#in general i find dystopias to be not quite to my taste but i do love a story that’s made of meat

[carfuckerlynch]

finally reading @cryptotheism’s amber skies. first descriptor that pops to mind thus far is “visceral.” i think all of you eroticism of meat and the machine enjoyers should be crawling all over this shit like weavils. god knows i am

[obsessedwvampbois]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐋 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

Oh boy so this is gonna make people really mad. I have listened to a total of 52 songs from the Diabolik Lovers franchise (that I could find) and ranked them for the hell of it. For this ranking I will be including all character songs, openings (both anime and game) along with the remixes. I will not be counting solo versions of songs (eg. Gin no bara), soundtrack bgm or the endings themes.

My ranking is based on these things:

how well does the song fit the character/s or game, both in lyrics and aesthetic

the overall production and performance of the song

is the song a bop? would I willingly listen to it again?

Couple of disclaimers: I do not speak Japanese so I will be crediting the translations of each song as I go through them along with any think pieces / essays that I come across. If there is any song I missed, please let me know and I’ll slot it into the rankings, its hard to find one source that has all the songs recorded. Finally, just a reminder because I know I'm gonna make someone mad, this is my list! If you don't like it make your own or ignore mine, I'm only one person and my opinion is not final!

With that in mind, my rankings are below the cut

*Least Best*

These are the songs I will probably never listen to again. I have a few gripes with them that I'll talk about in my explanation.

52. 誓いのカンパネラ (Chikai no Campanella)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is just super underwhelming overall. The guitar is my favourite thing about the song but that's it. There is so much build up for a boring chorus. The lyrics don't have much for me either.

51. 血戦のDies irae (Kessen no Dies irae)

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

On the opposite end, this song is so overwhelming. There are so many elements to follow and its hard to keep up. This is the first time I'll bring it up but the volume of the voices is so quiet compared to the backing track, its frustrating. The lyrics is what brings it up a notch as it talks about the day of wrath (dies irae) as the day the founders take over. I was also low key hoping to hear some version of the dies irae song hidden in the background but I couldn't hear any.

50. S.O.S-ΑtoΩ-

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

This song just feels so forgettable, I just feel like there isn't much to comment on. There are some interesting lyrics sprinkled out like comparing literal self mutilation to abstinence. Also the actual delivery of 'S ah O ah S ah', I can't take it seriously.

49. Dystopia

Kino

~translation~

This had an interesting start because I hadn't heard anything similar for DL but then after a few lines the tone change was just a nope for me. Again, Kino's voice is super quiet and the constant barrage of all these instruments that don't really gel together its confusing. Overall, it didn't leave much of an impression and I couldn't really visualised DL in the song.

48. 吸愛ラビリンス (Kyūai Labyrinth)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

Praise for the saxophone! Props to that because it shines here and is really the only memorable thing besides that final line of the chorus. The song does give the vibe of the Vandead Carnival with its more playful energy though. The lyrics feel really typical, like there are so many times I read lyrics about drinking blood before I get bored.

47. 極限(UNLIMITED) BLOOD -Remix ver.-

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation w/ original ver.~

I don't think I really need to hear EDM/dubstep and Diabolik Lovers again thanks. It feels super dated and the vocoded singing is a little much for my taste. Good source material and the stripped back vocals at some points is quite nice.

46. 愛しきPain (Itoshiki Pein)

Subaru

~translation~

First off please never let me see Subaru near a fedora again thanks. Overall I felt bored with this song, like its nice, but that it. There are similar sounding songs that just hit home similar themes a lot stronger later on. The best part of this song is the spoken word but it feels weird for Subaru to be singing such a slow song.

45. Luv Apple Juice

Ruki & Azusa

~translation~

Yes, I am counting Ruki's spoken word, its my list. Lyrics are a must read with references to Adam, Eve and Eden throughout. Again, the voices are super quiet and with how fast paced the instrumentals are its annoying. The tempo also backfires because these are two of the more 'chill' characters. The last complaint is that the speed of Ruki's speaking compared to Azusa's singing just isn't right.

44. DIE IS CAST

Kou & Yuma

~translation~

This has to be my least favourite opening to a song, the staccato is just really grating to me. The way I'd describe the chorus is loud, the same note over and over again isn't appealing. The lyrics are an interesting read but nothing feels super important. The highlight of the song is the pre-chorus, thanks production!

43. カレイド��イト (Kaleido Night)

Kanato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is just generic, like overall. The sound, the lyrics, the production. There just wasn't must for me to listen to without zoning out.

*Average*

These songs don't leave too much of a lasting impression on me, but I still enjoy them.

42. 苺の罪 (Ichigo no Tsumi) (strawberry sin)

Reiji

~translation~

First of the generic rock songs! I couldn't really find much in the lyrics of note I think the actual performance of the song is my favourite element here.

41. 真夜中の饗宴( MIDNIGHT PLEASURE) -Remix ver.

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation w/ original~

One the best part of the original is that opening section with the steps, it creates some nice anticipation for the coming song. The chorus this time round feels a little low energy after the hype of the pre-chorus. After watching the actual opening with the remix, I kind of wish they had the voice over, the song is so chill the last chorus could have it to make it feel more grandiose.

40. ZERO

Subaru

~translation~

Second generic rock song, this time it actually suits Subaru's brand! The lyrics do have some hints to Subaru as a character which is better. My sustaining thought is that this sounds like an off brand Arcadia.

39. Bloody★Mayim★Mayim

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

This has to have one of the strongest hooks for DL. For how many people sing in the song, it's easy to keep track of and the chemistry between them all is in sync. The main issue is that it feels like its missing some element to make it shine, the lyrics aren't in-depth too which brings it down another peg. The bridge/interlude is the best part though as I can visualise some mini story within the song here.

38. ADDICTED (2) PHANTOM

Ayato

~translation~

This song would be so much higher if I felt like it was more memorable cuz the lyrics here really shine. My interpretation is that this is Ayato questioning where his love stops and his sadistic nature to satiate his desires begin, can he separate the two? He both loves and despises the idea of draining his s/o dry. Another gripe with the song is that its not quite Ayato's aesthetic sonically.

37. Kindan no 666 (Three Six)

Kou & Azusa

~translation~

What puts this song so low is the majority of the instrumental, it takes a backseat here when I feel there could be more added. Props to percussion, drums are great though. After watching the MB opening so many times its hard to not see DL. Lyrics match with this one line here describing Kou in a nutshell:

"Sin spread from mouth to mouth, saying 'I’ll be gentle' pulls the trigger on a casual disaster!"

36. Iolite (アイオライト )

Shu

~translation~

I don't know why the producers associate electro-pop with Shu, I can't really see it much. I think they should have gone full glitch-pop instead considering how the song does a deep dive into his mind and thought process. Again, I think the voice is also quiet here but the instrumentals have some great moments, especially the strings.

35. 常夜KNOW UNDERSKIN

Sakamaki

~translation~

Well this gives Sakamaki vibes, nice guitar! Again, I like how it isn't overwhelming despite the amount of people involved. Lyrics aren't super impactful but super catchy.

34. 冷たい血 (Tsumetai Chi)

Ruki

~translation~

You have to read the lyrics while reading this, please! Its surprisingly wholesome and emotional overall. Again, there is the issue of the voice being way to quiet as the instrumentals swallow him whole after the second clock tick. The delivery is really well timed and production does a great job adding elements that works with the lyrics. There is a subtle echo to the voice that feels super enchanting as he comes to terms with the fact that he has fallen in love. Biggest drawback obviously is that this is just spoken word.

33. KISS♥MARK

Shu

~translation~

This song delves into the more perverse side of Shu, but we haven't really reached the level of Laito (we'll get there). The phone feels a little out of character but it suits that narrative. The straight cut out of music for the intermission was a bit abrasive but the transition back to music makes me forget about that with how slick it is. At least its better than a generic rock song.

32. カモフラージュ (Camouflage)

Shu & Laito

~translation~

What a great match up for subject matter, my interpretation is a denial and inability to accept oneself, ultimately using a mask to hide. So please look up the lyrics for some gems. However, after the 'against the blood' nothing really hit that same point sonically, furthermore its not the most aesthetically fitting for the two characters.

*Great*

These songs I actively enjoy, think about and do listen to occasionally and would recommend you check it out too.

31. >REDRUM<-

Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This song is full of anagrams in the lyrics, I mean look at the song title. Its super catchy and is hard to forget about. The bridge is the weakest part of this song but it is made up by the distortion of vocals after the final chorus.

30. Fanatic of Night

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

Well time to party, talk about a bop and a half! Its just so fun, even though its to exactly DL to me, but that's Lunatic Parade for you. Shout out to the guitarist and percussion once again.

29. Bad Howling

Shu, Ayato & Kou

~translation~

This is super catchy, its nice to hear Kou in the opening song this time round, it spices things up. Theres some really nice elements played with the vocals as they sing over one another that is really well balanced. The biggest peg down is that I don't get super DL vibes and the lyrics aren't the deepest.

28. I.M.I.T.A.T.I.O.N. G.A.M.E

Kino

~translation~

Overall this song is a little generic and doesn't sound like DL but! There is a lot to love here too. Starting off with the performance, I really like the vibrato in his voice and the decent of notes at the end of the chorus is just, yes. It a nice hook and the lyrics are pretty good too. My only other complaint is that the drums mask some smaller elements in the background of the song which would have been nice to hear more in the forefront.

27. 極限(UNLIMITED) BLOOD

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This is where the rankings get pretty hard cuz I wish this was higher but oh well. the dramatic shift from the opening piano to the song is so abrupt but it gets you pumped. The intermission does a good job of changing things up without cutting tension. The lyrics themselves seem to be from the view of the Adam project during more blood and the unquenchable thirst they get in the story.

26. アルカディア (Arcadia)

Ayato

~translation~

Immediately I get Ayato vibes from this song and the rapping does help too with a nice flow that isn't too jarring from the rest of the song. These lyrics are basically Addicted2Phantom on steroids, I can't see anyone else other than Ayato in them.

25. Kekkyoku Night

Ayato

~translation~

Don't know why but the guitar melody just seems like I had heard it before but I can't put my finger on it. The bass is super slick here and I really enjoy it. The vocal distortion at the start of the verse sets a scene for him to hunt down this person and its a narrative choice. The main issue is that I wish there was a little more pizzaz to the chorus.

24. Kaikan DEATH-TRUCTION

Kanato

~translation~

Spoilers but I have placed both a Kanato's songs pretty high up so this was a little bit of a let down after the other two. The main issues here is that I don't really get too much of Kanato in the song and the yelling before the chorus is a little much. This, to me, is a self reflection from Kanato which is a good switch up from his last two songs. Overall, the song is abrasive in a good way that isn't overwhelming and the 8-bit section is my fave.

23. 血濡れた密会 (BLOODY SABBATH)

Laito

~translation~

Oh boy, look these lyrics up for a good time. This song is about his hook up with a women with the song getting progressively darker as it goes on. Nice psycho reference but I don't know if it does much in the end. Really catchy hook and the escalation of the final chorus is just so good. Also I'm just going to leave this line from the song here:

“You wend all out with the rodeo girl play? So then, let’s grind!!!”

22. 幻日理論-Parhelion Logic

Ayato

~translation~

This song is meant to be kind of an open letter to Cordelia and my word these lyrics are haunting. It fits the vibe of Haunted Dark Bridal so well, super strong overall. I just wish there was a stronger performance vocally.

21. 暴言シンドローム (Seiron Syndrome)

Yuma

~translation~

Yuma, to me has some pretty good observation skills and its really highlighted here. The first line just hits the nail on the head in terms of how rough he is both in and out of the bedroom. This song is the best of the 'generic rock' with production being really smooth despite the high energy, it matches him really well. First line:

The pain of your sprained neck won’t subside

20. 蠱惑のParade (Kowaku no Parade)

Reiji & Kanato

~translation~

We got another catchy banger here! This song just screams 'the two of us are here to hunt you down and we won't stop till we get a taste.' I mean this song is super pleasing aesthetically and great lyrics to boot!

19. KILLYOU,AGAIN

Azusa

~translation~

The strings are an immediate attention grabber and its hold it throughout the whole song. Super catchy, and these lyrics are Azusa, especially this chorus. Id be interested to hear what people think about the second verse in particular cuz there's a lot to read into:

"In a worn out state of mind, no matter how many nights we question it... We’ve idealised too much."

18. SQueeze…

Subaru

~translation~

Okay before anything else, the squeeze at the start is goofy, I can't take it seriously. Anyway, I can't help but tap my foot to this song. Third times the charm, finally hitting Subaru's aesthetic to a T. The voice is a little quiet on the track but what takes over just sounds so good. The contrast of the bell and the guitar is just, yes thank you. The pre-chorus is a nice mix up to the status quo and these lyrics are great too.

17. 愛の檻 (Ai no Ori)

Ayato & Laito

~translation~

The opening is a nice tone setter for a haunting head bopper. These voices work together so well, just like how the sirens work with the strings. The singular violin during the bridge is great, praise to anyone who can do that my god. The string motif climaxes at the final chorus and it creates an awesome song!

16. 月蝕(Eclipse)

Kou, Yuma & Azusa

~translation~

Well we have a nice build up ballad here. The opening is a little out of place but I forget about it as it builds to this final chorus with the tempo getting faster and faster. The stripped back production also ends up aiding the song in the end with its punches and message. Speaking of which; I get the idea this is about watching some either currently or in retrospective how their personality changes after turning into a vampire; a loss of innocence. How fitting for the Mukami's.

“Despising the sunlight that filters through the blinds is only inevitable, I suppose”

*Faves*

This is what I think the best of the best is. It reflects the themes, ideas and characters of Diabolik Lovers in the best way possible. When people ask me what music from the franchise to listen to, I point to these songs.

15. Count off

Kino

~translation~

There is so much to talk about here, this is a mix of singing and spoken piece and it works so well for me. The delivery over this contagious beat I can't help but get hints of a k-pop vibe here. The movement to singing then vocoded voice are interesting and fun. The bridge switch up too is great, my only wish is that the choir hand a little more presence in the final chorus cuz its fun the first times round, it would be a nice call back.

14. A Certain Prophet's Fate [とある預言者の、運�� Toaru Yogensha no Unmei]

Reiji

~translation~

I can visualise a Nutella Kookie moodboard with this opening alone. To me, this is Reiji explain his views on women with allusions to Faust too, not the Ikemen version relax. there are some cool allusions to his mother in the lyrics too. The bass is so cool to listen out for and the guitar nodding to the chorus at the end is a nice way to end. I was just hoping for a little continuation to the opening like Reiji finding this person escaping on horseback.

13. CHAOS☆PARTY

Laito

~translation~

Aaaaaand another innuendo song from Laito, what a surprise! The jazzy, circus-pop vibes are super fun and catchy, I love it. It's like an upgraded version of Bloody Sabbath to me. The distortion on the guitar is also great to listen out for.

"Don’t decide where’s the critical point, grind as you feel it,

Till the moon oh, mockingly"

12. Mr.ButterflyMask

Reiji

~translation~

The opening may be cliche but it works so well, this is such a deep dive into Reiji's psyche; his mother, inferiority complex and village burning to name a few. The actual song is easy to remember which makes it even better here, the descending notes at the end of the chorus is a highlight.

"Burnt black, that awful land mark"

11. 真夜中の饗宴 (MIDNIGHT PLEASURE)

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

The song to start it all, thank god it's such a highlight. I get so hyped from hearing the opening footsteps; mirroring the prologue with You stepping into the mansion for the first time. I feel so nostalgic for this and I'm hyped to play the game every time I hear this. The spoken section is the high point in terms of the HDB aesthetic but these lyrics maaaannn:

"With a scream that shatters the moon itself I’ll give you this extraordinary pain called “love”!"

10. Guilty×Guilty!!!

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

I'm gonna get crucified for putting this above midnight pleasure but my list and this is my fave game op. The only peg down is the lyrics but it makes up so much for the actual sound variation. The unnerving energy from this scifi-y noise, it screams danger with the Tsunami arrival. The variation between the two verses in robs what places it high and the bridge is excellent to boot.

9. Farewell Song

Shu

~translation~

If I had to make one song recommendation outside of DL with this list it is this song here. The lyrics and melody match up the same way and both are strong in their own right. Onto the song, these lyrics really shine wrangling with ideas and the thought process of depression; something that hits close to home for me. With the inclusion of the destructive nature vampires its truely impactful. The sound of the song aids these lyrics too while all sounding like Shu.

Without pause, the drops of a drizzle had begun to weep...

...Comforting the screams of the things you’ve touched"

8. Mr.SADISTIC NIGHT

Shu, Ayato & Subaru

~translation~

This is my favourite opening of all the games and anime and it is the most on theme with the DL franchise, not just the one game. The guitar rifts at the start are just sooooo iconic. The actual line "Mr Sadistic Night" is delivered so well too. I mean the song speaks for itself. I will make the observation though that this song is the epitome of kids unknowingly singing a song with dirty lyrics.

"If I’m so aroused by the snare of your enticing blood

Tonight, as I thrust deep into you, a lust for death awakens from within you!"

7. 悪魔的（Devil's）Spire!!!!

Kou

~translation~

This song is just Kou at his best, I can imagine him singing this at a concert as a debut single. It has all the elements of a catchy pop song with some sinister elements that just reflects his personality. Production has my praise here too. The song seems to be a friends with benefits situation Kou has as he recounts the tale. Also, more innuendos:

"In the deep red velvet sheets, Do you want to taste my forbidden syrup?"

6. Operation X

Tsukinami Brothers

~translation~

Haven't seen these guys in a while! You can tell production had fun adding all these medical sounds in the back like the sirens and heart monitor. The song itself is super catchy too, that bass just hits you at the core! The lyrics look like the Tsukinami's observation of You as she has become entangled with all these vampires and the situation just seems to spiral even more out of control.

"The risk spreads further the deeper you get involved...

...The more you give up, the more that guy mocks you"

5. GRATEFUL★DEAD★MARCH

Kanato

~translation~

Production had fun again, you can tell. It's more upbeat there is still a sinister vibe here. The constant switch ups within the song all flow so well. I feel genuine despair listening to this chorus, like Kanato is mocking or toying with me before going in for the kill. My only complaint is that the slowing down at the end is a bit of a mood killer.

4. 切断★舞踏会 (KIRISAKI CARNIVAL)

Kanato

~translation~

In terms of character aesthetic, this is sheer perfection. There is a narrative within this song that you need to look at the lyrics for the best experience. The sound effects act as a good way to heighten the story as they match the lyrics. One moment to note it both the chorus and pre-chorus as they act as the extreme ends on Kanato's personality and it creates a great dichotomy when placed together.

3. Q.E.D.

laito

~translation~

My favourite solo song, and the one I constantly visit the most. Laito is a complex character and this song does a self reflection in the best way possible.I would also recommend reading this great analysis by everything laito because I can't do a proper analysis justice. For the song itself, the piano is a great mood setter as it acts as if we are approaching Laito as he plays the piano about to go into one of his many monologues to himself. The intercut from the piano to the guitar is abrupt but it works so well as if there are crack in his facade showing through. The change back to the piano is great too and isn't distracting in any way. I also think this is such an emotional performance, like I can feel the sadness and despair along with almost a self deprecating humour to the delivery. Top notch stuff

2. 罠-If You’re Diablo- (Wana -If You’re Diablo-)

Mukami Brothers

~translation~

I want mention first off that the spoken word from Ruki is such an aid here, the pace is slower, more haunting and despair-inducing in tone. The speaking adds a nice break to the vocals. The chorus in particular packs such a punch its kind of nice to lie on the ground and just let the song envelop you. The lyrics give the impression that there is a mutually destructive relationship here with the Mukami's mentioning of betrayal yet they suck the blood of this person. There is also a feeling of hopelessness that the Mukami's know they can never achieve their goal of becoming Adam.

"I'd been resigned to become Adam since who-knows-when...

I continue to hate this fate, my prayers in zero"

1. Gin no Bara

Sakamaki Brothers

~translation~

And we're finally at the end! This song encapsulates everything that Diabolik Lovers is. Vocally, it's really catchy with such a somber vibe, because that's what DL is. It's a dark series but you can see that darkness with each backstory, the actions these characters take and just the overall hopelessness in this one song. The Sakamaki's all singing together packs such a punch too. There are so many gems in these lyrics, to literally acknowledging the pain and suffering their mothers' caused and coming to terms with the actions they have committed as they fall in love.

"The proof remains on your neck while you sleep quietly Even if an eternal curse awaits me beyond those overflowing tears

I now hold this love and pain in my chest"

*SHOUTOUTS*

I want to give a huge shout out to the following people. They have helped immensely with translation and just overall accessibility to the songs because they would be 1000 times more harder to find without them.

Silvermoon249 (Live Journal)

Asyqin98 Creator (YouTube)

S I s o v o l i (Youtube)

DIABOLIK LOVERS (YouTube)

Dialovers otaka (Tumblr)

Starlight voices (Tumblr)

Cannonette (Tumblr) @canonette

The Precious Sugar Chan (Tumblr)

One final note, I would recommend listening to these with headphones because the audio sometimes does that thing where it jumps from ear to ear and it creates the best effect to be more involved in the atmosphere.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981

The X-Men, those back-to-the-future mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 141 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Brent Anderson, Dave Cockrum, Jim Sherman, Bob McLeod and Josef Rubinstein

While I also committed various fashion atrocities at the age of 14 (tye-die and fauxhawks, oh my), even Liberace would find Kitty’s outfits too much. (Uncanny X-Men 149; Uncanny X-Men Annual ‘81)

We dial back from the v. epic scope of the last few arcs. Instead, 1981 is just a lot of fun! We get:

Storm and Emma doing a Freaky Friday!

the X-Men vs. Magneto (again!)

A surprisingly effective Alien rip-off

An dystopian future! (OoOoOoOo)

Last year was the year of the Dark Phoenix, this is the year of Kitty Pryde. That’s not to say Jean’s death is swept under the rug: all throughout, we see her friends mourning her loss or remembering her fondly. (Scott even gets to have a demonic adventure about it.) But in general, Claremont puts Kitty in the forefront, fleshing out his YA-addition to the team. And what would a YA heroine be without a grim dystopia? Roll out the iconic Days of Future Past!

To be fair, 2013 was a dark time for all of us: What Does the Fox Say somehow got to the top of the charts and I was still watching Glee. (Uncanny X-Men 141)

How cool would it have been to see a name like Jonothon Starsmore or Eva Bell on those tombstones?

Anyway, that’s Kate. Kate’s had it rough. Mutants are at the bottom of the foodchain, most X-Men are dead and only a small cadre of resistance fighters remain, Sentinels dominate, and while she is married to Piotr, her children have been murdered. Bleak. Luckily, the rebellion has concocted the plan to shunt Kate’s spirit back in time to prevent this awful future from happening. (You’ve seen Days of Future Past, the last passably good X-Men film, you know what’s up.)

Let’s do the time warp again! 1981!Kitty’s mind gets taken over by 2013!Kitty, who promptly tries to convince the X-Men that a new Brotherhood of v. Evil Mutants will try to kill Senator Kelly, a presidential candidate who tries to put the mutant menace on the agenda. (Mutants tend to blow stuff up when he’s around.) Since the X-Men recently took a literal trip to Dante’s Infero and also befriended a cosmic world-ending entity, they basically shrug and go: “Yeah, this checks out.”

Off to Washington they go (zoommm) and there, they happen upon the Baddest Bitches in Herstory:

“How dare you hate mutants, senator Kelly! We’ll fix that by killing you!” (Uncanny X-Men 141)

This All-New, All-Different Brotherhood consists out of:

Destiny, a blind woman who can see the future. Definitely the eeriest member of this group. Badass lesbian, though that won´t be canon for years.

Avalanche. Greek who makes things shake. Is a long-standing member of the X-Men Rogue’s gallery, but rarely features in the spotlight. I think he got more characterization in four years of X-Men Evolution than he ever did in the comics.

Mystique. Shapeshifter. Ruthless and unhinged, the Cersei Lannister of the X-Men universe. Absolute legend, secretly the wife of Destiny, currently not as unhinged as she’ll be later. Immediately implied to be related to Nightcrawler: it’s the yellow-eyes-blue-skin-combo.

Pyro. Can manipulate fire, not create it. Absolute pillock, in all the best ways of the word. Originally intended as gay, but they decided to make him Australian instead. (?!)

Blob. Big, strong, immovable. We’ve seen him before.

One of the details in this fight I enjoy is that Storm is still struggling with her leadership, although she has a better grip on things than Cyclops:

Wolverine then proceeds to use those iconic but deadly claws about twice per issue for the next, oh, forty years. (Uncanny X-Men 142)

While the X-Men fight the Brotherhood in the present, we cut back and forth to the future. There, the X-Men consist out of some familiar faces - Storm, Colossus, Wolverine - and some surprises: Magneto (in a wheelchair), Franklin Richards (son of) and an unfamiliar ginger girl called Rachel. (She’ll be important later.) We even learn (one of) Magneto’s names: this is the first time he’s canonically called Magnus.

One of the strengths of Days of Future Past lies in its brevity, the way it tantalizingly taunts us with a brutal but familiar future without giving away too much. It’s single-handedly responsible for all those dark future timelines the X-lines are so fond of which will eventually culminate in time-displaced grandsons from alternative dimensions and the impossibility of a succinct answer to the question: “Who’s Cable?” Too much of a good thing and all that.

