’s good at it, that’s the thing. he’s good at coming up with brutal, violent ideas. he’s been taught by bat and now he’s using it to hurt others. he hates it but what choice does he have?

he has to survive. he’s napier, leader of death watch at 20 years old. this is his life now.

[jisssooyah]

Hi you... if you were going to curate a little season of films for me, which ones would you choose and why? They don't need to be horror, I'm just curious what you would choose 🌸

I don’t know if you’ll like these movies, or if you’ve already watched them, but after i watched these films, i felt like they might need to belong to you now. i hope they make you smile, roll your eyes, and cry just as much as i did.

1. city of god (2002): this is one of the most immersive and gorgeously shot films i’ve ever seen. it’s set in rio de janeiro during the 60s and spans decades exploring the drug culture in the slums and how this can affect kids just as they are trying to figure their own selves out. the way this film is shot, feels like you were at the sea with them as the sand crunched underneath your feet. but the way that the director captures these individuals, makes you so fucking relieved that you don’t live through any of the circumstances that they go through. 

2. the dreamers (2004): set in 1968, this film follows three students in Paris who come of age and explore one another and their limits during the revolution. while these students prop themselves up as individuals obsessed with sex, running underneath themselves is a current of jealousy, obsession, and blurred familial relationships that made me increasingly uncomfortable. you find yourself feeling bad for the children, and ultimately upset at their upbringing because of their parents. 

3. if beale street could talk (2018): this movie is based off of james baldwin’s titular 1974 novel. in it, the director expertly and vigorously explores love: a love that feels so real that it hurts. the cast is what sold this film to me. the way they talk, laugh, cry, and smile at one another is achingly beautiful and terrifyingly sad. i wanted to transport myself back to their time period and watch the main characters fall in love because the film didn’t seem like enough. 

4. the neon demon (2016): this film follows an emerging model who sacrifices herself to the demands of the industry in order to be attractive and beautiful. there are so many stunning colors in this film that it makes you dizzy, like you’re in a trance and that’s what this world is for the main character: a trance. as she oscillates between reality and fantasy, her world and the characters in it, increasingly seek out to alter her personality. 

5. death becomes her (1992): a deliberately ultra-campy parody of trashy, pandering "women's pictures," soap operas and paperbacks from the '80s and '90s. The three leads all do some of their best work - it's hilarious watching Meryl Streep play a terrible actress, Goldie Hawn is particularly hilarious during her character's cat lady phase, and all around just a really fun and eccentric film. 

6. princess cyd (2017): i can’t think of anything to write for this but i just wanna say that this is literally one of the most pleasant movie experiences i’ve ever had. so much light and genuine interaction in warm sun rays radiating positive energy and an openness that is far too uncommon in movies nowadays. people talk, people connect, people grow bonds and are allowed to be sexual or intimate or personal without an air of shame or judgement. just pure kind and curious human association. 

7. spiderman: into the spiderverse (2018): the message of Spider-Verse is not "gentrify yourself! stop expressing your personality and just conform to what society wants you to be!" After all, what makes you different makes you Spider-Man, and Miles' final expression of himself as a superhero still retains much of his personality and individuality...they're just being used in more productive and fulfilling ways. It's the little things that drive the point home, like noticing that the title page for Miles' finished Great Expectations essay has been stylistically doodled and colored like street art. Rather than seeing his artistic gifts as an opposition to his schoolwork, Miles infuses them together to make the best of the hand he's been dealt.

8. my life as a zucchini (2016): initially heartbreaking and sad, but slowly becoming more joyful and heartwarming as the plot moves along. The film really feels like it captures the essence and child like wonder of these kids, all of them going through hardships but managing to find something to help each other out. It’s so refreshing to see the actual orphanage portrayed in a more positive light, not the usual horrid dump that a lot of lesser movies play them out as. The animation is stunning. One of the best uses of stop motion I’ve seen, everything is so colourful and detailed. There’s some moments set in snowy mountains and these look incredible. There’s clearly been so much love and care put into each and every scene here. The music too, sounds spectacular, it really works well with each scene. 

9. lovesong (2016): Mindy and Sarah have that type of relationship where they don't need words because they speak in a language made out of glances and touches. This movie is about the fear of ruining a meaningful friendship and losing an important person, about love that is so complicated that one might not even try because the outcome seems to be so obvious.

10. her (2013): Heartbreak is formative: it changes you heart side out, and leaves your muscles a little stronger, your skin a little thicker, your bones easier to repair. Before this film, I’d never seen anything constructive in having your insides pulled apart by the seams by another person, but this film taught me how. Being in love and then being forced out of it is an experience that changes you fundamentally, but Her taught me its purpose – you don’t need them to leave you so that you can find someone who’s a better fit, because perhaps you never will. You need it to participate in humanity. The common denominator is being hurt, and without it, you’re barely alive.

11. shoplifters (2018): bittersweet and richly transportive, Shoplifters is a film that nonchalantly eases you into its tragic beauty in a way that doesn't punch you hard until the end. It simultaneously made me want to be part of the film's world and also very glad that I'm not. The setting the characters live in is messy and cluttered and full of dysfunction and lies, but it's also got family, and laughter, and fist-bumps, and slurping warm noodles while rain pings on the tin rooftop. So nuanced, so many tiny moments of delicate beauty and unassuming heartbreak, so many people making terrible decisions with good intentions.

12. god’s own country (2017): though it is a love story between two men, this aspect is only addressed briefly in a single scene. Rather, the film is about finding someone who makes you want to be a better person, someone who comes into your life just when you needed it most. Gheorghe helps Johnny open up and realize the beauty of the simple life. From this relationship, Johnny begins to feel comfortable with expressing himself, and his love and gratitude towards others. He also begins to appreciate life in the country, surrounded by stunning landscapes and the beauty of simplicity. Addressing the Yorkshire countryside, Gheorghe says "It is beautiful, but lonely." Johnny is presented with the notion that he doesn't have to be cold and miserable, slaving and drinking his days away. He is presented with the possibility of no longer being alone and finally finding happiness and contentment - and it is more than gratifying to see him accept it.

13. disobedience (2017): a tender star-crossed daydream. the three main character dynamics are special enough on their own, but the romance that blooms at the center is cathartically intimate and even magical: a reunion that feels so inevitable. catching glimpses of a past life, details we aren’t privy to. all the stolen kisses and whispers and promises. a bond so strong that they fall back in sync with each other like second nature, even if they try to fight against it. even if it won’t work. and yet they choose each other, even if for a few minutes.

14. raw (2016): this film is so gross and I like that. There is tons of blood and unique body horror and it all works perfectly for the tone the film is attempting to set. The use of color, specifically neons, creates a constant feeling that you are traveling through some sort of weird ghost world, which I really like. Overall, it's a very well put together film with flashes of brilliance.

15. the night is short, walk on girl (2017): what an absolutely magical adventure of a film. Essentially this is a heavily episodic look at a night in the lives of several people, centered on a woman and a man as she gleefully floats from event to event while he neurotically obsesses over how to "coincidentally" talk to her. The storytelling is incredible; while the overarching narrative is simple there are countless threads woven together to connect everyone in the story to each other. That in itself is a big theme: connections between people, how everything is interrelated, and what a large impact seemingly insignificant things people do can have an impact on everyone around them.

16. coraline (2009): Coraline is the best stop motion movie ever made in my opinion. Before the film released in 2009, I read the book and was completely blown away by its creativity and story. It’s a pretty dark tale featuring many scenes of fright that work well in both a horror setting and an animated kids setting. On surface value, this film is quite horrifying, which is something I’ve always loved about it. While it does make a few minor changes to the book, it improves upon a piece of art that was already jaw-droppingly good. Coraline feels like a real little girl with some real problems. She’s selfish but likable which is something most films cannot translate well. Of course, she has a pretty awesome arc as well which brings this movie to a perfect close for her character. The other-mother is also perfectly done. She is almost exactly how I imagined her in the book and the animation on her is spookily gorgeous. There is not one dull moment in this film. It is literally a perfect piece of cinema.

17. the third wife (2019): haven’t seen a film this visually delicate in a while. Ash Mayfair works with the looming mountain surroundings to make her characters —these women, these girls— as small as possible, as isolated as possible. Uneasiest of all is the protagonist May, so young and so weighed by responsibility, her position blurs between being one of the wives and being one of the daughters. It’s an extremely bleak tale of circumstance. An old tale, certainly, but so beautifully crafted it doesn’t matter. Mayfair holds a fearful tension throughout, and it only ever shatters in the cruelest of ways.The abundance of women and display of sisterhood begin as a comfort, but horror takes over as we realize how conditional and fragile that comfort is. Even the daughters are subconsciously aware, one of them praying to the gods to grow up and become a man, shearing her hair off in naive triumph. It’s a doomed cycle of girls performing roles which are unfortunately their best option, right up until the final scene of May with her daughter, still in their mourning clothes. She, like the older wives, finally realizes they’re the same as the cattle laying on their side for too many days.

[thecultoftill]

Flake on Mein Teil.

This is long so it’s beneath the cut. 

I step onto the wheel of the cauldron so I can hop into it, but quickly realize that there’s barely any space left for me because the gas canister for the flash-pots is already in there. There are lamps built into the base that I have to avoid touching because they get so hot. I once fell onto one of the lamps during a rehearsal and burned the hell out of my hands—my skin stuck to the thin metal grate that protects the lamp itself. It stank of burnt flesh. Why does it smell so good when you grill out? Is it something to do with the salt or the beer? Or the type of flesh? My flesh just stank. 

 I have to squeeze past my keyboard, too, which is also in the cauldron. I’m a musician after all, and I want to play on the song. Though sometimes I forget. I pick up the keyboard and wriggle into the cauldron. Then I curl up in the bottom of it. The stage manager comes over and fills the cauldron with as much dry-ice fog as he can. I quickly hold my breath. Too late. Then the lid is placed on the cauldron and Till, who has just changed outfits, pulls it out onto the stage. Obviously I can’t see this happen, but I feel the wheels rattling beneath me. I always wonder how he manages it since the whole contraption must weigh at least a ton. 

