#i wrote this on mobile because apparently i enjoy suffering

[misseffect]

VIDEO GAME TAG

Me: gets tagged

Also me: immediately forgets every video game i've ever played

Thanks to @thealexmachina for this - it made me think about games I haven't thought about in years! Tagging @shepgarrus @zaeedmassanis & @garriante (but only if you fancy it).

Games

First game you ever played: oh boy, probably Monsters Inc on GBA. I'm a woman of culture, you see.

Favorite game: LoZ: Twilight Princess. It was the first game I'd played with a story that utterly hooked me. And my first LoZ title.

Game you’ve played through multiple times: Lego Star Wars. BF is making me watch the prequels atm and I keep recognising rooms from the games. If they just smash up those chairs they'll get some studs and an extra heart.

Game you hated at first but now love: Shadow of Mordor. Hate is a strong word. Didn't care for it initially and it's not normally my type, but it was actually a lot of fun.

Game you used to love but now hate: Okami. It's beautiful and the mechanics are cool, but there's this stupid fucking digging mini game that I just cannot beat. Non-optional mini games can eat my whole ass. I put it down last year in a rage and never picked it back up.

Your favorite game atmosphere/setting(s): RDR2. Rockstar's worldbuilding is second to none - the dialogue, the locations, the horses, the little bits of lore scattered through the world for you to find. Stunning. Very close second goes to BotW because the peaceful post-apocalypse vibe is really refreshing. And it also has horses.

A game with your favorite ending: LA Noire. Sometimes shit's broken and people are difficult and the bad guys get away with it, and there's nothing you can do about it but god damnit do we we try anyway. That final sequence in the sewers was some high-octane shit.

A game with the WORST ending: obligatory Mass Effect 3. Otherwise, Skyrim because it just never fucking ends. 100+hrs in and you're a Dragonborn Arch-Mage Dark Brotherhood assassin vampire Nightingale warewolf who could kill a Giant with a sneeze but half the quests are broken so you can't bloody finish anything properly.

Best character customization?: New Horizons. Fight me.

Hero and Companions

Your favorite playable character: FemShep, obviously. Corvo from Dishonoured is also very cool.

The funniest playable character: ooh that's a tough one. Arthur from RDR2 doesn't get enough credit imo. He's a funny dude.

Your favorite companion(s): Midna from Twilight Princess. The bit after the water temple where she gets hurt you have to take her to Hyrule Castle in the dark and the rain? Yeah. Honourable mention to Wrex from ME and Bekowsky from LA Noire. We only get them both as actual companions really briefly which a shame.

Companions you could live without: Thane. Sorry buddy, I just didn't care about you at all.

Relationships

Favorite game friendship(s): Arthur and Lenny from RDR2. FemShep and Ashley are hugely underrated in the fandom imo - there's a scene in the Citadel DLC where you both get hammered and start a bar fight. Just gals bein dudes. Also Phoenix and Maya from the Ace Attorney series for the 10/10 sibling dynamic and found family wholesomeness.

Favorite game relationship(s): Shepard and Garrus because I'm always a slut for relationships built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect. Also the one in Transistor. You know the one.

Favorite companion banter: gotta be the OG Mass Effect alien squad - Garrus, Wrex, Tali and Liara. I love how their interactions evolve through the games.

A relationship you weren’t sure of but loved: Alistair and the Warden. They got off on the wrong foot initially in my first Origins play-through but he's a sweetheart really.

A minor character you wish could be a companion: every Star Wars game should have a Gonk Droid companion option and that's the tea.

A character you wish you COULD romance: Morrigan. You expect me to believe the swamp witch is straight? Please.

Fun

Shoutout to a random NPC: ISAAC NEWTON IS THE DEADLIEST SONOFABITCH IN SPACE.

A game you love watching playthroughs for and want to play: the Uncharted series. I'd give anything for a PC port, Sony. ANYTHING.

Love watching playthroughs but won’t ever play: literally any horror game. Until Dawn, Dead Space, etc. But even then I never watch them full screen and usually only have one headphone on.

Online gaming or solo?: Solo. The only online game I really play is GTA V because I don't have friends.

Why do you play video games?: I don't read a lot at the moment so they get me my fiction fix, and games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley are thereputic. And I just think they're neat.

[annjiru]

(Hey, had to access this on mobile - your container theme doesn't make asks doable on my laptop screen size, bc the buttons are out of the container.) ANYWAY! Angeal is a fantastic muse. What in particular made you want to write him?

oh  no  !  i'm  so  sorry  about  that.  i'm  in  the  middle  of  re-doing  my  theme,  so  hopefully  that  won't  be  an  issue  in  the  future.  

i  tried  checking  to  see  if  i've  written  about  this  before,  but  i  apparently  haven't  or  at  the  very  least,  i  can  no  longer  find  the  post.  story  and  some  thoughts  below  the  cut.    

when  i  first  started  roleplaying,  i  debuted  with  a  Genesis  muse  because  he  was  the  character  i  was  originally  drawn  to  when  playing  and  re-watching  Crisis  Core.  i  thought  we  could  relate  a  lot  and  i  enjoyed  invigorating  him  with  headcanons  and  quirks  that  reached  beyond  canon.  after  a  while,  though,  i  noticed  that  there  were  a  lot  of  duplicate  muses  and  i  was  lucky  if  i  could  rp  with  an  Angeal  once  every  blue  moon.  eventually,  i  ended  up  in  a  friendgroup  trio  where  the  other  muns  wrote  both  Genesis  and  Sephiroth,  so  naturally  i  wanted  to  complete  the    triangle  and  created  my  Angeal  as  my  secondary  muse.  

my  plan  was  never  to  migrate  completely  towards  him,  but  when  i  started  writing  him,  i  was  surprised  how  easily  it  came  to  me  and  really  enjoyed  writing  with  other  characters  and  no  longer  having  to  default  as  a  tragic  villain.  him  being  a  secondary  character  in  crisis  core  also  gave  me  a  lot  more  creative  liberty,  which  i  also  enjoyed.  i  ended  up  pulling  from  my  Genesis  blog  when  writing  headcanons  for  my  Angeal,  which  really  helped  me  make  him  three-dimensional.  he  eventually  took  off  way  more  than  my  Genesis  ever  did,  so  i  decided  to  archive  Genesis  and  focus  on  writing  Angeal  exclusively.  it  helped  that  i  had  a  lot  of  supportive  friends  when  i  first  started  writing  who  knew  me  through  both  of  my  blogs  and  wanted  to  see  more  content.  

aside  from  the  logistical  aspects  of  why  i  created  this  blog,  i  really  enjoy  Angeal  as  a  character  because  he's  devastatingly  flawed  and  overly  idealistic.  i  remember  feeling  heartbroken  when  i  originally  played  CC  after  seeing  how  much  Angeal  struggles  and  suffers  with  the  hand  he's  dealt  with,  from  his  mother's  suicide  to  him  no  longer  seeing  himself  as  human.  and  instead  of  ever  pausing  and  asking  for  help,  he  continues  to  slip  away,  at  times  chasing  after  an  ideal  that's  no  longer  there  or  otherwise  withdrawing  further  and  further  into  himself.  i  really  felt  for  him.  and  i  wanted  to  do  more  than  merely  explain  away  the  tragedy  but  really  do  a  deep  dive  on  what  makes  him  tick.  

i  also  discovered  that  in  many  ways,  i  was  able  to  explore  aspects  of  his  character  and  his  interpersonal  relationships  that  didn't  come  to  me  as  easily  as  when  i  wrote  Genesis.  for  example,  his  role  as  a  mentor  is  something  you  don't  usually  see  in  other  characters  in  the  series.  i'm  also  quite  interested  in  the  cognitive  dissonance  between  his  upbringing,  where  he  struggled  a  lot  due  to  his  family  being  working-class  farmworkers,  and  his  sudden  rise  in  fame  and  lionization  when  he  joined  SOLDIER.  in  many  ways,  i  believe  he  was  exploited  by  ShinRa  and  used  to  promote  their  ends,  all  the  while  allowing  him  to  believe  that  he  was  fighting  in  the  name  of  honor  and  justice.  there's  an  inward  clash  between  his  staunch  ideals  of  equity  and  morality  and  his  day-to-day  reality  of  essentially  working  to  stamp  out  any  dissent  or  resistance  among  the  populace.  it's  just  interesting  to  explore  and  think  about,  especially  in  the  context  of  my  resurrection  verse  where  he's  essentially  forced  to  confront  that.  

i'm  just  really  happy  to  be  writing  him  and  being  surrounded  by  such  a  supportive  community.  i've  grown  a  lot  as  a  person  and  as  a  writer  while  being  surrounded  by  so  many  wonderful  people  and  their  muses.  i'm  looking  forward  to  December  because  reunion  will  bring  me  new  material  to  work  with  and  more  aspects  about  CC  and  Angeal's  story  to  consider  in  detail.  it'll  also  hopefully  bring  a  lot  of  fresh  blood  to  the  rp  community,  which  will  make  me  continue  to  develop  Angeal  as  a  muse  and  continue  growing  as  a  writer.  

[avenger-hawk]

Why do you like Kakasasu?

I waited to reply to this because I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a troll and it wasn’t a drama starting attempt (like this or this, gems found in the sasuke/KS tag) since it’s a subject I am very interested in.

I replied to Kakashi/Sasuke related asks, shippy or not shippy, here, here and here. More about them here, here and here. Put yourself comfortable cause this is gonna be long. Not putting it under a readmore cause I remember ppl complaining they coulnd’t open it on mobile phones (?). Also, moralists who are lurking: don’t interact, get out of my blog. Youll be blocked on sight.

When I started reading N*ruto I was into Bleach a lot, and the fact that the characters were a little older and looked older made me not get into Nar that much at first, because they looked like kiddies lol. I didn’t care about Nar as a character and his initial rivalry with Sas was cute but not enough to get me interested. Only when Kakashi got closer to Sasuke I started being veery interested in the story and in the characters. What I found intriguing was that Kakashi was older and an authority figure, but also someone to look up and who helped his students, BUT at the same time he wasn’t exactly a father-like figure or a big brother-like figure, because he had his dark side, that back then wasn’t well flashed out but that nevertheless showed a closed-off person who kept everything inside, not letting others get too close to him.