Still, what Days of Future Past does so successfully is:

Put the idea of the mutant menace back at the forefront, hammering home the metaphor of mutants being a minority. Mutants being put in camps and being forbidden to breed should - regretfully - make us think of all too many real life equivalents. (Specifically, all of the imagery harkens back to the Holocaust.)

It starkly shows what happens should the X-Men lose, reminding everyone of the stakes. The X-Men are here for a reason: bridging the gap between mutants and humankind. If they fuck up, we end up with mutant concentration camps.

It helps that the X-Men in the future almost all die horribly: Franklin is incinerated, Storm is impaled… It's brutal stuff. The only one to survive is Rachel, who wonders if their plan actually changed the future or if they created an alternative timeline. (It did the latter, sorry ‘bout it, Rachel.)

In the present, Kate chases after Destiny, who trains a gun on senator Kelly. I always wondered how this works: if Destiny saw the future, she knew that killing Kelly would trigger a terrifying future. What in the current Marvel timeline made her decide that the Days of Future Past was better? Did she see her own death? Did she see the Onslaught-crossover coming? The Chuck Austen run? What was it?

In any case, time-anomalous Kate stops Destiny from killing Kelly and the future is safe! For now. Kate disappears, Kitty returns to her body and some of the Brotherhood are apprehended. All is well, for now.

After being a key figure in DoFP, Kitty is also the main character in the Christmas special, which is basically a straight up horror and a pastiche of the Alien-movie.

Seriously, John Byrne still isn’t sure why he wasn’t sued by Ridley Scott for this. (Uncanny X-Men 143)

If you love Kitty Pryde? Read this issue. If you’re not convinced you like 80’s Kitty? Read this issue. It’s not continuity relevant and it’s basically Kitty playing the part of a Final Girl in a horror where she’s being chased by a demon, but it’s so good. It showcases all her strengths and her foibles. Kitty’s intelligent, cute (sometimes preciously so) and brave, but she’s also young, self-conscious and hot-headed. And it's not as if the other X-Men automatically adore her: Storm berates her all the time, she’s afraid of Kurt because of the way he looks (though she grows out of that) and she fights with Professor Xavier a lot. Moreover, she has a clever power-set for a young superhero who faces menaces on a daily basis: a thirteen year old who can go intangible is far less likely to have reality ensue on her and be dramatically offed because she's better at protecting herself.

I’m sure there are people who thought Sprite was hogging the spotlight, but I, for one, say she brings more to the table than, say, Angel. She’s not the Dawn Summers of this franchise.

Scott also gets a side quest. Poor guy can’t catch a break: first the love of his life dies, so he quits the X-Men, then he realizes he can’t do much else than be a superhero. He becomes a sailor on the ship of spunky captain Lee Forrester, is drawn into the sadistic plans of a demon unironically named D’Spayre and then shipwrecks in Bermuda with Lee.

The X-Men, meanwhile, are tormented by a team-up of Doom (who’s currently Latverialess and working on a comeback) and Arcade, that annoying crony. Locke, Arcade’s dom, has kidnapped the loved ones of the X-Men (Moira MacTaggart, Jean Grey’s parents, Illyana Rasputin and Amanda Sefton) in order to blackmail them into getting Doom to free Arcade. Apparently, Arcade accidentally insulted Doom and DOOM DOES NOT FORGIVE THAT FOLLY.

While the B-Squad (Polaris, Havok, Banshee and Iceman) goes to save Arcade’s hostages, the X-Men sneak into Doom’s castle. Well, except for Storm, who doesn’t give a single fuck and simply flies up to Doom, demanding an audience. Doom likes the cut of her jib and invites her to have dinner. (This is pre-Tinder, so this is a legit way of scoring a date.)

If Storm has a flaw (I said if!), it’s got to be her atrocious taste in men. (Uncanny X-Men 145)

The X-Men find Arcade’s cell empty, while Arcade casually saunters up to Storm and says hi. Storm realizes too late that this is a trap: while the X-Men are all trapped in Saw-like traps, Storm is encased in ‘living chrome’.

If you remember she’s claustrophobic, you know why this is a bad move.

While the X-Men free themselves from their traps - Polaris hilariously has to deal with a murderous merry-go-round - Storm is slowly driven mad in her prison, triggering a worldwide tempest. (She causes Lee and Scott to shipwreck.) Under the threat of Wolverine’s claws, Doom releases Storm - or rather, unleashes her.

“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” (Uncanny X-Men 147)

The memory of Jean brings Ororo back to herself and she starts undoing the superstorm she created. (If only climate change were reversed that easily.) Their confrontation ends by Storm easily forgiving Doom, because she apparently trespassed on his grounds without adequate cause.

Mkay.

All of Arcade’s hostages return to their homesteads, except for Illyana Rasputin, Piotr’s sister: she’s staying at the mansion for a while. Angel, who’s sort of been a part of the team since the Phoenix thing, has had it with Wolverine and his ‘tude, and decides to quit the X-Men : he doesn’t want to be a part of an outfit that has a killer like Wolverine on it. (Or maybe he’s just mad Claremont didn’t give him any storylines: his presence has been mostly pointless.) It’s too bad he left before Kitty started experimenting with her outfits: I bet he would have loved her ugly-ass costumes.

Equally inconsequential is the introduction of a brand new character, who then proceeds to disappear from the narrative for the rest of the year:

Black Tom has tried to kill you at least twice, but him sending you a long-lost daughter doesn’t give you pause? Ugh, Sean, you deserve Moira. (Uncanny X-Men 148)

Intrigued by Theresa? TOO BAD, WON’T SEE HER AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.

Another new character is the lonely, decidedly mutant looking Caliban, who can sense “people like him” and is on the lookout for companions. Like many lonely people who try and grasp at friendship, he decides to overshoot his shot and ruin the night of Storm, Kitty and Jessica Drew at a Dazzler concert. Because he tries to kidnap Kitty, the girls react a trifle aggressively. When they realize their mistake - the eerily pale Caliban is a simpleton rather than a menace - he’s already fled. No mention is made of the Morlocks yet!

There’s also another dull annual where the X-Men team up with the Fantastic Four to save Arkon’s dimension from the Badoon and yaaaaawn. Far more interesting is the landmark issue #150. Slowly, through the adventures of Scott and Lee Forrester, Claremont has been setting things up for the return of a favorite villain. While the X-Men investigate Magneto’s old base in Antarctica on a hunch of Professor X and tangle with Garruk, Scott and Lee survive Storm’s tempest, only to wake up next to a strange island that seems to have been raised from the ocean.

It’s apparently some ancient citadel from a long forgotten civilization with a fondness for squid statues. (I don’t know man, I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle, maybe this is just super-accurate.)The tentacles make Lee Forrester feel very amorous, but before Scott can tell her he is way too repressed to just have sex with an attractive someone he’s known intimately for a month or two, Magneto saves his ass by revealing he, in fact, raised this island from the seafloor.

Oh, Magneto. So extra.

My ambitious little mutant demagogue then proceeds to take the entire world hostage, showing how much he’s grown from the pompous, raving madman from the sixties. (Sure, Magneto is still a bit of a madman, but increasingly, he starts being on the right side of history.)

“I’m trying to make Magneto more sympathetic.”

“Just put him on a page with some bigger villains who are less noble, like the Vanisher, Count Nefaria, or…”

“Reagan, Thatcher and Brezhnov?”

“Er.” (Uncanny X-Men 150)

It’s obvious Magneto is being pivoted as a more noble villain, codified into the well-intentioned extremist we know and love today. Not only do we get the first hints at his past, fleshing out his motivations, he’s also not wrong. Humans are historically not great at taking care of the planet or each other.

When the Russians call his bluff and launch nukes at Magneto’s new island, he quickly disarms them. His retribution is swift and ferocious: the entire citadel is a machine that massively amplifies his powers. He sinks the submarine that launched the missiles, condemning the entire crew to death, and he casually erects a vulcano in a Russian city in Siberia.

Damn. Not messing around this time.

Despite his good intentions, Magneto is still definitely in the wrong: not only because of his methods, but as Scott points out: if Magneto unifies the world under his kind of benevolent dictatorship, all of that will simply fall apart as soon as Magnus dies.

In a way, Magneto is just as big a dreamer as Charles is: Charles believes in peace and integration, whereas Magneto believes his iron fist will be enough to make a perfect world happen. Both of them ignore the reality that acceptance is difficult and messy, because you’re trying to change essential human nature: the fear of the other. Magneto believes in big, sweeping gestures that will fix the world in move, while changing the world is also boring, hard work. One step forward, two steps back. Magneto just wants to leapfrog to his ultimate goal.

The X-Men fly over the citadel, returning from Antarctica, and their plane crashes into the ocean. (Magneto does not brook planes over his territory, humans!) The Professor is also nearby, looking for Scott with Moira, Peter Corbeau and Carol Danvers. The X-Men sneak onto the island, but to their horror, their powers are nullified by some machine of Magneto. They reunite with Scott, who formulates a plan to thwart the would-be ruler of the world.

While the rest of the X-Men go to trash the machine, Storm, Kitty and Lee infiltrate the control chamber where Storm finds a sleeping, shirtless Magneto. Once again showing her terrible taste in men, she is not weak in the knees at the sight of a sleeping Magnus: instead, she contemplates killing him.

Storm knows how dangerous he is, but she also knows that he’s a great man who’s fighting for ideals, no matter how misguided. She hesitates too long: Magneto stirs, suspects an attack and tosses her out of the window, to her death.

Magneto quickly undoes the sabotage the other X-Men have wrought to his machine. A fight erupts. Storm, meanwhile, has managed to grab hold of a ledge. She crawls back up and smashes an important-looking computer, restoring everyone’s powers.

The battle turns grim, but Scott sends Kitty away to wreck Magneto’s machinery. She sneaks off, following Scott’s orders and destroying both Magneto's power-up device and all of his plans by phasing though the computer circuitry. Magneto senses this and furiously gives chase. Overcome by rage, he attacks Kitty and disrupts her phasing power with a magnetic bolt, seemingly killing her?

Everything about this story beat is great: mama bear!Ororo, mournful Magnus and even the fact that Kitty’s godawful outfit serves a narrative function: highlighting to us (and Magneto) just how young she is. The fact that Kitty’s Jewish is just icing on the cake. (Uncanny X-Men 150)

And thus, the softening of Magneto commences. 1981 might be a year with wildly varying narratives, but it has given us at least three enduring legacies to the X-Mythos: a new kind of Magneto, a fondness for dystopian futures and the character of Kitty Pryde, who's really come into her own this year.

Ugliest Costume: Kitty! Purposefully, but still. Best costume, by the way, goes to Destiny, with her creepy, creepy golden mask. Just imagine this lady casually strolling across a battlefield, eerily calm and collected, dodging everything you throw at her. Awesome design.

Best new character: I usually pick one character - what good is having a shared award when declaring the best of anything? - but this year, it’s going to one of my favorite couples: Mystique and Destiny. Can’t wait to see more of them.

Most audacious retcon: Blob somehow retroactively becomes a member of the original Brotherhood, which is not what happened. Ever weirder is Xavier pondering that he never met Magneto before his attack in X-Men #1, while their cordially adversarial relationship rooted in a youthful friendship would soon become a cornerstone of the X-Men.

What to read: Uncanny X-Men 141 - 143 and 150 - 152

[jimlingss]

Arcadia

➜ Words: 9.6k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Dystopia!AU, Utopia!AU

➜ Summary: In a new era, the human race has largely been eradicated through warfare and disease. You are one of the few left, living in the forest and making use of the wild. Or at least that's what you think until a man quite literally crashes into your home.

cr.

It happened in the afternoon.   A deafening noise from the sky. A thin whistle that crescendoed. Louder than what you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It shrieked horrifically — rumbling the ground — roaring through the silent forest. And you looked up to see a streak of white in the sky. Immediately, you dropped the animal in hand, abandoned the trap at your feet and ducked your head.   But the explosions never came raining down on your skull.   Instead, it happened in the distance. An explosion that made the evening sky spark bright white.    It took a full minute for it to die down, for the smoke to fade into the horizon as if nothing occurred a moment ago. Yet, you stalked the fumes and commotion, crept in the shadows. You knew better than to approach foreign things, to approach clamor and potential danger.   But the forest had been quiet for so long that it provoked your curiosity.    What you found past the shrubbery and trunks of spruce is a giant white cylinder with rounded edges. A capsule. So white that it burnt to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. But the colour had been marred by dirt and foliage after it crash-landed. The mud and ground hugged it, molded against the shape after it quite literally smashed into the Earth.   Before you could approach the thing and investigate, there was another noise. An unfamiliar whirring. It made you flinch and stumble back, taking refuge behind the trees.   But as you peeked out, you saw something crawling out of the open compartment. A groan.    Someone.   You hadn’t seen another person in years.   Immediately, you stepped forward and he saw you. Eyes darting to look into yours.   He was in stark white clothing from top to bottom, pants that stopped too short at his ankles, a shirt that was cut awkwardly and too small for his broad shoulders. It was vivid against his dark hair and golden skin, almost made him look ridiculous. But you supposed at the time you didn’t look any better — ripped jeans, dirtied boots, a worn jacket taken years ago from some loot and your hair tucked into a baseball cap with a logo too faded away to discern.   “I-I won’t hurt you,” he stutters out, putting up his hands. “I...I’m Seokjin. I’m part of the rescue fleet of Arcadia.”   Arcadia?   The man, Seokjin, sighs after your ongoing silence. “Sorry. Of course you wouldn’t understand me. I,” he enunciates slowly and points to himself. “Am. Friend.” His hands wildly form a heart for you to see and then he points at you with his left while still making wild gestures with his right. He tries to smile brightly. “I. Help. You—”   “I understand you,” you deadpan with an impassive expression.   The man is visibly taken aback, eyes rounded as his mouth opens and closes comically. “Y-You can speak?”   Your arm lifts and your index finger points at his head. “You’re bleeding.”   ... .. .   He looks around the interior of the tree house like a lost child, seated on the floor and waiting for his parents to return. It’s a meager shack made of alder, large gaps for windows, tattered backpacks stained and collected in the corner by some pairs of shoes and an old radio. There’s a fishing line hung diagonally across the room and above his head, used to dry clothing. But he finds himself drawn to the radio and crawls over to try to switch it on, tugging on its antenna, turning the dials.   Yet, all that answers is noisy static.   “It’s been broken since a long time ago,” you pipe up, nearly startling him to death with your sudden presence. But you had simply climbed up the ladder quietly. “I’m still tinkering with it.”   Seokjin sets the radio down. “I have a device similar to it. Thought this one would work.” He pulls out a black and thick rectangular piece of plastic from his back pocket and you scarcely recognize it.   “A walkie-talkie?”   “Kind of. It’s called an Erewhon device. State of the art technology, even if it looks chunky. It transmits radio waves without any limit of range and it syncs to one other device. No third can ever join or hack into it. I use this one to communicate with my base. Or at least I usually would, if the thing didn’t break in the crash.”   You don’t understand anything he’s saying, so you chalk it up to gibberish.   “It stings.” Seokjin sharply inhales as you apply pressure to his wound. But the ache soon alleviates when you wrap bandages around his head. “What’s your name?”   It’s your last roll of bandages.    “Y/N.”   It’s not like you to be so generous or welcoming towards a stranger. The nature of your upbringing and life has ingrained an innate suspicion to anyone who isn’t yourself. But there’s a characteristic about the man in front of you that doesn’t make you doubt his intentions.   It must also be partly because you’ve been on your own for so long and your inner subconscious is willing to dance with danger if it means having some kind of contact with another. But whatever the case may be, you don’t feel wary of Seokjin even if you should.   “Are...there any others?”   “Other humans? There hasn’t been any for years.”   “There’s….just you?”   “Just me.” Until now. “Where did you come from?”   “I come from a place called Arcadia. It’s a utopian society just off the Zion mountain and Elysian Fields,” he says as if you know what those places are. “It has everything and it’s where the remaining people have gathered for years. I actually rescue people like you who are still alive and bring them back. How...how did you manage to survive on your own out here?”    “I just do.”    “How long have you been here?”   “I don’t remember. The apocalypse happened when I was young.”   Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgment like he understands. “It happened when I was seven.”   “I remember celebrating my fifth birthday in an underground bunker with my parents.”   He doesn’t ask where they are. If they aren’t with you now, it’s safe to assume your parents are dead like his are.    “I had a lot of people help me along the way, a lot of people who died,” you say, “I’ve been in sanctuaries and communities until they fell. Everything was only temporary. So, I’ve been on my own for a while.”   “Arcadia is different,” he says with bright eyes, breathy voice full of wonder and hope. “It’s where the new world is beginning. I can take you there.”   “Isn’t your flying machine broken?”   “You mean my Xanadu Shuttle?” Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. You notice how the tips of his ears turn scarlet. “Actually, it was my first time taking it out that far. I’m kind of new to all this. But don’t worry! When it crashed, it sent a notification to headquarters and gave coordinates, so they should find me soon. I’ll try to fix my Erewhon device too.”   You don’t pretend like you know the things he’s referring to. “Are you hungry?”   “I have dried pemmican!” He lights up as if remembering and pulls a transparent wrapped bar from his back pocket. You wonder what else is in those endless pockets of his.    Seokjin must read the puzzled expression on his face since his smile widens. “Want to try it?”   “Sure.” You rip open the wrapper and you’re met with a dark red and gray block, and a meaty scent that makes you slightly nauseous. But you’ve eaten worse before, so you take a bite.   Seokjin instantly laughs when your expression wrinkles up. “It tastes better the more you eat it. Promise.”   “It’s awful.” There’s a temptation to spit it out the window, but afraid that it might be considered rude, you swallow it down and quickly hand back the monstrosity to him. “Do you want rabbit?”   “Sure.”   … .. .   It’s odd to eat a meal with someone — an experience that you’re unable to pinpoint your last memory of. It’s rather mundane, but mundanity has long been a privilege in this era.   “You can sleep in the tree house if you want.”   “Where will you be?”   “I usually like to sleep on the forest floor anyway.” It isn’t a lie. One of the few things you love is drifting off while gazing at the stars, that the last thing you see is the sparkling horizon before it’s blue again when you awake. “How many people are there in Arcadia?”   “About twenty five hundred people so far.”   So far. But if what he tells you is true, then it’s a big settlement.   As if able to see how he’s piqued your curiosity, Seokjin continues, “It’s an amazing place and we’re completely self-sufficient. There’s an agriculture industry that’s growing and greenhouses underground that gives us all the food we need. They developed a water filtration system as well and it’s connected to the mountain springs nearby. There are pods that people live in, schools that kids can go to, jobs, medicine— you’ll see when I take you back.”   “I never said I was going with you.”   “What? Why wouldn’t you?”   You don’t answer.   … .. .   “Morning.” You watch as he climbs down the ladder and nearly slips off. It’s an amusing sight to see his hair in a disarray and his eyes swollen beyond recognition. “Glad to see you’re finally up.”   Seokjin, on the other hand, is baffled at how you’re already moving so energetically. “When….did you get up?”   “Since sunrise. Changed your bandages too, if you didn’t already notice. I’m getting breakfast prepared. There’s a stream down this path that you can wash your face in. Collect water for me while you’re at it.”   You hand him a silver pail.   Walking off, Seokjin finally gets a good look at the forest. It’s quiet, save for the chickadees he notices in the thin branches of the spruce, twiddling as he passes and the woodpeckers hammering against the alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And the verdant green almost blinds his vision with how vivid it is. He’s never been so surrounded in nature before — never has it encapsulated him completely.   When Seokjin returns, he’s more alert than before.   “Thought you got lost for a second. You can set the water over there. Do you want to help me look at my traps?”   He follows you and nearly steps into a trap before you yell at him. But he’s amazed. You’ve designated a whole section full of traps made of loose string and branches, and when he asks, he learns they’re treadle snares to drowning snares.   “They don’t yield a lot of food. It depends on the season, but it mainly depends on luck.”    “What do you usually eat then?”   “I have some canned stuff from the cities, but there’s a lot of berries and herbs around here that are edible. I’m in the process of growing some basil and tomatoes too, so I never really starve out here.”   Seokjin is astounded. You can see it on his face, but you don’t know why that is. It’s not like any of these things are impressive. It’s just things you learn once you’ve lived out here long enough.   “You’re making a fire now?”   He watches as you take out a curved piece of wood with string attached and another piece that’s pointed at the end. You saw it back and forth on some more wood and Seokjin watches the smoke, how the friction creates the heat, how you transfer the embers to tinder.   “Is this how you always make fire?”   “Nowadays. At the beginning when I still had materials, I would use batteries and steel wool. Even flint and steel. But the bow drill method works fine. I save my matches for when I need them.”   “That’s incredible. Is this what you do? I mean, collect food and make fires.”   “I guess.”   “Do you do anything else? Do you ever get bored?”   It’s an interesting question — boredom. A privilege in itself to be bored rather than worried. Though you suppose that in this quiet forest with no one else, it’s a wonder how you never went insane. But while loneliness sporadically plagues you, you’ve never necessarily felt isolated or deprived. It’s always been this way. You’ve learnt to adapt to it. Humans can handle more than they think when push comes to shove.    “There’s always something to do. Whether that’s upkeeping the tree house or making more traps or planting. But sometimes in the summer, I go exploring for a few days. Into the cities. There’re lots of places I haven’t been. It’s a good opportunity for me to get seeds, food, and clothes, so I’m never….bored.”   “Wow, t-that’s...that’s impressive.”   “There’s nothing impressive. It’s just the way things are.”   “I...went to Arcadia in its early days,” Seokjin explains, “It was established twenty years ago, right after the apocalypse began, so I’ve never really got to see the outside world.”   “They don’t let you leave?”   “It’s not that. It just isn’t safe to. Actually, that’s why I wanted to join the rescue fleet. It gives me a chance to see the outside world.”   “You haven’t even seen anything yet. If you want….I can take you somewhere. Better than this.”   “Really?!” Seokjin’s eyes widen, irises practically glistening.   Your lips tickle, threatening to upturn. “Sure.”   … .. .   Past the stream and thicket is a clearing. A meadow of daisies. It’s overgrown grass that reaches to your knees, white petals spilling over with yellow centers filled among them. The sound of insects buzzing and circling through the field is heard as the sun beats down. You found this place a good year ago and while it doesn’t serve much of a purpose, you left it undisturbed.    The apocalypse was a catastrophe, but it did a lot for nature.   “This….this….” Seokjin is breathless, unable to force a coherent word out. He looks over at the blue horizon that seems to steal the land as the abundance of flowers overwhelms his senses.    “It’s beautiful, huh?”   He stays silent, taking in the sight in front of him. He has seen a vase of flowers at best — most certainly not a boundless field of them. Not like this. Not in the entirety of his life so far. Not in a way where he could inhale the fresh air, count clouds, memorize the azure shade of the sky, and not where he is unable to see where the end or the start is.   Seokjin is overwhelmed, and he realizes why the choice to stay remains. Why you would refuse his offer of coming back with him to Arcadia. A part of him also wants to stay here. Where freedom lies.   “I’m sorry,” he murmurs while still taking in the sight. The colours are so rich that he feels regretful he couldn’t see it sooner. “I didn’t mean to push you to come with me.”   “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.”   Seokjin finally peels his eyes away from the scenery to gaze at you.    Yet you continue to look forward. “You made me curious about this Arcadia.”   And the corner of his mouth turns into a smile.   … .. .   The next few days are spent with Seokjin — noisy at your side, but it’s entirely invited.   He goes back to his vehicle, his so-called fancy Xanadu Shuttle, and tries to contact his people. Much like your radio, there’s only static on the other end when he flips and fiddles with switches and the lights eventually die off. He messes with his Erewhon too, the little walkie-talkie device, though it’s to no avail. But Seokjin never becomes discouraged. He remains optimistic, a rarity in today’s climate. The man has no doubts they’ll come for him and even reassures you.   In the meanwhile, you show him how to start a fire, how to collect berries and certain plants, and he helps you sharpen the knives you have. But the man looks away when you have to kill the animal you trapped and he makes you kill the bugs that land on him as well. It’s a bit ridiculous and outlandish, but frighteningly natural how quickly he falls into place and adapts.   You forgot what it was like to have someone with you. To be able to talk to someone.   … .. .   “Are you ever lonely?”   Seokjin asks one night when he’s laid on the grass, arms tucked underneath his head and staring up at the stars by your side. He copied you after several occasions where he found you like that. You immediately heard the gasp that left his mouth the first time he laid down. It’s beautiful enough that he’s unconcerned with insects and doesn’t get up until you chide him to.   “Sometimes. Then I think about how people are more trouble than they’re worth.”   He grins. “Why do you say that?”   “People mess up things and always have their self-interest at heart. Learned it after I had a gun pointed on me by someone I thought was a friend.”   “I’m sorry.”   “It’s alright. Just the way things are. Anything to survive, right?”   “Is that why you’re on your own?”   “Partly. It’s hard when people die too. I’d rather not deal with that.”   “Why’d you agree to help me then?” Seokjin asks after a moment. “If people always mess things up.”   “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone. I thought talking to you would be worth the risk. And it’s not like you’re not messing things up. I’m leaving with you, right?”   Seokjin grins, meeting your eyes. It goes quiet and then you pipe up again—   “I do sing sometimes to myself. Helps keep me sane.”   “Like what?”   “I don’t know.”   “Show me.”   You outright scoff. “No.”   “Please?”   A sharp exhale later, you start mumbling, slurring words together in some obscure melody. Your voice is rigid and stiff, out of tune even to your own ears. But you’ve heard it from your parents before. It’s some jingle on television back when electricity still worked.   Instantly, Seokjin starts laughing.   “Hey, it’s not my fault I don’t know the lyrics!”   “No, no, i-it’s amazing, please continue!” Seokjin squeaks out in the midst of a giggling fit and the corner of your own mouth twitches into a subtle smile.   … .. .   Unfortunately, these simple days don’t last long. Seokjin continues messing with his Erewhon device whenever he gets the chance — banging it on the tree house wall much to your dismay, curling up with it using a screwdriver kit he got from his capsule — and one evening, it suddenly comes alive.   There’s the sound of static and someone’s muffled voice.   “Hello?! Code White. R-six-four-three. This is Kim Seokjin from fleet seventy two.”   “R-four-......three-nine.”   It’s difficult to discern, but that’s all the other line says before the device goes silent again.    You look to Seokjin, anticipating dejection and disappointment. But instead, a grin spreads into his cheeks and his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “Y/N. They’re coming soon.”   … .. .   It’s a morning of checking for traps, of hearing the orchestral songs of nature, of holding your breath as the breeze whisks through the strands of your hair. You’re tip-toeing to the simple snare laid on the ground when the familiar, deafening noise returns to the sky. A thin whistle that crescendos. Louder than you’re used to hearing. Ringing in your eardrums. It rumbles the ground, roaring through the silent forest. And you look up to see a streak of white in the sky.    It’s a larger white vessel with glass windows around. So white that it burns to the back of your eyelids, in no way natural whatsoever. And it descends to the same place Seokjin crash-landed.   Seokjin finds you and the two of you venture through the forest and shrubby towards it.   There’s a whirring and a compartment opens. Three different people step out, dressed in that unnatural white much like Seokjin is, pants and shirt cut off oddly. They look at Seokjin with smiles and incredulous expressions.   “I can’t believe you actually crashed.”   “It wasn’t my fault, JK!” Seokjin whines immediately and then quickly greets the other two females who he’s evidently less friendly with. “Amber. Lizzy. Good to see you too.”   “This something I expected from Namjoon or even Jimin, not you,” the shorter-hair girl named Amber huffs out as she playfully shakes her head.   “At least he’s safe,” Lizzy says with a smile. “Saves us from having to transport him back in a stretcher. But….who’s….that?”   Her eyes dart over to you and the other two strangers follow her line of sigh, re-directing their attention. Then their mouths drop open, eyes widening in surprise, having not seen you there.   Seokjin steps aside, allowing the light to shed on you. “She’s a lone one.”    “A-A lone one…?”   “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Amber whispers softly, lowering herself to meet your height and connect your eyes with hers as if you were a wounded animal. But then light flashes beneath her irises and her brows furrow. “Right. She might not know how to speak. Where’s my translation devi—”   The corner of Seokjin’s mouth tilts. “She does.”   You step forward, directly underneath the canopy spotlight coming through the spruce, walnut, and alder. “My name is Y/N.”