The band is playing full throttle. The song is called “Mein Teil” not full throttle; I just mean the band is playing hard. You could just as easily say they’re playing full on, or full tilt. It just depends on your personal inclinations, I guess. People who are into cars use car metaphors, like they say someone has blown a gasket when somebody’s pissed off. Or they say that something isn’t firing on all cylinders if it isn’t working right. Anyway, Till sometimes lifts up the lid of the cauldron for a second to let a bit of the fog out. There used to be an oxygen tank inside so I could breath despite all the fog. But it was always unexpectedly empty, and since I was counting on having fresh oxygen I wouldn’t take a deep breath beforehand and would nearly suffocate. These days I can stifle my gasps. The only other time I manage that is at the movies, when there’s a particularly tense scene and the whole audience is dead quiet. I have to cough and it makes me breathe in some of the fog. That makes me dizzy, so I turn on the light. At least this way I can tell up from down. The timing is perfect, because Till rips the lid off now and tosses it aside. It clangs loudly against the stage floor and I can feel the reverberations from inside the cauldron. The fog starts to seep out, lit beautifully from below by the lamps around me inside the cauldron.   Till starts to sing the first verse, and I pop dramatically out of the cauldron and play my melody on the keyboard, which I’ve quickly hooked onto the rim of the cauldron.

 Till’s microphone is shaped like a knife and he keeps coming over to the cauldron and sticking me with it to see if I’m cooked yet. Apparently it’s taking too long for his taste, so during the bridge he goes over and gets a flamethrower to really turn up the heat. It’s probably becoming clear that we do a lot during the bridges of songs, since it’s the only part when we don’t all have to play or sing. In any event, Till aims Flamey—as we affectionately call our flamethrower—at me and blasts away. Since I’m expecting it, I duck out of the way. But it’s still hot. Obviously it was just as hot at the concert before, but somehow I always forget just how hot it actually is. It just can’t be. Maybe my skin has gotten thinner.

 I pop back up to show Till that it’s going to take a lot more than that to take me out. More flames come my way. It may be just as hot, but by the second time around the shock is gone. Even so, I’m not laughing quite as much the second time I pop back up. This time—to show Till how tough guy I am—I stay up as long as I can, only ducking down when the flames are right in front of my face. The third blast of flames is bad again, and the only way I can get through the fourth blast is because I know there’ll be a break afterwards. I hop up from the cauldron again and wave tauntingly at Till—he can’t roast me to death that easily. In reality I’m just trying to catch my breath, since it would be deadly to breathe while surrounded by the flames. I’d inhale fire. Even now I can’t really breathe because the flames have consumed all the oxygen in the air. It feels like I’m inhaling concrete. I’ll just have to catch my breath later. 

Till is pissed because I’m still not cooked. He’s not giving up so easily. He hauls another flamethrower onto the stage, and this one is three times as big as the first one. He aims it at me. I drop into the cauldron at exactly the right moment. It’s not just the flamethrower that is three times as big—so are the flames it shoots. The previous one made me sweat, but now I’m bone dry, all the fluid is being steamed out of me. My jacket is hot, too, and I have to be careful not to touch the zipper, which is white hot. It’s like in the sauna—you can’t take any metal items in because they can burn you. When I pop back up this time, I have to force myself to smile. The next blast is even hotter, and I consider just lying in the cauldron until things have cooled off a little. I would do it, too, if the heat lasted even a split second longer. Till seems to be enjoying the whole thing and this time shoots the flames even longer. It feels like my skin is on fire. I only pop up for a second, just so as not to be a poor sport, and then Till fires again. We’ve tried all sorts of things to make this stunt more bearable for me, but whatever blankets or other things we put in the cauldron just make it more difficult for me to move around, which actually increases the chances of me getting seriously injured. I’ve come to the conclusion that the best solution is for me to just grin and bear it. That approach works well in many situations. Just grin and bear it and it’s over fast. Like now. Till is done, and I lie in the bottom of the cauldron looking for my slippers. I must be disoriented, because of course I’m looking for my gloves, not slippers. What made me think of slippers? I mean, I don’t even wear slippers at home. I’ve been opposed to slippers since I was a kid, and I don’t even like to visit people who ask me to take off my shoes before coming in. It’s probably because of my socks. Of course, I don’t like to wear gloves, either. They make me feel as if I’ve lost the feeling in my hands. But now I need them. I can’t see anything because of all the smoke. 

 During the first rehearsals for the tour I didn’t have gloves, and when I went to climb out of the cauldron after all the bursts from the flamethrowers, the skin on my fingers stuck to the rim of the cauldron, which was so hot it was practically glowing. The pain during the next concert almost drove me mad, since I still had to play with my fingertips. But at some point my fingers healed again. I 9 just tried to play as few notes as possible while they were healing. For a while I had no fingerprint, either, and could have robbed a bank, but I didn’t think of it. 

 I’ve found the gloves now and pull them on. I have to hurry, otherwise the song will be over before I get out of the tub. In which case Till would have won, so to speak. So I try to put myself in a sporting frame of mind and swing myself out of the cauldron. Then I toss the gloves back into the tub since I’ll need them again tomorrow. Right at that moment, the pyro technicians set off the effects on my belt. I run disoriented across the stage, hoping Till doesn’t catch me. Just as I’m about to take a deep breath, I turn awkwardly and take in the smoke from one of the flash-pots. It’s pure poison, maybe even radioactive, something to do with Strontium or whatever. The song is coming to its finale. I cross the stage while comets are shot down at me. They land right next to me so it looks from the audience as if they are actually hitting me. Sometimes, when I stray too far back, they do hit me, and it hurts really badly and for several days afterwards I have sores that look like giant love-bites.  But today everything goes well, and we pull off the song with no hassles. Why was I so nervous? While the outro of the song is playing, the pyro guys take off my belt backstage, and I take a few cautious breaths. Then, as the rear curtain falls, I dash over to the side of the stage where my keyboards are. I deftly weave my way through the cables and spotlights in the dark. I run into Till and he smacks me lightheartedly on the ass. 

Flake in his book Heute Hat Die Welt Geburstag. 

Translation by Tim Mohr(Found opn publisher’s website)

[crystaljins]

Translation Error

Characters: Namjoon x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Synopsis: Turns out the word for “brain” and “engine” on Namjoon’s planet is the same. Whoops. Alien!Namjoon drabble

Notes: I’ve been watching You who Came from the Stars recently and so this is a silly, short little drabble that stemmed from a desire to write about Namjoon. I didn’t know where I was going with this lol but there’s words and they’re about Namjoon so good job to me i guess

“I need you to stay calm!” Namjoon pleads. Perhaps he is attempting some damage control but you are so far beyond calm it’s going to take more than some gentle pleading from the man in question to get you off his coffee table.

“I am calm!” You argue back even though you screech the words like he’s standing a hundred metres away rather than directly in front of you. And you are calm! As calm as you can be after discovering that the neighbour you’ve been crushing on the passed few months is an alien from a planet in a completely different solar system to you.

You hadn’t visited him with the intention to confront him over some strange happenings that followed him wherever he went that particular morning. Though there were a lot of those- first there were the weird mechanical noises and the ominous glowing from his front door when you walked past. You had thought maybe he was part of a cult but then it had gotten stranger. 

You had survived a car accident. Not that that’s a strange or unusual happening in an of itself. There are the occasional people who are fortunate. No, what was strange was how you had survived it. For you had been sure you had been in your car as it flipped through the air after being t-boned, but then in the flash of an eye, you were barely conscious in Namjoon’s arms beside your wrecked car. Had you lost consciousness and had he pulled you out? But you car had been completely written off and you should have been too. The doors had been caved in on either side too- how could a mere human have fished you out of the wreckage like that? As it stands, apart from some awful whiplash, you are alive and unharmed.

But no. You had only walked into his apartment hoping to borrow some sugar, content to leave the stranger happenings as part of the mystery that comprised Namjoon, only to find everything in his house levitating. He had come across you then and when you demanded he come clean he had told you everything, about his alien origins, about his expedition to earth for a business trip, about his malfunctioning gravity regulator that he had been in the middle of repairing when you walked in.

He had been impressed at how well you had taken everything and was incredibly relieved until you plucked a frypan that was levitating nearby from the air and leapt onto his coffee table. You hadn’t come down since and every attempt to move towards you results in you swiping said frypan wildly through the air.

“I’m admittedly not that well-versed in human emotions yet but you don’t seem calm to me!” Namjoon argues but it was the wrong thing to say because the last thing you need a reminder of in that moment is that Namjoon isn’t human. And he’s only just managed to stop you screaming repeatedly but now you return to it. The sound is piercing and painful on his sensitive alien ears. He groans and presses his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose to stave off a migraine as if you are the one being unreasonable. Perhaps the continuous screaming is a bit excessive but you only just found out that he’s an alien so you feel like your reaction is warranted. Is it even possible to over react in such a situation?

“Are you going to experiment on me?” You shout, again as if he’s a hundred metres away even though with his sensitive hearing he could probably hear you whispering from five hundred metres away.

“No!” Namjoon snaps. “I’m going to do no such thing!”

“Then are you here to take over the human race? Am I the first victim in your evil plot to wipe humans from the galaxy?” You demand. He goes to take a step towards you but you wave your frying pan around to keep him at bay. He holds both hands up in surrender and does not advance.

“(Y/N), don’t be ridiculous, why would I-“ whatever rational and reasonable defence Namjoon had prepared is interrupted at that moment by the poorly timed arrival of Taehyung.

“RM, I got that brain probe like you asked!” Taehyung calls, though back home he is referred to as “V”. He waves around a pointed contraption with a bright green handle like it is a children’s toy. He spots you on the couch and his whole face lights up and he says probably the least helpful thing he could in this situation. “Are we going to wipe her memory now?”

Namjoon tries to signal to Taehyung to stop speaking before he frightens you even more, but alas, it is too late.

“B-brain probe?” You ask, and your eyes have gone very wide and you have gone deathly pale. “Y-you’re going to... my brain...” your voice goes breathy as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you promptly pass out. Your figure crumples and Namjoon only just barely manages to catch your limp form in his arms before you topple off his coffee table.

Namjoon glares at Taehyung even as he cradles you gently in his arms. Taehyung holds both hands up in surrender, a human gesture he’d picked up from the young male humans he has recently taken to hanging around.

“What?” He asks defensively, swapping to their mother tongue now that you are unconscious. “You told me to get it!”