(then I started liking N*rusasu mostly because there were so many cool doujinshi especially Emi10/Rankai and Engawaken, while KS doujinshi were so meh, kinda in old yaoi style like Loveless, with tiny Sas who looked even younger hahaha, not my thing)

As those who know my blog and/or my writing know already, I am not interested in healthy, cute, positive dynamics in fiction. I might enjoy them, I might be happy when there are such moments, but I can’t like a whole relationship/dynamic/story only like this because I like to explore complicated ones in fiction.Because fiction is very useful for this, it makes you explore dark, taboo things, without affecting reality (no matter what idiots say), it’s cathartic, it’s a way to do, see, experience things without doing anything.

Back to topic tho, I found their initial dynamic very intriguing. A broken, traumatized yet extremely driven Sasuke, acting as confident and strong as he can, but showing his trauma in various occasions, otherwise being mostly aloof, lost in his own thoughts, and a differently broken Kakashi, acting chill but at the same time always ready to act when needed, yet always kinda distracted, aloof, lost in his owh thoughts (and later we’ll know he took Obito’s mannerisms because he was a stickler to rules). The way Kakashi takes a special interest for Sasuke, clearly the most driven, the best of the team, with whom he holds back much less (when he trains them, like when in the beginning, during the bell test, he fights with Sas and seeing that he almost took it, he overpowers him) while he is different with the others (Nar will have Jiraiya later). The way he protects Sasuke during the chuunin exams, while he’s in the hospital and Kabuto is trying to kill him.

Mostly, the controversial moments...like I said I live for these kind of things. where he both protects and threatens him...like when he does that seal to Sasuke, for his curse mark, and he tells him that if that curse mark takes over he’ll kill him. Or when he ties Sasuke up so he won’t join Orochimaru.

Before someone says bs like *you’re not Sas fan if you like that scene* (I know there are many like this and I want all of them out of my blog btw) uh, it’s not how it works guys. You can support a character and still be intrigued by scenes where said character is tied up/in a forcibly submitted position and so on. Guess what, some of those scenes are made for fanservice even (and Sas has many of these, so if you don’t see the appeal/refuse to admit that there is appeal, it’s you who have a problem). So even tho I disagree with Kakashi not wanting to listen to Sasuke’s reasons for revenge (and later supporting SHikamaru’s, I replied to this in one of the asks I linked) I do find that scene interesting...I mean Sasuke tied up in a very suggestive way and yet defying him and threatening to kill his loved ones and Kakashi opening up in a very weird way vaguely replying that he lost those ppl already? It shows a lot about them, their personalities, everything.

I am sticking to part 1 because there are more meaningful interactions between them, I wished there were more in part 2 but kishi shifted Kakashi’s ‘interest’ to Nar, making him one of Nar’s followers...even so, the intractions they had were very interesting. Their fight after Sasuke fights Danzo is one of my fave moments in the whole story tbh, much more than the later confrontation with Nar. Kakashi for the first time has an inner only, yet strong, emotional reaction, having to fight and supposedly kill his former student who became a rogue with a death sentence on his head...he realizes this is how Hiruzen felt against Orochimaru. It’s a strong realization from someone like him who was always so closed off and aloof that he totally lacked empathy.

On the other hand Sasuke is in a different mindset. He’s sort of high for having succeeded in eliminating the one who made Itachi suffer so much, he’s thinking about killing the elders and destroy the village, so he’s basically lost in the recent past of Danzo’s death and in the future plans he’s making, he’s not in the present moment almost...but he has to fight anyway, and it’s a cool fight, also because he’s weakened already and Kakashi is strong...and then he gets blind, totally, and it’s an amazingly intriguing moment, the kind of controversial stuff I’m interested in, because that’s when he could be totally overpowered by Kakashi, if the story didn’t have other priorities (putting Nar in the center of attention with their confrontation).

Their later moments, like during the war, are meh cause the interest shifted already completely, but their moments in jail (anime only ofc) and their Shinden interactions (only through messages) are interesting to me. Very much so, because they show power dynamics very well, with Kakashi as THE authority and Sasuke as the one submitted. In jail it’s even more evident with him looking down at the younger tied up and blindfolded...like, wow. It’s like fanfiction material (in fact I wrote one (ff.net/a03) and there was the coolest fanart inspired by it! here..there were more but this came on my dash today so).

You mentioned power dynamics...their dynamics are all power dynamics because Kakashi was never at Sasuke’s same level and he never acted like he was, and when Sasuke was stronger, during the war, they basically didn’t interact, and when the war was over and Sasuke was brainwashed and tamed into submission the power dynamic remained the same.

The difference imo between them and other power dynamics based pairings is that they are closer than what could be defined rare pairings such as Obito (they had a very interesting one tho, if only it was developed), Madara (the story was already developed in a pro Konoha-anti Uchiha way but it would have been so cool to have the 2 Uchiha interact more), or other older and stronger characters, so the dynamic could be written in a cool way in a fanfiction but in canon Kakashi created it already. So, while I can imagine something like Shisui/Sasuke, Obisasu or more, in my head, and I can come up with some AU or canon divergent/canon behind the screen (like when Sas stayed with Obito after the transplant), Kakashi and Sasuke had canon interactions that showed power dynamics already.

(Then there is Itasasu, which is a huge power dynamic based relationship, that also had amazingly strong feelings though, and those who know me know that for me Itachi will always be Sasuke’s most loved person, and that he was the same for Itachi. So ofc imo IS is a much stronger bond compared to KS but still. Also I remember in the beginning how many fics I read where Itachi was abusive to Sas and Kakashi stepped in lol. And it’s not a mystery that even though I think the IS bond is the strongest I find other pairings and character dynamics very interesting, so much that I like to explore them even more than IS, which, imo, is almost a given fact so I don’t always feel the need to explore it)

Another thing I find intriguing is that Kakashi always saw Sas at his ‘worst’...in Konoha’s terms I mean. When he wanted revenge in pt 1, after he killed Danzo and he was weak and so desperate and hysterical that they thought he got crazy, when he was jailed. It’s a big power he has, to be able to see someone like this.

Tbh it’s a pity that there were no post war moments (B*ruto shit doesn’t count) where they interact ‘normally’ cause I would have liked to see them, both as normal interactions where they get closer again, now that Sas is older, where they train and they get physical (and Kakashi has a lot of repressed anger, jealousy and possessiveness to let out on the one who betrayed his sensei and went to another...not my opinion but it could be Kakashi’s pov) because I think power dynamic would come up a lot, even from apparently cute moments.

I’ll end this super long essay hoping that you didn’t fall asleep lol, and adding that Kakasasu was the first Nar pairing I shipped, which it speaks a lot about why I get so irritated when someone mentions it negatively.

[gumnut-logic]

Two Birds with One Stone (Bit 6 and The End)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6

I finished it! Yay! Still @godsliltippy​ ‘s fault. I’m just happy to have this one off my plate because yesterday I wrote 2000 words of a new fic! I’m incurable, I have to say ::headdesk:: Like I have so many waiting to be finished ::wails::

But lookie! I finished one ::distracts all with this single finished fic waving it around with glee::

Many thank to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all their support through this fic and of course to Tippy for sparking it in the first place with this glorious piece of art!

I can actually archive something cos it is finished! Yay!

I hope you enjoy it...cos it is finished! It’s a miracle!

-o-o-o-

“A combine harvester?!”

“Totally cool sounding, don’t you think? I’m adding it to my list.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “You have a list? Of what?”

“Dramatic stuff. Near misses. Things worth bragging about at the bar.”

Virgil blinked, fortunately with both eyes this time, since the swelling was starting to go down.

He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by flowers. Grandma had gone all out this time with two boys in the hospital. Fortunately, they wouldn’t be in much longer.

Alan had dragged in one of Virgil’s sketchbooks and to Virgil’s surprise, he had found the energy to draw for a little while, though his head wouldn’t take much.

And his head was more than one problem.

He was missing half his hair.

And he looked stupid.

Worse, there was a jagged slice in his scalp where apparently a piece of that combine harvester had made it through his helmet and nearly sliced him in half.

The thought was downright alarming and he shunted it to the back of his mind with not a little terror.

He would examine it later.

Later.

But the problem at the moment, apart from the bandages that conveniently hid the issue temporarily, he only had half a head of hair and it looked stupid.

He had to appreciate that Gordon hadn’t laughed. In fact, none of his brothers had laughed at him. He couldn’t fault them for that.

Though there was a sparkle in Gordon’s eye that foretold at least one comment in the future, even if it was fond and caring.

Besides…

He kept waking up to find Gordon sitting on the end of his bed.

It was done with nonchalance and a smile, but Virgil was beginning to suspect an underlying cause. Not that he couldn’t acknowledge that he was happy to see his little brother and sharing a room with him in hospital was actually a boon to the medical process, but honestly, Virgil was beginning to worry.

“Don’t you have a list?”

Of course, a fish without a pond tended to be a bored fish.

“No, not really.”

“You don’t count successful rescues?”

“John and Scott keep records. I don’t like to dwell.”

His little brother shrugged. “I get that.”

There was silence for a while and Virgil let himself settle back into his pillow. Dosing was a rare pleasure.

“So, you don’t take advantage of being a hero even a tiny bit?”

Virgil blinked and frowned. “What?”

Gordon rolled over holding his injured arm and settled so he could see Virgil clearly. “You know, leverage a little heroism to start a conversation? Get one up on the stiffs at parties?”

He stared at his brother. “Are you having trouble at Penny’s charity functions?”

“Nooo.”

Okay, that meant yes. “You should talk to her, Gords.” He shrugged. “Need a wingman? I could come with.” Though he had to admit, he could see where Gordon was coming from. Some of those attendees were definitely stiffs who had never lifted a finger to help anyone but themselves in their entire lives.

“I can handle it.”

Okay, Virgil was definitely filching an invite to the next one. Could even drag in Scott. Big bro would torch the social scene. He wasn’t a fan, but he could play...to every other man’s detriment.

Or Virgil could ask John. Having a genius brother in orbit who had a daughter who had been told off several times already for influencing the stock market was an advantage.

“Virgil, stop the plotting. It is fine. I’ve got this. I just flex a little muscle, mention a few scars and spin a few tales. Joe WallStreet, or whatever they call it in London, doesn’t stand a chance.”

He eyed his brother. The urge to step in was strong.

Gordon smirked. “It is fine. Besides, you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon with that hairstyle.”

It was an obvious subject change, but it still earned Gordon a blistering glare. “Shut up.”

A snort and Gordon capitulated. “Don’t worry, bro, it’s cool. Shave the other side, get yourself some tatts and no one will ever question you on a rescue ever again.” The second snort was almost a giggle.