Arcadia. It’s protected by a dome-like structure reminiscent of glass, but as one of the strangers narrates, it’s supposedly a magnetic force field to protect against natural disasters. The place is ruled by tall buildings like the cities, but unlike it in the sense that they’re not decaying. They haven’t turned brown under wear and tear, don’t have moss growing on the sides of it. Rather, there are patches of green in between the paved pathways, flickering screens that are seemingly floating mid-air, masses of people walking past one another.    It’s a utopian society, they tell you. But you’re not sure what that means.   “Welcome to Arcadia,” the voice from above speaks rigidly.   The door whirs as it opens.   And white is all you see. White floors. White walls. People dressed in white. The white lights burn your vision as you stagger out, being aided by the strangers who were onboard with you.   They welcome you. Tell you they hope this place could be your refuge and new home. And you’re taken immediately by strangers until you begin thrashing, calling out to Seokjin until he consoles you. He promises that they mean no harm, that he’ll see you soon, and it’s enough for you to be relieved.   They lead you away, give you a new set of white clothing that are soft to the touch and a bin to place your old clothes in. You feel vulnerable as you strip from your grimy clothes and trade them in.   You’ve never been able to afford to hold onto sentimentalities. But it’s hard to let them go.   … .. .   “Hello—” The doctor glances at his clipboard. “You must be the new refugee, Y/N! Oh right, they call it newcomer now, not refugee. Anyway, nice to meet you, I’m Jung Hoseok. I’ll be assessing you today and setting you up to live in Arcadia. You understand me, correct?”   “Yes, I do.”   “Excellent! Makes things easier for me if we can speak the same language. But feel free to tell me if you want me to slow down. We’ll take things one step at a time.” The man grins brightly and sits on his stool, spinning around to a thin screen on the desk. “We’re going to be doing some tests together today, so I can figure out what I’ll need to help you with and we can make sure your transition is as smooth as possible.”   “Okay.”   You knew a doctor once. She was similar to him, whimsical as he seemingly is, until she had to amputate her own arm and then bled to death.   “Do you have any questions?”   “Not really.”   There’s an eye examination done until you tell him you don’t know all the letters of the alphabet. He switches to pictures afterwards and is enthused as he tells you that your eyes are apparently fine. He makes you lay down and open your mouth to examine your teeth. You spit into a vial, have your blood drawn. You step into a white capsule with black bars twirling around you. He shows you a picture of your bones and scanned brain with the excitement akin to a child’s afterwards.    And he asks too many questions.   “So you mainly ate rabbits, berries and other plants? Fascinating.” — “How often do you sleep?” — “So your bowel movements were pretty consistent?”   You miss Seokjin.   … .. .   “Seokjin, can you please tell us what happened on the fifth?”   The commander, chief, supervisor and several others are seated on the other side of the table.   “Yes. I was dispatched to forty one degrees, twenty four point two eight minutes north. Halfway there, I….became distracted by the scenery, and went off course. I became alert again when the shuttle skimmed along treetops. The console received a malfunction notification and I subsequently crashed into a forest area.”   “The maintenance record shows your Xanadu Shuttle was updated on the second of the previous month?”   “Yes.”   “Then do you accept responsibility for this incident?”   “Yes, I do.” There’s no point in putting up a fight. All the evidence is all in the machinery and Seokjin had made no attempt to hide it.   “I’m interested in the girl you rescued,” the Commander speaks up, tapping his pen on his clipboard. “When did you come into contact with her after you crashed?”   “After I crashed, I exited my Xanadu Shuttle and caught sight of her standing amongst the trees. I think...the accident got her attention and she came to investigate what it was.”   He nods and the people on the other side of the table look around at one another. There are soft murmurs and Seokjin stays quiet through their deliberation, keeping his eyes on his own report.   After a minute, it simmers down.   “The panel appreciates your honesty and integrity, Seokjin. In spite of your circumstances, you were able to rescue someone who will become a valuable member to our society and such a thing should not be overlooked. However, the crash was ultimately on your part and as such, you will have to be put on probation for a period of two months. The panel will also require that you retake your license class. Do you agree these actions are necessary?”   Relief washes over him. Seokjin thought this was it. He was anticipating that he’d lose his job.    “Y-Yes. Thank you.”   “You will have to pass your license class.”   “Yes, I will.”   “There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you, Seokjin,” The Commander speaks up. “I spoke to our Premier and Minister prior to this meeting and we came to an agreement that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if you could foster the newcomer you rescued. Typically, as you know, we house newcomers for a while and monitor them. But she...seems to be a special case.”   The Chief furrows his brows. “Yes, she was isolated, wasn’t she?”   It’s known to all that the lone ones are usually the people that are most unstable. The ones with animalistic behaviour as a result of living in the wild and being socially deprived. The problematic ones. But they’re wrong. Seokjin doesn’t outright refute his own superiors, yet he’s certain that you don’t have any of those issues. You’re not violent. Uncivilized. Barbaric.   “Usually people are found in groups or clusters.”   “Exactly that. But it seems like Seokjin has built a rapport with her. It might lead to a smoother transition if there’s immediate integration. Or at least, it’s an experiment we want to try. He has a calm temperament as well which makes him an ideal candidate to attempt this new method. Would you be willing to house this newcomer for a period of time, Seokjin?”   He doesn’t need a second longer to think about it. “I wouldn’t mind whatsoever.”   ... .. .   Seokjin finds you and almost bursts out laughing with how relieved you look.   “Jin!”    He doesn’t mind the nickname either.   “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Hoseok twirls around with a blazing smile, his white coat fluttering with him. “But I have a feeling you’re here to see my little guest and not me.”   “You’re right.” He enters and stands by your side. “Has everything been alright?”   “Of course!” Hoseok interjects before you can answer. “I’m one of the best doctors here, what do you take me for? We had a very fun time together, right, Y/N?”   “Uh, sure.”   “I’ll take it.”   Seokjin smiles and looks at his old friend. “Is there anything…?”   “She’s healthy. She’s been taking care of herself well. Nothing that’s too concerning.”    Hoseok's eyes meet yours and he grins. “You’re approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have any family here in Arcadia, but you don’t have any diseases, so that’s something to be happy about! Minimal dental work that needs to be done. Blood pressure is good. You have a slight magnesium and iodine deficiency, but nothing dark greens, whole grains, fish and eggs can’t fix. I’ll give you some vitamins to be safe and some medication to avoid illnesses you’re potentially susceptible to in Arcadia.”   “That’s good news,” Jin exhales.   “You’re also healthy enough to have children!” Hoseok announces and if possible his grin widens. You blink at him and he quickly reads your confused expression. “Right, you might not be aware but it’s one of the main ambitions of Arcadia to repopulate society. People with the most compatible genes get paired together into family units. Depending on how your integration goes, you might get paired up in a family unit by the end of the week.”   “What?” You’re reeling. Starting a family and having children are things at the very back of your mind, not even in the realm of what your thoughts are, and you’re not sure what to think at this news.   Jin sighs at his friend. “You’re freaking her out.”   “Am I? Sorry,” the man laughs and looks at you. “Don’t worry. No one will force you. It’s just...highly suggested and recommended.”   … .. . “That’s the dining hall.”    “What do they serve?”   “On Mondays, there’s quinoa. Tuesday is this dried beans dish. So on and so forth. Don’t worry, there’s poultry too, so there are eggs and chicken breast which you can order. There’s corn, milk, cheese and a selection of fruit too. They also serve protein powders you can mix with water that gives you the same nutrition value.”   “It’s not like...that stuff you gave me, right?”   “You mean pemmican? No, it’s better. Or at least I hope so.” He smiles. “Everyone has the same food. Sometimes during celebrations though, they serve different things.”   “There’s not much privacy, is there?”   Seokjin follows your line of sight to the glass buildings where you’re able to see the people working on each floor. “I guess not. I’ve never really thought about it.”   You suppose it’s something to get used to. “Are...people staring at me, Jin?”   “Don’t mind it. It’s not everyday we get a new face around here.” Right as he says that, you lift your head to discover your face plastered on one of the screens at the top of the building as if you were a wanted criminal. Seokjin laughs. “News spreads fast around here.”   “I bet it does,” you mutter, a bit unnerved.    “It’s a nice place if you follow the rules, trust me.”   “What happens if someone breaks a rule?”   “Well, there’s a focus on restorative justice for small crimes. So people often do community service or talk to victims or the people they affected and try their best to fix their mistakes.”   “What about big crimes? Like if you killed someone.”    Yet, Seokjin stays silent for a moment. “They disappear.”   Your brows furrow, not sure what he means. But he doesn’t elaborate and you don’t push for an answer, uncertain that you want to know more.   Arcadia isn’t as you expected it to be. When Seokjin told you stories, part of you anticipated it being lesser and merely blown up in proportion through his evident love of this place. You had predicted a community ridden with suspicion, like many of the sanctuaries you had been to before they inevitably collapsed. Leaders suppressing their people. Scarcity in resources.   Another part of you expected an otherworldly universe, full of gibberish and things you didn’t understand. Much like the technology he carried with him or the shuttle that crashed in the forest.   But what is presented in front of you is a sort of familiarity in a changed background.   People like you know them, except courteous and independent.   “This is my housing unit.”    It’s a blinding white, two stories with the top floor off center and extended off the right side. It looks like two boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other with giant pane glass windows at the front.   “It’s not much but it’s my home.”   You nod as your eyes drift to his lawn — a tiny patch of grass that surrounds the path leading up to the front door. As if entranced, you launch forward towards it. But it feels different underneath your feet, past the soles of your shoes. The soil isn’t soft. There aren’t any lumps, no grip when you try to root yourself into it.   Seokjin notices your reaction. “It’s artificial grass.”   “What does that mean?”   “It’s fake.”   “Fake? You can’t get real grass?”   “Guess not.”   The interior of his home is less white than all of Arcadia. There are mismatched cushions, wooden tables and bookshelves, fake yellow flowers on his marble kitchen counter, paintings of oceans and cities placed on the wall next to photographs of himself growing up. You glance over the knick-knacks lining the shelves, snow globes and postcards, tiny things you’ve always seen lying around shops in the decaying towns, but never paid much attention to.   “Sorry. It’s a bit messy.”   “No, I like it.”    He shows you to your room, an empty one down the hall. It’s much less decorated than his living space and he quickly excuses himself to tumble back in with heavier blankets and proper pillows. “Had I known you were coming, I would’ve had everything already set up!”   “I don’t think any of us knew I would be here.”   He laughs. “That’s true.”   You walk to the window, taking a peek outside to the white city that towers over and covers the blue sky, the tiny patches of grass that alleviates the brightness of Arcadia, the flying shuttles hovering past the paved paths.    “You’re probably tired, right? Do you want to rest a bit? I have a few things to do, so…”   “You don’t have to worry about me, Jin. I can take care of myself. Probably.”   Seokjin ends up shutting the door after promising he won’t take long. But it’s the first time in hours that there’s finally silence. And you allow the quietness to simmer down on you as you take a seat on the edge of the soft bed that sinks underneath your weight. You stare at the sheets, the white walls and floor, the luminescent sunlight streaming through the windows.   You’re not sure how you feel.   … .. .   You stare down at your slab of white meat, so white that you wonder if everything in Arcadia is dyed in this blinding shade. It’s something you might have to ask Jin, even if it’s a bit ridiculous.   You’re just not used to having meat that isn’t charged by the flames of a bonfire. But still, you tear it with your fingers and when you bring it to your mouth, it tastes dry and heavy — like it’s fake.   “This isn’t very good, is it?”   “It isn’t?”   Jin blinks and you lift your head. Immediately, your eyes connect to a stranger who instantly turns away and it occurs to you that people are watching.   “Don’t worry. It’s because you’re not using utensils. Here.” He hands you a metal stick with three prongs at the end and another one that’s rounded. Understandably, it’s awkward in your hold, hurts in your grip. It goes silent as you fumble with it. The chicken breast almost flies off your metal tray.   “It’s okay.” He smiles at your visible frustration and reaches over to slice it with a knife. Jin gently takes your hand holding the fork and pierces the piece. “Like this, see? Not too bad, right?”   “It would be easier with my hands.”   He agrees, “It would be.”   “Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A familiar red-head comes prancing up to the table and steals a seat next to you. “I’m Lizzy. We met on the Xanadu Shuttle, remember? I was the one telling you all about the history of Arcadia?”   “Yes, I do.”   “This is Namjoon. He’s one of our robotics engineers,” she introduces a gawky, strapping male with framed glasses. He takes a seat next to Seokjin.    “A pleasure to be of your acquaintance. I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the past two hours or so. I am friends with Hoseok. He doesn’t indulge me in much information, he told me he received a great person of interest in his office. I believe that person may be you—”   Seokjin interrupts his ramble, “Namjoon.”   “Don’t mind him,” Lizzy laughs, ignoring the two men as she leans over the table to intrude into your personal space. “How are you getting settled in? Everything okay?”   “Yeah. I’d say everything’s okay.”   “I heard you were living with Jin now. Tell me, is he as messy at home as he is at work?”   “I am not messy,” he protests.   “Only a little,” you divulge her with a small smile.   Namjoon smiles. “I heard you crashed. Glad to see you’re still alive and well.”   “Thanks.” Seokjin’s eyes roll as his voice drips of sarcasm. “I’m sorry you couldn’t use my body for your next humanoid robotic experiment.”   “Not now, but in due time,” the other man teases then turns to you. “It’s a shame you’re partnered with Seokjin. He can be quite clumsy and forgetful. You’ll end up becoming his handyman like I am.”   “His first time he got into a Xanadu Craft, he broke the console,” Lizzy tells, making your mouth upturn.   Namjoon swallows down his food before asking, “If I may be intrusive, Y/N, is it really true that you were alone? In the forest, I mean.”   “I...was.”   “How long were you alone for?”   “I’m not sure. I think maybe two years.”   “And before that?”   “I...uh...traveled around and met different people.”   He leans forward. “And what happened to those people?”   “Well, some...passed away and others went somewhere else.”   “What did they pass away from?”   There’s a loud scraping of a chair against the tiled floor, grating to your ears. “I’m stuffed. Aren’t you, Y/N? I think we should head back now. Sorry, Joon, Lizzy. Might have to cut your questions short there. Maybe you can ask more next time.”   “Oh, alright then.”   They bid you farewell and Lizzy waves with a smile. As you exit, you look at Seokjin. “Thank you.” He saved you from answering, from bringing up memories you had no intentions of returning to.   Yet he smiles and then looks away, feigning ignorance. “For what?”   … .. .   They’re wrong. It’s not a shame at all to be with Jin at all. If anything, you think you’re quite fortunate. Ever since you’ve met him, he’s proven himself time and time again to be thoughtful and considerate — traits that you thought were gone in this era. But it’s him who makes it easier to deal with these changes, to enter into this new world.   … .. .   “I thought you were gone,” he says, looking down at you with a smile. You’re laying on his lawn in the middle of the night in bare feet. “I knocked on your door and then searched my whole house.”   “Where did you think I was?”   “I don’t know.” Seokjin plops down on his artificial grass, stretching out his body and laying beside you like all those times before. “I was worried. I thought something happened to you.”   “I’m sorry.”   “Don’t be.”   “I couldn’t sleep.”   It’s quiet as the pair of you look to the sky with your hands folded on top of your stomachs. The lamp posts nearby casted warm glows on your visages. The warm breeze making his cheeks rosy. Yet, none of you can see the stars — not with the light pollution of Arcadia, not when all the buildings were towering so high and covering it, not like out there in the middle of the forest.   “Remember when we were in the forest, Jin?”   “I do. I remember that one time, you didn’t completely put out the fire and my pants almost set on fire.”   You giggle and Jin relishes in the sound. “I apologized for that and who told you to sit so close to that spot?”   “Hey, I just wanted to be next to you.”   You remember the nights when you were able to drift off while staring at the horizon and how you were awoken by the first blush of dawn, sunlight coming through the trees. You have a feeling it’s going to be a long time before you have an experience like that again.   It’s going to be a long, long time. If ever again.   “I feel homesick,” you whisper, finally being able to pinpoint your emotions and it’s the most honest you’ve been since you arrived. “I don’t want to be paired up with anyone or have kids.”   Jin reaches out and you feel his hand against the back of yours. He holds it, clasping it tight. You shift and your eyes meet. “Don’t worry. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”   You trust him.   … .. .   “If you want, we don’t have to eat in the dining center anymore. We can eat at home.”   The corner of your mouth pulls. “Is that allowed?”   “I’ll find a way around it,” Jin promises.   … .. .   “Please, Hoseok.”   “You know that’s not how the system works. There’s not much I can do anyway.”   “But you can put in your recommendation.”   He’s silent in contemplation. “She’s compatible with you, but more so compatible with others. Plus, she’d assimilate better with someone stricter.”   “I want to protect her. She’s my responsibility. Pair her with me.” Seokjin won’t let you be paired up with someone else in a family unit, expected to stay together and have children. He’ll keep his promise to you and be with you until the end — it’s also his selfish wish to be with you.   The other man sighs. “I’ll make a note of it, but I can’t promise anything.”   … .. .   You’re unfamiliar with the devices at hand — the kitchen appliances with automated voices that speak when you come close, the machines with tens of buttons you can’t read. They’re all things you once overlooked when you scrambled for remaining supplies.   “Is everything okay?”   “I’m trying to heat this up. You said I could use it, right?”   “Yeah. Here.” Seokjin comes behind you and takes your hand, guiding you where to press. “Click this button and then this one.”   You don’t understand technology at all. Even the television is odd, an overload on your senses.   “What do you think?” he asks, watching your reaction in amusement and how your eyes are as wide as the screen flashing against your face.   “It’s...a lot to take in.”   “That’s okay. Do you want to go outside instead? We can, if you want to.”   You glance out the window. “I’m fine here. I’m not used to there being so many people.”   “How about we work on some more worksheets?”   “Again?”   Jin laughs and the sound is tinkling. “You have to learn eventually. Come on.” He pulls you up and is happy to sit next to you at his kitchen table to teach you how to hold a pencil, how to write each letter and answer your questions.    You’re a fast learner. Today your strokes are smoother and you learn how to spell his name.   … .. .    Seokjin often knocks on your door before going to bed to bid you goodnight. Yet he seldomly finds you there, where you’re supposed to be. He wonders if you’re outside on his lawn again, but instead, he discovers you standing in his living room. You’re gazing out the window quietly with an unreadable expression.   “Is there something wrong?”   You turn around with a small smile. “I’m just a little homesick.”   He joins you, staring out at the city and the lampposts lined on the paved paths.    “How do we go outside, Jin? Not just outside, but beyond the dome.” To the forest again.   “Most people aren’t allowed outside because it’s dangerous. You would need to have my job or something similar, and that’s after you graduate from a three year program and pass several exams.”   It’s quiet and neither of you look at one another or speak when you reach over, discreetly taking his hand into yours. Seokjin laces his fingers through yours and squeezes.   He’s the only reason you can starve off the longing sewed uncomfortably in your chest.   ... .. .   In the following days, he receives a notification. The leaders are interested in you as a newcomer and extended an invitation to the party. So he helps you pick an appropriate outfit and the two of you enter with your hand looped around his arm as he reassures you.   “You must be Y/N!” The strangers, leaders of Arcadia, welcome you with tall bubbling glasses, one of which that you receive from a waiter. It tastes disgusting, but you try to not let it show on your face.   “It’s good to see that you’re getting yourself accustomed to Arcadia. I see you’re with your future partner this evening.”   The man laughs boisterously while you exchange expressions with Seokjin.   “That’s supposed to be a secret,” the woman beside him chides.   “Right, right. The postings of the new family units go up on Friday. My apologies for ruining the surprise, but I assume it is a happy one.”   You look up at him, gazing meeting Seokjin’s at once. The relief is overwhelming and what follows is a kind of excitement. Part of the weight lifted off your shoulders and Jin smiles tenderly. He leans in close, whispering in your ear so you’re the only one who hears—   “You shouldn’t look at me like that in a place like this or I might just do something about it in front of all these people.”   It’s bold. Unexpected but you know with the heat that rises into your face, it isn’t unwelcome.   “Y/N, is it?” The intimate moment is intercepted by other individuals approaching in blue attire, form fitting dress simple and modest. “You must be the newcomer! I’ve heard so much about you.”   “Yes, how has your transition been? Are you finding everything accommodating?”   You hope they don’t come close enough to feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks. “Yes. Arcadia has been very welcoming to me.”    They smile. “It’s so fortunate you can understand us and we don’t have to use those translating devices.”   “You were alone, correct?” another asks. “How did you fare in the wild like that? How did you manage to even eat?”   “I trapped animals like rabbits and squirrels and roasted them over fires.”   Laughter is suddenly roused all around you.   “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do such a primitive thing anymore?”   “What I’m curious about is how you’re still alive without any radiation poisoning.”   “I used a radon detector. It was given to me a long time ago by an older woman who was with me. She died.” Automatic silence sweeps through the crowd. You clear your throat. “But I used it when I traveled through the cities.”   “I see.” Some are fascinated while others aren’t. “How preserved are these old cities?”   “Most buildings are still relatively in-tact. There are abandoned cars and buses too, but they’re useless without fuel and everything’s been raided, so there’s not much left. It’s one of the reasons I started to live in the forest.”   “Poor thing,” someone sympathizes, “Someone should’ve rescued you sooner. You wouldn’t have to suffer so much.”   “I didn’t suffer.”   They’re taken aback, clearing their throats and moving on from the subject. A man directs to the refreshment table — all the while Jin pulls you closer to him and away from the prying eyes of Arcadia.   … .. .   Later on in the evening when Seokjin’s gone to relieve himself, you meet an old man seated alone at the table.   “I was outside too,” he croaks. “Until two years ago.”   Your eyes find his — past the wrinkles are bright irises — and you remain silent.   “Many things happened that the people here would never understand. But my biggest regret is coming here willingly. Arcadia offers many things,” he says, “it has everything but one.”   “Freedom.”   … .. .   The words stick to you. Like flies to honey. Or the magnets on Jin’s fridge. They don’t cease from your mind — a plague that spreads, a pollutant that you can’t shake off no matter how hard you try.    Jin worries about you, but he doesn’t ask. He knows every time he does, you’ll reassure him that you’re fine.   So one night, he takes your hand and shows you to his television.   “Put this on.” He hands you a black, heavy device and smiles at your visible reluctance. “Trust me.”   You slip it on top of your head and it sits comfortably over your eyes, obstructing your vision in complete darkness. Headphones are put over your ears and you discover both of your senses of sight and sound are completely disabled. “What are you doin—”   The words die upon your tongue the moment the machine flickers on.   There are chickadees chirping and woodpeckers digging against the bark. The sound of insects flapping their wings in the beating sun and the whistling wind intensifies. You see the forest, a forest. Canopies of spruce, walnut, and alder cascading light to the verdant floor overgrown in shrubbery.   A cry chokes in your throat, but then it bubbles into laughter instead. You jump up and down.   “I see it. I see it!” You whirl around, looking in each direction. To the blue horizon and the sound of the rustling leaves.    Your home.   But when you take it off, it’s all gone. You’re shrouded in darkness with Seokjin’s features barely discernible. You’re trapped in the very utopia you had followed him to.   And you cry.   For the first time in his presence, for the first time in a long while, sobs break through your frame at what you’ve lost — what you’ve traded in, what you’ve given up. Jin embraces you, arms wrapped around your frame, trying his best to keep you whole.   “I want to go back.”   … .. .   Jin makes it easier to be in Arcadia. He gives you reason to become accustomed to it. He makes you wish you wanted to stay. But he’s not enough to dissipate your constant wistfulness.    He isn’t the solution to your plaguing dilemmas, but you’re glad he doesn’t have to bear that burden.    You wouldn’t want Jin to harbour the hardship of being your fix.   … .. .   It’s in the dead of the night that Seokjin comes out of his room and finds you. In the dark, you’re seated on the floor with your knees folded to your chest and the virtual reality headset slipped on top of your head, over your eyes and ears.   You’re taking it all in. The orchestral songs of nature, the birds and leaves, the swaying of the grass and flourishing shrubs, bathing in the warm sunlight you cannot feel.    He sees you, but doesn’t say anything, merely turning away.   At same time, you feel the presence of another and slip the device in time to catch his retreating backside.   “Jin,” you call out for him, knowing you’ve been caught.   He hums, turning around and the two of you look at one another.   “I’m sorry.”   The dark-haired man smiles tenderly. “It’s me who should apologize. I’m the one who brought you here selfishly.”   “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who agreed to some and I’m...the one having trouble adjusting.”   “That’s not it. The problem is you’re not where you should be. Home. Not my home. Not Arcadia. But your home. “   You stand and he meets you halfway.   You press your face to his shoulder and he embraces you. “I’ll help you go back,” Seokjin murmurs against your hair. “I thought you would be happy here, but I don’t want to keep you against your will.”   “Come with me.”   “You know I can’t,” he whispers in spite of your soft-spoken plea. “I have a life here. Like how you can’t leave yours. Arcadia is my home. It always will be.”   You hold him closer, shutting your eyes to savour the moment. “Won’t you get into trouble?”   “I’ll find some way.” The corner of his mouth turns. “I always end up fine. You will too.”   … .. .   The year’s posting goes up and just as the man had said, you and Seokjin are paired together. The two of you hold hands as you look at it, taking your time to read it over. It’s slow, but you understand nonetheless.   You’re congratulated by those around him, people you recognize and friends you have yet to know. It’s fortunate it worked out that way, but it’s still bittersweet, knowing of your upcoming departure.   And that same night, five hours past twelve, Jin takes you across Arcadia. The white shuttle is ready when you arrive in the dark and you scarcely recognize its scratched paint and dented surface. It’s the same one that he crashed in, the one that took him to you.   “I programmed the path back. It’ll go automatically without you needing to drive it. And once you close the door, it’ll come back on its own. I’ll erase the data’s history. Take this.” Seokjin gently places the sling of a heavy bag on your shoulder. “There are clothes in here, blankets, medicine, a first aid kit, some canned food and seeds of new plants you don’t have. It should help you out.”   Tears threaten to spill from your lash line. “Jin. Wait.”   Hope blooms within him, wondering if you’ve changed your mind, that you want to stay. But he knows having such selfish desires won’t help him, so he puts them away. Just for a moment.   He tries his best not to hang onto you, to hold you down.   “It was because of you that I could even cope so well. You made it so much easier for me. I...I…”   But Jin lets his greed slip.   He closes the distance and kisses you senseless. The man swallows your soft gasp and comes to cradle the back of your neck as you ease into him. You relish in the gentle touch, his tender affections and taste one another’s lips. It’s bittersweet, yet he pulls away with a faint smile.   “You should get in.”   You nod, pulling away from him. Everything the two of you wanted to say has already translated through the kiss.   Still, you take every moment you can and look to him. “Thank you, Jin.”   The doors whir as it closes. He gazes at you till the very last second, till it shuts. The thin whistle diminuendos as it lifts into the air. He watches the shuttle fade from sight and when the sun lifts at the first blush of dawn, what’s left is a streak of white in the sky.