“Not for her! I was just about to convince her we aren’t trying to wipe out her race!” Namjoon cries and they’ve been on earth for so long that his mother tongue feels almost foreign in his mouth. “Now you’ve gone and done it! What if she reports us to the authorities?”

Taehyung frowns contemplatively while brandishing the probe at Namjoon.

“We could-“ Taehyung begins but Namjoon cuts him off before he can finish his sentence.

“For the last time, it’s not for wiping memories! It’s not even a brain probe! It’s an engine probe!” Namjoon complains, swapping to the earthen language once more. It’s not really Taehyung’s fault- it was a mere translation error. The word in their language for engine and brain just so happened to be the same and so Taehyung has mistranslated. Still, it did not help their case and when you rouse a few moments later, a well-timed glare from Namjoon has Taehyung stuffing the probe into his back pocket before you can see it.

“N-Namjoon?” You ask weakly, your eyes sliding open and your long eyelashes fluttering against the apples of your cheek. Something in his biology must malfunction in that moment because a pleasant tingling sensation spreads across his entire body at the precious way in which you rasp his name. Taehyung, who can probably detect the sensation Namjoon is experiencing through his sensitive electroreceptors, restrains a gag at Namjoon’s obnoxiously obvious fondness for you. He, personally, does not see the appeal of a human woman but he supposes Namjoon has spent a much longer time in your proximity. He had claimed he was “learning the human customs” but Taehyung knows that’s a big fat lie and that Namjoon has just been making excuses to see you. His species is not known for its subtlety.

“You’re... you’re really an alien?” You ask groggily. Wincing, Namjoon nods his head, resigned to his fate. Rather than snap awake and leap back onto the coffee table like he is expecting you to, you simply raise a hand to cup his cheek. Namjoon feels something in his body warm as an unfamiliar chemical is released into the vessels that run throughout his body. 

Taehyung watches the scene unfolding him with a mixture of mild disgust and intrigue. Throughout his time on earth, he has learnt that while some humans are quite affectionate, you are not one of those. Perhaps that is why the scene before him is so fascinating? Regardless, the scraps of affection you do throw Namjoon’s way on occasion have him goofy and lovestruck for weeks after and Taehyung knows he will be dealing with the repercussions of that particular little gesture well into the new year. “You won’t hurt me?” You ask him softly, sweetly. Smiling just slightly, Namjoon nods. The dimples in his handsome face deepen and alien or not you are still crushing embarrassingly hard.

“Never.” He promises and you don’t know it but it is a strict rule and tradition in his planet to never go back on one’s words. And that isn’t the only promise he’s made you but you don’t know about most of them because he makes them under his breath whenever you do something endearing that has him a little more lovestruck than before.

Behind him, Taehyung gags once more, repulsed by the obnoxious display of affection before him.

So this was the reason Namjoon had been delaying their return home from their business trip over the past few months.

[sabraeal]

He Who Studies Evil [Part 2/4]

Part 1

A prequel to Wanting Is More Pleasurable Than Having (And Other Things Vulcans Don’t Know a Damned Thing About), written for @bubblesthemonsterartist 

There are pleasantries to observe when the runabout docks. Haruka hardly expects them from a group of war-mongering mine managers, but when he steps through the airlock, ensigns flanking him to either side, he’s pleasantly surprised to find a greeting party.

“Welcome,” their leader says, the tallest among them, though none of the Cardassians are what he would consider small. Perhaps not as broad and muscled as he would expect, but then again, alien biology holds a cornucopia of oddities. One only underestimated a Vulcan once before believing in their superior muscle density. “You are invited to meet with Gul Dukat presently.”

Gul Dukat, the prefect of Bajor. A man much maligned by the planet’s population, as far as he can tell, though he doubts the Bajorans would welcome even the most benevolent overlord if he were Cardassian.

He is also the man brokering this peace. The representative Cardassia wished to pit him against.

Already they are trying to throw him off his guard, but no one makes captain without a degree in quick-thinking. “Thank you for the warm welcome. We are honored by the prefect’s invitation and will join him after we--”

“There’s no need,” the ranking Cardassian tells him. “Your effects will be brought to your quarters, and you will go to Gul Dukat. Follow me. You do not wish to keep him waiting.”

Haruka hesitates. The Federation wants this treaty, yes, but allowing himself to be summoned as a supplicant to this Gul Dukat would set himself at a disadvantage, would make this so-called prefect believe that he held all the power in this exchange. A dangerous place to be, when the only thing separating him from an unfortunate mining-related accident was two junior crewman.

“He means that,” Ensign Shidnote mutters, jostling his shoulder in a way that could be easily be an accident, two men in too-close quarters -- except for the way the boy is so careful not to look at him, to pitch his voice low. “Punctuality is a religion to these people.”

He stares, and not for the first time, wonders exactly how that ensign got that scar across his nose.

“Sir,” he adds belatedly, an afterthought.

“I thought the Union didn’t allow religion,” Haruka manages, still rooted to the spot.

“Well.” Shidnote shrugs, sauntering off the docking platform. “Had to replace it with something, I guess.”

It is said Cardassia used to be covered in old Hebetian vaults, a marvel of sweeping architecture, the cradle of humanoid life. But those ruins are all but gone now, instead replaced with the style enthusiastically purveyed by the Union -- tall, imposing buildings; architecture meant to intimidate rather than inspire. Unless, of course, one wished to inspire fear, in which case, the Cardassians had gotten that down to an art.

Terok Nor was a microcosm of that fear, of that oppressive sensation of being watched. Their escort led them across what he brusquely introduced as the promenade, an open area where it seemed brisk trade was conducted, and both the Bajoran workers and their Cardassian overlords could relax for a spell, though never in the same place. Even here, Haruka could not shake the feeling of a hundred eyes on his back, not until he followed the soaring spikes of the pylons upward, up to where the higher level loomed, every banister lined with armor-clad Cardassians.

“It’s a trick,” Shidnote tells him, voice pitched low, so no one but him and Sui can hear. “Meant to make you feel observed. They think it cuts down on the peons getting uppity.”

“And do they?” Haruka asks, trying not to show how much this display unnerves him. “Get uppity, I mean?”

“No.” His mouth curves, bemused. “At least not where the Cardassians can see.”

They meet in a board room, a level field compared to the experience on the promenade, but Gul Dukat is an intimidating presence nonetheless. All Cardassians were broad in the shoulders -- or at least wore armor to make it so -- but the spiny ridges down his neck make him seem even more forbidding than the rest, and the bone at his brow protrudes so starkly that his eyes seem deep-set, more skull than man.

What’s more, every move the man makes says he’s aware of it, that he enjoys the discomfort his presence brings to his guests. Even the other Cardassians are deferential, flinching when his gaze flits over him. This is how the prefect keeps control of this station, even with tension bursting at its seams; he relies on this overbearing mien to get his work done, to keep both the Bajorans and his people in line.

And thus when he smiles, teeth bared in the human way, Haruka knows he has found a formidable opponent.

“Ambassador!” The man sweeps his hand out over the table, laden heavily with food. Haruka has eaten any number of foreign cuisines, but these dishes -- they must all be from this sector from how little he recognizes them. “I hope we have made you feel welcome to Terok Nor! A home away from home, I think you say on Earth.”

“Just so.” The words come out stiffer than they ought; for all that the Cardassians needed this treaty, Haruka could not help but think, as he surveyed the steaming stews and flaky pies and whole roasts of meat he could not account for, that it would be all too easy for a human to eat poison and never even know it.

“Here, let us start with a toast.” The prefect pours a pale blue liquor into fluted glasses, smile still firmly in place. “To our most important duty. May we each serve the State as we ought.”

His own smile pulls tight, but Haruka drinks the wine down. It’s both smoother and sweeter than he expects.

“That’s not kanar,” Shidnote remarks, blinking at the glass. Haruka stares at him, eyes wide.

It’s unfortunate his attention was not the only one the ensign had caught.

“Correct. A fine vintage though, is it not?” Gul Dukat asks, turning the question back to him. Still, Haruka can feel that he captures only half the prefect’s interest, the other firmly on Shidnote. “Springwine, from Bajor. Made from kava juice. I must admit, I have quite a penchant for it.”

“Really.” He keeps his tone even, hand steady. From what they’d heard from Bajor, Gul Dukat is responsible for countless atrocities, but here he is, admitting a weakness for their wine. “I had not expected to hear a Cardassian praise Bajor.”

The man’s smile grows even wider, and Haruka trusts him even less. “The Union would not waste resources bringing Bajor into the modern age if there were nothing of value.”

Shidnote’s mouth pulls tight, but he stays silent. To his other side, Sui looks like he might faint from the very insinuation one might violate the Prime Directive.

“I had been of the impression that its value was to be found in the uridium ore mined from the planet’s surface,” Haruka ventures, keeping his tone conversational, light. He has no intention of provoking the prefect, but he wouldn’t suffer the whitewashing of the occupation right in front of him. “Not it’s culture.”

Dukat’s smile takes on more teeth, not in threat, but in delight. “Can it not be both?”

He makes to serve himself, and the ensigns follow their host’s invitation. Sui delicately arranges his plate with things that look vaguely familiar, while Shidnote digs in with aplomb, serving himself heaping portions of everything at the table. Ah, to be a young man again.

Haruka is more reserved in his appreciation of the spread, taking from the same plates Shidnote does at half the volume. Dukat watches them with unfeigned pleasure as they each take their first bites into Cardassian cuisine. Or at least, his and Sui’s; Shidnote has barely stopped to say more than, “It’s been forever since I’ve had Tuli!” before tipping a half dozen tiny fish onto his plate.

“Careful,” Dukat warns, as Shidnote reaches to take a spoonful of what looked to be souffle. “The station’s replicators make the hasperat especially spicy.”

The ensign’s face falls flat, blank. “You have Bajoran food too?”

“Of course,” he drawls, “I consider myself a connoisseur of the planet’s delicacies. Little...diamonds in the rough, as you humans say. There’s much to admire, if one dedicates themselves to discovery.”

Listening to this man speak sets Haruka’s teeth on edge as much as a dentist’s drill. “I wasn’t aware the Union allowed the admiration of those outside of it.”

Gul Dukat pauses, hands frozen in the act of cutting his pie. Kain would kill him for making such a bald remark, for veering far too close to the sun, but --

But one does not get things done with men like Gul Dukat by playing their game. He’s ceded too much ground, allowing himself to be summoned straight from the docking bay. It’s time to let the prefect know that the Federation will not just lie down in this negotiation.