If only he could reach Gordon, clap him up the head.

There must have been something in his expression because Gordon burst out laughing, rolling on the bed, holding his arm to his side.

“You’re an ass.”

“And you, my dear artist bro, are entertaining.”

“Shove it.”

But at least Gordon was smiling.

Virgil would take that any day.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was up and about long before Virgil and took to disappearing from time to time into the depths of the hospital, often with one brother or the other and on several occasions, with Penelope.

Virgil didn’t get out much. He still had headaches and occasional dizzy spells, a lead on from a massive concussion and was the reason why they were still in hospital. Virgil had no doubt Gordon could probably have gone home, but was hanging about just because Virgil couldn’t.

If it pinned Gordon under medical observation and not in the ocean after such a serious injury, Virgil wasn’t going to argue. But it was frustrating that he himself wasn’t very mobile and he was sick of staring at the ceiling tiles.

They always bugged him as his artistic brain always constructed designs out of them and they always lacked symmetry.

Grandma, Alan, John, Scott and even Kayo were regular visitors. The Tracy clan had parked themselves in a nearby hotel, no doubt fueling both news agencies and the local economy.

Virgil just wanted to go home.

And Scott was out of sorts.

Scott was always out of sorts when a member of the family was injured, but this was different. And it was bugging Virgil.

Between his own injuries and the inability to pin his brother down due to interruptions and the lack of alone time, whatever it was that was bugging Scott was festering.

Topeka hospital was a familiar place to all of them. It had been their local major hospital for much of their formative years and considering the tornado seasons and IR responses, a regular delivery point for rescuees. There was a rooftop garden that had been sat in on several occasions in the past and it was with some conniving that Virgil spoke to Kayo to arrange for a corner of it to be secured so Virgil could go and sit up there for a bit of fresh air and privacy with his big brother.

He had no doubt that Scott knew he was being railroaded, but the lack of protest just emphasised how troubled his big brother was.

The sounds of the city below were no longer familiar and Virgil found himself longing for the ocean and the quiet of Tracy Island. It was evening, the sun having just set and the sky was a welcome sight after being confined to ceiling tiles for a few days, but the stars were dim, hidden by light pollution and a touch of smog.

It made him even more homesick.

“You okay, Virg?”

Scott had pushed him up here in a hoverchair. Virgil still needed it due to the dizzy spells and it ticked him off to no end. “Just homesick.”

Hi brother sighed. “Won’t be long. A couple of days and I’ll take you down to the beach and you can lay on the sand and stare at the stars to your heart’s content.”

Virgil shot him a glare. “I’m not John.”

“But you miss the stars anyway.”

Virgil grumbled. “I’m just used to seeing them.” He waved at hand at the sky. “It’s not the same.”

“Uh huh.” Scott was smiling in that condescending big brother knows better way he was so good at.

“Shut up.”

Scott didn’t stop grinning, he just dragged the ‘chair backwards until it nestled beside a park bench and then sat himself down beside Virgil.

They sat in silence for a while and Virgil let the soundscape seep into him. It was quieter up here than inside the hospital. There was a breeze with the scent of farmland under that pervasive smell of the city and cooling concrete. The breeze spoke of a possible storm in the distance. Virgil hoped it wasn’t a supercell. He had had enough of tornadoes for some time.

He missed the scent of the sea.

A sigh. He was being pathetic and falling into the doldrums over nothing. He was getting better. He would be home soon.

And screw it, he would plant his butt on a beach and drag Scott with him just to piss him off.

“You okay?”

Huh? Scott was peering at him, that worry ever persistent in the darkness of his eyes.

“It is you who I’m worried about.” So, it was defensive, big deal. Needed to start the conversation somehow.

“Me? I’m not the one who took on a combine harvester and nearly lost.”

“It wasn’t exactly a choice, you know.”

“I know.” It was quiet and Virgil knew he had hit the nail on the head.

“Talk to me, Scott.”

“About what?”

Virgil flat-eyed glared at him. “About whatever has been bugging you the last few days.”

“I would have thought that was obvious with two brothers in the hospital.” Definitely defensive.

“No. This is more.”

“What? There are degrees? I don’t need analysis, Virg.”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “You’re hurting. You’re not talking. What other recourse do I have?”

“Do you need one?”

“Of course, I do! You’re you! Whatever this is, it’s weighing on you and I hate to see you in pain.”

“I’m not in pain. It’s you who was injured.”

“If you’re trying to tell me that doesn’t affect you, you’re either lying through your teeth or I should be even more worried because you’ve obviously suffered brain damage of some kind and are no longer the Scott Tracy I know. Perhaps I should check you for a holographic disguise.”

Scott let out an annoyed scoff and shot to his feet, his actions agitated. “Virg, it’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Goddamnit, Virgil-“

“Talk to me!” And yelling apparently hurt his head, because it throbbed in protest. He grit his teeth and glared up at his brother. Please, Scott, for both our sakes.

“It was close, okay? Too damned close.”

Virgil swallowed. He knew that. “Not the first time.”

“So, I should be used to it by now?” Despite the darkness, Scott was lit up with internal fire.

“No.”

But he had finally triggered the avalanche and Scott spilled it all over him.

“Do you have any idea how close this was? Millimetres and you wouldn’t be here anymore, Virg.”

“Again, not the first time.”

“But it was so senseless!” Scott’s hands shot out palm up, desperate for understanding. “You weren’t even in the middle of a rescue. The sky just opened up, stabbed down a twister and threw a chunk of farm machinery at you. It lasted mere seconds and it nearly took both of you. Why? If you had landed a few metres further away, if you had been a few seconds later in arrival, hell, the margin for error was astronomical, yet, it still happened. I nearly lost you and Gordy for no damned reason whatsoever!”

“You need a reason?”

“Goddamned, I do! If I’m going to lose a brother, at least it should be for a reason. A sacrifice made for the good of all.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.” Virgil’s heart was thudding in his chest.

“Well, it should. We do so much, sacrifice so much already, I don’t think it is too much to ask. We’ve already lost...” Scott shoved his face into his hands and parked himself back on the park bench. “Why the hell do you ask me these things?”

Ever so quiet. “Because they need to be asked.”

“I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I nearly lost you for nothing.”

“We were there for a reason. We both went in knowing the danger, you know that.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I’d be worried if it did.” Virgil sighed. “We survived, Scott. Thanks to you. You were fast enough.”

The grunt and groan that made it out between his brother’s fingers was pain itself.

The hoverchair made it awkward, but Virgil reached out and snagged his big brother with an arm and hauled him in the best he could. Scott, of course, protested, but Virgil’s arms were not injured and he was always smug that he had at least one thing racked up on the achievement scale that beat his almighty big brother and that was strength.

So, Scott was dragged into a hug whether he wanted it or not.

“Still here.”

Scott grumbled something unintelligible.

“Gords is adding it to his story list to tell at Penny’s parties.”

“He’s what?”

Distraction achieved.

“Wanna drop by Penny’s next charity dinner and play wingman to Gords? You get to take a few stiffs down a peg or million. Apparently, a few asses need a big brother kicking. We can break out Johnny and Eos for extra fun, if you like.”

“Who’s been messing with Gordon?” There it was. Exactly the trigger point needed.

“The Joe Wallstreets seem to think they are better than a fish Tracy.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Want to help me educate them? Though admittedly Gords was doing quite well on his own, higher education is always a good thing.”

Scott was staring at him in the darkness. It was obvious his brother knew exactly what Virgil was doing.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. It will be good PR for whatever charity Penny is supporting. With a bit of luck we can play it to her advantage as well.”

Scott was still staring at him.

“What?”

Ever so quiet. “What would I do without you?”

Virgil swallowed, desperately ignoring all the implications and the reverse of that question. “Here’s hoping we never find out.”

Scott sighed and let his head drop onto Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil just tugged him a little tighter and returned to trying to see the stars.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[paulinedorchester]

Mosley, Leonard. Backs to the Wall: London Under Fire, 1939-1954. London: George Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1971; reprint, as Backs to the Wall: The Heroic Story of the People of London During World War II, New York: Random House, 1971.

Each generation gets the history that it needs — or wants, or demands. That’s what kept going through my head as I read Backs to the Wall, which appeared three years after France’s youth explicitly rejected both Charles de Gaulle, the self-appointed leader of the Free French during World War II, and the political ideology that he represented, and amidst ongoing unrest over the Vietnam War. (It’s also worth mentioning that it was published in the same year as Norman Longmate’s How We Lived Then: A History of Everyday Life During the Second World War and two years after Angus Calder’s The People’s War.) This book gives up a World War II narrative in which Churchill was an improvement on Chamberlain only in that he wasn’t an appeaser, de Gaulle was worse than both of them put together, the Allied leaders all cordially loathed each other, half the British public wanted to sue for peace, and there was across-the-board mutual dislike between London civilians and American troops (and British dismay at the way African-American troops were treated by their white counterparts was far from universal). Do I exaggerate? Only slightly. Backs to the Wall is a sort of distant, city-specific pre-echo of Juliet Gardner’s sour 2004 book Wartime: Britain, 1939-45.

As with Wartime, however, this book does have the virtue of introducing us to a number of very interesting people. I became interested in reading it because it brought Vere Hodgson’s wartime diary to public attention. Mosley quotes or paraphrases Hodgson’s writing from the beginning of the war through its end, and also seems to have interviewed her extensively. His primary villain, meanwhile, is not Chamberlain but Chamberlain’s chief acolyte, Henry “Chips” Channon, from whose diary he quotes widely (and who turns out to have been born and raised in the United States, to my surprise). We hear a great deal from the chemist and novelist C.P. Snow and follow the misadventures of two civilians, Jenny Martin and Polly Wright, whose consistency in both bad luck and bad choices meant that neither of them was able to stay out of serious trouble for any length of time.

There are many glimpses of the London home front through the eyes of two boys, both eight when the war began: John Hardiman, of Canning Town and later of Aldgate, who was evacuated in 1939 but soon returned to London, and Donald Ketley of Chadwell Heath, who was never evacuated at all. Donald, who thoroughly enjoyed himself during the war, had an experience that speaks to our own recent reality:

Another good thing: quite early in the Blitz, his school had been totally destroyed by a bomb. Since Donald was shy, a poor student and unpopular with his teacher, he was overjoyed when he heard the place was gone. Thereafter he went each day to his teacher’s home to pick up lessons, which he brought back the next day for marking. In the following months he changed from a poor student to an excellent one, and although he was aware that his teacher rather resented it, he didn’t care. 