The world is limitless.    You have learned of such a fact at a young age, traveling from desserts to mountains, finding all the hiding places and safe spots that others had claimed no longer existed. But they did and you’ve sought refuge in this forest, found a home amongst the rustling foliage and canopies ruled by spruce, walnut, and alder. There was just enough rays of light bursting through to allow the saplings to flourish and shrubs to overgrow. And without the presence of others, you could listen to the woodpeckers hammering against the wood, the wings of insects fluttering about.   Everything was the way you left it. Unchanged from the time you left like it was waiting for you.   It’s as if Arcadia and Seokjin was a fever dream. Except the mementos brought back with you reminds you otherwise. You dig into your bag, looking through what he’s given you, everything he picked out that he knew would help. But you discover something special at the very bottom.   It’s a black, thick rectangular piece of plastic reminiscent of a walkie-talkie, synced up to only one other without a third in between.   You hold the Erewhon device to your lips and press the side of the button.   “Hello.” There’s a pause. “My name is Y/N.”   Silence follows.   But then there’s the sound of static and someone’s crystal clear voice.   “Nice to meet you. I’m Seokjin.”   A wide smile spreads into your cheeks.

[firewoodfigs]

hug me ‘til you drug me, honey, love me 

(for @royaiweek day 1 - letters & day 2 - little pistol. thank u mods!! 💕)

read on ao3 

Summary: They don’t, can’t remember each other - not when they’ve been stripped of their identities and labelled with letters and numbers, before being slotted deftly into an inescapable hierarchy and social destiny. The only brief memory they have of each other lies within a letter inscribed onto her back.

Rating: M, for Machiavellian bastards!! 

a/n: (i) inspired by many pieces of art - Huxley’s Brave New World (some of the italicised lines, as well as the title, are taken from his book), Wilfred Owen’s Anthem for Doomed Youth, snippets from Mother Mother’s Little Pistol, as well as soterianyx’s analysis of Riza’s tattoo and my friend’s explanation that fire on sand brings glass (hello friend thanks for teaching me physics!!).  (ii) please note the rating - it’s rated for graphic depictions of violence and war, and the context of this piece is based on an autocratic dystopia. (iii) count the alphabets if you’re confused by who’s who xD  (iv) i wanted to experiment with a different writing style - it’s meant to sound more detached etc (quite out of my comfort zone tbh haha because i'm typically a sap) to bring across the ruthlessness of everything that’s going on here. feedback is greatly appreciated!

~x~

Memory. Identity. Emotions.

The Amestrian military has no need for silly things like these. Sentimentalities are but frivolities in a war zone. The military needs people who can kill without batting an eyelid - cavalier about murder, like the Autocrat’s rapier. Soldiers who will mindlessly obey orders; subjugate themselves to the will of the State without resistance.

The individual is not its own being. It is a part of the State.

Bearing this axiom in mind, A-18/13 dutifully accepts his fate as a State Alchemist. He snaps on his ignition gloves, staring blankly at the red sigil - a lost, distant memory, perhaps? Regardless, he does not probe, does not flinch as the heat engulfs his hands and reminds him of a bittersweet embrace that he’s never tasted.

After all, the perfect soldier wastes no time on ruminations like these.

A-18/13 is armed for battle and ready to abide by the State’s decree. What might have once been remorseful reluctance and moral scruples are now replaced by an undying loyalty, an unwavering fealty to the State.

The white coat shrouds him like a cloud, but there’s an inexplicable coldness to it. It’s odd. He’s supposed to be the Flame Alchemist, but using his powers for simple comforts like warmth instead of killing feels rather inane. And so he refrains from doing so.

Instead, he stands ruler-straight with the rest of the State Alchemists, ignoring the subtle hunger and discomfiture bubbling in his throat.  

“For the greater good,” the soldiers chant, mouths moving like parrots. “For the greater good of the State.”

On the other side of the room, E-18/8 likewise accepts her orders. She’s young - hardly an adult by legal standards - fresh out of the academy, but it’s of little import to the State. All that matters is her talent in handling a gun, a rifle; her readiness to be shipped out to the desert. Notwithstanding her relatively petite stature, there’s a stubborn strength in her shoulders that beguiles her age and inexperience in war.

“Stay in the shadows, fire at any threat,” is the command given to her. “Sacrifice yourself for those who are above you.”

At their behest, she salutes before stepping forward to accept her instrument of death. The rifle feels cool against her palm, but she doesn’t flinch. What might have once been a burning desire to protect someone has been quashed and replaced with hands that are cold as ice. Indifferent to bloodshed.

“For the greater good,” the soldiers recite again. “For the greater good of the State.”

Their hollow voices reverberate across the room like the sounds of a lonely, dispassionate choir.

“Silence, silence.” Chanting dies off into light, regular breathing. The air is sibilant with the categorical imperative as they await further orders.

The Autocrat begins his descent down the stairs, into the basement shrouded by a thickening, eerie atmosphere of gray. He enters into the room: regal, powerful and of stalwart built.

The ultimate Alpha.

Everyone bows deferentially. “Fuhrer King Bradley,” his puppets’ voices resonate in perfect harmony across the room.

He looks upon them from the platform on which he stands with an unreadable expression. Then, with a deceptively pleasant smile, he asks, “You know what Ishvala is, I suppose?”

A rhetorical question. The soldiers chime in with the answer he anticipates, without any need for prompting. “A dead religion,” they reply, in perfect harmony.

Deadened, darkened eyes turn to look at him.

“Wonderful. Such excellent soldiers you all are. Well, remember this now, even if you forget everything else.” There’s a gleam in his eyes that’s disgustingly delightful as his lips curl upward, undertones of menace lingering within. The Autocrat draws his sword out. The tip of his blade meets the ground, and he rests his palms on the hilt as he barks out his next command. “All orders are to be obeyed immediately, for the greater good of the State.”  

“For the greater good of the State,” his lackeys reply, an incantation thoroughly internalised by now.

He smiles once more, before letting his gaze linger for a little while longer on A-18/13 and E-18/8. The two soldiers who, reportedly, were the most difficult amongst the lot to deal with during the extraction process.

Amelos potamos, it was called - a process by which soldiers were medically induced into a coma before utilising alchemy to tap into their subconscious, to extract and seal their memories away.

The goal was for them to wake up without any recollection of who they were, save for their fighting capabilities, as the gold-toothed doctor so kindly explained to the Autocrat. Emotional capabilities eroded so that troublesome fetters like - god forbid, feelings! - could get out of the picture. Consciences atrophied, minds brainwashed. All obstacles to the full realisation of their indestructible power in the war erased.

Reduced to subconsciousness, amelos potamos had been a surprisingly easy process to perform on most soldiers. For the general majority there was no struggle against the process, and they awoke into nothingness: nothing but shells of their former selves. For some, their minds had repelled against the procedure initially, as if desperately grappling on to fragments of their former selves, but eventually they’d succumbed as well.

A-18/13 and E-18/8 had, however, proved to be most cumbersome with their startling mental resistance. Even in their subconscious their minds had clawed frantically at the memories they shared with each other, stubbornly refusing to let go of the basis behind their shared bond. The doctors struggled to find a way around this, and even when they arrived at a solution it was a long, painstaking process to go through the elaborate removal of their memories, piece by piece - for there were so many - and -

-- and destroy every single trace.

And finally, at the end of it, they recalled nothing, felt nothing as they arose from their comatose states to a chilly hospital room. To a perfect world, without hindrances to ruthlessness. The perfect soldiers were engineered thus.

What man has engineered, nature is powerless to put asunder.

The Autocrat smiles beatifically at last, eyes crinkling with genuine pleasure. He inspects the soldiers once more with all the coldness of someone debating a pawn’s move on a chessboard.  “It’s time.”

At his beckon, they march out into battle like an army of marionettes.

~x~

Out in the battlefield, the Amestrian soldiers are like industrialised man-machines, way ahead of their time. An inward dehumanisation, an outward mechanisation. The Alchemists, in particular, possess a power so lethal that they could wipe out an entire army of men with the slightest snap of their fingers, the briefest clap of hands.

This they do unflinchingly, without hesitation.

True to the gold-toothed doctor’s predictions, there were no obstructions to the realisation of their full potential. Gone were nuisances like compunction, pity - foreign concepts that didn’t belong in the desert. The soldiers simply stare at their corpses laid out before them with glazed eyes, before continuing to traverse the desert like the very harbingers of doom themselves.

Death and destruction follow them, wherever they go. There is no remorse to be felt amidst the rifles’ rapid rattles; no guilt or sympathy that halts their movements.

Neither does fear plague the brave, heartless soldiers - not even when the soldiers are held at gunpoint or witness an explosive being thrown their way. Epsilons like E-18/8 protected those who were ahead of them in the hierarchy, and were willing to kill, murder; sacrifice their bodies without a second thought.

When A-18/13 was almost stabbed from the back, for example, E-18/8 had fired a shot straight to the culprit’s head that instantaneously killed him without batting even so much as an eyelash.

Her victim’s blood spills in the distance. A bright splash of scarlet, like carmine roses growing on a decrepit wasteland. He falls lifeless to the ground.

She doesn’t recoil in the slightest: her eyes are as lifeless as the cadaver’s.

For the greater good of the State, they cantillate in their heads. An anthem for doomed youths who are slotted into an inescapable social destiny.

A-18/13 notices the sniper hiding in the comforting darkness of a bell tower from the corner of his eye, and makes a mental note to thank the stranger as she begins walking towards their base camp for their lunch break. They stand six feet apart, glassy-eyed amidst desultory conversations.

He approaches her slowly when their eyes meet. There’s an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his gut - have we met before? But he’s quick to quash it, as if stepping on a bothersome insect. “Thank you for earlier,” he says.

“Not at all. It is my duty, sir,” she responds tonelessly, before taking a seat opposite A-18/13 and B-13/8. They sip coffee and eat ration bars in a wordless, somewhat peaceful quietude despite the chaos around them.

The coffee tastes like dirt, and the ration bar reminds them of cardboard.

They eat anyway, without complaint.

Incidentally, A-19/10/11 happens to overhear their interactions. He turns around to face them. “Cadets like her deserve no thanks when they are simply doing their jobs,” he sneers. It's doltish, he thinks, to thank someone for something they're ordered to do.

E-18/8 makes no protests or objections despite the condescension in his statement. In a world without trivialities like memories or identities or emotions, the hierarchy’s austerity elicits no complaints.

Suddenly, a bell goes off. Duty calls. It signals the end of their lunch break, and they're quick to finish the last of their measly meals before standing once more for battle.

E-18/8 slings her rifles and prepares to leave. Her back reminds A-18/13 of the tall, white columns of an estate that occasionally appeared in his dreams.

A ponderous lump begins to form in his throat, but before he can ponder further the bell chimes again. Around him, soldiers recite the dreadful axiom once more.  

War wages on. The Flame Alchemist rises, and the sigil on his leathery glove begins to glow a lethal claret.  

A snap. Bodies burnt beyond recognition. Another snap. Curses and vows of vengeance eventually subsiding to muted prayers.

It’s a mortifying sight to take in: the entire place reeks more of death than sand.

The desert wind carries the howls of pain, the screams for mercy and the broken pleas for salvation from a god who doesn’t seem to hear the dying voices of its people. Please, stop - what did we ever do wrong? Don’t take my lover’s life, take mine instead -

(I pray that you’ll always be that way… May you shine like fire before men; kindness and mercy your strongest traits.  And most of all, I pray that our love for each other will always -)  

A-18/13 simply regards all of this with a vacant, uncaring look. He’s quick to snap once more, incinerating mortals into ash - from dust we were made, and back to that we shall return - as if they were but matchsticks waiting to be lit up.

Unfettered by scruples, carefully curated gardens and entire landscapes are eventually swallowed by a lake of fire and brimstone. Roses are set on fire, and there’s a pistol party going on somewhere behind him.

A cacophony of bullets, a symphony of death.  

(Be thou for the people. You’re… you’re the most honorable of all my apprentices, and you deserve to have it. If you just ask my daughter, tell her you’ll use it for the right reasons… she will give you the key to the secrets of flame alchemy.)

(Can I… can I trust you with my back, Roy? You’re a good man, and I’d like to put my faith in that dream of yours.)

His expression remains unfazed.

~x~

Amelos potamos, despite its promises of creating the perfect soldiers, did not grant its victims immunity from physical sensations.

Pain. It's a complex feeling (feelings? god forbid something like that exists!) - equal parts physical and mental. It's as much biological as it is psychological.

E-18/8 bites her lips to stop herself from screaming in pain when the explosion burns her instead of A-18/13. Jumping in front of him to defend his body was an intuitive reaction, one that doesn't even require any contemplation.

(I would do anything to protect you, Riza. Even if that means sacrificing myself.)

(As would I, Roy. A life without you is not one worth living.)  

Surely, it must have been the call of duty that compelled her to act that way. The words of A-19/10/11 echo in her mind, and she decides that she doesn’t deserve any thanks or show of concern for merely complying with orders. She’s prepared to walk - no, crawl - back to the weather-beaten tent despite the agony that sears through her, but -

-- for the first time since the war, the Flame Alchemist’s expression cracks ever so slightly.

He crosses the distance between them in two long strides and ushers her towards the tent, allowing her to lean on him for support. E-18/8 staggers from the pain, but holds in her scream nonetheless. A subtle hint of worry starts to sneak into his frown.

A-18/13 pushes aside the flap and quickly shuts it for privacy, before setting her down slowly on the bedrolls and deftly removing what was left of her uniform jacket and undershirt so that he could tend to her wounds.

The lacerations that she’s sustained look awful. It’s the worst on her shoulders, angry blisters mottling her smooth skin. His eyes move lower down her back - the injuries there don’t look as bad, and for the most part the ink there remains.

The scene feels strangely familiar, like he’s done this before.

He pours out the antiseptic and dabs gently at the gaping wounds. She winces, but before she can yelp she contains it with another hard bite down her lips.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

E-18/8 thinks it’s strange. There’s nothing to apologise for. In the first place, it’s an oddity why someone higher in the hierarchy like him is even helping her dress her wounds. But she supposed it made sense - she couldn’t reach those wounds herself, after all, and it was best to repair his subordinates quickly so that she could resume her duties as his human shield.

“Not at all, sir,” she manages to exhale through the pain. Bandages are rolled around the injured area on her shoulders fastidiously. He moves on to the wounds on her back.

It is only then that he takes a closer examination at the tattoo, and to his surprise he realises it’s an alchemical array - an array that’s strikingly similar to the one on his gloves.

The epiphany hits him then, like a blaring truck. It bears an uncanny resemblance to the back of the nameless, faceless girl that appears in his dream.

He wonders why he dreams of someone he supposedly doesn’t know.

“Sir?” she asks, snapping him out of his reverie. His mending has come to a pause. E-18/8 wishes he would hurry up so that they could return to their duties. The perfect soldiers, after all, wasted no time on silly musings or dilly-dallyings.

“Ah, sorry,” he apologises again. A frown makes its presence known on her ashen countenance, but she swallows the pain as the dry air kisses her blisters along with the - dare she say, irritation?

“We should hurry up,” she whispers softly through gritted teeth, masking her - well, she didn’t know if it was irritation causing her teeth to grind against each other.

“Right,” he replies. He makes quick work of patching up the last of her wounds, before continuing to trace the tattoo in a dazed trance. There’s a tender sort of carefulness to his movements as he caresses the planes of her back. It elicits a shudder from the blonde, and she pins the blame on the desert wind that blows in fiercely through the little gaps pockmarking the flimsy tent.

His fingers continue their methodical dance down the grooves of her spine. E-18/8 shudders again, but the winds have stopped.

The Flame Alchemist gently thumbs the words that lay below the intricate array. Poems alluding to love and apology and light; frivolities that are unequivocally frowned upon by the State.

(Through fire, we gain knowledge and truth - the same way fire brings clarity to sand in the form of glass.)

(Well, that’s very... poetic, Roy.)

Further down, there’s an inscription that stands out in a gentle blue cursive - like the waters of an ocean, or a clear, azure sky he doesn’t quite remember seeing since time immemorial. The only images they saw in the desert were rivers of blood that drowned land and sky in crimson, the colour of the sigil on his glove and the words above.

This particular inscription, though, is different. Aside from the disparity in colour, it speaks not of holy flames or physics or thermodynamics. Instead, it’s a letter, seemingly addressed to someone. It’s intriguing and frightening all the same, because it whispers taboos and a dangerous secret that he can’t quite wrap his finger around.

Nevertheless, he runs a finger across the alphabets spelling out a… a name.

A name.

His face pales, like the posthumous whiteness of marble - does this blaspheme against the State? - but ignoring the warning bells his fingers continue their descent.

It’s not just a name, but two. Two names, framing an inscription of identity. Emotion. Memory.

My dear Riza, dearest Riza Hawkeye,

You will always be your own person, And I will always love you for that.

Lest we forget, Roy Mustang

“Ri...za,” he calls apprehensively. The foreign taste lingering on his tongue makes him feel like he’d just eaten the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.  “Riza,” he tries again, “Hawkeye.”

“Who is that, sir?”

Riza Hawkeye.

The image of a young girl in a sundress flashes before him. His mind reels like a film-roll as memories flash past, sepia tones of nostalgia colouring them. It’s vague, but he’s starting to see the barely discernible outlines of a girl who looks like a younger version of the injured sniper before him.

The nameless, faceless girl that haunted him in his dreams…

Was it - was it her?

“It’s… I think it’s you.” he says, a desperate plea for them to remember, remember - lest we forget -

“That’s impossible, sir. I go by E-18/8,” she answers, but there’s a nervousness that creeps around her placid tone as she remembers the occasional dreamful slumber.

The picture of a younger her with a nameless, faceless raven-haired man, summertime and sunlight kissing their skin as they sat together on the front porch, feet dangling and fingers intertwining. The dream would always end, without fail, whenever he began to whisper their names to the wind.

But once, just once… she’d seen him mouth a “ri” before the dream came to an abrupt end.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s you,” he says, with more urgency to his voice this time. A desperate plea for them to remember, remember - lest we forget - “There’s another name here - Roy Mustang. Does that sound familiar to you?”

(... Hello, Mister Mustang.)

(Please don’t call me that, Riza. Just call me Roy - I won’t bite, I promise.)

“... Vaguely, sir.”

(Alright… sir.)

(That’s even worse! I’m not some… some old-fashioned lord. I just want to be your friend -)

(... Friend?)

As if possessed by some kind of uncontrollable automatism, they begin to cry. A teardrop falls on an open wound on the small of her back, and she jerks upright.

“Sorry,” comes his third apology.

Acting purely on instinct now, he wraps his arms loosely around her from behind, trying to navigate through the storm brewing in his mind. He finally has a taste of the embrace he’s subconsciously been yearning for. It’s bittersweet and agonising all at once. Desire burns, and he finds himself longing for more.  

She makes no move to escape his hold. Instead, she rests her palms on his scorched skin, feeling the calluses with a rough, padded thumb. It’s warm underneath her. He lives up to his moniker, she thinks, as heat begins to surge through her body.

Hug me till you drug me, honey; kiss me till I’m in a coma…

An almost carnal desire spills from his heart, running to his lips. He presses his lips on the back of her neck to soothe it. She shudders again, and this time she knows - it’s not because of the wind, but him.

“What… what were we, Riza? What are we now?”

“I don’t know, Roy,” she cries out softly, as she turns to return his gesture of affection.

For the briefest of moments, their lips meet. Flames unfurl beneath them, and suddenly the only war, the only tussle is not the one awaiting them outside, but within them - their souls and memories desperately trying to reconnect with their bodies -

(I pray that our love for each other will always remain. I pray, Father, that you forgive us for our sins, past and future, and that the scarlet thread that runs between us will be one of love, not murder -)

The bell rings, again. Any memories that they might have recollected of each other immediately recede like a spectre.

For the greater good of the State.

They break apart from each other in stunned silence. E-18/8 is the first to stand, thanking him for tending to her wounds. “I am alright now, sir. We should get going.”

(Isn’t it interesting, Riza? Fire on sand brings glass. Here, let me show you - )

(Yes, Roy. I’m well aware. You’ve made that clear with your incessant rambling.)

Their consciences remain unclear as they step back out into the arid, sandy wasteland.

[louadorable126]

Cherry Blossom falls on a day dreaming devil - Cyberpunk AU: Part 2

                >>Soon to be its own spin off fan fic!<<

Click here to read over on Ao3!