Dukat blinks, lets out a laugh. “I had not thought a man from the Federation would be so versed in the statutes if the State.”

“I took up some light reading before coming here,” Haruka explains. “A friend recommended one of your classics. The Never Ending Sacrifice.”

“Ah, yes! An excellent example of Cardassia’s literature!” Again, his enthusiasm is unfeigned. “The repetitive epic is our highest form of art.”

The Hebetians must weep for what was lost, if that passed for high art. “It is quite...illuminating. I was surprised to see how highly the family as a unit is regarded among your people. I had always thought your duty was foremost to the State.”

It is an impertinent observation, and if he was at a Romulan table it would have ended in death for one of the men here, but Gul Dukat only continues to smile, unfazed.

“Ah, it is an older piece of work, though its themes have translated well into a more modern age. And besides, is not a strong family that is best for the State?” Dukat proposes, warming to the topic. Of course Haruto would be right in this -- the Cardassians did view a meal as a venue for philosophical debate. “Our children are our future, and our elders mark the path.”

Haruka nods, and his heart pounds in his chest as he decides his answer. “That had been my thought as well. However...”

Gul Dukat leans forward, intrigued. “However...?”

“I heard a rumor,” he confides, “and I’m afraid it made me doubt what I thought I understood.”

The prefect stiffens, smile wrapped tight around his face. “A rumor?”

“Oh, yes.” Sui is still beside him, eyes wide and mouth opened, but Shidnote is blank-faced, watching the exchange with little more than cursory interest. “I heard that you were keeping a prisoner aboard this station.”

“A prisoner? Here?” Gul Dukat laughs as if the very thought were preposterous. “I must admit, my constable is very good at apprehending men and putting them in the brig, but those are dissidents and drunks. Minor crimes, no more than a night in a cell.”

“I didn’t mean a member of this station,” Haruka presses, keeping his tone guileless, almost helpful. “Rumor put it as a Federation prisoner.”

“You cannot believe that,” the prefect says, hardly blinking. “I’m sure there are ships that have taken their adversaries, but Terok Nor is a refinery, not a place for the Union to keep political prisoners.”

Haruka lifts an eyebrow. “Even though it is so close to Bajor?”

“You did say Federation prisoners,” Dukat manages though his clenched teeth, “did you not? As far as i know, there are no...Federation actors on the surface of Bajor. Though I believe we are allowed our...prisoners of war, as you say.”

Haruka lets the lie settle between them. Perhaps there was no official Federation presence on the planet, but hardly a news cycle went by without more reports of losses from those who went to aid the rebels.

“Our articles do allow such things, yes,” he allows, “but I was told this wasn’t an acting member but instead...a child.”

“A child.” Haruka has known sheer cliff faces less forbidding than the tone Gul Dukat takes now. “Preposterous. The Union would never do such a thing.”

“Of course not,” he agrees. “I am only relaying the rumor that has been circulating among the high-ups of the Federation. As a courtesy.”

“Yes. Thank you,” the prefect grits out. “It is most...gratifying to find out what sort of...pernicious propaganda has been spread about my people. You do not believe it, I hope?”

“How could I, if you deny it?” He offers Dukat a thin smile, one that says quite clearly that he has noticed how the Gul has done no such thing.

“Good.” The man must be agitated, to not see through him, even now. “After all, you know how much we revere children.”

“Oh yes,” Haruka agrees. “Cardassian children, at least.”

Haruka had thought he’d known bad mattresses -- after all, it wasn’t as if Federation-issue sleeping bags did much in the way of muting rocks at one’s back -- but it takes only a moment laying on his bed to realize that Cardassians had only mastered the art of torture because they first slept on bed like these.

“Computer.” The room buzzes with silence, and he remembers -- this isn’t the Wistal. There is no computer keyed to talk to him here.

He huffs, swinging his legs off the bed. There’s no other way to do this than the old-fashioned way, then.

His PADD comes easily to hand, and it’s easier still to call up Ensign Shidnote’s service record, far longer than a man his rank should have. He scrolls through all the beginning matter -- born to a freighter family, recruited on mission, other details that seem more and more bog standard now that there’s humans spread all over the alpha quadrant and beyond -- but his eyes catch on the first posting: USS Fortissia under Captain Lido, stationed under Admiral Bergatt and the USS Wilant. Admiral Bergatt, who has been fighting the good fight against the Cardassians for the past half decade.

The would explain a thing or two, save that he should have had no need to contact Bajor --

Something niggles just at the back of his mind. Lido, Lido. He had heard that name before, years ago, and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

It takes only a quick search, and there it is: Captain Amos Lido, with a dozen postings over his illustrious career, the last being the Fortissia at the Cardassian border. Well on his way to Admiral, it seemed, until the mutiny against Starfleet, and his flight into Bajoran space. He’d nearly made it a year working with the resistance, but he’d fallen in with the Kohn-Ma and gotten himself back on the Federation’s radar.

He, like many of his Kohn-Ma compatriots, chose death over capture. His crew had been given the option to return to the fold, so long as they had not worked with the separatist splinter cell. Zakura Shidnote had been one of them.

Haruka dropped to his bed with a groan. Here he was, meant to make peace with the Cardassian prefect, and he’d gone and brought a resistance fighter on board. Potentially even a terrorist.

He reaches for his PADD again, and calls up Shidnote’s file. He flicks past the neatly scrubbed service record, only stopping when he get to the end, when he gets to his assignment to the Wistal, and right there, clear as day, the name on his recommendation --

The tablet drops from his hands, and Haruka scrubs a hand over his face. He should have know, he should have known.

Special recommendation from the Federation, signed by Haruto Wisteria.

[itsicantbelievethis666]

A Cunning Woman and a Demon - Chapter 3: Homecoming

1588 words. I found the words a little harder to come by, for a number of reasons. There are no warnings needed here, though the story may encounter some darker and more adult elements later. Hopefully, the next chapter will be quicker coming. Note: I am _not_ versed in Latin and have used Google Translate. I will take any corrections under careful advisement. 

Special thanks to @new-zealand-chic​ @deepdisireslonging @trent7thirsting​ @xprincessofthefallenangels @demonkingsangel @writtingrose @sjwrites22 @writinglionqueen @superrezzy00 @kallirevenne @neversatisfiedgirlfics @neversatisfiedgirl @sjwrites22 @theworldofotps @tacoshuimagines @writing-reigns @baratomaya @devittsslut @the-carter-mob-don @evilangel84 @demonqueen29 @blissedoutbalor . I hope I’ve not disappointed you too much. 

Abigail. Can ya hear me?

A whisper enters my head among the din that has flooded it – of flames, of murderous shouts, of screaming, of the snapping of bones and the squelch of flesh rearranged. I kneel, utterly still, my vision locked on the jar.

I can hear dem coming. What do I do?

There it is again. The roar of confusion is subsiding, fading, one voice at a time. The whisper sounds clearer, firmer.

Abigail, love. I can’t do de things you can do, not wit’out yer help. Please, you need to do somethin’ to keep us out o’ deir hands. If you don’t say de words, I’ll need to say ‘em. C’mon, love.

I blink slowly as I recognize the voice in my head and the hand on my shoulder. I turn and look up at Finn, standing over me, his face etched with alarm. I’m tired – already, though the sun has not yet peaked and the morning air still braces. However, I need to secure and cleanse what’s left of my little place.

I stand up and reach for my bag, pulling my hunting knife from it. I walk away from the ruin to the perimeter of the fire circle, then step another 50 yards into the woods past it. At my feet I find a maple sapling, barely the length of my arm. I pray to the Creator for forgiveness then cut the sapling loose from its moorings close to the earth. I cut away the smaller branches until what remains is straight and tapered.

I close my eyes; my mind homes in on the jar and, I suspect, its contents. The wand moves in my hand, of its own volition, spinning me towards the jar. Finn, I message, keep close to the jar but do not touch it.

The reply whips back: Where are ya, Abigail? Dere’s rustling in da woods where we came from. Dey’re followin’ us!

The news changes the plan. Before the scouring of Wyatt’s magic from this place, I must protect the place. Pointing the wand to the centre of my intended circle of protection, defining the circumference by the radius, I incant Praesidio.

At once, the enormous circle sweeps its arc around the clearing, the jar and my companion still inside it. The symbols and sigils of its power appear etched into the ground as lines of light pointed upward, before fading as embers as the initial magic is completed. In the distance, I hear a shout of wonder and triumph. Blew your mind, did I, Finn?

There are…more mundane ways to achieve this, but usually involve drawing the circle out by hand and would have taken hours - time that my friend and I simply do not have.  

Dat, ya did, Abigail, but none too soon – I can see dem below us.

I tramp briskly back to the clearing, wand firmly in hand. I hand my knife to Finn, standing as though ready to fight, as he looks over the edge of the plateau. Harper and Rowan are below us, coming towards the waterfall. They spot us, but as they come running to the circle’s limits, they are suddenly knocked back onto their backs, the momentum rolling them a couple of times before they come to their stops. Finn bursts into a paroxysm of giggly laughter that rings throughout the clearing and, if only a moment, lifts the darkness and fatigue from me.

If they know we’re here, however, Wyatt will know. I point the wand and whisper an incantation to each of the interlopers, to seep into their minds a simple command. Forget. Immediately, they stand up and, with confused expressions on their faces, turn away from us and walk back the way they came. The morning’s work and the shock of seeing this place have left me drained. To nobody in particular, I declare, “I need to sleep. There’s too much to do still, but….”

I plod back to the ruins of my home and to the jar, plucking it carefully from its spot and sitting down on one of the less-blackened foundation stones. I cannot bear to open the lid. My hands shake just holding the jar; all the while, I dare not bring the tears forward. Something from my distant past is telling me that to weep is weakness, and that whatever I love has no value except to me, and that my value is negligible. A shadow crosses over me and sits down at my side. The voice that follows is soft and lilting: “May I see?”

Finn holds out his hand. I look at his face, etched with care and a glimmer of hope, and cannot deny him. I place the jar into his hands and watch with trepidation as he unscrews the lid and gently pours out the contents into one hand; they look like seedpods. “How many were dere?” he asks.

I answer him. “Eight.”