Mosley also introduces us to Archibald McIndoe, the real-life counterpart of Patrick Jamieson, Bill Patterson’s character in the Foyle’s War episode ‘Enemy Fire.’ Art seems to have imitated life pretty accurately in that instance: he and his burn hospital in East Grinstead were apparently exactly like what was depicted, the only difference being that the hospital was set up in an existing hospital building, not in a requisitioned stately home.

Backs to the Wall seems to have been one of the earliest books to make substantial use of Mass-Observation writings. Most M-O diaries are anonymous, but there are two named diarists here who stand out. John James Donald was a committed pacifist whose air of lofty detachment as he observes the reactions of those around him to air-raids and other wartime event and prepares for his tribunal — which, in the end, he decides not to attend — quickly grows irritating. More interesting is Rosemary Black, a 28-year-old widow, in no small part because she differs markedly from what I had thought of as the archetypical M-O writer. Here’s her self-description on M-O documents: “Upper-middle-class; mother of two children (girls aged 3 and 2); of independent means.” Mosley continues:

She lived in a trim three-story house in a quiet street of the fashionable part of Maida Vale, a short taxi ride from the center of the West End, whose restaurants and theatres she knew well. She was chic and attractive, and lacked very few of the niceties of life: there was Irene, a Hungarian refugee, to look after the children; Helen, a Scottish maid, to look after herself and the house; and a daily cleaning woman to do the major chores.

Black took her children out of London at the beginning of the war but quickly brought them back, and when bombs began falling she kept them in place — air raids might be disruptive for them, but apparently relocation had been worse. She was very much aware that she was riding out the war in a position of privilege, and she often expressed guilt feelings; but this tended to fade away before her irritation at the dominance of “the muddling amateur or the soulless bureaucrat” in the war effort. Offering her services, even as a volunteer, proved very frustrating. “She was young, strong and willing; she typed, spoke languages, was an expert driver and had taken a course in first aid,” Mosley tells us, “but finding a job even as a chauffeur was proving difficult” in September 1940. (She actually wasn’t all that strong physically: as we learn, she suffered from rheumatism which grew worse during the war years and probably affected her outlook.)

Black was greeted with “apathy and indifference” by both A.R.P. and the Women’s Voluntary Service. Early in 1941 she was finally able to get a place handing out tea, sandwiches, cake, and so on to rescue and clean-up workers at bomb sites from a Y.M.C.A. mobile canteen. She was a bit intimidated by the women with whom she found herself working:

Their class is right up to the county family level. Nearly everyone is tall above the average and remarkably hefty, even definitely large, not necessarily fat but broad and brawny. Perhaps this is something to do with the survival of the fittest.

And the work did bring her some satisfaction, even if it was of the type that lent itself to being recorded with tongue placed firmly in cheek:

We had a pleasant and uneventful day’s work serving City fire sites, the General Post Office, demolition workers and Home Guard Stations, etc. We were complimented at least half a dozen times on the quality of our tea ... I think the provision of saccharine for the tea urns to compensate for the mean sugar allowance is my most successful piece of war work. What did you do in the Great War, Mummy? Sneaked pills into the tea urns, darling.

For all her good humor and astute observations, Mrs. Black was far from immune to tiny-mindedness. After an evening out in 1943 she wrote:

I had to wait some time for the others in the cinema foyer, and I was much struck, as often before, by the almost complete absence of English people these days, from the capital of England. Almost every person who came in was either a foreigner, a roaring Jew, or both. The Cumberland [Hotel] has always been a complete New Jerusalem, but this evening it really struck me as no worse than anywhere else! It is really dismaying to see that this should be the result of this war in defence of our country.

Indeed, Mosley cites the results of a multi-year Mass-Observation study that showed a marked increase in anti-Jewish views London’s general population over the course of the war. Since it’s just one study, and since I haven’t seen that study mentioned anywhere else, I am reluctant to trust blindly in its accuracy; and there’s also this:

The small flat which George [Hardiman] had procured for [his family] ... in Aldgate was cleaner and airier than the old house in Canning Town [which had been bombed], and the little Jewish children with whom John now went to school seemed to be cleaner than the ones in Elm Road; at any rate, he no longer came home with nits in his hair.

On the other hand, Mosley himself gives us only a fragmentary view of London’s wartime Jewish population: everyone seems to be either a terrified refugee or an impoverished East Ender. We hear nothing about the substantial middle- and upper-middle class population — mostly of German descent and in some cases German birth — that had already taken shape in Northwest London; and while we are briefly introduced to Sir David Waley, a Treasury official, in connection with the case of an interned Jewish refugee, we aren’t told that Waley himself was Jewish, a member of “the cousinhood.” On yet a third hand, Mosley also quotes other M-O surveys from the same period that indicate largely hostile attitudes to most foreigners in London, with Poles at the bottom of the ladder and the small Dutch contingent on top. (Incidentally, the book’s extremely patchy index identifies Vere Hodgson as a Mass-Observation diarist, which she wasn’t.)

Backs to the Wall closes with a very brief, remarkably non-partisan account of the 1945 general election and its immediate aftermath. “Neither side had any inkling of the way the minds of the British voters were turning,” he writes.

When [Churchill’s] friends suggested that he was a victim of base ingratitude, he shook his head. He would not have such a charge leveled against his beloved countrymen. Ingratitude? "Oh, no," he said quietly, "I wouldn’t call it that. They have had a very hard time."

The book is worth reading for the primary materials that it includes, but it probably tells us as much about the era in which it was written as about the period that it covers.  

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s Loki Episode 3: MCU Easter Eggs and References

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This article contains Marvel’s Loki episode 3 spoilers.

Marvel’s Loki episode 3 is a big one. It’s the first episode of the series to spend the entirety of its runtime outside of the TVA offices, the first where we get to spend a substantial amount of time with the mysterious Sylvie, and the coolest visit to an extraterrestrial location we’ve had in the MCU since Avengers: Endgame.

It’s a big one, and there’s lots of cool MCU things you might have missed, or might not know about from the pages of Marvel Comics…and more!

Here’s what we found in Marvel’s Loki episode 3. 

Lamentis

The planet Lamentis was introduced in the pages of Annihilation: Conquest Prologue (the very story that established the modern incarnation of the Guardians of the Galaxy). It exists on the outer rim of the Kree empire and is filled with scavengers trying to gather scarce resources via force. The Phyla-Vell version of Quasar and Moondragon were there to help keep the peace, mainly protecting a sect of pacifist priests from those who would take their stuff.

But to be clear, the events of Loki episode 3 take place on Lamentis-1, a moon of Lamentis, and it’s the planet itself that is breaking up and crashing into the moon, not the other way around.

Interestingly, while the lighting choices for this episode were most definitely a very specific story choice (more on that in a minute), it’s also in keeping with the way Lamentis was colored in its only comic book appearance.

Sylvie, Lady Loki, The Enchantress

We don’t get a TON of clarity on the nature of Sophia Di Martino’s Loki variant, but despite her “Sylvie” name, the balance is tipping further in the direction of her being a true “Lady Loki” and not strictly the Sylvie Lushton version of Enchantress from Marvel Comics (we wrote more about this confusing distinction here).

That being said, she’s not NOT Sylvie/Enchantress, either! It seems that Sylvie is indeed a variant Loki (recent merchandise reveals have officially shown that she is “Sylvie Laufeydottir” (as opposed to “Loki Laufeyson”)  so that’s another sign that she’s truly a variant of our Loki. For some reason (probably a good one) she doesn’t want to be known as a Loki anymore, hence “Sylvie,” and she does use enchantments as a primary power, hence “Enchantress.”

So the answer here is still “yes” to any of these questions, but we’re leaning on the simplest explanation being the correct one: she’s a Loki variant, and in true MCU fashion they’re just mashing up other elements of mythology from the comics to make a cool new character.

There’s also some serious Moonlighting energy between the hedonistic Loki and the more serious and on-mission Sylvie all through this episode, but we’re wondering how many of you are even old enough to remember Moonlighting, and that is depressing. 

The Loki/Enchantress-appropriate green tie-dye that Sylvie is rocking in the bar “flashback” is pretty cool, but not an Easter egg. But maybe we should bring tie-dye back this summer.

Loki is Bisexual

The “bisexual lighting” that Lamentis is bathed in throughout the entirety of the episode is no accident, as it’s revealed that both Loki and Sylvie are bisexual. Loki director Kate Herron spoke briefly about this reveal on Twitter, as well:

From the moment I joined @LokiOfficial it was very important to me, and my goal, to acknowledge Loki was bisexual. It is a part of who he is and who I am too. I know this is a small step but I’m happy, and heart is so full, to say that this is now Canon in #mcu #Loki 💗💜💙 pic.twitter.com/lz3KJbewx8

— Kate Herron (@iamkateherron) June 23, 2021

As far as we can tell, in terms of the comics, Loki’s bisexuality first came up in Young Avengers #15. After saving the world and getting a bit of a pep talk from Prodigy, a late-teen incarnation of Loki hit on his teammate for the sake of celebration, but was ultimately turned down.

“My culture doesn’t really share your concept of sexual identity,” Loki said in that issue. “There are sexual acts, that’s it. I’m actually the patron god of certain popular ones, believe it or not.” (some very cursory research fails to confirm that last point, which would really be perfectly in keeping for Loki to lie about)

“Another!”

When partying up on the train, Loki smashes his empty glass and excitedly asks for another. This is exactly what his brother does in the first Thor movie after enjoying a cup of coffee at a diner. It’s an Asgardian custom!

The Songs

The song that opens the episode is “Demons” by Hayley Kiyoko, which also includes some potentially Loki-specific lines as “Please forgive me, I’ve got demons in my head, tryin’ to eat me, tryin’ to feed me lies until I’m dead.”

The song that closes the episode is “Dark Moon,” a 1957 country hit by Bonnie Guitar (there are other versions, including a rare one by Elvis Presley and a really cool one by Chris Isaak for the soundtrack of the very cool and underrated A Perfect World, but the version here is Bonnie’s). It’s a little on-the-nose with the events happening on Lamentis, but also features haunting lyrics that may hint at something more: “Mortals have dreams of love’s perfect schemes, but they don’t realize that love will sometimes bring a…Dark Moon.”

Does anyone know the name of the song that Loki sings while he’s “full?” If so, please let us know in the comments!