Hello there! >U.U<7

So finally back to publish the second part of my Cyberpunk AU story! 

I’ve really had lot of fun writing in this universe, so I’ve decided to spin this off into its own fan fic! So when I get around to publishing Chapter 3, I will most defiantly bundle in these first two chapters, so people can catch up! :D

So please do keep an eye out for that! It would be much appreciated!

Moving on, I am happy to say there is quite a bit of Vergil content in this chapter! (Yay!) And I do hope to have him feature much more prominently from here on out! 

I’ll also be including a sample in the bottom of this post again. So please enjoy that!

Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer! Please enjoy!

—————————————————————————

Summary:

Cyberpunk AU - In a city controlled by the generally altered race of Demons, Lady's life as a mercenary on the lower floor was never easy. Especially when she ran into Dante. A demon on the hunt for his missing brother.

—————————————————————————

Important information!

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Realtionships: Dante x Lady, Vergil x Lady

Characters: Lady (Devil May Cry), Dante (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry) Morrison (Devil May Cry), Nell Goldstien (Devil May Cry) Eva (Devil May Cry), Sprada (He’s mentioned bless him), Mundus (Also Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Genetic Engineering, Sci-fi Fantasy, Strip Clubs and Strippers, Dystopia, Seizures, Flirting, Eva and Sprada are alive! :D

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“Boys~ Breakfast is ready!”

The smoky musk of cooked bacon was potent throughout the house that morning, as Dante rushed down the manor’s grand stairwell. He was half dressed, only barely managing to get a plain white shirt over his head, before he sleepily stumbled into the kitchen. His guardian was never too pleased when he arrived shirtless at breakfast.

“Mornin’ Eva.” Dante yawned tiredly, standing hunched over in the kitchen door frame. His vision was blurry with fatigue, as he gazed over at the charming woman, happily cooking on an old fashioned stove across the room.

Upon hearing his voice, she spun around to face him with a flourish of her dress. “Ah! There you are Dante!” She beamed brightly.

Eva Redgrave was certainly a beautiful woman for her age. With her blond hair tied back into a loose ponytail; her deceivingly youthful face was on full display in the gentle, sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window. 

She wore a surprisingly formal dress, almost as though she had gone to a ball the previous night and was still wearing her tight fitted, delicately embroiled, golden dress. The collar being mainly composed of a see-through, skin coloured material - that made it look as though golden vines grew up around her neck. It was extremely impractical, but his old man never once questioned his Nanny’s choice of everyday clothing. Even if Dante suspected it was just a side effect of going mad from being trapped in this house all these years.

Her gentle emerald gaze slipped past Dante for a moment - gazing beyond the kitchen door anxiously, despite the bright smile on her crimson lips.

This minor eye movement didn’t go unnoticed however, as Dante started back at her with an equally fabricated smile. She’s worrying about him again. Crap!

Dante wasn’t exactly the most punctual of people. A fact that was well known throughout his family, and may as well be a law of nature at this point. He would always arrive late to anything remotely timed. Having barely a care in the world as onlookers would on in annoyance. It was part of his mystique, and he was proud of it. 

His brother, on the other hand, was the complete polar opposite. He was never late to even the most informal of meetings. In fact, he would most often be the one scolding Dante for his slacker antics.

So for him to either turn up late, or even miss breakfast entirely for four days straight - certainly hinted that something was amiss with Vergil. A fact, that while concerning for Dante, had practically sent Eva into a spiralling anxiety.

He could clearly see how Eva’s hands were tightly clenched together. Her knuckles grew more white by the second, as she took more subtle glances behind Dante. Waiting impatiently for his brother to appear. So much so, she had completely forgotten about the steaming pan next to her - that looked as though it were about to catch on fire.

“Hey, uh- are you watching that pan?” Dante quickly pointed out. Gesturing to the pan with an awkward glance.

“Ah!” Almost imminently his nanny spun around and quickly turned off the stove. Hurriedly putting on a pair of floral oven gloves, that were hanging off the oven’s rail and swiftly moving the overheating pan onto a cooling mat beside her. “Phew! That was a close call! Thanks for reminding me!”

“Hey! No worries, Eva! Hopefully breakfast is still in one piece!” Dante chuckled heartily.

“Oh, I should think it is!” Eva reassured, waving away the cloud of smoke fuming up from the pan, and taking a quick peek inside. “In fact, I think it looks far better for it! The bacon seems remarkably crispy!” 

The blond woman grabbed a wooden spatula from a nearby pot of utensils, and poked the pan’s contents curiously. "I might have to do this more often...”

“What? Almost setting the house on fire? Don’t think dad will be too pleased!” Dante joked cheekily, as he walked over to his old fashioned, wooden seat and sat down.

“You cheeky boy!” Eva smirked over her shoulder at him. Putting down her spatula on the kitchen counter’s sleek, marble surface. “You know your father could have this place rebuilt in a matter of days if he wanted it too!”

“Heh, you're not wrong about that!” 

And she wasn’t. 

Despite the rustic, old fashioned appearance of the Manor House. All it really was, was a collection trillions of nanobots arranged in the image of a grand home. Nothing Dante touched - be it the tiled floor he walked barefoot on, the wooden table he was currently resting his arms on, or the ornately carved ceiling above him - was actually real.

It was a common technology used throughout the upper floor. Allowing for architectural wonders to be created, that by no means should be able to exist. It certainly showed off their technological prowess to all their neighbouring cities. But while the clean cut, clinical, futuristic style was most commonly used by any sane demonic architect. His dad was….far more flamboyant. Insisting that his house be styled off an old-fashioned Georgian manor house, surrounded by fine countryside for as far as the eye could see. 

Well…as far as the holo-deck's dome allowed anyway!

A few moments later, a plate of food - what looked to be a full English breakfast - appeared in Dante’s field of peripheral vision. Surprised, he quickly glanced up to find Eva smiling back at him, as she put down a pair of silverware beside him. When she turned back to the kitchen counter to load up a second plate of food. 

The demon picked up his knife and fork, and began to inhale the meal with ravenous glee. Tearing into the crispy strips of bacon and ripping them to shreds in a matter of seconds, before letting out a joyous sound of glee at its delicious taste.

“Dante?” His nanny asked all of a sudden. Carefully placing down the second plate of breakfast next to Dante; before sitting down heavily on the wooden chair across from him, with a loud creak.

“Yeah Eva?” He responded in a muffled voice. His mouth stuffed full of small mushrooms as he looked up at her.

“Do you think Vergil’s going to come downstairs soon?” Eva asked nervously. Once again gazing out of the kitchen door with an anxious expression on her face.

Dante gulped down the remainder of his food and he slowly lowered his knife and fork. He knew he had to say something. Anything that could at least act as a gentle reassurance for her. Even if Dante himself couldn’t guarantee brother was actually going to show up at all.

“He’s...probably just fixing up his hair. You know how Verge is about those kinds of things!” Dante slicked back his hair in a mocking fashion, before shrugging. “He’s a princess! Can’t leave the bathroom unless everything about him is perfect!”

“I can hear you, brother.” Snapped a familiar, nasally voice. Accompanied by the sound of the garden door slamming shut behind him. 

The pair quickly turned their heads at the sound. Finding Vergil standing there, the stark opposite in appearance to how his hot-headed brother had just lovingly jokes. To the point it made Dante’s hardened stomach feel grossly uneasy at the sight of him.

He looked…exhausted. As though he had been running around all night without a wink of sleep. His deep blue eyes were bloodshot with fatigue; framed by heavy bags of skin drooping underneath.

His usually pristine hair was a disheveled mess. Only barely managing to maintain its stubbornly slicked back form, as his stray, silvery locks dropped dead with exhaustion around their master's face. A face that clearly had remained unshaven for the past few days, if the stubble peaking up around his hard jawline were anything to go by.

Jesus christ Verge! Where the hell have you been?! Dante shouted loudly in his head. Opening up his mouth to let out a silent scream of shock at the state of his brother.

“Ah….Good morning Vergil!” Eva exclaimed in a jolly, yet uncertain tone, as she got up from her chair and strolled over to him. It seemed as though he was struggling to keep his balance, leaning ever so slightly against the stone doorframe. Not seeming all that there, as Eva reached up to touch  his cheek. Her fingertips barely making contact with his freezing skin. “Are you alright dear? You look far too pale-“

“It's none of your concern, Eva!” He growled angrily, as he grabbed a hold of her delicate wrist and ripped it away from his face.

It only took him a second of contemplation, in the awkward silence that followed the shocking incident, to suddenly comprehend what he had just done. A horrified expression shooting up his face, as he quickly averted his blurry gaze towards the tiled ground; bowing his head shamefully before the blond woman. His voice painfully soft as he spoke; "I’m…..doing just fine.”

He hesitantly stumbled past Eva, towards his assigned chair. Taking a quick glance at Dante’s half eaten plate with a solemn gaze. “I see you've made breakfast. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back sooner"

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Eva reassured softly. Waving away his concerns with her hand. "I’ve only just served it up, so it should still be warm."

Vergil slumped down onto his chair, and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. After a moment of hesitation, he delicately picked up his fork and took an uneasy bite out of a slice of bacon. Dante could have sworn his twin was about to throw up, as he painstakingly gulped down his food, with an uncomfortable shiver. His face twisting in vile rejection of the substance entering his digestive system.

He can’t keep that up for long with Eva around. She’s going to expect him to eat the whole thing. Dante quickly glanced up at his Nanny ideally twiddling her thumbs, as she patiently observed his twin eat from behind.  I’ve got to get her to leave somehow.

“Hey Eva, can you leave us for a bit? Kinda wanna to discuss super secret military business with Verge!” Dante asked nonchalantly. Keeping a close eye on his ill-looking brother, as he struggled to down yet another bite of bacon.

“Sure! The laundry should be done about now.” Eva nodded in agreement, strolling over to the kitchen door. "Enjoy your meal boys! I’ll be back soon!”

When the pair couldn’t hear the sound of her heels anymore, the brothers let out a collective sigh of relief. Vergil imminently put down his cutlery, and rubbed his aching temples with his thumbs. "Thank you, Dante. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for eating right now-“

“What the hell have you been up too!?” Dante snapped accusingly. Slamming his hand down onto the table. “You’ve been worrying Eva sick these past few days!”

Vergil was visibly taken aback by his brother's sudden outburst, a look of panic - with the slightest hint of guilt - sneaking onto his face for just a moment, until his usual stoic demeanor could take over again. His stern eyes now sent a cold glare towards Dante, defying any hint of emotion that he might have shown moments before.“Did no one inform you? I’ve been put on double shifts for assignments until father gets back from Vigrid.”

A lie. Even at the time, Dante had thought it odd his twin had been given assignments without him. Their father had forced his hand a long time ago, to allow for the pair to always be assigned to missions together. 

Sure, there had been times when they had been on separate missions. But that was normally because one of them was severely injured (Dante still swore it wasn’t his fault Vergil had fallen off that building. It...was just that the wind was far too strong that day!) and required a couple of days off to recuperate.

It was only later, when he had been asking around dispatch, that he learnt that no missions had been posted for either of them. That Vergil had been making the whole thing up to hide what he had truly been up too. Why hadn’t he noticed sooner?

Yet, despite this foresight, Dante found himself blurting out a familiar set of lines without thinking. His eyebrows raised in suspicion; “Seems kinda strange that I wasn’t invited along for the party! You sure they didn’t want me too?"

“They….wanted someone with...negotiation skills. Somebody who could speak subtly with culture and nuance. Something I know you particularly struggle with, brother.” Vergil stated bluntly. A tired smirk playing on his lips.

“You wound me, bro!” Dante cried dramatically, clutching his chest with a childish pout. “Come on! You know the babes love me down there!”

Vergil ignored his younger twin’s ramblings, and shook his head with a sigh. “They didn’t want you, ok? Can we just leave it at that?”

“Sure! But seriously Verge, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. You’re a complete mess right now!” Dante gestured to all of Vergil’s unkempt being with his hand. A concerned look uncharacteristically etched into his boyish features. "I’ve never seen you look so- well….scruffy! It's just so unlike you!”

Vergil looked incredibly self-conscious - as though he had only just become blatantly aware of the severity of his appearance. Without hesitating, he slicked back his messy locks with one hand. Trying to preserve what little of his dignity remained, as his ghostly pale cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Awkwardly adjusting the embroidered cufflinks of his rich blue, velvet coat; as he spoke in a breathy voice, ladened with hidden stress beneath its surface: 

“I….I will, Dante. Just please give me a little more time-“

A cheerful knock at the kitchen door cut him off. Startled, the twins quickly turned face the door. Seeing the pale shadow of their matriarch peeking out behind it.

“The washing’s done!” Eva’s gentle voice chirped from outside the room. “Am I allowed to come back in boys?"

“Yeah we’re good now, Eva! You can come back in!” Dante called out.

A second or so later, their Nanny walked into the room holding a basket of washing under her arm; her golden ponytail flowing behind her. The clicking of her high heels swiftly came to a sudden stop however, when she caught sight of the boys untouched plates. She raised her eyebrow curiously.

“Have you been forgetting your food over all that military talk? You know life isn't just about fighting, boys! Even if your father certainly makes it seem that way these days."

Crap! I completely forgot about the food! Dante almost wanted to mentally slap himself for his stupidity - and given the searing glance Vergil gave him, he certainly wanted to do the same. As the pair awkwardly looked down at their now less-than-steaming plates. Neither not really knowing what to do.

Dante began to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, as he blindly stumbled around his mind for a suitable cover answer. “Ah yeah…sorry about that-“

“I’m done with eating, Eva. I’m afraid my appetite isn’t exactly all that there today.” Vergil admitted honestly. Pushing his plate across the wooden table towards her.

Wordlessly, Eva slid her hand beneath its ceramic surface and lifted it from the table ever so slightly - looking as though she was going to simply head straight for the kitchen bin, and cast away the plate's delicious contents into its murky deaths. But when the plate simply hovered in the air, Eva gently placed a soothing hand onto Vergil’s broad shoulder. The elder twin let out a startled sound, and quickly tilted his head up to look at her.

“You know, that’s exactly what your father used to say to me.” Eva chuckled lovingly. A dreamy look in her gentle eyes, as she gazed down at the young man. Reminiscence of a distant past playing on her lips. “He'd often forget his food because he was talking so much back then.”

All of a sudden, Vergil’s muscles grew stiff beneath Eva’s fingertips. A strange look of horrifying realisation crossing his features, as though he had just solved some grand conspiracy theory - or at least gained a cursed insight into one, with how unsettled he appeared. His deep blue eyes wide in disbelief, as his pinkish lips trembled with temptation. A forbidden question itching to leave his mouth.

Without saying a word, he bluntly rose from his chair; causing Eva’s hand to slip pitifully from his shoulder. His face was clouded in shadow, as he practically ran out of the room and into the hallway.

“Hey Verge! Where the hell are you going?” Dante yelled, throwing his hands down onto the table and quickly rising from his chair, perusing his irrational twin. Rushing past the elegant nanny, who stood there in stunned silence, her fallen hand barely reaching out after the elder twin but soon retreating back to her side. An expression of hurt marring her beautiful features, as she shook her head mutely in defeat.

Dante practically threw himself out into the grand hallway. His right shoulder colliding with the kitchen door painfully as he did so, causing a hiss of pain to escape his mouth. But he didn’t stop moving. He simply couldn’t. Vergil was never this irrational. Never this secretive. Something was horribly wrong, and every inch of Dante’s identical body screamed at him to do something about it. Even if that meant forcibly tackling his unstable twin to the ground, and forcing him to spill the beans before he tried something stupid!

“Vergil get back here!” Dante cried out, desperately trying to gain ground on his brother as the pair ran down the insanely long corridor. At least if felt that way to Dante. Every step his twin took, it felt as though he needed to take six more to catch up with him.

Yet, the younger twin’s pleas did nothing to slow his brother’s pace, as his long blue trench coat fluttered elegantly behind his fleeing form. Finally managing to reach the mansion’s ancient front door only to find it locked.

Now’s my chance! Dante thought determinedly, as a wild, fang-like grin appeared on his face. Watching his elder brother flounder with the out of place steel keypad beside the front door. Frantically tapping its buttons, with the occasional worried glanced over his shoulder; as Dante closed in on his helpless prey.

Yet, just as Dante got within touching distance of his brother’s azure coat. Vergil spun around with an inhuman efficiency, and kneed his little brother hard in the crotch.

“Aw, fuck!” Dante whimpered. His eyes rolling into the back of his head from the sheer pain emanating from his nether regions, as he crashed dramatically to the ground. Curling up into a tight ball as he withered in pain. All his previous bloodlust lost, as any remaining energy he had left drained from his body.

Dante weakly lifted his head. His vision hazy from the pain and hair falling in front of his face, as he saw his brother’s silhouette standing over him. The bright artificial sunlight emanating out from behind him giving him a ghostly, almost angelic appearance. In a way that almost made Dante question whether he ever truly existed. As stupid as that thought was.

“I’ll see you again soon….little brother” Vergil uttered ominously. Before he started to walk away into nothingness. The room now has a white box. Growing unbearably brighter and brighter with every second that passed.

“Vergil….you’ve gotta come back. Please!” Dante wheezed weakly, as he shakily reached into the plain white nothingness that now lay before him. His every cry growing quiet and quieter in comparison to the void’s high pitch buzzing. The sound of a heartbeat banging erratically in his ears like an overworked war drum.

All of a sudden, the louder clatter of pots and pans crashing to the ground smashed through the nightmarish illusion; it's sound far too crisp and real compared to the floatiness unreality of the world around Dante. Soon accompanied by a familiar feminine voice yelling-

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Click here to read more over on Ao3!

[writings-from-the-hart]

Writebr Intro

Writeblr Intro Time!

Hiya! This is so overdue and I apologize for that lol. I’ve been meaning to write this but school seems to always be getting in the way of just that. Writing. But here I am finally writing this! And yes my username is a pun of my own last name but I just couldn’t resist.

So basically, I really want to surround myself with other writers and have stumbled across tons of writeblr’s (I think that’s what they’re called lol). Instantly I was in love and wanted more of what the community had to offer. I’ve been a self-proclaimed “author” or writer since my early years of grade school. I was that child in the back of the class with ADHD that couldn’t sit still (the cliche bouncing leg and always chewed down nails) and had what my mother called an “overactive imagination”. My notebooks in high school were often filled with wild stories about “galaxies far far away” or dystopias with cruel governments ruled by dictators. Now I’m in my second year of college swamped with classes about the Psychology of criminals (or I like to call the science of murder), and trying to find time to write a novel. So the struggle is real my dudes.

A little about Me:

Hana

20

She/Her

Pisces

Asexual

Forensic Psychology Major and English with a concentration in Writing Minor

Book hoarder

Dog Mom

Vintage AF

Low Key Emo Punk because I’m no average white girl!

History nerd (Love learning about the old wars and cultures)

Movie nerd (There’s an endless stack of DVDs in my house)

Fandoms:

The Mandolorian (or the ManDADolorian)

Star Trek

Star Wars

Hannibal

X-Files

King Falls Am

Welcome to Nightvale

Transformers (Obviously not the bad movies lol. Bumblebee is baby and must be protected always.)

Good Omens

Sherlock

Lord of the Rings

Marvel (There are so many shows and movies in this category we would be here all day if I tried to list them.)

Timeless (Not sure if the fandom is still alive after what the writers did to one of our ships lol)

DC (I’m a huge Batman geek and adore Wonderwoman, but I take the good with the bad when it comes to this fandom. Especially movie-wise anymore.)

And there’s probably more but my memory isn’t working currently.

Goals?. . . maybe:

Get my novel finished (This has literally been on my To-Do List for who knows how long.)

Meet more writers/new writers.

Improve my poetry (I suck at poetry so I bad I never let it see the light of day, so I need to work on it.)

Start my bullet journal.

Wips:

Okay by now you all know I have at least 1 Wip because I mentioned getting a freaking novel done, but just as a precaution as to what I mean by Wip or Wips. I get distracted quite easily, for some odd reason my brain absolutely loves to jump from one idea to another for no absolute reason. Like WTF dude we already have an idea we’re working on why do you keep bringing all these new ones to me like stray dogs. And like any good dog Mom or distracted writer, I want to keep all the ideas/stray dogs. So, when I say Wip I mean “Look at this cool idea I came up with” and I’ll make sure to specify which one is hogging most of my time.

Renegade: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

This is my baby. Most of my free time is dedicated to adjusting plotlines, character arc’s, fixing freaking plot holes, and other important stuff other than just plain writing. I’m hoping to finish this also monster of a story by 2020 and get it published. So big stuff!  

“So tell me little wolf do you want to punish those who have wronged you?” An assassin known as the Crimson Ghost makes their way through the corrupt city-state of Ashton completing a job given to them by the Black Rose. What is a seemingly normal job though turns into something far more complicated when they stumble upon the fractions of an abandoned notebook from the past. A past the Republic is trying to desperately hide and bury no matter what. On the other side of the world in the Republic’s capital Eshar, plainly referred to as “The Prodigy” or “machine” by his superiors,  Eric Coalwood has built a life upon the ashes of his family, striving to meet the high expectations set before him by his mentor General Wolfheart. However, his life falls out of its normal day to day routine when the unexpected is asked of him. Command a task force made up of the Republic’s most wanted or his life is over. Eric doesn’t need reasons for why he must do what he has to, all he needs are orders and the Republic is more than happy to give them. Either way the clock is ticking for both the Crimson Ghost and the Republic’s prodigy and with time running out they both have two options. Either get over their different beliefs concerning the Republic or allow the world to once again succumb to war but this time nobody is going to survive it. “Legends are slippery things. For the glory that coats them hides the pain, suffering and death that created them.”

The Trouville Files: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

Not my biggest priority but definitely one of them considering the plot of this story. I mainly use this wip as a reference for Renegade because it’s actually the prequel to it. Also, it’s great to use as writing practice when I’m plagued with writer’s block for Renegade or frustrated with a plot hole. So this is my double-edged sword that does a lot of good.

“Death in these black days is neither kind nor quick.” The year is 2153, the world we know is nothing more than a wasteland strewn with the dead and a sky being choked by their ashes, not glorious and thriving but desolate and starving. The Red Death, a pandemic with a steady progression and a gruesome countdown to the demise of those infected. No one outruns it or survives it. “United we stand, divided we fall.” The Allied Nations, a totalitarian superpower, promised a united people but all they gave this world was more death and destruction. The Red Death isn’t the only thing slowly killing humanity anymore, we are in the form of the War of Broken Pacts. The spark of revolution is lit, but if it will remain so is a question asked by everyone. Does it stand a chance against the iron-fisted government holding the people in shackles? “Rebel with a cause.” Genius Medical Officer for The People’s Republic, Cyprus Ramiro works day and night in search of a cure for the Red Death exterminating hundreds, at least before this war kills him first. But he is also a man on the run and the rebellion can only shelter him for so long. “Duty over pain.” Cunning Spy and Soldier, Orion Ultor is ordered by the Allied Nations to infiltrate and gather information on the ever-growing People’s Republic. In bold letters is Search and Destroy; make a ruin of the rebellion and ensure the Allied Nations remains as it should -- unquestionably in power. No matter the cost unless he wants to suffer the consequences again. “If we fall we shall rise from the ashes like a phoenix.” They should have never met, battlefields don't make good friends. It wasn't fate, it wasn't destiny, only war throwing people together.  The Allied Nations is trying to stamp out something they fear, but can they before the Red Plague? Or will humanity find itself extinct.

Beyond his point is where I house my stray dogs/ideas

Hiraeth: Paranormal, Horror, Mystery, and Thriller.

Scooby-doo who?

Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home which you cannot return. That is how Arcane feels like she’ll never be home no matter how hard she tries to connect with her family. The closest she feels to being home is with her friends and in the worn leather seats of the van they all pitched in to buy. It all started out as a way to pass time and for all of them to escape their families because to be honest parents never understand, but it all turned sideways when a simple “ghost hunting trip” stirred something that was meant to remain buried. The truth never remains buried though, not really, somehow it will always creep back in ugly and twisted. Arcane has never felt “at home” but she’ll do whatever it takes to keep what she considers her family safe.

Sweet Dreams: Historical Fiction, Thriller, and Romance.

A literal dream turned into story plot and no I’m not kidding.

The Red String of Fate, The Lovers, and War. These are the three elements intertwined within the plot of Sweet Dreams but before anyone makes any assumptions this isn’t some chummy rom-com. There will be tears and heart strings may get yanked clean out because the angst is real. War and love never mix well, it leaves a sour taste in ones mouth and makes the mind question things it shouldn’t. Like is the woman in his dreams the same woman he sees in all his dreams? Constantly he somehow ends up spotting that same ruby red lipstick, honey golden eyes, and brunette hair laying in perfect curls. She’s everywhere except in his actual life. They say you and your soulmate share dreams, living proof of how intertwined souls are. She doesn’t believe in love or the idea of souls, not with the monsters roaming around the countryside and battlefield carrying assault rifles. Society tells her where her place is, but she disagrees and rather create her own destiny.

The Prophet: Paranormal, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.  

A short story I can’t seem to let go or it doesn’t want to let me go, but either way, this story has the makings for something great. It also at times seems strikingly similar to Good Omens, so don’t be surprised.