“All are here ‘n’ccounted for.” He places his other hand carefully over the seedpods and whispers the words of the incantation I had taught him to heal me. “Restaurata, et sanem eum.”

A moment passes, then from inside his hands a faint glow emanates, then another, then another – each a different colour, growing brighter as the casings fall away from them. Watching Finn’s work fills me with a tremulous hope that is bolstered to joy as the glowing escapes the gaps in his hands like beams of light. Then, just as the eighth glow flickers into being, Finn feels a sudden jolt against his top hand from within. “Oi! What’s goin’ on here?”

The jolting grows stronger until Finn can no longer keep his hand over the glowing. Nervously, he lifts the hand. A sudden flurry of light – the largest - escapes and buzzes towards Finn, landing on his nose with a fury. You nearly crushed us! Who are you?

Finn cries out, “Holy smoke! Wee folk! Well, I’ll be!” 

The others have spotted me, and are circling my head so fast I am getting dizzy, all while an excited cacophony fills my head.

Auntie! You’re back!

Auntie! What happened to you! I thought we’d never see you again!

Who’s this with you, Auntie? He’s not one of Bray’s friends, is he?

Auntie! I missed you!

I thought you were dead, Auntie! That bad man!

Auntie! Look what they did to us! Oh, no! What happened to the cottage?

The garden, Auntie! It’s – gone!

Who is this, Sister? The largest has turned away from Finn and looks at me, protective as always.

“This is Finn Bálor, Joe,” I reply, the relief giving me one last burst of energy before the fatigue crashes upon me again. “He’s our friend.”

What’s happened here, Sister? Why do you look so tired?

Finn speaks up. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been toget’er. Wyatt’s done all o’ye a great evil.” The smaller Fireflies have stopped circling and hover in front of us. Finn continues, “Auntie has placed a circle of protection around us, but we’ve had to run some way to get here t’ begin wit’, and between dat and seein’ what he’d done, and ‘specially what he’d done to you, she’s gonna need some rest and to take tings easy for a little while.”

Finn shuffles closer to me and puts his arm around me. My muscles are aching and eyes are heavy. “Purgo,” I let fall from my lips as I look to the circle’s perimeter. The charred ground crackles open, the fissures filling then overflowing with water that gradually dilutes the blackness and bleaches it, then and carries it back into the ground.

“Abigail, you’re wearing yerself out,” Finn protests. “Please, let me help you.”

He’s right. I haven’t the strength left, but I can’t let Bray Wyatt’s evil stand another moment. I fetch my bag again, then pull out the small but thick grimoire I have always carried. I turn to the page I need, then call Joe over to hold it. “Stand up with me, Finn, and read what you see. I’ll help with the visualization.”

We stand face-to-face, and I take his hands in mine and daydream – of the old cottage, made bigger to accommodate us both, made of cob to remind him of his home and to protect my home. I think of the gardens – the patches of vegetables, the grain, the herbs and flowers, the stand of fruit trees. I remember Finn’s small box of Lego in his suitcase from the jailhouse, and decide a larger box might make the cottage a little less strange. I look at him as his reads the words of the incantation, his beautiful blue eyes focused laser-like on the page, occasionally stumbling over a pronunciation. I squeeze his hands gently as encouragement.

Around us, the earth surrenders the roots and seals the stumps before the charred trees grow back and bear leaves. It lifts and rings the perimeter of stones as the cottage walls grow to their full height, the black thatch roof materializes and the porch emanates from the carved oak door and outside the parlor windows. Roses climb trellises up the walls while the gardens grow from barren earth to full blossom- and fruit-bearing in the time it takes me to think of them. Finn’s eyes grow wide with awe as they wander over the clearing, even as he mouths the last words of the incantation. No sooner do I feel the shadow of the cottage than all becomes darkness and I collapse onto sweet, clean grass. 

[sebeth]

Titans: Episode One

Warning, Spoilers Ahead….

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 The Titans, the first original DC Universe Online content, debuts.

Nice stylized opening detailing the death of the Flying Graysons.  Poor Raven – she starts with a nice night at the circus and it ends in murder.

Raven is very standard horror movie in the first half of the episode.  I’m not familiar with New 52 Raven but I’m assuming this is similar to her modern appearances.  I wonder if we will ever see Arella or Azarath?  Trigon, even a more scaled-down version, is almost guaranteed.

Poor Raven’s mom.  Was she part of this conspiracy or just an innocent woman who adopted the wrong baby?  Did she enforce the religious praying because she knew the true origin of Raven or did she truly think that would save her daughter?

Dick doesn’t want a partner! He could have been nicer to poor Amy – where’s the Grayson charm?  Amy was a regular in the 90s/2000s Nightwing series.  

Bruce probably has been gassed by the Joker.

Interviews suggest that Dick and Bruce split due to Dick’s objections over Batman’s brutality as opposed to the standard “injured by the Joker” set-up.  Perhaps Dick felt that bat-branding was a bit too extreme.

Detroit, Michigan is an interesting choice.  It’s rarely used in the DC Universe – the main exception is when the JLA briefly operated out of the city.  This is one of the big differences between DC and Marvel – 98% of the heroes aren’t located in New York City.

Wow, Dick!  So violent and angry!  Did you forget that you are not post-death Jason?  Or fresh out of the League Damian?  People will make a lot of the violence in the gang scene but while Dick is known for being the “happy” Robin he can also be angry, violent, and broody.  He learned from the best in those departments!

Love Tim’s eternal influence on the Robin design! Full body outfit, R-shaped shurikens, and staff? Check, check, and check!

Dick goes retro with the record player.  His apartment/loft is rather bare bones with the exception of the Flying Graysons poster.

Love that Dick has a “thing for helping kids”.  Underneath the anger is a very kind-hearted man who will always have a soft spot for traumatized kids.

Starfire!  The Titan who received the most hate before the show even debuted.  Let’s be honest – Starfire’s comic book appearance was never going to translate well into live action – the height, the impossible body, the orange skin, and extremely long hair simply isn’t practical, add in the classic 80’s costume and it simply wasn’t going to happen.

As for the character itself…it seems as if the car crash has made Kori amnesiac so we are left with a blank slate for both Kori and the audience.  Why is Kori tracking down Raven?  Is it similar to the connection between the two ladies that was portrayed in the Titans: Earth One books?

Kori’s easy sexuality and willingness to use deadly force are definitely aspects of Starfire’s character.

Loved the total devastation Kori’s starbolts.  Now I understand why the Titans were all “No, Kori, no!” in early Titan issues.

I’m not loving the fur coat but I do like the purple outift.

Could the organization pursuing Raven be the Church of Blood?  The Church originated in Europe and Brother Blood has been obsessed with Raven at various times.

Dick makes nice with Amy. I wonder if the writers will head straight into the expected Dick – Kori romance or sidestep with a Dick-Amy relationship.  Please no dreaded triangle.  Pick one or the other.

The actress portraying Raven is very reminiscent of animated Raven in her physical appearance.  I like it.

Dick saves Raven!  Actually, Raven saves herself.  Rachel’s soul-self is extremely violent in this series.

The duo is heading to a safe place – in a Porsche!  It’s easy to see why Dick keeps the car hidden – it would be rather hard to explain that car on a cops’ salary.  It should be common knowledge that Dick is Bruce Wayne’s ward but Dick may have hidden that fact when he transferred to Detroit.  How long has Dick been in Detroit?  Robin hasn’t been seen in Gotham in the past year – so almost a year?

How badly did the man from earlier in the episode hurt his child?  It had to be severe for Dick to break his self-imposed Robin ban.

We end with Beast Boy in Covington, Ohio.  Gar uses his shape-changing abilities to steal video games.  He needs to learn there are stealthier animals than tigers. The scene was brief but cute.

We know the Doom Patrol will be in an upcoming episode.  Did Gar run away from the Doom Patrol?  If so, why? How many heroes have made public debuts in the Titans-verse?

Up next:  Hawk & Dove!

I enjoyed the episode. I love Dick, Raven needs many hugs, and Beast Boy was adorable.  Starfire didn’t fully click with me but her amnesia/blank slate status gives her a pass for a few more episodes.

[alterlifes-a]

i love u and the psd u have for mirio is beautiful!!! can u rec some bnha blogs? or maybe anime blogs in general, thank u!

you want blog recs ?! i got blog recs ! also , i did have another anon a few months ago asking for blog recs , so i’ll only be recommending b.nha blogs , since i can do non - b.nha blogs another day ! ALSO , thank you so much for your input on my psd for mirio  !!  i’m so proud of it , as well tbh !  ❤︎ i’m putting this under a read more so i can gush and not clog up peoples’ dashes !! also these are in order of my following list rn , so it’s in no specific order .