The TVA

The mobile devices that TVA agents use to navigate through timelines are given a name in this episode: TemPads. 

We get a couple more bits of important TVA context this episode. The first is that apparently the Time Keepers reside at the top floor accessible by a golden elevator in the TVA offices. When Hunter C-20 said she “gave up the location” of the Time Keepers last week, who could have expected the answer to be so simple?

Additionally, Sylvie reveals at episode’s end that all TVA employees had a life prior to joining the TVA. In fact, every TVA worker was at some point a Variant just like Loki and Sylvie. This directly contradicts Miss Minutes’ claim that the TVA employees were created by the Time Keepers to police the Sacred Timeline. This may mean that Mobius was also lying to Loki about the nature of TVA agents…UNLESS…in the comics, Mobius was one of many Mobiuses, because the TVA engaged in “managerial cloning” for their best representatives, while employing “freelancers” for other work. Perhaps Mobius was telling Loki his truth, while Sylvie’s theory about the Variants being conscripted into service as Minutemen is ALSO true.

During the end credits, there’s a collection of TVA file photos on a desk, showing Loki and Sylvie together. Apparently, they’re getting their images from their exploits from Lamentis-1, as one photo is specifically Loki as a train guard. Looks like these two aren’t as hidden from the authorities as they realized.

Miscellaneous Time Variants

Funny enough, the shot of Loki landing after being thrown out of the train is framed to look exactly like when Loki fell out of Doctor Strange’s portal in Thor: Ragnarok.

The two soldiers at the entrance to the train are called Corporal Hicks and Private Hudson which is a neat nod to Michael Biehn and Bill Paxton’s characters in Aliens!

The guards on Lamentis look kind of like they’re wearing Cobra uniforms, don’t they?

There’s a serious Snowpiercer vibe to that “rich folks getting on a train to escape a natural disaster/apocalypse while the poor are left to suffer and die.” Wait, that is actually a real life vibe, too.

If episode 2 was a police procedural, this episode is very much “peak TV,” right down to its use of an obscure needledrop to end the episode coming out of an elaborate “one take” action sequence. Daredevil no longer has a monopoly on those in Marvel TV, it would seem.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Spot something we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s Loki Episode 3: MCU Easter Eggs and References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[shelleysbysshe]

Questions from a new Romantic era fanatic: Why does everyone hate polidori and who the hell is keats?

Hello, dear anon, and welcome to the World of Romanticism! There is no turning back now. This post will be super long, so if you wanted short answers, I beg you to forgive me for that, but I wanted to write something consistent and detailed, with many links for further reading in case you (or anyone else) are interested. Just click on “keep reading” (if you’re on the web. I’m not sure if there is this option on the mobile app).

Well, people hate John Polidori because he was an asshole in Geneva. To give you a few examples of his ridiculous behaviours: during a sailing trip, he hit Byron’s knee with an oar — Byron turned his face away in pain. Polidori, instead of apologising, remarked that he was glad to see that Byron was capable of demonstrating emotions. Byron got so pissed he said that if Mary wasn’t on board, he would have thrown Polidori overboard. The situation, according to Thomas Moore, went like this: “Be so kind, Polidori, another time, to take more care, for you hurt me very much.” — “I am glad of it,” answered the other; “I am glad to see you can suffer pain.” In a calm suppressed tone, Lord Byron replied, “Let me advise you, Polidori, when you, another time, hurt any one, not to express your satisfaction. People don’t like to be told that those who give them pain are glad of it; and they cannot always command their anger. It was with some difficulty that I refrained from throwing you into the water; and, but for Mrs. Shelley’s presence, I should probably have done some such rash thing.“He also purposefully picked on Shelley. On Moore’s words, “Polidori had become jealous of the growing intimacy of his noble patron with Shelley”, and even wanted to duel him after he lost a sailing match. However, Shelley was a known pacifist. Byron, on the other hand, offered himself to duel Polidori, claiming that “though Shelley has some scruples about duelling, I have none and shall be at all times ready to take his place.” Anyway, here’s what the physician wrote about Shelley when they first met: “bashful, shy, consumptive; twenty-six; separated from his wife; keeps the two daughters of Godwin, who practise his theories;”There was also that one time when Polidori asked Byron “what is there you can do that I cannot?”. Byron’s answer was priceless: “I can swim across that river—I can snuff out that candle with a pistol-shot at the distance of twenty paces—and I have written a poem of which 14,000 copies were sold in one day.”

Judging by what I’ve read so far, I’d say the guy was such a pain in the ass, that Byron didn’t even trust him. On a letter to Hobhouse (June 23rd, 1816), he wrote: “that child and childish Dr. Pollydolly contrived to find it [a bottle of potash] broken, or to break it (…)”

Apparently he was a decent person only when he was around Mary, probably because he had a crush on her.

Anyway, Byron was no saint — I adore him (more than I should, probably), but I do know he was a complex person. However, Polidori was the worst, and Byron didn’t deserve that.

Polidori’s journal from 1816 is available online for free. If you wish to read it, you can find it here.Another useful link: Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 3 by Thomas Moore. Also, fun fact: his sister, Frances Polidori, married Gabriele Rossetti. Therefore, John Polidori was Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s and Christina Rossetti’s uncle (although he died before they were born).

And now to who the hell is John Keats Well, here we go…Born in 1795, John Keats was a working-class man — someone whose life was quite frustrating, and surrounded by death (he died at 25, but still outlived his parents, his grandma and his brother). He wanted to be a poet, and to be among the great English poets when he died. Therefore, he began writing around 1814 (if I am not mistaken), and his poems were filled with beautiful lines about nature, beauty, imagination and words about his muse, a young woman named Fanny Brawne.Most of his contemporaries, however, didn’t like his work — it is said that his poems sold barely 200 copies back in the day. Byron, for example, despised Keats as a poet — he used to criticize his poems, and once he even said Keats’ works were a sort of “mental masturbation”. He mentions Keats in Don Juan (Canto XI, stanza LX. He kinda mocks the myth surrounding his death*), as well as in his letters.Shelley, on the other hand, loved Keats, and wrote a massive elegy on his death, Adonaïs, which probably helped keeping Keats’ legacy alive. When Shelley drowned, his body was identified because he had a book of poems by Keats in his pocket. Ironically, Keats didn’t like Shelley that much.Unfortunately, Keats fate was not a fair one: he contracted tuberculosis, probably from his brother, who died of consumption in 1818. The symptoms got worse around 1820, so it was decided that he should retire to a warmer climate in order to survive. In November of the same year, he arrived in Italy. However, because Keats was medically trained, and had already seen people dying of tuberculosis, so he knew he was going to die soon. He knew exactly what was going on, and that moving to Rome wouldn’t work. He knew was doomed.The poor man died in Italy, of tuberculosis, at the age of 25, in 1821, believing he was a failure. He was the youngest of the English Romantics, and also the first one to die.Even though his life was quite bitter, he always did his best to see beauty in every thing that surrounded him — quoting his Endymion “a thing of beauty is a joy forever”; and quoting Keats himself (from a letter): “"If I should die,” said I to myself, “I have left no immortal work behind me - nothing to make my friends proud of my memory - but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.“”.From the state his lungs were after his death (described by his friend Severn on a letter to Fanny: “the lungs were completely gone. The Doctors could not conceive by what means he had lived these two months.”), one can only imagine how much he agonized and suffered during his last days.He was buried at the protestant cemetery in Rome (same place as Shelley). On his tombstone, one can read “This grave contains all that was Mortal of a Young English Poet Who on his Death Bed, in the Bitterness of his Heart at the Malicious Power of his Enemies Desired these Words to be engraven on his Tomb Stone: Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water. ”After his death, Fanny Brawne suffered a lot for about 8 years of her life.John Keats became quite successful a few years later, during the Victorian era, and his poems deeply influenced the pre-raphaelites, and even Tennyson. Nowadays, he is considered to be one of the greatest English poets, as he so ardently desired to be during his lifetime.If you wish to read his poems, I recommend Ode to a Nightingale, On Death, Ode on a Grecian Urn, When I Have Fears, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, Bright Star, Isabella or The Pot of Basil, and This Living Hand. You can read more about John Keats’ life here and here. You can read Keats’ letters here

*The Myth surrounding Keats’ death was that he died because of the stress generated by the harsh comments his poems received. Obviously, that was not the case…

And that’s it.

Thank you very much for asking! I hope you enjoyed my answers! If you, or anyone else has any other question about the romantics, you can ask me here.

[eldritchsurveys]

376.

01 — Is your mood or the overall tone of your day often affected by the dreams you had the night before? >> Rarely. I mean, I don’t even remember most of my dreams, and when I do they’re usually pretty mundane. 02 — Do you listen to podcasts? If so, which ones? When do you typically listen to them? >> Not usually. 03 — Have you ever used exercise as a way of controlling/releasing your emotions? >> No. 04 — How do you define “beauty,” and to what extent does it matter to you? Do you think that beauty is something that is actually attainable? Do you actively strive to be beautiful, and to what lengths do/would you go to attain beauty? >> I don’t really have a working definition for beauty in terms of people. I think of beauty in terms of like... music, and shit, but not... people’s bodies or whatever. Either a person is attractive or unattractive to me, and that’s that -- and that means literally nothing at the end of the day anyway. I don’t strive to be “beautiful” because that doesn’t mean anything to me. Beautiful to whom? Some random people that I don’t even care about? Why? Like, the whole concept just falls apart when I think about it.

05 — How do you keep track of your finances? >> I just check the balance on my mobile banking app every so often to make sure everything’s on the up-and-up.

06 — Do you remember the very first time you came across surveys or the Xanga survey-taking community? How long after that did you take your first survey or start your own account? >> I don’t remember the first time, no, because it was like 15 years ago. I don’t remember when I first started taking surveys, either, because same reason. 07 — Do you think that there are any positive aspects or outcomes of suffering from a mental illness? If you have a mental illness, do you think it has changed you for the better in any way? >> I think I’ve gained a lot of insight about the variety of human experience by having to learn how to navigate the world in a way that makes sense to me. The “typical” path is unavailable to me because of how my brain is wired, so I’ve had to search for lesser-used paths or carve out my own, and that has been very instructive. It also makes me more tolerant of other people’s paths, because I know there are many of them and we’re all largely doing our best. (I just don’t necessarily want everyone’s path to cross mine, you dig.)