There’s no anti-christ in this story, he already has a book about himself so let’s not make another one besides there are other stories that need to be told. Such as, have you ever heard of modern day prophets and I’m not talking about those people with cardboard signs saying “the end is near!” or giant churches with people preaching about the end times. No, I’m talking about a kid with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes because sleep is no longer a choice due to migraines that plague them every night. Migraines that bring weird cryptic messages that make one question their own sanity. And what happens when strange people start asking about said migraines and messages?

Virago: Fantasy, Thriller, Historical Fiction, and Romance.

I’m not a huge fantasy reader, for some reason I can’t stay invested in them, but here I am with a fantasy story in my wips. It has mages, knights, assasination plots, and one super badass general who takes zero shit from her king. That’s right women empowerment, my dudes! I don’t really have much of a synopsis inline or a plot because this is only of those wips I let rattle around in my brain from time to time. But I will say it does give me that LOTR vibe but also Game of Thrones.  

Don’t be surprised if you see my stray doggos from time to time because I will admit I love to play around with storyboards. Even if I don’t have a fully planned out plot put together for it.

And that concludes this what was supposed to be short Writeblr Intro. I hope I have peaked some of your guys’ interests because the community definitely got a hold of minee. Feel free to send me a message about anything I mentioned (even if it’s just fandom shit I don’t care) and don’t be shy. I’m a huge introvert but somehow love talking, so don’t worry it won’t be awkward and odds are I’m equally nervous about conversation lol. Also, feel free to add me to any taglist and reblog/like if you’re active and would like more Writeblr mutuals!

Happy Writing,

Writings-from-the-Hart

[mymoodwriting]

The Choice Is Yours

F!Reader x Vampire!Yuta

Genre: Vampire Dystopia

Warning: Abuse, Degrading, Non-Con, Masturbation, Pet Play

Words: 3.4K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Epilogue

Prompt: Good behavior goes a long way when a new world order is established within hours and humans wind up at the bottom of the food chain. As luck would have it you were claimed by a vampire named Yuta, so you’re saved in a sense. Many would say you’re in a rather unique situation, and despite its perks it wasn’t really something you asked for.

 “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bite you.”

 “You aren’t?”

 “No, you were sedated, so the drug is still in your system. I’d rather have a taste of you when you’re clean.”

 “So… you don’t like… blood laced with drugs…”

 “My kind really doesn’t, it’s an unwanted flavor and drugs in general tend to taint your kind over time.”

 “So… what do you like?”

 “Right, we should go over the basics.”

 “The basics?”

 “Yes. For starters, the sun is no bother to us.” Yuta pulled open some curtains, basking in the sunlight. “We just tan easily. Garlic isn’t harmful, and neither is a cross, and a steak, wood or silver, won’t kill us.”

     He was suddenly back on the bed next to you, smirk on his face. Before you could react he grabbed you and lifted you up, holding you above him with ease.

 “Super fast and super strong too?”

 “Yes, very observant. All of our senses are also heightened, touch, taste, smell, etc.” He laid you down. “Aren’t you gonna ask about my weaknesses? Or how to kill me?”

 “What’s the point? You’re stronger and faster, besides, I don’t think you’d answer me honestly.”

 “Clever. Any other questions? Maybe I’ll answer.”

 “Can you… control people?”

 Yuta laughed. “No, we can’t mind control humans, if we could we would have ruled the world a long time ago. Now, how about a house tour.”

     You weren’t given a chance to answer before he took your hand and got you off the bed. It wasn’t surprising to see he lived in a mansion, bigger than anything you had ever seen. You were in awe of it all. He showed you the library, the kitchen, the game area, the dining hall, the pool, the theater, the garden, everything, all while he held your hand tight. He was very excited, very happy to show you all he had.

 “You’re free to roam the house, no place is off limits to you, you just can’t leave the mansion grounds.”

 “Isn’t that… a bad idea…”

 “What?”

 “To let me have free range of the house. What if I try to escape?”

     Yuta chuckled and took you to the front door. He stepped out with you and you could see the gate a few feet away. It seemed like a fence surrounded the perimeter of the house and outside those walls there was nothing but nature.

 “Where would you go?”

     It was quiet and it seemed like the house was miles away from any form of civilization. Besides keeping in mind that Yuta said it had been a global takeover, there really was nowhere you could go. Instead of answering his question you focused on the van parked out front, humans being loaded off. You didn’t recognize any of them being from the van that brought you, but you did recognize someone. Xiaojun was standing with a clipboard by the vehicle, taking notes on something. A question came to mind, one that maybe you didn’t want the answer to but you had to ask anyway.

 “Why… why did you do it?”

 “Do what?”

 “You know what.”

 “Sassy, I like. Well, we had been planning it for a few decades now, needed to wait for the right moment and had to get somethings in order first.”

 “Why. Not how, why.”

 Yuta scoffed. “You humans were ruining the planet for starters. Besides, you’re just children, fighting amongst yourself and hurting each other. It wasn’t hard to see you’d all be better off under our care. Now there won’t be any starving or homeless humans.”

 “We’ll just be your slaves.”

 “That’s harsh and not true. You’re more than welcome to run away when you want, but I can’t say you’ll be alright wherever you end up.”

 “And where will I end up?”

 “Well, if you’re not a house servant, you could end up working as public labor.”

 “Public labor?”

 “Yeah, fixing up buildings, picking up trash, secretary, I don’t know, whatever is needed. But, given your youth and beauty, I’m sure you’d wind up a breeder.”

 “A what!”

 “What? You think we’d just let your species die out or something. We need you after all.”

 “Do you have… that sounds so disgusting and terrifying!”

 “We know how troublesome of a process it can be to reproduce for you humans, well those of you who actually carry the child. Breeders are well taken care of throughout the entire pregnancy.”

 “I…”

 “I’m joking silly.”

 “What?”

 “If you ran off you’d surely get caught, and they’d check your blood, see that you belong to me and bring you right back. Although I could have you disciplined then brought back or sell you off to the state and see what they’d do with you.”

 “My blood… is my ID tag?”

 “Yes, better than branding you right? We’re more advanced than you ever were.”

 “I can tell…”

 “Yuta!” Xiaojun came over. “All the house servants are counted and present.”

 “Lovely. Where’s YangYang?”

 “He’s in the back making sure the servants are comfortable and will be there when they wake to brief them.”

 “Ah, okay, tell him to stop by when he has the chance, I want to introduce him to y/n.”

 “Of course. It is nice to see you on your feet.”

 “Thanks.” You gave him a smile. “It’s nice to see you too.”

     He excused himself and went off. You looked at the gate again before Yuta pulled you back into the house.

 “Are… is Xiaojun and the others… who aren’t dressed in white… are they vampires too?”

 “No.”

 “Wait, they’re human!”

 “I didn’t say that either.”

 “Then… what?”

 “We call them halfbreeds.”

 “Half… so they were once human?”

 “Yes.”

 “But their not vampires.”

 “Correct. They still need human food and the blood of their sire to survive. Other than that they’re similar to vampires in every other way, except for their bite. It’s only enjoyed by their sire, if a halfbreed bites a human it would only hurt.”

 “Good to know. So, how does one become a halfbreed?”

 “That’s not important.”

 “Then how do you become a vampire? Were you once human?”

 “Also not important.”

 “Okay, so, where are the servants?”

 “Their living quarters are below in the cellar, why?”

 “Well, isn’t that what I am? Where I’ll be staying. I figured with the personal welcome… that I’m your personal… servant?”

 “Oh no, that’s not your role.”

 “Well… I’m here so it’s not labor… and if I’m not a servant then…”

 “Vampires can’t procreate, not with each other or with humans, neither can halfbreeds. So before you think of it and freak out, you’re not a breeder either.”

 “Then what am I here for?”

 “You’re mine.”

 “And what does that mean?”

       Your back was suddenly pressed against a wall, Yuta leaning into the crook of your neck. Shivers went down your spine and you gently tilted your head to the side, breathing heavy. Yuta chuckled over your actions.

 “You can feel it can’t you? You got a tingle, you want me to bite you.”

 “I…”

 “Sh, I won’t just yet.”

       He grabbed your head and pulled you close, giving you a kiss on the cheek. He didn’t move though, keeping you pinned against the wall, cradling your head.

 “When a vampire feeds directly from a human, it’s quite pleasurable for both parties involved, but it can get messy, and it’s dangerous.”

 “D… dangerous?”

 “Our bite is euphoric and addictive. Most of us prefer a blood bag though, so, you humans don’t have to worry. We’ll draw some blood every few months and make sure you stay nice and healthy. Although, biting humans is still fun, so some of you were fated as feeders.”

 “Feeders…”

 “Yup, there are places around where we can find some feeders, others might have a few at home.”

 “But… you said the bite was addictive…”

 “Yes, feeders are the only type of human junkie we’d let exist. After a while they become so giddy and compliant, rather brainless too but they’re very happy.”

       Your mind was still processing everything, trying to understand what it meant for you, and then it finally dawned on you. Once you realized what your fate was you started to squirm, wanting to get away from him. He only held you tighter, leaving you very little room to move.

 “Easy there, easy, you won’t end up brainless silly, promise.”

 “Let me go!” You were sobbing. “I don’t want this!”

 “What you want doesn’t matter, so behave yourself or do I need to discipline you so soon?”

       You stopped struggling, giving up but the tears kept flowing. Running away didn’t seem like such a bad thing, regardless of the consequences, so you put it in your mind, the first chance, any chance you got, to run, you’d take it.

 “How about we get you some food? I’ve had lunch prepared.”

 “I’m not hungry…”

 “Hm. I’ll say this once baby, so listen close. I know you’re hungry, you just got off a sedative, and given your role, you need to say nice and healthy, which means you need to stay well fed. You’ll love the food here, but I’ll have no problem feeding you everything in smoothie form. So we’re gonna go have some lunch, and you’re gonna eat. Whenever a meal or snacks are prepared for you, you will eat, understand?”

 “Yes…”

 “Good.”

       You also hated how good the food tasted. You didn’t say anything about it but Yuta knew you liked it. He took the time to ask about you, which you certainly found pointless, it’s not like what you did in your life mattered anymore. At least the conversation could go both ways and Yuta seemed like he’d always give you an answer.

 “So… you need food?”

 “Not to survive. It’s just a luxury we enjoy, food does taste delicious after all.”

 “Are… are you gonna kill me?”

 “Wow, you want me to answer that? Really?”

 “Yes… I mean… surely you’re gonna kill me… us humans probably only taste good for so long…”

 “True, you do have a set expiration date, but it doesn’t have to do with taste. We don’t need you humans overpopulating, but don’t worry, it’ll be very peaceful.”

 “That… I guess that’s comforting… so… do humans outnumber you?”

 “Does that matter? Are you going to take up arms and fight us?”

 “No. I doubt we’d win.”

 “Oh really? How come?”

 “We don’t know your weaknesses, how do you fight an enemy when you don’t know how to hurt them. You were planning this for years, surely you have contingencies for a possible uprising, and you can easily release that toxin you did when you took over again.”

 “True, but amuse me, say you knew how to kill vampires, and the toxin wasn’t in play. Do you think humans could win?”

 “There’s still too many things to take into account and I don’t have enough information to give you a proper answer. Surely not all humans would want to fight, or would be capable of fighting. Knowing and actually being able to kill you are two different things. I would assume doing so would still be very hard considering all the ways you’re stronger and better than humans.”

 “We’re better than humans?”

 “You already believe that… and I’d agree…”

 “Very honest indeed, I appreciate that. So you don’t think you humans would win.”

 “There’s always a chance, no matter how small, but I’d be more concerned of what came next, after we won. How do we rebuild our world…”

 “You’re just adorable.” Yuta giggled. “You think far more logically than any other human I’ve met, but don’t worry your pretty little head, that’s not going to happen. You’ll be nice and happy with me.”

       You went quiet again, staring down at your plate and forcing yourself to finish what was on it. Someone else suddenly came into the room, you didn’t recognize them but you knew they weren’t human. Yuta looked up when they entered and smiled.

 “YangYang, there you are, I want you to meet y/n, they’re my special little guest. They have free range of the house, but I do hope you can look out for them and keep them out of trouble.”

 “Of course, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 “Hi…”

 “How are the others?”

 “Resting comfortably. They should be up soon.”

 “Good, do tell me if any of them cause trouble.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 ♥♥♥♥♥

       Yuta stuck by your side the rest of that day. You kept a smile on your face despite it all, despite the terror you felt being in that house. Even though you seemed to be special to Yuta you still had to dress in white. Others were certainly wearing work appropriate clothes, whereas yours clothes seemed a bit more formal.

       You eventually saw other humans around the house, halfbreeds close by. They were probably being told what their new life was going to be like. It was definitely unsettling for everyone, but you felt worse by their looks. Some glared at you, probably over the fact that they knew Yuta was the owner of the house, their owner, and you were holding his hand. Although you were more nervous when night came.

 “Come on, you need to clean up.”

       Yuta took you into the bathroom, a huge tub in the room. He started filling the tub and then grabbed your shirt, starting to pull it up but you quickly grabbed his hands. A chuckle escaped his lips. You knew you had to let him go, but you didn’t want to be stripped naked by him.

 “Y/n…”

 “I can do it myself.” You suddenly blurt out. “I’m… I’m-”

 “Oh I know you can, but whatever I want, I get, my little pet. So if I want to strip you, I will, and I have no issue ripping off your clothes. Now I’d very much prefer not to tear your clothes off, so, what’s it going to be? Are you gonna be good?”

       You swallowed nervously, letting go of his arms and lifting your hands up, making it easier for him to take your shirt off. He certainly took his time taking your clothes off too, clearly wanting his eyes to take in every inch of your form. You did try to cover up but Yuta grabbed your hands, shaking his head.

       You dropped your hands, letting him look at you. You felt so dirty, no one had ever seen you naked, not even those you had once dated. So for some absolute stranger, a monster, to get to see you so vulnerable, tears came to your eyes. He chuckled again and wiped them away, helping you into the warm water.

       You felt a bit better in the tub, the bubbles covering you up, so you weren’t completely exposed. You figured he was going to simply wash you the way one would clean their pets, but then he started taking his clothes off. You got tense, wanting to say something, but the words were caught in your throat. Before you knew it he was in the tub with you, pulling you into his arms, your back against his chest, sitting between his legs.

 “You’re so quiet sometimes you know.” Yuta put his chin on your head. “I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

 “Sorry…”

 “It’s alright, I know you won’t always be chatty.”

       He just held you for a while before grabbing a sponge, starting to scrub you down. It was definitely a first, you weren’t one for a bath, didn’t have the time, and you’ve certainly never taken it with someone else. Yuta was very gentle with you, being very slow and precise, as if you were a delicate porcelain doll.

       At some point you started smiling. You smelled like flowers and your skin was very soft. You relaxed against Yuta, letting him scrub shampoo and conditioner in your hair. You played with some of the bubbles, forgetting your own reality, that is until you felt Yuta’s hand trailing down your chest. You suddenly got tense.

 “Yut-”

       He didn’t hesitate to start touching you, making you jerk back against him. He laughed in your ear, kissing your cheek, but his hand stayed where it was, moving gently to please you.

 “What’s the matter? Haven’t you been enjoying my touch?”

 “This… this isn’t…”

       Yuta didn’t let up, a heat growing in you. You had your eyes shut tight, biting your lip and trying not to make any noise. You knew that’s what he wanted, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Once his fingers started teasing your entrance you snapped, grabbing his hand and actually making an effort to stop him.

 “No… no please don’t…”

 “Hm, and why not? You’ve been enjoying everything so far.”

 “This…” Tears pricked your eyes. “I don’t-”

 “Don’t worry, I won’t, I’ll save that for another time.”

       You were a bit relieved but then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring your mouth. His hands kept pleasuring you, and you hated yourself for enjoying his touch. When Yuta pulled his lips away you let out a moan, blushing, he got what he wanted, which brought a smile to his face.

 “Very good. I wanted to hear you make those noises. You know what would make this better?” You felt him brush his fangs along your neck, making you jump. “You’d be such a mess if I bit you right now.”

 “You… you said…”

 “I know, I’m just teasing.”

       He smiled and kissed down your neck, bringing you closer to the edge. You shouldn’t want him, but he was making you feel so good. You didn’t hold back your moans, to wrapped up in the pleasure to care about your own dignity. You’re breathing started becoming uneasy as you got closer to the edge. Yuta knew you were close, and he leaned in close, whispering in your ear with his sharp voice.

 “Cum for me my pet.”

       You shook in his embrace as you reached your high, crying out his name without meaning too. He kept playing with you as you came down, taking advantage of your over sensitive state. He kissed your cheek, going down to your neck, easily leaving marks.

 “You did very good.”

       Reality started settling back in and you felt embarrassed, you felt pathetic for giving him exactly what he wanted. You wanted to get out of the tub but he held you down.

 “Easy now, easy, you enjoyed yourself, you can’t deny that.”

 “I didn’t want it…”

 “Then why did you scream out my name?”

 “I…”

 He chuckled. “Stay.”

       He got out of the tub, drying himself off and then putting on a bathrobe. You stayed where you were as he ordered, staring at the water. After a moment his hand was in your field of vision. You looked up at him and then took it, letting him help you out. You stumbled a bit but he made sure you stayed on your feet.

       You stayed quiet as he dried you off and then wrapped you in a towel. He led you back to the room, having you sit on the bed. While you waited he dressed himself. Once the robe fell from him you looked away, you didn’t want to admire his beauty. He was a monster, you couldn’t forget that.

 “Here.” Yuta set down some white clothes next to you. “Get dressed, I’ll be back in a bit.”

       You didn’t move until you heard the door close. You looked around to make sure he was actually gone. You stood up and dropped the towel, getting dressed. You stared at the white, wiping away your tears. You were getting so tired of crying. Your eyes were then drawn to the window, the first time you got to see the night sky in this new world.

 “Beautiful right?” Yuta was suddenly hugging your from behind. “The sky.”

 “Yeah…”

 “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

 “You… you sleep?”

 “I don’t need much, perhaps four or five hours, sleep is just another luxury to use really, but you my little pet, require more, so come now.”

       He took your hand and led you back to the bed. You pulled your hand away, staring at the sheets.

 “Wait… you want me to sleep… in the same bed as you?”

 “Where else would you sleep?” He caressed your cheek. “I want to keep my pet close.”

       You didn’t get to protest again as he got you into bed with him, his arms wrapped around you. It wasn’t until then that you realized he was rather cold. You curled up a bit, pulling the sheets closer to you. Today had certainly been a strange day, and you had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

[auralatrocityabyss]

My 2018 Album Of the Year List, pt. 1

This is a ridiculously long list, so its split up. Its still long. It might be overdoing it. I don't care. Believe it or not, I even left several releases off. I cannot emphasize it enough, there was a ton of superb music to be heard this year, and my goal is that maybe you'll find something new to enjoy. Read it or don't, just keep loving music.

75)IDLE HANDS - PDX- Don't Waste Your Time

- Heavy metal with a sort of goth rock bend to it that's just an enjoyable listen

74)IAMX- Alive In New Light

- electro goth rock of a sort. Still his own thing. The main single, Stardust, is fantastic.

73) Sniper 66- Annihilator

- Austin punk rock that gives no quarter. They just get better and better.

72)Lunaform- Lunaform

- absolutely beautiful debut prog/djent EP from the Dallas area.

71)Convulsing- Grievous

- Punishing, melancholic black/death metal hailing from the Land Down Under

70)YOB- Our Raw Heart

- I'm actually not generally a fan of loooong, plodding doom metal, but personal taste aside, this is probably one of the best metal albums this year. It is aptly titled, and emotionally rewarding.

69)Pious Levus- Beast of the Foulest Depths

-Grimey Death metal from some of Texas' finest, here to rip you open.

68) Marid-VVVVVVV

-Beautiful Saharan atmospheric black metal that makes me feel calm, so always a good thing.

67)Craft- White Noise and Black Metal

-Black metal to napalm your ears with. Just napalm. Burn.

66)Carn Dûm- Shadow and Fire

- Tolkien black metal that roars like a Balrog and hits like one too.

65)Whoredom Rife- NID-Hymner av Hat

- Yeah, Norway still makes excellent black metal. Enough said.

64)Cultor Noctis- Demiurg

- A great little black metal EP that jumped out at me on Bandcamp, looking forward to more.

63)Krigsgrav- Leave No Path to Follow

- These Texas fellows are back with a somber, weighty black metal outing that'll trap you like a quagmire.

62)Lifted Traces- Akira

- Seeing this performed live with the film might have resulted in bias on my part, but tackling one of my favorite film soundtracks with a superb interpretation is just amazing, so full kudos to the fellows at Switched On.

61)Morgengrau- Blood Oracle

- Roaring Texas death metal titans return to crush your ears. And ribs. And face. And soul.

60)Tamerlan Empire- Age of Ascendancy

- Symphonic black metal mixed with Middle-Eastern musical elements, without the overdone death metal aspects so many bands insist on having when doing this kind of sound. In other words- Heck yes!

59)Erebos- Peste Kommer

- While I ultimately enjoyed Faded Into the Shadows from last year more, this is still a mighty good black metal release that perfectly achieves Burzum synth worship.

58)Tvaer- Old Gods Whom Chaos Knew

- Raw melancholic black metal that I'm really hoping there will be more of.

57) Anders Manga- Perfectly Stranger

- Just stumbled on this darkwave project this year, very glad I did. Absolutely top-notch.

56)Dispirit- Enantiodromian Birth

-I really hope I spelled that right. The album is great and so was their performance at Red River Family Fest.

55)Therion- Beloved Antichrist

- Because why not just make a massive rock opera? Their skill never ceases to amaze me.

54)Elderfrost- The Beautiful Voice of Shadow

-If more dungeon synth sounded like this I'd listen to more dungeon synth. I wish more dungeon synth sounded like this.

53)Nocturnus Santurnus- Nocturnus Santurnus

- Immortal worship of the highest caliber, with so many riffs.

52)Magoth- Zeitgeist: Dystopia

- This didn't quite catch me the way last year's album did, however it's still a very solid album with more sweet riffs.

51) Immortal- Northern Chaos Gods

- A return that did not disappoint in the least, this album could freeze Hell its so frigidly raw.

50)Mare- Ebony Tower

- This is dark and beautiful and sucks you in so well.

49)Iskandr-Euprosopon

- Its mellow, odd, cold, and wonderful black metal, and should be given a listen.

48)Sargeist- Unbound

-Unbound is a good title for this, like a raging black metal beast set loose.

47)Spite- Antimoshiach

-Speaking of raging black metal beasts, yeah, this one too.

46)Cultum Interitum-Temple of Triumphant Death

-Dark, roaring black metal that I was quite pleased with, and definitely want more of.

45)Judas Priest- Firepower

- Bow to the metal gods, because they definitely still rule.

Part 2 & 3 incoming.

[wackygoofball]

Gifset: Jaime x Brienne - Futuristic Dystopia AU

Jaime Lannister, Commander for the Planet.O.S. Executive Department, lost more than his hand on one of his previous extraterrestrial missions. While he received a robotic hand that promises full functionality, it doesn’t feel the same, he doesn't feel the same.

He was that hand.

Jaime always rather stayed on his own, but ever since that incident, the mere thought of having to work with rookies who don’t know how to handle an ionic gun without shooting themselves in the head becomes nearly unbearable for him. Which is the reason why the commander mostly works on his own, ever the more so these days.

When ordered to the headquarters, Jaime reckons that he will have to justify why he left that one newbie they forced him to drag along in an escape capsule drifting somewhere between Galley 31.8a and Moonmaid 14.5f, until he got the job done alone to gather the lad only once the mission was completed. However, to his surprise, that turns out to be secondary:

Jaime is supposed to take over a new top-secret mission with highest security clearance. The WILDFIRE Program is meant to save Planetos from destruction in the wake of ongoing pollution threatening to destroy the planet’s atmosphere, as he is told. The commander is meant to gather a certain element from across different places and planets. An aerosol is to be produced from this element, which supposedly has the capacity to battle the atmospheric damage.

Along with the new data, plans, maps, and equipment, Jaime is surprised to learn that he also gets a “team partner” assigned to him.

“I don’t need a partner. Just how many times do I have to prove that until you understand?” he grunts, but the chiefs insist that this is one of the conditions for his involvement in the program.

As it turns out, his partner is – thank the Seven – no newbie, but apparently…

A hologram.

B.R.I.E.N.N.E., an ionic computer program, is assigned to his aid.

“B.R.I.E.N.N.E. will enable you to do your work much more effectively, Commander. All vital information is at your disposal and at your demand. B.R.I.E.N.N.E. can sort out information, can calibrate your equipment while on the mission, find exit routes, generate ionic fields to both protect and aid you in moving physical objects. To name but few of the functions B.R.I.E.N.N.E. can fulfill for you.”

“Well, if the thing’s that grand, then why don’t you send that hologram alone to do my job? Isn’t that what you want to do eventually anyway? Replace us completely with the ionic folks?”

“Commander, you must understand. If you want to join that mission, you will have to use B.R.I.E.N.N.E. That is no option, it’s a necessary premise for your involvement in the mission. If you do not cooperate, we will have to look for someone else.”

“Well, then why don’t you do that?”