@dualbred  /  @soarsun  /  @eletriq  /  sunny’s other blogs  ❤︎  sunny is someone whose name describes what they are perfectly : he’s a ray of sunshine in your day ! he’s very charming, creative, and sweet, and he’s the perfect person to go to if you want to plot and walk out of the conversation just . screaming . whether that’s good or bad , depends .@frogblep  ❤︎  idk if birdie is okay with a lot of people following since they’re really private + super mutuals-exclusive, but they’re so cute and have such a great personality ! 10/10 would chirp .@ichorsun  ❤︎  wow i love hide the canon character . but for real , rye has such a well - crafted oc , and this blog deserves all the attention it can get !@dprssin  /  @quirkgifter  /  @mcka  ❤︎  listen i know nanners is on hiatus cause the fandom sucks ( which is why i also linked his d . va ) , but that doesn’t erase the fact that he’s got one of the best [ and only , from what i’ve seen hsdkfjs ] nanas out there . also , we support n adore his native american mixed aizawa , thank you . @toughfist​  /  @torncape  /  @tailsfur  ❤︎  nora is so so kind and honestly just a huge burst of sunshine in your day ! also sakkun is such a cute oc tbh . it’s obvious she puts a lot of love into her muses , so go check out her blogs !!@knowthem​  /  @inneall​  ❤︎  i haven’t interacted much with jade yet , but honestly if you write iida i already trust you … sfkjs but honestly speaking , jade is a welcome and warm presence on the dash . just having them around is grounds for a good time !@pyrrhe​  /  @spireheart​  ❤︎  ram my love … my buddy in great music taste … she’s your local lesbian who’s here to kick butt and write amazing replies and guess what … she’s all out of butts to kick .@sepiternal​  /  @amariodal​  /  @hwitzr​  /  @solsace​ ( shut up , will’s an anime — )   ❤︎  rory literally made a mirio because i wanted one , what more could you ask out of a son … but really , he’s one of my longest standing friends and no matter rain or shine , i know i can count on them to be vivacious and original @lacquarms​  /  @jetlegs​  ❤︎  if anything happened to theus i will personally manifest in every tumblr user’s room and delete all of their blogs and destroy the entire website myself . but tbh , theus is so amazing and charismatic !! 100% recommendation from me@whiphero​  ❤︎  hansie is just one of those people who , like , you see a new blog followed you and you go to check it out , then you see hansie’s name on there and it’s just an instant follow tbh .@palmfed​  /  @wuvlite​  /  @dphium​  ❤︎  punpun is always very funny and super multifaceted in his skills … he has so much creative energy , but also he’s the друг friend so like . tread carefully . oh . he’s already there . clicking the follow button . you’re on your own now . godspeed .@amerismash​​  ❤︎  FOSTEEEER [ i yell so loud i break the sound barrier ] follow foster , just trust me on this . you won’t regret it .@tikkvn​  /  @montlady​​  ❤︎  cass radiates big lesbian energy by merely existing and if that’s not the kind of presence you aim to be … but for real , befriending cass is going to be nothing but fun times and a nonstop waterfall of support . they’re so lovely and super valid and just the kind of person you naturally want as a friend !@ohaul​​  ❤︎  i’ve yet to interact much with veggie , but honestly ? i already trust them . sfhjdks but seriously , they seem real cool ! doctors say you need veggies everyday so here’s a perfect chance for you to get your daily dose !@c0py​​  ❤︎  bruno this icon of yours radiates so much chaotic feeling … but honestly , bruno is great and you gotta check out their monoma 10 / 10 say critics ( me )@natsutodoroki​​  /  @ksri​  /  @negativeat​  ❤︎  i’m not over the fact that you managed to get such canon urls but hskfjds clarrie is honestly such a kind and charismatic person , and the way she writes her muses makes it evident they put a lot of thought into how the character is portrayed in canon itself . also natsuo is clarrie’s oc i don’t make the rules .@heartmindcd​​  ❤︎  okay first of all , can i just say : vincent’s art ? [ fans myself … ] but honestly as a fellow artist in the rpc , i love seeing other muns’ art on my dash and vincent is no exception . he has such a distinct style , and this also translates into how he portrays shinsou ! he obviously has a good handle on how shinsou works as a character , and seeing him in my notes or on the dash is always grounds to make me smile !@yunihon​​  ❤︎  endy is the best , eri is the best … but seriously , endy’s eri ( that sounds like a tongue twister ) is amazing . 5/5 best daughter , would adopt and protect from all harm ( please protect eri from all harm )@charistatic​  /  @ofiignition​​  ❤︎  i have so many feelings for gina and tbqh they are all positive . we kind of brushed shoulders with one another in a previous fandom , but now that i’ve gotten to better know her , i can say for sure that i will personally destroy you with both my hands if you make gina upset in any way . but for real , she’s caring and so fun to be around . also we scream about promised neverland together , i mean , what’s not great about that ?!@riteous​​  ❤︎  eulalie has a b.nha verse on this blog so i’m putting them here .  ok ok but thanos is singlehandedly one of my most favourite oc’s in the world . whenever eulalie posts about them i’m just : eyes : : ok_hand : : 100 : … also they look … stunning . seriously , if you’re going to follow eulalie for like the most bare bone reason , follow because their muse is the prettiest but stay because the mun is a wonderful person .@faceplain​​  ❤︎  kit’s sero is iconic … you should check out their blog !! and if not it’s okay , i’m activating my own tape quirk to slingshot you over there right now as i type .@trapsminds​​  ❤︎  i literally look at sunne’s icon on my dash and i immediately light up into a smile , and if that isn’t any indication that this is a shinsou worth following then idk what ever will be .@bgku​  /  @kwurk​​  ❤︎  CLOOOOOOO —- [ i continue this for 3 hours straight until you click clo’s blog ] ok but really i love clo’s headcanons for bakugou so much … even the smallest , two word post will leave me going :D !!@raijima​  /  @slipstep​​  ❤︎  ryou has a b.nha verse so i’m putting him on here too but also vanur is such an imaginative person and i love every single idea that pops out from his head . he writes such amazing and divine original characters , they feel like they’re real and palpable .@tapeties​  /  @exposensei​​  ❤︎  REID I GIVE YOU ALL MY LOVE RIGHT NOW !!! tbh when i think of aizawa , i just think of reid in general … his penmanship with any character is * chef - kisses my fingers *@chargebolted​  /  @noquirk​​  ❤︎  if you’re not following prince i’m going to come into your house and steal all of your left shoes . ok but really , prince is not only inventive and innovative , he puts a unique and loving touch on every single character he writes . literally ! what more can you ask for ?! i actually mix myself up because i’m so accustomed to writing about / with his deck that i forget he isn’t canon , which . hello , hori ? do it . now . puppeteer and analyzer spin off WHEN !?@trickry​​  ❤︎  you’re lucky i’m putting you on here because i literally hovered over your blog just to double check things like i did with everyone else’s and i got met with that stupid header oh my go — ( but follow hunni actually )@thuskindlyiscatter​​  ❤︎  what do you mean ruby isn’t a canon bnha character ( august just ended but i’m extending it . today is august 37th . so you have to follow august during this month . )@rdriots​​  ❤︎  you know how sometimes you just associate a mun or muse with one another ? like , if you thought of the name tooru , a lot of people would think of me ? i think of kiri and one of the first blogs that comes into mind is this one , because leo’s kiri is just that iconic .@viperot​​  ❤︎  don’t follow if you don’t want madoka to release 10 , 000 snakes into your muse’s house . actually it doesn’t matter , they’re going to do it anyway . i hear their reviews on yelp are awful , though :(  in all seriousness , lemon is one of the best muns i know out there . they’re naturally just a great person . #geminisolidarity@scartar​​  ❤︎  i would kill for zander . like . literally . i would kill for zander . seeing zander on my dash brings me so much unbridled joy … also they’re the person who likes every single one of your posts , get THAT kind of support in your life tbh .@quirkedit​  /  @heartslight​​  ❤︎  sparky log onto your monoma . sparky log onto your monoma . log onto your monoma , sparky . sp@ondespair​​  /  @onfaith​  ❤︎  who is this man i don’t know him he just randomly appeared on this blog rec and definitely does not have a super well - thought out and developed oc .@killslove​​  ❤︎  rose logged onto his himiko yesterday and i am still screaming about it more than 24 hours later … but honestly , rose puts SOOOOOO SO SO SO SO much thought into how himiko works as a character , and that makes me happy because i also wrote / psychoanalyzed her for a brief moment and tbh rose ? articulates all of that research into a well fleshed out and believable interpretation of her .@creatied​​  ❤︎  i went to type in the url but then just typed in ‘ maddy ’ like an idiot . but yeah . maddy . she’s beauty she’s grace she loves momo so much and you can very much tell . she isn’t super active rn and that’s understandable but whenever she does post i am heart eyes !@implosiveexplosive​​  ❤︎  HONESTLY JUST LOOK AT JAY’S WRITING AND TELL ME YOU WOULDN’T FOLLOW OH MY GOD IT’S GORGEOUS@boydazzle​​  ❤︎  egg est un auteur magnifique ! aussi … voulez-vous du fromage ? :)@keiuu​​  ❤︎  QUEENIE IS LITERALLY ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING PEOPLE ON THIS WEBSITE this isn’t even my opinion it’s literally a FACT  thank you goodBYE@aerve​​  ❤︎  can you tell i’m writing so much i’m running out of things to say without just repeating 20239 times that everyone is amazing ( which they are ) anyway coral is one of said people who i can use a billion adjectives to describe positively and yet my brain is churning out none . but coral ? valid . so valid . also gr8 art amazing beautiful wondrous@halfher​​  ❤︎  i think out of everyone here , kaien is the person who has known me the longest … honestly kaien has the skill to be a full - fledged published author at this point and you can’t convince me otherwise . i’ve seen them improve and grow in the 3 or so years between when we first interacted and now … i’m so proud of them tbh !@juuheart​​  ❤︎  i love notay the canon bleach character bUT ALSO NIQUE STOP HURTING HER !! >:((( but also follow nique so you can become attached to notay and yell every time nique hurts her — KJSFFNSDJK@negatiiv​​  ❤︎  hands down one of the most well - done / well - executed oc’s on here . there’s so much development that’s gone on with emi , it’s unbelievable . but also [ naruto vc ] believe it@anquished​​  ❤︎  jihoon is my son and izuku is tooru’s son need i say more i mean really … but also jihoon writes such a unique take on izuku and i love his portrayal so much @faulterd  ❤︎   rOWAN’S MOMO IS SO AMAZING IT’S LIKE I’M READING EVERY INTERACTION STRAIGHT FROM THE MANGA ITSELF !!!@quirkthief  ❤︎  oh my god i’m posting all of these blogs in the reverse order that i followed them from and i literally had to go through 700 followers to finally find connor all the way in the first few hundred i followed after making the blog … how long … is that … how lONG HAVE I KNOWN CONNOR ?! but existential crisis aside , connor’s afo is like … the one canon afo for me lmao . i could write a huge tangent on how much i appreciate him but honestly if you follow him and talk to him you’ll know already . but also be warned cause you’re basically already going to be placed in the afo cult and there’s no escaping please help me i—@greaterhero  /  @conhnhaketon  ❤︎   i literally had to find an excuse to put ro on this because they’re not even an anime blog and they hate the b.nha fandom ( hecking valid if you ask me ) but i want to put them here anyway because you need to follow ro … how are you following me but not them … okay but for real , they’re smart n kind n super fun to talk to ! love forever … and also huge respect tbh …@mightyfrail  ❤︎   a wonderful wonderful all might honestly hsdfjs i’ve been following this blog for soooo long it’s literally … illegal that we’ve yet to interact what the heckie … but yeah , all might is a trans icon there is nothing you can do to convince me otherwise 

[musicmixtapes]