08 — What is your opinion on celebrity culture and celebrity worship? Have you ever been guilty of putting a celebrity on a pedestal? Do you think it’s somehow more acceptable/understandable to obsess over certain types of celebrities (musicians over YouTubers, say) than others? At what point do you think an obsession like that crosses the line? >> I find it a bit unnerving, and I’m sure a lot of celebrities do too. When I was a teenager I indulged in plenty of my own brand of “celebrity worship” but it was mostly self-contained (because, you know, the internet wasn’t yet the social-media beast that it is now), and I do still think of it as something that a teenager might do before they grow out of it. The fact that grown ass people who know full well that celebrities are just shiny humans are doing it is the unnerving part to me. I think it crosses all the lines when people start stalking celebrities or their families (online or offline), or tweeting rude or sexual shit to them directly, or otherwise being totally disrespectful of any boundaries that celebrity may have. People will talk about sexual harassment and shit and then turn around and tweet eggplant emojis at like Idris Elba or whatever. Fuck off with that. 09 — Do you enjoy livetweeting? If so, what sorts of things do you livetweet about? >> I don’t tweet at all. 10 — What are some expectations you had about your education or career, and how do they compare to the reality? >> I had no expectations, which is partly why I have no regrets. I was confused for a while because I couldn’t do what other people were doing (and what I was apparently expected to do), and I wondered if it was some kind of personal failing, but I learned the truth eventually. 11 — If you were to pursue a career in photography and had the opportunity and means to photograph whatever you wanted, what would most like to photograph? >> I wouldn’t want to be a photographer. 12 — Is there a certain type of clothing (outerwear, activewear, loungewear, etc.) that you enjoy shopping for more than others? >> I am really just not happy shopping for clothing at all. I do it because I must, but it’s an ordeal. 13 — Do you consider yourself an insecure person? What things are you most insecure about? >> Nah, not really. I might have moments here and there, but even in those moments I know that shit is unrealistic as hell. 14 — How concerned are you about your internet privacy? What sort of information do you avoid giving out online that others may readily offer up? What do you think of the argument that “I don’t care if [government organization] surveils me because I’ve got nothing to hide"? >> I’m not as concerned as maybe I should be, but I just can’t bring myself to care all that much. There are things that I have finally said “okay, no, I’m done with this” to, like having a facebook account, but also like... I know damn well Google is siphoning my data from me with the biggest vacuum hose possible but I’m not going to quit using Google. I think that “nothing to hide” argument is one that sounds like it makes sense when you say it, and it should, but the problem is that that only works if you have a scrupulous government... 15 — Is there someone in your life who always seems to be looking for your sympathy/pity? How do/would you deal with someone like that? >> No. People like that usually end up feeling very wronged by me. 16 — Do you tag posts for trigger/content warnings? Does it bother you when people don’t do so? >> I don’t. And no, it doesn’t bother me at all when other people don’t. 17 — Do you have any projects that you’ve been thinking of starting for a while but haven’t gotten around to? Are there any ideas for projects that you have that you don’t think you’ll ever get around to? >> ... That damn Walter O’Dim fic concept is still rattling around the back of my mind, but I don’t have anything concrete to build on so it’s just going to have to rattle around until it gives me something to work with. 18 — Are you ever afraid to post your ideas, artwork, photography, etc. online for fear that they will get stolen or not credited? >> No. My only creative output is headcanon and fanfiction and that’s pretty difficult to steal -- and honestly, even if someone did, it wouldn’t bother me. If you can take something of mine and successfully make it your own, then you have my blessing. After all, that’s exactly what I did when I wrote the fanfiction in the first place, innit? (Even if it was an original work of fiction, I would still feel the same way. I just... don’t really care, like with most things. I do think it’s rude to steal other people’s work, or post it without credit, though, because I know I’m an anomaly and most creatives DO care -- which is why I religiously try to find and post sources for uncredited work I see on tumblr.)

[theblindadventures]

David Blunkett on meeting his new Guide Dog

Former Home Secretary, Lord David Blunkett has been getting to know his new guide dog Barley.

The black retriever/German Shepherd cross is his seventh guide dog since he qualified with his first in 1969. His previous guide dog Cosby died in late 2017.

Lord Blunkett spoke about the experience of learning routes around Sheffield and London with his new companion and the feeling of independence he has regained.

He wrote: “Last November, my much-loved companion Cosby died unexpectedly from liver cancer. Until the final few days of his life, my wife Margaret and I had no idea he was ill. The first sign that anything was wrong came when he didn’t want his breakfast – not natural behaviour for any labrador-cross, and completely out of character for Cosby, who weighed more than seven stone. When the vet told us the cancer was inoperable, I was completely unprepared in many ways.

“Cosby was not yet eight years old, and though the only humane option was to have him put to sleep to save further suffering, my heart broke in the clinic as I held his head to comfort him.

“He was my sixth guide dog in almost 50 years, after Ruby, Teddy, Offa, Lucy and Sadie. On each previous occasion, there had been an overlap, a transition when I’d been able to get to know my new dog while still working with the old one. Sadie stayed at my side till she was 11, before going off to a well-earned rest with a loving foster family. But after Cosby died, I was left without a dog. It came as a shock to realise just how much I relied on my canine helpmate.

“I’ve rarely spoken about the challenges I face in public life without sight. I prefer to highlight what I have to offer, and I’m always conscious that everyone has their own problems, often hidden and sometimes very serious.

“But it might be helpful to readers facing difficulties of their own for me to explain the practical and emotional challenges that have taken me by surprise since losing Cosby.

“Some have been comical: it turns out that the Palace of Westminster is littered with chairs and stone pillars whose existence I never realised while I had my dog to steer me.

“One obstacle floored me, quite literally, when I tripped over it in a parliamentary corridor. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a mobility scooter. You have to laugh, though it was a relief to realise that I hadn’t suffered much harm other than bruises to my dignity.

“Other problems are more debilitating, and perhaps you have to experience them to appreciate how hard life can be with a disability. My friend Frank Gardner, the renowned security editor at the BBC, has spoken of the frustration he felt on landing at Heathrow recently, when his wheelchair was not brought to the cabin door of his plane, but was taken into the terminal.

“The need to depend on the patience and kindness of others evokes complicated emotions. I am grateful for people’s thoughtfulness, but it is also painful for me to acknowledge just how helpless I am without them.

“Friends and members of the public have been wonderful, yet their help served to reinforce my levels of temporary dependency. For me, as with so many blind people, a guide dog removes much of that reliance on others.

“I have great admiration for those proficient in using a long cane, as clearly a dog doesn’t suit everyone. It’s not enough to be blind – you must also be a dog-lover. A working dog is not a pet but it still needs your care, attention, time and love. If you can’t provide that, you shouldn’t take on the responsibility.

“Dogs thrive on routine, and I’m having to relearn some habits... such as going without a weekend lie-in, because Barley needs his breakfast and a chance to go outside. Even on wet and miserable days, a dog needs to be taken for walks. And because he’s not yet two years old, he needs plenty of play.

“It’s the play that’s wearing me out. Cosby liked a bit of fun but he didn’t have endless youthful energy to burn off. Neither do I, come to that. But Barley could chase tennis balls all day and night. He brings them back, but not often in one piece – the temptation to chew them to shreds is too strong.

“He loves a game of tug-of-war, too, with a rope or a toy. My arms and shoulders are sore from it. I’m getting used to him in other ways. Because Cosby was more like a small pony than a dog, I could reach down to pat his back without stretching or letting go of his harness. Sleek, black and handsome, Barley isn’t quite that tall, but he does love praise, even more than a scratch behind the ears.

“When I tell him he’s a ‘good boy’, his very long, bushy tail lashes away like a furry windscreen wiper. I worry about that tail, in fact – he’d better keep it tucked in when we go through revolving doors. He seems confident on escalators, and we are already getting used to using the London Underground together.

“In the capital with a guide dog, I’m constantly aware that we’ll need a convenient patch of grass several times a day. When meetings drag on, there’s always the thought in the back of my mind that the dog might be thirsty, or need exercise. This all has to be planned in advance. It’s not just a matter of putting on the harness and walking out of the door.

“Luckily, we have the Peak District countryside close by for weekend walks, which gives opportunities for Barley to relax and shake off the rigours of the working week. As yet, I wouldn’t trust Barley around sheep: if they scatter, his instinct would be to round them up, which would be dangerous.

“One of my dogs, Sadie, was trained to walk through a flock without distraction – and somehow the sheep understood this, and were not scared. I’ve never understood how that worked. If sheep are usually frightened of dogs, I’m the one who is wary of cattle. “About nine years ago, I was knocked over by an aggressive heifer, and suffered three cracked ribs. So while Barley and I plan to enjoy our country strolls, we’ll be staying well away from the larger livestock.

“Before he came to me, Barley spent more than a year with a very experienced puppy walker called Sue. She recognised at once there was something special about him – ‘He’s a bright boy, a quick learner who enjoys meeting people,’ she said. Apparently he befriended every bus driver in the town, as he practised using public transport.

“Of course, as far as Barley knows, I’m just the latest human in a succession of puppy walkers and professional trainers. It will take him a while to realise I’m sticking around. In that respect, he reminds me of a civil servant in a government department, who looks after a succession of Cabinet ministers and must transfer loyalty from one to the next. The difference is that owners have to clear up after their dogs – whereas ministers sometimes make a mess for the civil servants to deal with.

“As Barley and I get the measure of each other, he will be constantly learning about my routines. It’s a common misconception that guide dogs come with a built-in satnav, pre-programmed with every road map. In fact, they have to get to know their owners’ regular walks – where the street crossings are, the bus stops, the cafes and shops. On every new route, they have to use their initiative.

“A guide dog is trained not just to avoid obstacles, but to stay to the middle of the pavement, and to stop at kerbs and steps. A calm temperament is needed to cope with crowds and traffic, and of course obedience is essential – a dog should not turn a corner or step into the road, for instance, until the command is given.

“That requires exceptional training, but what always amazes me most is how the animal is able to judge height and width, so that I don’t bump my head or shoulder.

“If you see us out together, by all means give me friendly shout, but please don’t distract Barley. He’s got enough to do already. What might not be visible is how he reduces the stress of simply navigating everyday journeys for me. Wherever we go, a dog makes life so much easier than I knew, until I had to do without one.

“Yes, his youthful exuberance is tiring me out. And yes, I’m running out of tennis balls. But he is restoring my dignity and independence to me, and that is a blessing beyond price.”