“You are the most suitable candidate for that mission, that is why we would rather have you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, now that you asked so very nicely…”

Once back in his small apartment in one of the huge construction sites reaching high into the sky, sipping a beer that tastes nothing like the actual stuff that Jaime still knows from his younger years before it was all completely fabricated, the commander dares to activate the hologram now supposedly his new “partner,” surprised to come face-to-face with B.R.I.E.N.N.E. for the very first time.

“You are ugly.”

“And you, Commander, are intoxicated.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at my will or something?”

“I am supposed to aid you, Commander. That does not include supporting unhealthy behaviors that potentially put your health at risk. We have a mission to fulfill, and I need you to be functional to the highest degree possible.”

“You are one bag full of fun, aren’t you?”

Jaime is less than impressed with his new companion, and of course, he is quite outspoken about the matter, referring to B.R.I.E.N.N.E. exclusively as “useless computer,” or “wench,” the latter of which she always corrects him on, pointing out that she was not programmed to respond to that name, but only to the name “B.R.I.E.N.N.E.”

The commander’s mood does not in the least improve over the fact that B.R.I.E.N.N.E. actually quips at him, retorts, does not listen to all of his commands, in fact, does all the things that he would not assume are part of the program. However, as B.R.I.E.N.N.E. tells him, she is programmed to respond as humanely as possible:

“So that a truce is achieved. You need trust to have a truce. Humans are far more likely to respond to other humans with feelings of trust than they are to machines or holograms. Therefore, it is vital for our success that you learn to trust me despite your human nature making it difficult for you to put faith into an entity that is not a person. Which makes reacting humanely a necessity. Furthermore, it is my imperative to assist you to the best of my abilities, Commander. That means that pointing out your negative behaviors is as much part of my program as is my name.”

Over time, Jaime has to revise his opinion of his new partner, because B.R.I.E.N.N.E., no, Brienne, does not just prove herself as a reliable assistant on the mission o acquire the much-needed element for the WILDFIRE Program, but also as… well, a friend.

Jaime can’t remember the last time he had someone care about no one but him as a person as much as Brienne does, putting her own program at risk to save him on numerous occasions.

And while he knows it is just a program, the commander finds himself increasingly forgetting the boundaries between human and ionic as their mission to save Planetos carries on. In fact, the boundaries continue to become so blurry for him that Jaime catches himself developing certain feelings for what he should know are just a bunch of ones and zeroes typed into the computer at the headquarters.

But to him, Brienne is much more than that, there is no way of denying it.

Things grow more and more complicated as Jaime gains doubt not just in the true intentions of his mission but also the actual nature of his ionic companion.

Because he can't shake off the feeling that there is something human to Brienne that does not at all translate to some code in her program meant to simulate human expression. However, whenever Jaime asks Brienne about it, she either tells him that she is “no more than the sum of my computer-generated codes” or goes into autopilot mode, stating that the information he means to access is confidential and that Brienne is not authorized to hand it out to him.

That in itself only ever sparks Jaime’s interest, of course. Because the commander only feels assured that there is something hidden in Brienne’s codes and their mission that the government has apparently not programmed into Brienne to have it at his disposal as they had originally promised when he took on the mission.

Thus, he goes ahead to try to find his own answers, spiraling deeper and deeper into some very uncomfortable truths about the agency has been working for in years, and has made such great sacrifices for, including his hand.

One particular incident gives Jaime’s doubt a whole new dimension: In the course of a heated debate over Brienne’s true nature, where he confronts her about her feelings for him, questioning her about how she would feel if he died and what Brienne feels about having her entire program being set back to zero after each mission fulfilled, the hologram suddenly collapses.

Jaime already fears that he managed to destroy Brienne’s system, but the truth that comes to light once she opens her brilliant blue eyes again is as surprising as it is chilling:

“You were correct, Commander.”

“About what?”

“I saw myself. At the headquarters.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a physical body. I am… I exist, as a human being. I am… I am real.”

The two continue to piece together the truth about a gruesome plot put into practice by the government, taking advantage of people like Brienne in order to achieve their overall goal that has nothing to do with saving Planetos from self-destruction but something much more sinister.

Jaime and Brienne resolve to uncover the plot to stop the WILDFIRE Program from unfolding before it is too late, while also racing against time to save Brienne and the other “programs” from being utilized by the government for their own purposes.

However, the Planet.O.S. has its spies everywhere, controls everything, and has the resources it takes to destroy not just the two but entire programs and planets. And they are only just one step behind them as Jaime and Brienne try to uncover the truth about Planetos’ government.

Will they succeed or will they fail?

Can humanity, with all its fallacies, still win over technology?

[projectalbum]

Art is Resistance. 149. “With Teeth” (Halo 19), 150. “Year Zero” (Halo 24), 151. “Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D” (Halo 25), 152. “Ghosts I-IV” (Halo 26), 153. “The Slip” (Halo 27) by Nine Inch Nails

The 6-year gap between Nine Inch Nails studio albums saw the Internet become truly ascendant in popular culture, for better and worse.

Napster took a bite from the music industry and was put down like a mad dog. The Pirate Bay first unfurled its flag. Radio play and music videos were still the main avenue for displaying the wares of major label musicians to the general public, and success was still measured in units of CDs sold, but more and more people were becoming hip to the underground access provided by a DSL modem.

But the power of the Web to empower artists and connect them to their fans still evaded most of the recording industry; honchos and artists alike were largely clueless. Trent Reznor, the big ol’ nerd, was a notable exception. Posting on early message boards on Prodigy, embracing torrents, creating an online gateway for the band’s fans, leaking material from the archives, experimenting with an optional-pay release, even being an early adopter of Twitter— it was a white-hot fiber optic cable running through the life of the band. While this technological engagement didn’t always translate into sales (The Fragile was considered a financial disappointment), it was a 21st century incarnation of the connection between what the artist creates and how the audience consumes it, internalizes it, and hopefully finds some emotional release in it.

This uneasy alliance between organic emotion and technological chilliness is reflected in this era of Nine Inch Nails’ aesthetic, both musically and through the packaging. Where Downward Spiral and Fragile dealt in decaying earth tones, the releases starting with 2005’s reemergent With Teeth (#149) are shades of blue, black, ghost white, and slate gray, dirtied up by belching factory smoke, or distorted by broken pixels and lines of computer code. The songs are likewise colored by pulsating synth accents, digital distortion, hums and drones and beats. The instrumental stems for Reznor’s compositions were offered up to remixers both professional and amateur, so that even the boundary of artist and audience member became liminal. He had his carefully constructed versions of “The Hand That Feeds” and “Only,” but suggested that there were infinite alternate permutations to be created at the click of a button. For the once angry, brooding Prince of Industrial Rock, it was downright egalitarian.

“All The Love In The World,” a title that might suggest a big-hearted power ballad on a cornier band’s track list, is in Reznor’s hands an electronica-inflected paranoid dirge. Where crunchy guitars would have provided the backbone in the past, here woozy piano figures are the main melodic backup to the vocal, before shifting into driving major chords to signal minute 3’s complete tonal transformation. With its layers of harmonizing Trents, it’s completely unlike anything else in the band’s repertoire, but it was the perfect next course to stimulate my appetite. And then Dave Grohl’s superhuman drumming on “You Know What You Are?” kicked me through the door. The wailing chorus presented an aggressive musical release for me that I’d never had access to before.

“Right Where It Belongs,” the keyboard-driven closing track, is spooky and introspective, and one of the best songs in NiN’s catalogue. A stripped-down, electric piano and vocal version, originally exclusive to the Japanese release but eventually uploaded by Reznor to his website, captures that dark night of the soul uncertainty even better. This recording made its way into the end credits of my senior thesis film, at the point where it was obvious it wasn’t going to go anywhere and that I should at least put copyrighted stuff I liked into it. I also set a live version against grainy deleted footage from Pink Floyd - The Wall, a mashup I figure ol’ Trent would appreciate (the idea was to then do the reverse, matching “Hey You” to the visuals cut together for NiN’s stage show, but the result wasn’t as compelling).

I don’t have any supporting evidence, but Year Zero (#150) may well have been the first time I ever plunked down money for a physical copy of a NiN CD. Also lacking sufficient empirical backup: I’m convinced this speculative fiction about an increasingly plausible American dystopia represents some of Reznor’s strongest songwriting. Inhabiting characters like a brainwashed foot soldier, an underground Resistance fighter, a religiously-inflamed demagogue, even a judgmental alien intelligence, he moves away from the diary page introspection that could occasionally curdle into lyrics of questionable taste (Sorry, please don’t slip on all the tears I’ve made you cry).

The release of the album was notably attached to a labyrinthine “Alternate Reality Game” campaign, with in-character websites, USB drives hidden at concerts, and music videos with secret messages, adding plot strands and world building to the lyrics. (I missed the boat on all that, but the work that the same marketing company did for The Dark Knight was sure something to experience.) All of which would be near-impenetrable, if the actual music wasn’t so compelling. You don’t have to read the wiki pages to feel the apocalyptic beats and glitchy cacophony of “HYPERPOWER!,” “The Good Soldier,” and to pump your fist to the chorus of “Survivalism.” “I got my propaganda / I got revisionism” hits harder in a time, 10 years on from the album’s release, in which the most powerful voices in the U.S. government disregard reality on the reg, occasionally try to downplay the Holocaust. “Capital G,” a gleefully sociopathic near-rap by the forces of greed, could soundtrack one of Paul Ryan’s dead-eyed workout photoshoots.

“In This Twilight” and “Zero Sum” are the shattering two-part coda, in which the squabbling remnants of humanity face the end, whether by divine intervention or nuclear fire. The first juxtaposes crunchy, distorted percussion and fuzzed-out bass with perhaps the most perversely light and melodic vocal performance Reznor has ever delivered. He’s singing about encroaching extinction, but in a blissed-out religious reverie, optimistic for the afterlife. The character at the center of the closing track is not so sure: this is the End of this ridiculous human experiment, and we’ve brought oblivion on ourselves. “Shame on us / For all we have done / And all we ever were.” There’s the Nine Inch Nails nihilism we know and love!

Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D (#151) filters the previous album through Hip-Hop and EDM, to uneven effect. The collection of remixes never quite sustains the highs established by the first two tracks: Saul Williams’ fiery rap verses turn the instrumental “HYPERPOWER!” into a polemic against a legacy of American violence, “Gunshots by Computer,” while modwheelmood frees the vocals of “The Great Destroyer” from the squealing synth breakdown and creates a whole new paranoid anthem. While it’s also interesting to hear the Kronos Quartet reinterpret “Another Version of the Truth,” the rest is largely skippable. The physical set includes a DVD with the multitracks for the original Year Zero recordings, so you too can fuck with the raw materials! (I’ve been trying to remix things for years, and I’m awful at it, but it’s fun to hear the individual instrumentation.)

After freeing himself lyrically from his old methodology, the next release from Reznor eschewed words and melody completely. Ghosts I-IV (#152) is nearly 2 hours of ambient experimentation, a precursor to the Oscar-winning film scores with Atticus Ross (a few tracks were literally reworked for The Social Network, and several others continue to be licensed for film and documentaries). The buzzsaw distortions, dark piano chords, oddly organic synthesizers, and industrial beats identify it as a NiN record even in the absence of vocals. Though good luck recommending your favorite tracks, with titles like “26 Ghosts III” and “09 Ghosts I” not exactly sticking in the memory.

The Slip (#153), originally released free of charge, is more of a return-to-form. Arguably too familiar— it’s essentially With Teeth Part 2, but leaner and meaner. It’s not held in especially high regard, but it was there right at the outset of my fandom, and as such I continue to have a soft spot for it. I even bought the physical copy after years of listening to the decent quality MP3’s. “Discipline,” with its uncommonly funky bass line and high hat-favoring drum beat, is my number 1 “trying to sneak it onto a party playlist but not very successfully” NiN song. Along with the following track, “Echoplex,” the dark dance floor vibe is a preview of the sound Reznor and co would explore with How To Destroy Angels. “Lights in the Sky,” “Corona Radiata,” and “The Four of Us are Dying” create a kind of suite, insinuating and ethereal. I can understand if you bow out of that middle, 7-minute-and-33-second, ambient track before the library sample of fighting cats kicks in. But “LITS” is Reznor’s sparsest, prettiest piano lament, announcing the eminent “retirement” of Nine Inch Nails as a touring/recording entity.

Wave goodbye. They’ll be back.

[nocaptainreuben]

British Books Challenge 2018  -  January  -  The Fandom by Anna Day

The Fandom was one of the proof copies I picked up at YALC last year and just hadn’t got round to reading yet, so it was firmly on my list to be read this year. I knew the author was British, so I could count it towards one of my reading challenges, and when I saw that we would be chatting about it in the first #SundayYA of the year, I decided to make it my first read of 2018 so I could join in. Then Chelley announced that Anna Day was going to be the featured debut author for January in the British Books Challenge, and the stars aligned. So, as soon as I finished The Boy on the Bridge, I dove in and waited to be blown away.

And this is kind of an unpopular opinion, but I’m still waiting. The Fandom was a book that was heavily hyped. It had glowing recommendations from so many prominent voices that I really trust, and the queues for proofs and signings at YALC were mental, so I thought I was in for a book of the year contender already. And I think this may be one of those situations where the hype actually ended up damaging it for me. In my opinion, the book was fine. There was nothing horrendously wrong with it, but nothing overwhelmingly special either, and with those high expectations it’s so easy to judge it extra harshly for not being amazing that you end up thinking it’s not good. I’m trying my best not to do that, and to be fair about it, so what follows is my (hopefully constructive) thoughts on what worked and what didn’t, without too much undue judgement.

The Fandom centres on 17-year-old Violet, an avid fan of book-and-film franchise, ‘The Gallows Dance’, who attends Comic-Con one year, cosplaying as her favourite character Rose, only to find herself sucked into the fictional world of the story and taking Rose’s place as the heroine. It’s got this very meta, inception-y, book-within-a-book thing going on, and it’s actually a really interesting idea but for me it just doesn’t entirely work. I noted from the back of the book that the idea wasn’t Anna Day’s, but came from Angela McCann, via The Big Idea Competition, and after doing a bit of internet hunting, I found out more about the book’s origins from Anna’s blog here. This explains a lot for me, because whilst I was reading the book I just kept thinking ‘this feels like fanfiction, not a proper novel’, and knowing that Day wrote The Gallows Dance first and was then commissioned to write this book for publication instead – she essentially was writing her own fanfiction! That’s not necessarily a bad thing, because with the subject matter being what it is it’s certainly appropriate, and may even have been intentional, but I found certain, more fanfic-related, elements (like the constant use of the word ‘canon’) a little grating at times.

Whilst reading this, I spent quite a while debating with myself whether the writing was on a pretty standard debut-author-level, or if it was expertly done, and upon finishing I still can’t quite decide. The book is incredibly formulaic and annoyingly tropey, but again, considering the subject matter, I’m pretty sure that at least some of that is intentional. There are times throughout the story where the characters call out those typical dystopia tropes – like insta-love and ridiculously named heroes – for how stupid they are, but then both The Gallows Dance and The Fandom include those tropes. When Holly Bourne did this in It Only Happens in the Movies, it worked so well for me because the satire was so obvious and the tropey narrative was clearly used to make a very real point about society. In The Fandom however, it almost feels like the only reason the author is calling out these conventions is to say ‘see, I know they’re annoying and cliched, but I wanna use them anyway so I’ll make a show of being self-aware about it’, and it didn’t really achieve anything other than drawing more attention to them. I felt like it could have been that she is a really clever writer, and me getting annoyed at bits only demonstrated that I’m too dumb for what she was doing with the book; or else I was giving myself a headache by overthinking it, when in reality it just wasn’t all that creative and it was, indeed, a bit annoying.

Although dystopias are generally pretty much the same story rehashed with different names and places (hence why it is such a hard genre to write without just being dismissed as tropey rubbish), the devil is in the details and I actually thought the plot and world-building side of this book was pretty good. Even with it being samey and predictable, I was invested in the story and wanted to follow it through to its conclusion. The Gallows Dance itself felt like a really interesting world, with enough quirks to make it unique, and was believable as being one of those dystopian book-and-movie franchises with a huge fandom, in the likes of The Hunger Games, Divergent, or The Maze Runner. In fact, it’s a real shame it was never published, as I feel using it for this book didn’t do it justice and I kind of wish I could’ve read the original book instead.

A big downside for me was the characters. Usually, the plot and the characters impact on each other and work together to make a book what it is, but I felt like our protagonists in The Fandom could have been replaced by anyone else and it still would have been the exact same story; they just didn’t bring anything to it for me. I didn’t feel any real attachment to them, and I felt that they had all the annoying cliches (the insecure, awkward, clumsy and pretty-but-in-a-plain-kind-of-way MC; the stupidly pretty best friend who makes everyone else feel inferior; the nerdy little brother who ends up being the voice of wisdom, etc, etc) but with no redeeming qualities which made them stand out. The only one that was any different in my opinion was Katie, as she had slightly more personality thanks to the funny swear words and affinity for Shakespeare, but she was completely wasted as a supporting character who we hardly ever saw.

Also, I didn’t find the age of the three girls believable at all. They are supposed to be 17, but come across as closer to 15 or 16. I know that doesn’t sound like much, and probably seems like a petty thing to pick up on, but I find it has a real impact on my enjoyment of a book. Teenagers do so much growing in such a short space of time, that being out on a character’s age by a few months can make a massive difference, and if I don’t believe their age it just keeps bringing me out of the story and stops me connecting with the character.

Ok, I’m winding down now, so the last thing I’m going to whinge about is the ending. I’ll struggle to be able to frame this in any way that is completely spoiler free so if you don’t want to know this then skip to the next paragraph. I sympathise with Day, because I know what kind of backlash you can get for writing a book that ends in ‘it was all a dream’ because you, as a reader, just think ‘well why did I waste my time on it then?’. So I completely understand why she may have wanted to avoid that, and offered up the idea of it being a real, alternate universe instead, but in my opinion it was so unnecessary; I’d spent the entire book assuming it was a dream while Violet was in a coma anyway, and I’d accepted that, so I just thought it didn’t even need bringing up. Vaguely talking about ‘the quantum physics of transdimensional tunnelling’ and the paradox of whether the fandom created the world or the world created the fandom, just felt like it came out of nowhere in the last 30 or so pages, and was rushed through and half-formed, just so that the author could say she’d offered some sort of explanation rather than ‘dream’ or ‘magic’.

I know I said at the start of the review that this would be my ‘thoughts on what worked and what didn’t’, and I’m aware that this has seemed overwhelmingly negative and not actually highlighted much that ‘worked’. However, that doesn’t entirely ring true of my overall opinion. Yes, it was a lot easier for me to pick out elements that I didn’t like, rather than ones I did, but on the whole I did like the book. There’s something about it that defies all the individual niggles I had with it and just made me think ‘yep, this is alright’. I didn’t love it, but you can’t love every book and I certainly don’t feel like I wasted my time on it or anything. And whilst there were a few quirks in the writing that weren’t completely to my taste, I can definitely see potential for the author and would be interested to read something else from her in the future.

As I say every time I do it, I find it so weird writing less than glowing reviews, and it makes me really uncomfortable to put negativity out there, but as this was part of my reading challenge I didn’t feel like I could give it a pass. This was a really hard one for me to write, as I didn’t feel too strongly in either direction, and it’s hard to put that across without sounding like you liked it less than you did, but I think I’ve said as much as I can say now. Hopefully it’s constructive rather than just harsh, but if you do think I’m being unfairly negative, remember it’s only my opinion and it’s fine for yours to be different. One of the beautiful things about reading is that we all respond to books in completely different ways, so even though this won’t be making my books of the year list, I know it will for many others out there, and that’s great. (Also, it’s worth noting that my copy of the book is an uncorrected proof, so take everything I’ve said with a pinch of salt as changes may have been made for the final copy.)

So, that’s my first review for #BritishBooksChallenge18 done! It’s a shame it was such a long, rambling, whingey one, but hopefully the year’s only going to get better from here. Stick around to go on the journey with me, and make sure to follow me on Twitter and Instagram for photos, giveaways, book chat and the like. And if reading more British books sounds like something you want to do this year, it’s not too late! You can head here to find out more about the challenge and sign up yourself.

[notconsolation]

hello Hannah !!! alright I need your help on something which kinda has a deadline but you really don't have to reply to this if you don't wanna ,,, it's all good ,,,, remember when we'd do song analysis. well I'm gonna ask your opinion, thoughts and feelings on bowie's sweet thing/candidate/reprise. it's for a design project and I'm trying to get as Many opinions as I can and honestly I just love hearing your thoughts and theories on music,,alright that's it love u hope u have a good day!!

Say no more i love this

this shall be mighty big and messy and long, just like the whole suite of songs

so

a primer on this trio of songs and on Diamond Dogs in general:

Bowie gave an interview where he said "I’d failed to obtain the theatrical rights from George Orwell’s widow for the book 1984 and having written three or more songs for it already, I did a fast about-face and recobbled the idea into Diamond Dogs: teen punks on rusty skates living on the roofs of the dystopian Hunger City; a post-apocalyptic landscape"

This is where the whole things plays out. I wouldn’t say ‘takes place’ because I think there’s actually deceptively little story in these songs. Or rather, the story plays out like a sweeping crane shot of a hellish cityscape that glides along with some people for a while but has no allegiance to any one of the characters we meet. I think that’s key because it emphasises this feeling that is present in the lyrics that nobody is on your side, whoever ‘you’ are in this city. I’ll be honest, the lyrics don’t make too much sense to me beyond the feelings they evoke, but I think that’s quite common with Bowie songs. I feel like some of the time he’s less concerned with telling stories than conveying emotions.

The lyrics emphasize key aspects, eg putting such emphasis on ‘scared’ and ‘lonely’ so early on helps set the tone. All the verbs or implications of action are full of anguish in the opening song (sweet thing): wrangle, scream, pain, trailing on a leash, run, break, steal, curse, bless. It’s a whirlwind that portrays this city which is broken through by this voice that almost seems to be coming from above in the chorus, promising 

“it’s a sweet thing, sweet thing/ if you want it … get it here/ Cause hope … is a cheap thing”

which seems such a tantalising contradiction wedged between these anguished verses

As for this horror-filled city, I want to mention that, in a way, it falls quite neatly into the English tradition of cities as hellish and nightmarish. You’ll find this in TS Eliot, in Joseph Conrad, in Thomas Hardy…. lots of it. They were obsessed with this view of cities as corrupt, sluggish, parasitic, leaching the people inside them of life and the land around them of colour… but the tradition goes back further than that actually, and it’s especially apparent in contrast to American horror tales. Think characters like Jack the Ripper vs the wendigo, or other American stories that explore our fear of the forest or of being isolated. Traditionally, urban legends focus on the horrors within us while rural ones focus on external ones. 

All this to say that even though Bowie always strove to break with tradition and upend expectations, in this he does fall into line with other people who imagined city nightmares and urban dystopias.

Actually calling it that might be going a bit far, though, because I think it’s definitely largely just routed in reality more than a dystopia.

ANyway.

About the sound of it.

It begins with this discordant rising of backwards tapes and jumbles that all sort of clang together until, almost by chance, it seems, they come together into a triumphant swell of a chord and begin the song proper, almost like it was waiting for the catalytic moment where all the ugliness clashes together into something that makes sense and sounds sweet.

Especially in Sweet Thing, there’s this way in which he extends certain words - not necessarily in a way that disagrees with their natural intonation, but in a way that tugs at the emotion behind it to stretch it out. He then bunches other phrases together, like it’s an aside, sort of, like he’s muttering them.

There is, as i find is typical of bowie, this wide array of voices that gives you the sense of things going on the background that you can’t quite hear. It makes all three songs busier than they should be, somehow, like something has been twisted or reversed in the background. 

The guitar helps with that, because it also has this twisted metallic taste to it, especially in the reprise. The guitar in Sweet Thing is fairly contained, albeit distorted, complementing the vocals rather than challenging them. When Candidate hits, the guitar becomes bolder in the mix and starts strangling out the vocals. They, in turn, become more desperate, like he’s trying to tell you something but time is running out. That’s also to be seen in the way the songs gradually speed up, almost imperceptibly at first. I think i didn’t really notice it the first time until that point where it suddenly gets super stripped down and its just the drums and a distorted guitar and you can really hear the drums gathering speed, but not in a way that feels hugely exponential, just in a way that your heart has just enough time to keep up and match the increasing speed in its rhythmic beating.

The transition to Candidate is interesting because there’s this high, soaring end to Sweet Thing that becomes an echo just shy of shrill and is perfectly complemented by this low, droning sax and bass that comes in to begin Candidate. The drum (snare i think?) that’s playing at the beginning of Candidate is also interesting. There’s something kind of military about it, and I read somewhere that Bowie told the drummer to imagine he was a french boy drumming a snare at the first execution with the guillotine or something. he went deep. Bowie invented method acting.

Candidate also starts with this tough-cool voice offering you something and it feels like the devil. Does that make sense? It feels like the devil offering you something in a back alley at 2am when you’re buzzing and you’re not sure if you know any humans.

Then during the Sweet Thing reprise the emotional emphasis about, oh idk, quadruples with the drums and the rolling discordant shivers of sound that echo out. And then that turns into this heavy almost driving beat with regular bass and twisted metal guitar over it and then your hearts in your throat and now it feels like its being strung through the strings of a harp.

It’s the sort of thing thats really scary when things seem less than real.