October 10, 2018 Mix

Welcome to this week's installation of music! I loved finding tracks that blended well in terms of sound and meaning, as well as playing around with the pace of the pieces so not to cause monotony inside the eardrums. Enjoy and any suggestions/opinions, send my way

Spotify Playlist (Listen in order!) 1. Walls by The Lumineers - First off, can I just say how excited I am to see new music from a group who never seems to disappoint both my ears and my heart. While listening for the first time I thought, "Wow what a great song, but this sounds kind of familiar" so when I showed it to my mom she said "Of course it sounds familiar, it's a cover of one of Tom Petty's songs" and then it made my heart that much fuller knowing that. Petty is known to have the American writing way of describing through metaphor exactly how love and relationships feel at a moment suspended in time. Using that craftsmanship and words that cut to the bone, The Lumineers created a cover that is so folky and vulnerable sounding, I am sure that Petty would not be disappointed in it. 2.  I've Just Seen A Face by The Beatles - Continuing with classics that we may find hidden in corners of our mind, that pop out into existence from time to time, is this wonderful treasure from the Help! album, a beloved album to me and most of the world, I'm sure. I specifically chose this track because the title definitely created a supernatural element in my mind that translated to the feeling that love often gives, which is that it transcends regular human volition. It causes this reaction that cannot be expressed through regular conversation and absolutely needed to be sung about, which to me, is fantastic. Also, the really fast and frantic pace of the song adds to the urgency of the message of seeing someone in passing and instantly feeling a surge of love and the need to be with them at the moment. Falling in love is sometimes done in a slow motion type fall, but in this instance, it seems more immediate. 3. Moon Barks At The Dog by Saintseneca - The lyrical value that this song has is endless, and quite honestly, I could spend a long time doing an in depth analysis of this piece line by line, but for now I won't. The main thing I wanted to go in depth with a little bit is this image of the moon barking at the dog, which is just such a strange and abstract concept to grasp. Of course, the typical thing that someone would refer to is the dog barking at the moon, which is apparently a reference to the famous statement (I had no idea this existed): "It is common for the dog to bark at the moon, but if the moon barks back, the dog becomes famous." As a person who loves strange expressions, this has quickly become one of my favorites. There is also an entire verse that nods to Bruce Springsteen and his music not being the singer's cup of tea, which I disagree, but appreciate the reference anyway. 4. Los Ageless (cover) by The Wombats - I would say I'm sorry about including another version of the same song within two months, but I am not sorry at all because it is my firm belief that different versions of the same song can change it entirely and bring fresh perspective and possibly a new interpretation of meaning. Originally a St. Vincent song from her amazing album Masseducation, it was a more techno rock sound for sure, but this alternative group brought it down with a more acoustic sound fleshed out through it. I don't think the sound was altered so much that it changed the composition entirely, but the male voice for sure gave it a perspective which I was not expecting. To have a male singer express the notion "How could anybody have you and lose you and not lose their minds too?" makes me feel a glimmer of hope to diminish toxic masculinity. 5. More Than Romantic Love by St. Lenox - I don't know exactly what to classify this as and to be fair, I'm not sure that putting this artist in a box would be serving him justice in any way. I felt that I was having a conversation with a fellow new yorker while really really cool, eclectic music was playing in the background. And I loved it. Just all of the references to living in a place in time where you are losing someone because you cannot accept the fact that they only want a platonic love, not romantic. This goes deeper though, and examines how to deal with someone who is going through personal struggle and how to reach them emotionally while being sensitive to their needs. St. Lenox has such a soulful conversational tone that speaks freely about mental health, breakup and the nervousness of the city, also shout out to Washington Square. He's an artist on the rise for sure. 6. This Is The Day by The The - This is a classic example of a song with an upbeat, generally happy sounding tune that literally step by step tells about the woes that a person with depression has to go through. It actually really reminded me of a Smiths song, where the mood totally does not match the words, and this is a trope I absolutely love to see in older music. The image of eyes being red and burning when seeing daylight is so profound because insomnia is one of the main traits of depression, so this feeling of always feeling tired in the daytime is so relatable to hear about in song, which I never have before. The synthesized sound and the acordion that are strung throughout the song really emphasize the dichotomy of the sound and feeling, which also add the layer of how you look on the outside doesn't always match how you are on the inside. 7. Greyhound by Calpurnia - Have you ever made future plans with someone you are in a relationship with, thinking that basically you'll be with them forever, and then suddenly, the time for that plan comes around, except you're not together anymore? Yeah? Me too, and apparently the writer of this song was in this exact position because that's essentially what it's about to put it in base question format. But what really satisfied me concerning this song was not the super relatable storyline aspect, but the sarcastic way of telling something pretty sad, which seemed like an epic breakup and heart break. The whole "hats of to you, for you to go" is so sassy and like a middle finger in the center of a song about still having feelings for an ex-love, which was so fun to see. I hope the subject of this song listened to this song. 8. 15 Minutes by The Strokes - Whenever asked my top favorite bands, they are always at the top of the list. I don't know exactly what resonates with me, but I have been trying to pin point the moodiness and exacerbated feelings for awhile that me and this band seems to always share. I think it's the way that Casablancas always mutters some really sad yet humorous things while hard core guitar comes in and really great drum beats and a bass line are right in line with it. This song is no exception because it totally defies the meaning of telling someone how you feel and being comfortable with oneself about it; if I may be so bold, I think it generally classifies how one with lots of anxiety would go about telling feelings from a real perspective, rather insecurely and with the approach of joking about emotions in a very honest way. 9. Think I'm Still In Love With You by Joyce Manor - A new album by an awesome punk, angsty, emo rock band, news I will never be upset to hear about. Specifically, this artist has so many different qualities going past the initial relatable angst you feel when listening to the many, many, many songs they have about not being able to get over something or feeling like a burden in someone else's life constantly. This song has a clear shift in feeling though because the uncertainty is definitely present in terms of wanting to still be in love with someone because of a past emotion, but now things seem a bit hazier and they aren't so sure if the feelings are still quite there. This song comes about midway through the album, a really great placement on their part because it signifies perhaps a shift in weather during a one sided relationship and perhaps things will change thereafter. 10. So Tied Up by Cold War Kids and Bishop Briggs - Oftentimes I speculate from an outsider's look at a song, and piece together the meaning in relation to both the music and my own life. In this instance, I didn't really have to do so because the artist actually shared exactly what his intentions were with the meaning behind this song. He said, "With every new relationship, you either talk about previous relationship stuff (warts and all), or you just pretend like they never existed. Both are kinda terrible. When you go the full disclosure route it’s probably sincere, maybe you’re even praised for your vulnerability. However, you know it’s probably gonna be used against you later, in a fight, in the worst way." So that's that, and in terms of the gospel vibes I received from this alt rock song, I am very happy and get really pumped walking down the street to it. 11. Days On A Wire by Case - This instantly gives me the image of watching a movie scene where one person is lovingly thinking about another and kind of like sitting on a train looking out the window and considering their feelings, all wrapped up in desire. So now that I have shared my mental scene, let me explain that the really awesome acoustic with horns sounds that are produced in this piece add to the love song vibes that is perceived while listening. Also, the singer's voice is super dreamy and light, at some points seeming like barely more than a whisper of phrases, adding to the whimsical elements involved in the song. Actually, the horns in this song kind of act as a guitar usually would in terms of a melodic riff that occurs between verses and choruses, and I love this difference of instruments, a unique sound. 12. In The Morning I'll Be Better by Tennis - Taking some else's pain away is the hardest thing to do, especially when it's something not curable by care and devotion on it's own, but that's precisely what the artist is intending to say in this piece, which is tragically beautiful. So originally, I perceived this to be about someone's mental anguish and a relationship of sorts attempting to remedy this suffering by acceptance and love. In fact, this is not what the artist meant, but it's still a cool interpretation if I do say so myself. It was revealed that the writer's friend was deemed terminally ill and this was their way of processing the emotions that go into realizing that someone is most likely not going to get better. It is a love song that goes beyond love, but more about the wanting to take someone's pain and endure it so they don't have to. 13. Clueless by The Marías - Yes, yes, yes. My exact thoughts when seeing that this group came out with new music, when listening to the first few bars of the song, and then again when hearing the song two full times through (once for sound and another for words and meaning). The palpable tension heard in the song is so real for so many people when having an argument and to match the tension is the dialoguing throughout that basically says they can't handle the ups and downs going through the relationship anymore. I read that this was inspired by a spat between the vocalist and her significant other, drummer-producer Josh Conway. This revelation was incredible because imagine being in a band and a relationship with someone and having to create music while a major fight is going on. Me neither. 14. Running by Nicotine's Famous Honey - If I could title this anything other than what it is, I would title it "The Art of Just Barely Getting By In Our Fucked Up World" but that would not be as aesthetic as this aptly titled name. In the past, I have publicly argued against certain styles of music, simply because I knew less about music and didn't listen to enough genres on a regular basis. I am still trying to broaden my horizons, especially in terms of R&B and the Hip Hop genre in general, but this under emphasized artist is such a beautiful example of taking one genre that is criticized for being cliched and overdone and taking it to a whole different level. I love this combination of dream-pop, low-fi indie and hip hop and R&B all in one piece, and if you haven't looked into them, definitely check out some of their other music, it is so enticing. 15. Weird Honey by Elvis Depressedly - I'm taking the meaning of this song entirely from the artist because I think it can be interpreted a hundred different ways, depending on who you are thinking about while listening to it and what kind of mental state you are in too. Also we love to see an iconic guitar riff thrown in sporadically to a pretty sad low fi rock song, so that's a pretty cool spot in hell. The meaning though: "I lied before. It’s just an homage to Jesus and Mary Chain, and has no direct meaning. This is a love song so it could be seen as a pet name, or even a symbol of a love that is strange and new but full of sweetness. I find it incredibly strange that so many people have interpreted this song to be so negative, or even a break up song, when it’s the opposite. It’s a song about new love." There you have it. 16. Wings In All Black by Gregory Alan Isakov - If you are looking for an acoustic folk artist who puts emphasis on literally every single word and note of a song, look no further, he is right here, and also in my soul forever. Hailing from his brand new album, is this gem which sinks your heart to your stomach almost immediately upon listening. I believe this to be about having to rise up out of a really dark time in your life, despite not wanting to, the fact that instead of feeding the beast of loss, you have to grow wings of your own and fight against the demons you are experiencing. The image of having "wings in black" is a nod to the struggle between staying down in a bad place and having to come out of it no matter how impossible it seems at the time. I am now noticing a lot of these songs have to do with dealing with loss and mental health day by day, which is very important. 17. Should I by Arum Rae - I have to give entire props and credits for this song to my wonderful mother, who is always good for sending me songs to listen to on a weekly basis. Particularly, I first heard this song on my ferry ride home to New Jersey for the first time since leaving for college this year, so it has earned a really special place in my heart for the year. The piano is so present in this song, which as I have mentioned in previous posts, you don't get to see a lot in newer slow songs, which have become taken over by guitar a lot of the times. Also, Rae's voice questioning her every move and overthinking all her choices for the future is so heart felt and honest that you can't help but empathize with these feelings. The message of the song is maybe taking things one step at a time is the healthiest thing you can do when things get overwhelming in life. Yes. 18. How by Daughter - Ok, so finding out that most of the songs I have chosen for this week's mix surround the topics of loss and grieving past versions of self has become super illuminating in terms of my own maturation process. Staying topic though, this group always sheds light on the painful emotions rather than the pleasurable ones, which sometimes creates a dreary mood, but I like to view it as not being afraid to voice some negativity in order to clear it out of one's mind, which many people are apprehensive to do. This song describes pain as being in slow motion and I can't explain why that is true, but it is. The lines "hold me back, hold me back" in reference to wanting to go get someone that they have lost is so crucial to the theme of the song which is moving on from something while still having regrets in regards to the situation, feeling cheated or let down by someone. 19. Killer by Phoebe Bridgers - This playlist began with this song all by it's lonesome, but all along I knew that the rest of the pieces would be built around this, so I guess this has to be the reason why all the songs are so deeply related with one another. You may be thinking, wow I can't believe this song is about one's own death, this is really morose and ominous. Yes, I totally agree and think that it's really sad and death related, but knowing that it goes deeper than that is really vital to appreciating it's beauty. This is about a relationship being buried away and while doing so, dredging up all the past memories of loving a person. There is no remedy for knowing that two people are too much for one another, but this soulful lament is definitely a start. Also, Bridgers has noted that this song is in reference to Ryan Adams, famed songwriter who had a short fling with her when she was pretty young. 20. WALLS by Kings Of Leon - I did this on purpose, I made the first and last song both titled "walls" for a particular reason. I think they both serve very different purposes and perspectives to the metaphorical walls that are being broken down and simultaneously built up within a relationship. In the covered song that the Lumineers did, we see a shift to a more positive message of hearts having walls and climbing them is a struggle, but that it is worth it for the love we get to experience on the other side of it. In contrast, this very low tempo song (especially for Kings of Leon) is about kind of the exact opposite. This is about a man's ego being utterly shattered, exemplifying walls being torn down, in order to love a woman who just took his heart with her when she left. I don't think it's all sad though; I think this experience of walls coming down around someone to experience true loss of a person is so important for personal growth and strength. Thanks for listening and reading into things really deeply with me, catch you next week! Love & Listening,