Original link to website from Guide dogs https://www.guidedogs.org.uk/news/news/#barley

[ancientbrit]

Natter #14  07/04/2016

Subject: MI MG Natter # 14 2016 Date: July 4, 2016 at 10:52:31 PM PDT  Kathryn Rogovy <kate@fiddlebait.com> Sunday I went straight to Rite Aid to get the bookcase mobilized and Beverly tried to find our specific space - again! That's four Markets on three different spots now. This time there wasn't even a space. Eventually Bev was able to reach Patty who organized us a canopy, table and chairs and we were off to the races. By this time Ira was there too, but we left the carousel behind as it was raining by now - fortunately it didn't last long and our clients were steady all day. Amongst these clients were old friends, including a retired ex-New York school teacher who had not shown up before and I been getting rather concerned about her. When she did arrive, I am afraid that I asked her where the heck she had been as I was getting worried. She thanked me and showed me a walking stick along with an explanation of a leg problem subjected to a CAT scan and assorted other treatments. I thought about Horst and his take on the Plant Sales - that they aren't so much important because of the money they raise, but more that they enable all MGs to get together and exchange good cheer and enjoy themselves together for at least one time in the year. I realised just how many good friends I have made since becoming a Master Gardener - and not just in the MG movement, but amongst those who come to the Markets too. This ex-school teacher is a case in point. We see her throughout the season and during June she brings her grandson with her to meet us and we have some good, and quite adult conversations together. So enjoyable. There is the exuberant and demonstrative Carole who runs up with arms spread wide apart for a big hug as she asks me how Jean is doing. Carole is also a cancer survivor and it is quite delightful to see how she loves life. Her husband looks on all this time, just glad I guess that Carole is still there and still her exuberant self. JoAnne, another older friend turned up again, whom I had not seen for years. We were next door neighbors 40 odd years ago when our daughter was first born and we lived in an old house, built by hand in 1906 by a German Mason who lived there. Jo lived in a much newer house and the ground around her house was typical of new construction everywhere - all compacted, probably sub-soil and covered in bark mulch. JoAnne was raising three girls, taught Spanish and guitar and obviously had all the spare time in the world. She had planted a row of lettuce seedlings into this unforgiving soil and over the three weeks they had been in, they had shown absolutely no change at all. My old property had never suffered insult to the ground from heavy equipment and had been extensively cultivated over the years. I had no problem clearing grass and getting in veggies, along with my beehives. My lettuce was doing very well and one Saturday I was thinning out excess growth for 'saladings' and saw that we had way more than we could eat. It suddenly occurred to me, that being of an extremely generous disposition, I could donate some of the excess to Jo. And so, as darkness descended, I gathered around a dozen of the better looking plants and my trusty trowel and sneaked over to Jo's place. Although it was dark, I could find my way easily as there was a mass of light streaming from her kitchen window, lighting her miserable row of lettuce. No sign of Jo. Out came the miseries and back in went my superior lettuce. A quick drink, shuffle the mulch back into place and home for a good night's sleep. Sunday morning early, here comes Jo, yelling at the top of her voice -"Gordon, Gordon, you have to come see my lettuce!" She paid me back later by giving me a Play Boy center-fold jig saw puzzle, but she had removed the picture from which you put the puzzle together! I had to work from something recognizable and work out from there. A terrible chore I have to say! Reminding her now of her gift, I was amazed to see her blush. A little later a familiar face appeared with a big grin and I had to laugh. This was the famous Kathryn. You might remember from last year, when I apparently had tripped the light fantastic, hand in hand with Kathryn on the tables at the Roanoke Inn, totally naked apart from a fig leaf I had picked on Island Crest, before throwing up on her exclusive silk jacket! I had learned of all this when I found a screwed up piece of paper in my pants pocket which had her name, address and email address on it. I looked at it and for the life of me I had no idea who she was,  and so, feeling a bit stupid, I wrote her a note to ask. She replied with the above story and I was delighted, totally delighted as I realized what a chance she had taken in writing this way to me. She didn't know me and she must have been a bit nervous after hitting send. I was so glad to get it and I replied in kind. I still grin every time I recall the story - it just makes my day - thank you again Kathryn. When she appears at the market with a wide grin on her face, I always introduce her to the other MG’s as my drinking and dancing partner. The day wound on with 26 clients posing questions that we were able to answer with only one sample needing to go to the lab. Bev, Ira and I discussed many of the outstanding questions needing resolution for the September 24th event, with Ira generously accepting the chair for one of the event classifications. We are getting closer! We had had some interesting discussions across the table and the earlier rain had gone away. The expected sun stayed away too, but overall it was a good day. Next time. Your fearless leader, Gordon

[alimcnamara]

Today for M.E. Awareness Week here’s an article I wrote about my own M.E. story for some of the M.E. charities to use in their campaigns.

“Marathons to Mobility Scooters” – My M.E. Story.

I used to be one of those crazy people that enjoys running marathons, well half marathons, but 13miles is still a long way!

However, these days I need a mobility scooter to get around the same streets I used to run on. So what happened to bring about this massive change in my health?

M.E. happened - a disease many of us have heard of, but one we don’t always know that much about. Myalgic Encephalomyelitis to give it it’s full name, is often known as chronic fatigue syndrome, which suggests its simply about being a bit tired. But once you, or someone you know has M.E. you quickly realise it’s so much more than just that.

Along with extreme exhaustion it can cause joint and muscular pain, problems with the nervous and digestive systems, neurological symptoms such as brain fog and speech difficulties, sleep disturbances, and a constant flu like malaise. I could go on and on…

But back to the beginning. I used to be a personal trainer and fitness instructor, and part of my job was looking after people with health conditions that could be helped with exercise. I had my own gym, and used to easily exercise 4-5 times a week, either in the gym or by going out running. Exercise always made me feel better. If I was having an off day I knew that by working out my mood would improve, and any lethargy I might have would magically disappear.

But then something strange began to happen, instead of making me feel better, exercise began to make me feel worse, and I was always tired. To begin with I thought it was hormonal, after all I was at an age when my menopause was likely not too far away. So like many women I put ‘feeling a bit off’ down to that, and just got on with it. But as the months went by, my days of feeling ill were far beginning to outweigh my days of feeling well. I was exercising less and less, and when I did push myself to work out, I’d always feel awful the next day. Luckily for me I wasn’t working in fitness by now, I’d managed to carve out a new, and surprisingly successful career writing novels – a complete U-turn, but one I was so glad of, because it meant I could work around my ‘off days’.

I was diagnosed with Graves’ disease around this time – an auto-immune condition that makes your thyroid go out of whack. Medication and a gluten free diet eventually helped me get this under control. Great, I thought, now at last I might start to feel like my old self again.

But my body had other ideas. Although my thyroid was now under control, I still didn’t feel right, in fact I felt down right wrong! By now I was feeling ill most of the time –  apart from the extreme exhaustion that would follow when I was doing even the most basic of tasks, I had so many other symptoms that I was embarrassed to go to my G.P. and complain about them for fear of sounding like a hypochondriac. Apart from constant fatigue, I had brain fog, difficulty concentrating and communicating, problems with my joints that meant I was using crutches to walk, stomach problems, headaches, terrible insomnia, and an extreme sensitivity to bright light and noise.

Eventually I relented though, and my G.P. did a whole barrage of blood tests – all of which came back negative, which was a relief, but also didn’t help me much. What was wrong with me? ‘It could be one of two things.’ My G.P. told me pragmatically. ‘Depression or M.E.’

I’d suffered with depression in the past, so I knew it wasn’t that. Obviously I wasn’t happy to be feeling like this, but I wasn’t in the dark place true depression takes you to. So I was referred to an M.E./CFS clinic, (I’m lucky that my local health authority provides one when so many don’t.) where I was diagnosed by a specialist as having M.E. and I began to see an occupational therapist once a month, which so far I’ve found very helpful.

So where am I now? Sadly, a long, long way from running marathons!

Like a large percentage of people with M.E. I’m mostly housebound, but luckily not bedbound yet. I rarely venture out of my house, and when I do I struggle to walk very far without becoming totally exhausted. I recently bit the vanity bullet and got myself a mobility scooter to use when my crutches just aren’t enough to take the strain. 

This has given me some of my independence back and allowed me to go places that simply weren’t possible before. I still struggle daily with tasks that I wouldn’t have thought twice about doing before M.E. and I also suffer with many neurological problems, particularly with my speech and cognitive thinking, that makes life extremely difficult.

I’m still able to write – thank goodness. But I have to pace my time doing so, to prevent a deterioration in my symptoms. Pacing is something I’ve found very useful in helping me control my M.E. and hopefully prevent it worsening. I’m all too aware that there are many many others much worse than I am, who would give anything to be able to live what I consider a half-life, yet they would consider very full indeed.

There’s a chance I could fully recover from this (although it’s unlikely at my age apparently.) I may remain the same, or I could get worse. I simply don’t know what the future holds. So for now, I just take each day at a time. I try not to think too much about the person I once was, I just concentrate on the person I am now.

There are #MillionsMissing from your streets, your social events, your workplaces and your lives. A marathon to you is running 26miles, a marathon to us could be taking a shower one day, and simply getting out of bed the next.  To you a mobility scooter might seem like something only the elderly need, but to us it might be our only way to be a part of your lives once more.

Ali McNamara -  2019

[warlockbaene]

Home

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

angst/fluff

Summary:  A sudden feeling of loneliness overcame him. Pulling out his mobile phone, Magnus contemplated if it was too late to call Alec. A smile crept unto his face thinking about the tall Shadowhunter. Magnus knew that Alec was probably busy and would not be able to come over, but just listening to Alec's voice for awhile would be enough for the moment.

read on ao3 or under the cut

A/N: so I wrote a really short fic about Malec. This is my first fic in English and I haven’t written fics for like 3 to 4 years so I’m kinda hyped about this. Hope you like it!