And there you have it. Sorry if that was really unstructured and long. I just…. my thoughts are messy and so is this song.

[fae-fucker]

The One: Chapter 32-Epilogue

I can’t believe we did this. No, that I did this. Y’all helped me through the hard times, but let’s not kid ourselves, I’m the one suffering the most here. 

Anyway, let’s not go out with a bang but with an overdramatic whisper, shall we?

Chapter 32

America goes to find Maxon.

Maxon was on his bed, the left side of his chest padded with gauze under his plain cotton shirt. His left arm was in a sling, and he used his right to hold up the paper some adviser was explaining to him.

He looked so normal there, dressed down, hair a mess. But at the same time, he looked like so much more than he had been before. Was he sitting a little taller? Had his face somehow become more serious?

He was so clearly the king.

I wonder if KCass’ keyboard is all sticky.

How convenient that Maxon is just so awesome that the death of his parents and his own near-death experience hasn’t stopped him from suddenly shouldering all this responsibility that he’s 100% not ready for because he’s, like, what, twenty at most? 

But whatever. TWU WUV makes you good at politics, right? That’s how that works? 

Turns out his mother died by throwing herself in front of her husband. I bet KCass thinks that’s real heroic, but I just see it as a convenient excuse to get rid of her and replace her with America. Because that’s literally what it is.

“She was always selfless. To her very last breath.”

“You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re a lot like her.”

He made a face. “I’ll never be quite as good as her. I’m going to miss her so much.”

Mm. Can you feel the pain and hurt just seeping off the pages? No? It’s because it’s not there. Seriously KCass, what the FUCK were you thinking while writing this?

Moving on, because who cares about dead parents when there’s more bad worldbuilding!

“Are you . . . you’re going to dissolve the castes?” I asked, looking up to Maxon.

“That’s the plan,” he answered, smiling. “I don’t want you to get too excited. This will take a long time to do, but I think it will work. You see,” he said, turning the pages of the vast file and pointing to a paragraph. “I want to start from the bottom. I’m planning on eliminating the Eight label first. There’s a lot of construction we need to do; and I feel like, with a little bit of work, the Eights could be absorbed into the Sevens. After that, it gets tricky. There’s got to be a way to get rid of the stigmas that come along with the numbers, but that’s my goal.”

You know what never happens in these books with these “benevolent teen rulers”? They never abdicate and create the basics for democracy. Humanity as a whole has mostly realized that one dude ruling everything? Generally pretty bad. But because these idiot authors can never imagine their little sweethearts anywhere else but at the very top of the world being worshipped by everyone and everyhting, they always keep their power without even A SINGLE THOUGHT that maybe hey, this is a pretty bad way to rule a country.

These characters are supposedly the greatest things since sliced bread, but the underlying implication is that they’re not quite benevolent enough to give up the power. But being obviously ambitious is always evil in these books. So what’s the truth here?

Pretty spooky, huh, folks?

“I want you to know that this is all your doing. Since the day you called me into the hallway and told me about being hungry, I’ve been working on this. It was one of the reasons I got so upset after you did your presentation; I had a quieter way of reaching the exact same goal. But of all the things I wanted to do for my country, this would have never crossed my mind if I hadn’t known you.”

“I was only nice so I could nestle my dick in that sweet American cooter of yours.”

To be fair, the prince in my story does exactly the same thing. Except he gets called out and it’s not seen as romantic or cutesy, but whatever. Can’t have the prince being anything but perfect, can we now?

“I love you,” he said simply. “I should have told you a long time ago. [...]”

You have. Like forty times at this point. 

“[...] Maybe we could have avoided so many stupid mistakes if I had. Then again,” he added, beginning to smile, “sometimes I think it was all those obstacles that made me love you so deeply.”

The only way you could’ve avoided stupid mistakes would be if someone competent was writing you.

“In those seconds, I was mourning everything I’d lost. How I’d never get to see you walk down an aisle toward me, how I’d never get to see your face in our children, how I’d never get to see streaks of silver in your hair. But, at the same time, I couldn’t be bothered. If me dying meant you living”—he did his one-shoulder shrug again—“how could that be anything but good?”

I wish Cass would’ve just stuck to what she knew instead of trying to shoehorn in “edgy” elements she clearly had no idea how to handle just to ride that dystopia bandwagon. Some bits of her romance scenes show some potential, like this one right here. 

If she’d just written a sappy romance, I might’ve enjoyed it. Well no, her characters would likely still be fucking asshole idiots, but I wouldn’t have hated it as much because I wouldn’t have been expecting more than it ever gave me.

Whatever. He asks her to marry him and she’s all ;_; and says yes.

Again. I know it’s only the epilogue left, but I’m still worried they might break up and get back together like five more times before the book is really over.

Epilogue

It’s the day of the wedding and for some reason it’s all written in present tense. Is this supposed to mean something? Even if it is, it’s dumb and jarring and you don’t do this at the end of the fucking book. 

We find out that Anne is dead. So ... her entire everything was absolutely useless and went nowhere so ... What was even the point? 

Honestly, sometimes you see “pointless” characters staying in a book becuse it’s obvious the author liked them too much to kill that particular darling, but in this case, we can’t even say KCass cared. Mary, the maid with the least character development, aka negative character development, is the only one who stayed with America. This is like ... ever heard of recycling?

Marlee is there as America’s only bridesmaid. Oh yeah, remember Marlee? She exists again.

“Don’t start getting nervous again!” she insists.

“I’m trying! I mean, I knew it was coming; it’s just a lot for one day.”

“Ha!” she exclaims as the music shifts. “Wait until tonight.”

Wait until tonight to have the sex like a good good Christian girl. Though America hasn’t been worried about that sort of thing before, since she’s tried to fuck Maxon twice already, so idk why this is even a thing. 

KCass doesn’t want no slut to get a happy ending, I spose.

Speaking of, Celeste’s corpse is probably still rotting somewhere, brains all over the floor. What ... was the point of her death? Like seriously? Why did KCass try to take back her gross slut-shamey ways only to kill Celeste off in the end anyway? 

Apparently Aspen is the one leading her down the aisle, since her Real Daddy is dead in the ground, her Former Daddy is a natural replacement to give her away to the Daddy Overlord. Mm-mm, those outdated gender rolls taste stale and moldy like always!

I’m shocked by how much I wish Celeste was here. I can imagine her rolling her eyes and then winking, or something like that. Making some wisecrack that was almost snotty but not quite. I really, really miss her.

And that’s all we get, I guess. No word on how her family is handling this, no word on how people reacted to her death since she was semi-famous. But yeah, America REALLY REALLY MISSES HER. CAN YOU TELL HOW MUCH SHE MISSES HER?

IT’S REALLY REALLY.

I miss Queen Amberly, too. I can only imagine how happy she would have been today, finally getting a daughter. I feel as if marrying Maxon makes it okay for me to love her that way, like a mother. I’m certain I always will.

And then there’s my mom and May holding on to each other so tightly they look as if they’re supporting each other. Around them are so many smiles. It’s almost overwhelming how loved I feel.

I’m so distracted by their faces that I forget how close I am to the end of the aisle. As I turn forward . . . he’s there.

And then it seems as if no one else is here at all.

DICK LOCATED, ALL UNITS INITIATE SHUTDOWN

Aspen gives me one last smile, and I reach over to kiss his cheek, saying good-bye to so many things. We share a look for a moment, and he takes my hand and puts it in Maxon’s, giving me away.

*looks at KCass for a really long time* Who hurt you?

They nod to each other, nothing but respect in their faces. I don’t think I could ever understand all that’s passed between them, but it feels peaceful in that moment.

BEFORE, MY WOMAN. YOUR NOW. FUCK WOMAN HARD.

ARGH. MY WOMAN NOW. FUCK HARD I WILL.

FILL WOMAN WITH BABY. 

ARGH. I WILL FILL.

I’ve translated it from Sexismian, though my accent still needs some work.

But even now I know this isn’t a fairy tale. I know that we’ll have hard times, confusing times. I know that things won’t always happen the way we want them to and that we’ll have to work to remember that we chose this. It won’t be perfect, not all the time.

This isn’t happily ever after.

It’s so much more than that.

Yeah, it is. It’s the end of The One.

It’s over.

[dwestfieldblog]

DELUSIVE ENLIGHTENMENT MEGLOMANIA

2019...and a true two minutes to midnight on the doomsday clock. Now there's a king hell lead entrance eh? Annihilation and dystopia, coming soon to a planet near you...'One total catastrophe like this, is just the beginning' What did I learn last week? The name of the Egyptian god who created the universe by masturbating was Atum. Worth mentioning eh? Seeds of creation in atoms, his chosen warrior must have been Onan the Barbarian. And...Ethyl formate is in the centre of the galaxy, tastes like rum and smells of raspberries. Close your eyes and you are there. 'Meta programming the human bio computer' Dr John Lilly. 'Art and science have their meeting in method'. Bulwer Lytton. A long collage from the magician's hat......

Back in late January, the dubious blue shaded Bono of U2 was railing loud and hard against the evils of capitalism...surely I am not the only one to see the deep level of irony in this...A multi millionaire from writing songs with a number of offshore investments and minimal tax payments (well, only a few humans actually want to pay the tax demanded, but some of them can afford to pay it)...Without capitalism it is a touch unlikely he could have made so much money and kept it... only the corrupt in various regimes get to be so rich -  and precious few musicians get this much moolah...Some messianic front men should never be allowed to do anything other than sing and dance. Still haven't found what you are looking for?

Anyway, Jesus said 'When you give arms,do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your arms may be given in secret'. Or maybe it was alms. Arf. Don't show your hand too early:-) Ace of spades high. Speaking of which...

White House Spokesperson Sarah Sanders mentioned on a religious TV network that God 'wanted' (Useful Idiot) Trump the gurning Golden Reptile 'to be the American President.' Perhaps that is true...maybe he will be the last moron leader that will make people truly aware and take more care over who they choose to elect in a democracy. Fnord. 'Well ah trust him cuz he aint a politician and he speaks his mind'. Duhh.What does he actually say when he speaks his mind? He has certainly been a gift (in more mysterious ways than one) to Presidents and populists in other dubious countries as proof of how useless free elections can be and how simple it is to affect them from afar and within. A standard bearer who carries his nation's flag so low he should be arrested under the U.S law for defamation. Germaphobes like walls, but a touch pointless when you have such filthy hands. A new world disorder....Love the title of the book 'Crippled America' by D. Trump with a scowling picture of the blonde psychopath on the cover. Says everything about the USA today. And love even more the idea of his Space Farce/Force... Flash Gordon meets Star Trek. Trump as Captain Kirk and Pence as Spock. Tired of being the policeman of the world, time to be the Warriors of the Universe and have laser space fights with China. (Wonder how their president chooses to interpret the I Ching? May he live in interesting times.)

'Sovereign' internet for Russia...(or 'the World Wide Web without the world', as the BBC World Service put it) a new law being prepared to control exactly what internet goes in to the Motherland and protect their people from freedom. Arf. Wouldn't want any false news or manipulated election results going on there eh? Or access to non Kremlin approved news. We shall see if this actually passes into legislation. What do the majority of Russian people actually think about this? Goddess bless Pussy Riot, Tatu and Vladimir Vysocki. Mr. Putin, remember Dostoevsky.  ( A week after writing that, 15,000 demonstrated in Moscow against the proposed new laws. There is already a law making it illegal to insult a member of government. Not much room for satire or polite criticism, but Russia has never pretended to be a democracy.)

World leaders in more and more countries following the old western lead in starting a war on the basis of an outright lie and receiving no punishment for it. (Perhaps at the gates of Saint Peter. ) Well, if the ones in 'Christian' democracies can get away with war crime atrocities under the pretence of righteousness and liberation, why not them? And let's not forget the ever useful catch all word 'terrorist', carte blanche to get away with murder and invasion on false pretexts. Terrorists are not shopkeepers, students, quiet religious folk or disaffected individuals without guns who disagree with their government and march/write songs in demonstration to protest apparent/ obvious wrongness. Terrorists use fear, manipulation and extreme violence to maintain, assert and spread their power. (and how many governments fit that description?) They don't make pop videos, they make snuff movies.  

Step by incremental naughty step Hungary and Poland becoming ever more damaged, Britain, Europe and America being gleefully and carefully encouraged to pull themselves apart. I have never (well, from the age of about seven, so that is almost never) been a believer of what America and Britain did to dominate the world in olden times Whatsoever. BUT, life under a Sino-Russian world government?? FECK that. All those wannabe socialists from western universities are going to have a screaming bloodily rude awakening in a red dawn. Or perhaps they have such a well built narrow reality tunnel that all will seem just fine and dandy when 'their' system wins and will thrill to the new accepted literature. Slightly depressing how this current apparent time stream appears to be developing.  

(Maybe a temporary control in the chaos is all most generations can wish for. Perhaps only a sidestep into the actual flow of the river which seems to be chaos is all that is needed to evolve into a deeper awareness. 'Sink or swim' appears to be false option perpetuated by alpha types. Flow, surrender control, and in the Being so, a (deep breath) an open hearted universal view...Makes astral sense to some of us.)

Totalitarianism is a foul bastard swine whatever side or form it takes, political or religious. Read interviews with those who survived life under the Nazis AND the Communists. Or those who escaped extremes of the main religions, those in new age mind warp sects, having their souls drained via manipulation and enforced delusion. Cowed into kowtowing, despising the manipulations but knowing how much it hurts to think and feel...and so choosing the easier path of submission. Some people are proud of endlessly suffering pain, but only very rarely does their endurance create a stronger person. Survive yourself. As the song says, 'The final conflict is within'. Stand, kneel, adopt the lotus, just don't bend over and expect anything positive to come your way. (Unless...yes you can guess the rest...)

And as for all the student snowflakes no-platforming dissimilar voices to harm their delicate ears and cluttering up the channels tweeting meaningless self righteous rubbish, shouting so loud there is no actual debate...where do you imagine your place will be in the new world scheme? Outsiders will be enslaved or executed by 'popular' demand. You are not Chinese dissidents in prison, however you might feel. You have the right to be heard, (even as you deny that to others) but not the right to deafen and attack. Did you ever wonder about the past mentality and spirituality of those who could stand and watch a heretic/ witch' being burned to death at the stake or these days, those who can sit in a small invited audience to watch a man be fried alive in a chair? Those men who could watch and take part in a gang rape? To coin an old comedic phrase; 'That's you, that is.' Dig into the dirt and get to the molten core of morality. Find yourself there, then choose the height of your evil, the depth of your Love without ego. Ethics. Arf. Thus spoke Westfieldthruster.  

'The black man motivates, the other man imitates'...Damn straight.

'But I'm confused between sexual, murder, magical and medical, is the difference metrical or imperial, septic, fertile, feral or sterile?' Health and deficiency. (J>B)

(Diary...There is no one in my life in any way for whom I do not have respect. Empathy and compassion I have, long term patience too but after my respect is gone then so are they. Deleted. This will very highly likely apply to myself. But I have never done anything with a woman that I wouldn't allow her to do to me, if she wished to. (So I am still a gentleman eh? ) Remember lonely boys, She might be a goddess but she's still human. Meanwhile again...Situation Normal, All Fecked Up...

After a certain age, recklessness ceases to be quite as attractive as once it did in youth, as 'Death becomes real'. (Dylan Moran) Illnesses and disabilities, permanent or otherwise increase in number with the procession of years and the long journey through suffering can make a human paranoid and fearful. Imagining the worst of declines can seem very logical. The 'unpleasant preliminaries' as Cohen said. Most of us have made up our minds (in a very literal sense) about what comes next or what doesn't and it is fairly easy, given how we adjust reasoning to fit with the least unpalatable truth to find a comfortable justification for our various behaviours. Self destructive types (which most of us seem to be in one way or another) use rationality to declare that if everyone dies including the thinker, then why not do what you enjoy the most for as long as you can. I do this and know of many others after the age of thirty who reached the same conclusion and followed through past sixty and beyond. Smoking, drinking, drugging, fighting can lead to some of the worst types of deaths. But even those who never did any of these things suffer strokes, dementia, heart attacks and chronic end of life pain. Just consistently negative thinking can make people ill, just in less obvious ways than smokers etc. So we/I seek to 'justify'.  

Reactions to stress matter. A lot, But how many working people with families have the time to sit under a Bo tree or read Eckhart Tolle etc? Most of us appear to attract some mental/physical cataclysm as a way of taking stock and making a 'brutal re-appraisal of the situation'. (HST) Very often this is the only way a human stops what they are doing and starts thinking about Being. We all do what we do to keep various feelings and thoughts at bay, but the brain (and thus the body. 'Where a thought goes, a chemical goes with it'; Deepak Chopra) are not fooled and store it all up until overload occurs. Getting old is not for cowards. Shame I seem to be one, such die many times before their deaths. Endless physical pain and mental fear can do that and it is very hard to see that as an Initiation sometimes. And these days, most of the time. Glad I have a gun. How many of us can hope to die 'peacefully in our sleep'? Tranquillisers? Not quite the Portal of Daath, more like the gateway to the abyss. Which as uncle Frederick said, stares right back into you when you look long.

For those with patience, it is easy to say that meditation might well be the best way to re-programme the mind into letting go the poisons. To un-wire and react to stress in a more positive way. Discipline. Old habits die hard. Older habits die very badly. Alpha theta delta waves and LSD therapy? Chinese Auryvedic Reki Tantric massage, more sex for the endorphins and oxytocins? Some people will read this as a very dull and obvious piece of writing. Others will know all about the idea of suicide as a 'problem focused strategy'. Get on with dealing with and solving the attacks from within and without...Want the truth? A truth. There have been thousands of days when the only thing that kept me going was the thought of unwinding my useless tension with whisky for a few hours every night. And it is that lazy thought which has been killing me for the last 22 years. A liver is a remarkable organ unless you flood it with alcohol, the power of her regeneration is astounding until the tipping point is reached. Milk thistle isn't going to solve this. Can you tell how I feel today?

What causes that 'tension' Dave? The usual. Overthinking, self hatred, anger, desperation, guilt, regret, doubt, all the classics. Most of us seem to have these in various combinations during our lives. A generalisation but seems to be a fair one eh? Some people deal with the negatives in highly positive and/or immoral ways... regular holidays, saunas, horse tranquillisers, painting, flagellation, righteous causes, deviant behaviour, local politics, role playing (well, we all do that one way or another), virtual reality games (also), teaching things we should know better before we set ourselves up as such, conning the gullible with vague promises of better things, healers as politicians and vice versa seeking money and power/sex, lying to ourselves on an hourly basis, doing anything to be 'happy' and sustain the illusion that we are somehow promoting our immune system and to bring meaning to our existence. Burning through the days, raging with light because it seems sexier than being peaceful, Attempting immortality (in physical form) through health supplements, work, sport and having offspring. Faking our 'realities' until they temporarily become real. Working on massive ideas because we are captivated by the energy within them and the possibilities of a better life, curing dis-ease via mental, physical, chemical and spiritual research, using ourselves as a laboratory, exploring exactly what Will-Power truly means. Further and deeper into realms of the without which is truly inner, the macrocosm which is the microcosm. '100 books you must read before you die', the first of which is your own. Your very own Book of the Dead. A lifetime preparing before the next step.  

Been there, done that. Next. (How arrogant.)

So, survive, evolve and move on...He writes with dead eyes and in daily pain. Normal is very overrated, whatever my foul mental weaknesses, I regret very little. Could always Do more. But Being is key. There is only a time limit on the flesh. 'Who will deliver me from this body of death?' What seems important to you? Really, truly? Define 'important' and instinctive reasons why. Or not...to hell with me, in hell I seem to be and to hell I go. Pathos and hubris simultaneously. Woo-hoo. Etc.

One more final 'time' for the universe...'God' is/was/probably possibly a telepathic scientist, architect of infinity, quantum physicist, astral engineer and a psychic musician. ALL. WE are tiny sparks and mirrors of 'God', parallel possibilities, all serving the purpose of existence, which is (so I seem to choose to believe) to Evolve and experience all that matter can. We do not all need to be Einstein, Da Vinci or Beethoven but we all are on various levels, perhaps less 'grand' (depending on perspective) but the Poet/ Creator is within us all every time we appreciate Nature, enjoy humour or a story well told, think of some connection for ourselves...Small things Matter:-) As the bishop said to the actress. Smaller things are Quarks. Arf.  

Stanislav Grof... COEX...(Condensed experience montage. ) Eg, 'You are re-experiencing the birth process, remembering pre birth inter uterine events, reliving ancestral or archaeological crises of people/animals from whom you are descended, seeing the  sub-atomic energy whorl from which Form appears, previsioning the Superhumanity of the future...all at once!'  (That was, apart from the LIGHT that smashed into me for five seconds in a garden in 2008, exactly what I experienced in the Reconnection. It went far higher the next time. I do regret I didn't practice.

1.Amniotic universe – the womb. The only world that life knows at this point. Blissful feeling of peace and joy in a healthy womb. 2. Cosmic engulfment – no exit – Equilibrium disturbed, contractions begin- unbearable feeling of being stuck in hell with no way of escaping. 3. Death verses rebirth struggle – second clinical stage of childbirth, intense struggle for survival.4. Death versus rebirth experience – the child is born. Intense ecstatic feelings of liberation and love. New world begins. ...

I found this scrawled by me on an old A4 scrap of paper, not sure who actually wrote it, perhaps E. Tolle. Along with 'Conscious Ego...Self Image/Persona/... Subconscious memories...Shadow/Denied psychic material... Anima/Animus/ Opposite sex qualities...Collective Unconscious/Universal+archetypal processes.  In a cycle learning and relaying...'Information received, decoded and transmitted by a structure'. (Definition of intelligence by R.A.W.).  

An infinite number of reality tunnels threading in a spiral of a labyrinth between matter and the non physical. The 'Akashic Record' to tap into and imprint our own levels of experience, the Eye recording Itself. Individually/collectively. Why do we think? Why remember? Why care? Why create? What is the chemical programme which sparks curiosity and fascination? The survival trip is a journey to.....

.....................................................................................................................

Back in Middle School...I knew before I started the run/essay etc, that it was mine. No pride or ego, just knew I had already won. A calmness descended, not grit and determination, just KNEW it. And so it was, every time. Another example from life of no planning, just Being, THEN doing it. My entire life was full of these. Thinking never worked out for me. Everything good which has happened has been spur of the moment choices, instinct, following what (or who) I Love. TRYING (or trying too much) usually ends in tears. Parallel to this is the absolute negativity of my/the mind. Agree to be optimistic as a behaviourally rewarding hobby...he almost giggles.

Reprogramming takes effort and how many of us can say we are not lazy? The most regular homework I give to students is to just to write diary type paragraphs about things they notice or feel on various random days. I have been given some wonderfully honest expressive stuff. What would we reach across/back and tell ourselves at younger ages? What would we attempt to avoid or undo? This exercise is pointless if we feel negative or sadness over it. So don't. Arf. Self forgiveness is a beautiful thing, valuable and worthy. So are we. Stay warm and in flow:-) Last famous words unknown. Happy rebirthing Easter day again. And again.

'Today I broke a personal best, successive days alive':-)

LOVE.

[milk-shy]

england is linked indelibly to my young adulthood (young adult, not Young Adult) and nothing else, it is A Bit Shit but in a way that tenaciously endears you to it --grey sky and meal deals and extremely substandard trains and general grubbiness and synthetic-tasting vegetables-- i am generally very very wary of acknowledging any knowledge of / affection for it-- but then you are lost in an airport terminal in hong kong and you miss the odd unwelcoming place desperately; and then when you are sitting next to two women with that broad new zealand accent and that “provincial primary school teacher” openness and enthusiasm and lack of polish, you realise how far from your own home you always felt, how much further you are now.  

young katherine mansfield in raptures over early 20th c london, filled with unapologetic venomous contempt for home and its scrubby gorse bushes and colonial isolation: ‘London: it is life.’  yeah, it has that effect on people, i find.  i have no illusions about london, i mean, i stayed in (of all places) shadwell for two weeks, and everything about the soulless late capitalist dystopia of the city (City) got my leftie hackles up, and i don’t think i could even really give you more than three reasons why i like it at all, but every time i descend into the stifling warmth of a tube station and get that (probably carcinogenic) air in my lungs, i finally feel like there’s no place i’d rather be.  coming back from cambridge and wandering through the rabbit warrens of kings cross and paddington after dark, tired and wrapped up in myself, finally believed in myself as a beautiful vital young creature.  

i feel sorry for mansfield, being read as a new zealand writer and not a modernist.  for a certain type of displaced anglo bookish kid, the only discernible quality about the ex-colonies is the awareness of what they are not.  and then you get to england and you find the grubby and worn-down, declining and determinedly grand Real Thing that your entire country was built to be a carbon copy of, and you find in real life pope’s beloved twickenham and waugh’s oxford and dickens’s view of the midlands through a train window, and in a very obscure sort of way it is like getting to the root of things.  and for better or worse, katherine mansfield, no matter how awful england can be to you, no matter how disappointing it is, no matter what a faded beauty queen of a nation it is in the 21st century, it will forever be the place where everything happens.  you can no longer see things in quite the same relation.  

moral of the story: i won’t live in england, with this set of immigration laws and these house prices i will never do it, but if i don’t find a way to work in london for a year or two at some point in my 20s i will probably hate myself for the rest of my life.