Julia 

[sylvanfreckles]

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But...

By Grace Undone: Chapter Three

A devastating betrayal and an arcane ritual leave Castiel fighting for his life...his human life. When his grace is brutally torn out of his body and he's left to die on earth the only thing the Winchesters can do is try to pick up the pieces.

(I'm just doing one story for the entire month, so please enjoy the thirty-one chapter beginning of the flare 'verse. You can read other stories in the 'verse here, and you can read this fic on AO3 here.)

Images twisted through Castiel’s mind. His brothers and sisters, their true forms singing the praise of the infinite, mingling with the empty vessels they’d left behind when he killed them. It had been life or death at the time, but the blood on his hands was so heavy and thick there was nothing he could do to wash it away. He deserved this. Whatever Naomi had planned, he deserved every moment.

He barely noticed when the car stopped moving and Malachi wrenched the trunk open to drag him back out. It was raining, the world tinted to long shadows from an autumn sunset.

“What did you do to him?” Naomi demanded somewhere above. But it was Theo’s face interposed over hers that seemed to speak, blending and blurring until he couldn’t discern any real features of either.

“He needs to pay.”

There was a huff of annoyance and another touch to his forehead, but this one wiped away the images Malachi had left behind. Castiel sagged in his chains, grateful for the silence inside his own head.

Naomi had shed her jacket and rolled the sleeves of her blouse up to expose her arms. “Bring him into the circle. I’ll finish the preparations.”

Malachi grunted, but the moment Naomi’s back was turned his hand was around Castiel’s throat. “You’re lucky we need you unbroken for this,” he snarled. “If it were up to me, you’d already be in pieces for what you did.”

“Malachi!”

He glared in Naomi’s direction for a moment before grabbing the chain and dragging Castiel toward an old, rickety barn. The chains that had sealed Castiel’s powers hadn’t limited his self-healing, at least, so the split in the back of his head and the crack in his ribs had already mended. Malachi’s mental onslaught was harder to shake off…and there were so many more that the anarchist angel hadn’t even known of. All of Raphael’s followers. Zachariah’s men. Inias. Rachel. Bartholomew. Hael. Balthazar.

If he craned his neck Castiel could just see Naomi at one end of the barn, standing behind a circle drawn on the floor in blood. There were strange sigils and markings in the circle that he couldn’t quite identify, and the symbols themselves almost seemed to swim in and out of focus.

Naomi had draped a sky-blue scarf around her shoulders, with silver embroidered Enochian script spelling out her names and titles. His eyes caught on one line of text…confession and constancy…and he looked away with a shudder. She was moving around the edge of the circle with a glowing ember held in a set of tongs, lighting bowls of holy oil and fragrant wood that hung suspended from the rafters of the barn.

Malachi rolled him over onto his belly and started unwinding the chains around his body. “Jedaia!”

Hesitant footsteps marked the approach of a fourth angel. “Y-yes?”

“Help me.”

Small, trembling hands eased one of Castiel’s arms out from under his body. He twisted to look at her, getting a glimpse of a face that seemed far too young for this sort of work, and the tell-tale stain of tears on pale cheeks.

“That’s the last censor,” Naomi announced. “Do you have the stakes?”

“By the door,” Malachi replied with a nod.

Castiel had been passive, almost resigned to his fate, but he flinched away from Malachi’s hands when Naomi asked about the stakes. He could see her picking something up, just beyond the edge of the firelight. Something long and twisted and barbed at one end.

They were going to crucify him to the barn floor.

“No!” as Naomi turned back toward the circle Castiel lashed out. He was still dazed from Malachi’s mental attack and his legs were still bound together by sigiled chains, but he managed to twist around and catch Malachi under the chin with the palm of his hand.

Jedaia gave a panicked cry and backed away, and Castiel flung himself at Malachi. He slammed his elbow into the anarchist’s neck and brought up both knees to strike him in the side. If he could get out of the chains he might be fast enough to get away, even in a wingless vessel.

But Malachi recovered too quickly and caught Castiel’s wrist before he could land another blow. He twisted until something gave in Castiel’s elbow with a crack, then seized a handful of hair and slammed his head down onto the floor of the barn until Castiel felt his cheekbone snap. Then Malachi was on his feet, rolling Castiel to his back, stomping viciously with feet encased in heavy steel-toed boots. Skin bruised and tore, bones creaked and broke, and the anarchist lined up a cruel kick to the uninjured side of Castiel’s face.

“I said stop it!” Naomi shouted, grabbing Malachi by the shoulder and hurling him away from Castiel. “No broken bones! Jedaia.” She snapped her fingers at the fourth angel and pointed down at Castiel. When the girl hesitated Naomi took a step toward her and let her voice drop to a growl. “Now.”

Jedaia hurriedly knelt beside Castiel, shaking hands resting on either side of his face as her healing grace poured into his body. “I didn’t know,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “They said…I didn’t know it was like this.”

He had no time to reply, or even consider her words, before Malachi had rolled him onto his stomach again. This time the anarchist pressed one knee into Castiel’s back to keep him still as links of sigiled chains were wrapped around Castiel’s wrists and ankles so Naomi could drive a spike through the chains and into the ground below. His arms and legs were stretched out away from his body, just tight enough that the chain bit into his skin.

It wasn’t crucifixion, but he was starting to realize it was something much worse.

“We have one chance,” Naomi stated. He heard the rustle of paper as she handed something to Malachi. “Don’t screw this up.”

Cruel hands tore at Castiel’s clothing, baring his back to the cold, damp air. Then he bucked against the pain, screaming into the tape that still gagged him, as an angel blade bit into his flesh. Malachi kept his knee on Castiel’s tailbone and pressed his hand to the back of his neck to hold him still as he carved runes into his back. He could feel the blood pouring from the wounds, running down his sides to soak into the rags of his shirt and coats. He went limp from pain and exhaustion long before Malachi pulled away and could barely manage a shudder of relief when the other angel took a step back to admire his work.

It felt like there were three sets of runes: one on each shoulder and one in the middle of his back, just below where his ribs joined his spine. Malachi had connected them with three deep lines that had cut all the way into the muscle, stopping just shy of the bone in places.

“He’s ready,” Malachi called up.

“Good. Jedaia?”

Castiel managed to twist his head enough to see the fearful angel approach with a silver pitcher. “R-ready.”

“Prepare the oil of anointing,” Naomi commanded. She picked up an angel blade and drew it across the palms of both hands and down her forearms, then held her arms up so that her blood streamed down her arms into the white fabric of her blouse.

She began to sing.

Her voice was lower than he’d expected, and for a moment it sent a chill through his body. Then the words Naomi was reciting activated the spell in the circle and he could feel the runes on his back pulsing in time with her voice, burning as the magic carved into his vessel began to fuse with that of the sigils on the floor around him.

“Arp oi lansh ar ol trian coazio! Quansb a pash de ag! Ar a ne canse torzu od a ge ne iaial!” Naomi’s voice rose in triumph as she reached the end of her song, her arms almost glowing in the light of the burning holy oil.

Then everything was a swirl of fire and darkness and agony as his grace ignited.

(Yes, that is actual Enochian, I used an online translator so I had to go through synonyms for a lot of words and I don't know what the actual syntax would be so it might actually be gibberish.)

Other chapters: (1) (2)