Closing his apartment door after letting himself in, Magnus leaned against it with a deep sigh, enjoying a moment of silence. Home sweet home. After a long day full of appointments he was tired. Not only tired but utterly exhausted. He could feel the exhaustion in his whole body. His arms seemed to be weighing a ton, his feed hurt like hell, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of a stressful day. With another sigh he pushed himself away from the door into his dark living room where he sank into his favourite armchair. A sudden feeling of loneliness overcame him. Pulling out his mobile phone, Magnus contemplated if it was too late to call Alec. A smile crept unto his face thinking about the tall Shadowhunter. Magnus knew that Alec was probably busy and would not be able to come over, but just listening to Alec's voice for awhile would be enough for the moment. 4:13 am. Alec was probably still awake, but Magnus didn't want to risk the chance of waking him. The Shadowhunter didn't get enough sleep anyway, with Valentine still on the run and the aftermath of the attack on the Institute. Magnus and Alec could have been on another date right now, having a billiard rematch and drinking sweet cocktails. They could be cuddling on Magnus sofa, catching up on all these amazing movies that Alec never had the pleasure to watch. Shadowhunters apparently had other priorities than watching movies. But no, they were not in a bar, they were not cuddling, and all because Valentine had to throw a tantrum. Now he was stuck pulling up wards and increasing security on Downworlders flats, and Alec was needed at the Institute. Everyone remembered what happened the last time Valentine and his underlings were on the loose. Magnus shuddered when he remembered his first encounter with Valentine and the circle, the tortured Werwolf girl and the crumpled bodies of the Whitelaws. Certainly not happy thoughts. Magnus decided to send a short text to Alec, just in case he was awake and had time to talk. He missed Alec, even though he had seen him the day before. He simply missed being in Alec's presence. It felt like ages had passed since the last time they had spent time together. Magnus sat up and stretched his tired limps. Pulling up wards and casting spells all day took its toll even on the High Warlock of Brooklyn. The exhausted warlock dragged himself out of the armchair and stopped in his tracks when he reached the open door, looking inside his bedroom. The tired smile returned to his face. A certain tall dark haired Shadowhunter lay under the purple covers. Magnus congratulated himself on his brilliant idea to give Alec his own set of keys to Magnus' flat. A familiar feeling which Magnus came to associate with Alec arose in him. He watched Alec curled up in his bed, wearing a relaxed and comfortable expression on his face. Magnus stepped out of his clothes and into his pyjama pants, slipping next to Alec under the covers. The dark-haired man gave a dissatisfied grumble which turned into a pleased hum when the cold air that hit his exposed skin when Magnus lifted the covers, was replaced by Magnus warm body cuddling into him. Magnus lay his arm over the Shadowhunter's chest, the loving smile on the warlock's face still present. Magnus thoughts wandered back to the first time he had seen Alec. At first he was startled at the resemblance the younger bore to Will. Fondness rose inside Magnus. Even though Will Herondale was long dead, the memory of the Shadowhunter was still vivid in Magnus' mind. Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stop the upcoming sadness. He pulled himself even closer to Alec, finding comfort in his warmth. Magnus quickly realized that Alec was nothing like Will, nothing like Camille or any of his past lovers. Yes he may have loved many people in his long life, but still what he felt with Alec was different. Alec understood. Alec gave him what few people were able to give him. His trust, his love, and his support. Few people seemed to understand what Magnus had been going through in his life. Alec might not grasp the extent of Magnus pain, but he offered Magnus comfort. He doesn't have to be strong to be with Alec. Many had been attracted to him because of his power, even his wealth, and Magnus liked to believe his intellect as well, but with Alec it didn't matter that he was the High Warlock of Brooklyn. With Alec, Magnus could afford to be vulnerable. He felt that he could be fully himself. He didn't need to hide his pain or his past. He remembered the relief he felt when he finally saw Alec after the attack on the Institute. Magnus' smile grew even bigger when he thought about the hug and Alec's confession. His heart almost bursting when Alec told him he loved him. In that moment he knew that he truly loved Alec. Knowing that the day would come when his heart would be breaking again when Alec either left him or died, he pressed a kiss on Alec’s cheek. Magnus heart sank at the thought of Alec leaving him like so many did before, but somehow Magnus felt that Alec wouldn't leave him. No, Alec would stay until the end. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he couln't keep himself from feeling that what he had with Alec was special. His thoughts again swept to Will and Tessa. Magnus had seen that a life like that was possible. They could live a good life. A happy life. He tried not think about the aftermath of Will's death, tried to push back the memories of Tessa crying in his arms. If he could have a life with Alec, he would gladly suffer for it afterwards. After Alec's - Magnus tightened his grip around Alec and kissed his lover's forehead. They had time. Magnus smile turned bitter and he almost laughed at this thoughts. Time. No one knew better than Magnus that time was not their friend. Time was the thief that stole his loved ones and plucked them out of his life while he was left untouched. “Magnus?” Alec asked, his voice laden with sleep. “Sleep Alexander” Magnus whispered back hoping not to wake the Shadowhunter even more. Alec gave an affirming grunt and settled back into the embrace, adjusting his position a bit to pull Magnus into a closer and much more comfortable position with Magnus laying half on top of him. Magnus hummed satisfied as he brushed over Alec's muscular chest. So he may like Alec's physique a lot, sue him, but his boyfriend was hot as hell. “I love you” Magnus mumbled into Alec's shoulder, not expecting any kind of response. “I love you too; Magnus” Magnus could feel a kiss being pressed on top of his head. Magnus smiled happily and closed his eyes, knowing that Alec would still be cuddled into him in the morning when he woke up. That was all that mattered to Magnus right now and he looked forward to many moments like this yet to come.

[newstfionline]

Europe’s Leaders Curtail Summer Holidays in Light of Crises

By Jason Horowitz, NY Times, Aug. 9, 2017

ROME--It would be an understatement of the obvious to say that Europeans cherish their summer break.

But after an intense spring of negotiations over Britain’s impending exit from the European Union, the incessant influx of illegal migrants, repeated terrorist attacks alongside banking crises and populist uprisings, can the Continent’s political class really afford weeks of slow and steady recharging?

Prime Minister Theresa May of Britain and much of the European Union leadership in Brussels have, as in years past, decamped for extended getaways. But others, perhaps more mindful of the negative optics of frolicking as crises loom, have left the long beach holidays of yore to quiver like mirages in the Mediterranean sun.

Emmanuel Macron, the newly elected president of France, who is already suffering a postelection plunge in the polls, will take but a “few days of vacation in France” after a cabinet meeting on Wednesday, according to the Élysée press officer. Mr. Macron’s aide declined to specify exactly when or where the president would go, but insisted he would remain “available at any time.”

The daily Le Parisien wrote Tuesday that the young leader, who seeks to upend the nation’s labor code by September, must avoid the “bling bling” holidays enjoyed by his predecessors, and noted, “The president is applying to himself the same self-denial that he has demanded of the French people.”

Mr. Macron gave his cabinet ministers two weeks off along with instructions to remain within striking distance of Paris in case of emergency. They are apparently unaffected by a new law allowing workers to disconnect from work email when out of the office.

Belying the image of a France that is shuttered for all of August, Mr. Macron is in fact largely following in the steps of his Socialist predecessor, François Hollande. The butt of bad press over his seaside vacation during a French economic downturn in 2012, Mr. Hollande started whittling down his holidays to about a week per summer.

And France is not the only wine country practicing summer sobriety. Prime Minister Paolo Gentiloni of Italy, facing a daunting migration crisis that intensifies with the summer heat, has kept his government cooped up in August cabinet meetings and has held talks this week with Libyan envoys.

The Italian gossip magazines, filled during Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s tenure with pictures of him donning bandannas in Sardinia, have had to content themselves with images of Mr. Berlusconi’s ex-wife in a boat and Mr. Berlusconi’s ex-minister of Equal Opportunities, a former Miss Italy, splashing on the beach with a politician.

In many ways, Rome is the spiritual center of Europe’s summer shutdown.

Public workers in Italy have 32 days off a year, according to the Ministry for Simplification and Public Administration. They can take off whenever they like, but many choose to escape the intense August heat.

As the city’s army of lawyers and bureaucrats deploys elsewhere, many government offices slow down. Coffee bars, gelaterias, cleaners, hardware stores and other small shops often cut their hours, too, or close entirely. Customer service slips into the abyss.

But even that is changing a bit. Denise Verdi, manager of a clothing store in Rome’s center, said she stayed open this season to cash in on visiting tourists when there was less competition.

What Americans might consider a Protestant work ethic also extends now to the Vatican, where Pope Francis, unlike his predecessors, does not go on vacation.

Still, many northern leaders, deprived of sun for much of the year, are refusing to let political and economic challenges get in the way of their rest and recreation.

Prime Minister May, after a disappointing showing in Parliamentary elections in June, has exited the Brexit morass for three weeks in Switzerland and Italy, where she led a hotel lobby full of tourists in a rendition of “God Save the Queen.”

A spokeswoman for Jean-Claude Juncker, the European Commission president, said at the end of July that Mr. Juncker had asked that officials involved in Brexit be “ready every day, throughout the coming weeks, throughout the month of August, to engage with our British counterparts.”

The president of the European Parliament nevertheless notified Mr. Juncker in a letter that the legislature would be gone fishing for much of the month.

Mr. Juncker himself headed off to vacation in Austria, where, he told Politico, his reading list includes a crime thriller “that talks about Trump, Clinton, Bush,” and “1913: The Year Before the Storm,” by Florian Illies, about the last year of peace before World War I.

Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany, whom few have ever accused of slacking off, is recharging during a three-week vacation in the Italian Alps. (Magazines have carried pictures of her in hiking boots.)

Nicola Fuchs-Schündeln, a professor at Goethe University in Frankfurt, said it was “totally culturally accepted” that Ms. Merkel took a long break. An author of a recent study that showed Europeans work 14 percent fewer hours on average than Americans, in part because of vacation days, Professor Fuchs-Schündeln added, “It’s seen as completely natural and healthy that politicians go on vacation.”

Politicians’ vacations and their discontents provide fodder for a perennial, and universal, summer story. President Trump’s insistence that his 17-day ensconcement at his New Jersey golf club is not actually a vacation has revived the trans-Atlantic debate over who is working hard and who is hardly working.

But what is an apparent cultural divide between the United States and its European allies is at least as much about the divergence of labor laws and traditions over the last 50 years: the strength of European unions, the disappearance of American pensions, and attitudes toward social mobility and productivity.

As recently as the early 1970s, European and American workers put in about the same number of hours. As of 2015, the typical French person worked at least 300 fewer hours per year, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

Labor scholars have suggested that a boom of American consumerism in the 1970s and 1980s required more hours of work. Others have noted that Europeans, who are heavily taxed, prioritized vacation over more income that would bring more taxes.

Also, there’s the weather.

“It’s hot and it’s less productive to work in this time of year,” said William Broussen, a 24-year-old Parisian contractor who is suffering through a heat wave called Lucifer on his Roman holiday. “We work all year. There is nothing bad about taking time off.”