#it also taps into the fact that this is also part of our existence as humans we can only fully take on our perspective

[sofipitch]

One thing that was really fun about Nona was it's commitment to unreliable narration as seen through a child. Nona is perceptive and clues in on a lot more than others want her to know, yet there are hints of shit going on that Nona doesn't really get. Like some of it becomes plot relevant so you do get answers but I'm talking about the stuff we don't get to see again, like what all Camilla and Palamedes' night missions entailed. If they are trying to save necromancers, did they? And where would they put the escapees? I still wonder why Pyrrha had the job she did and if that was also something important. The fact that Pyrrha was maybe fucking Cam and Pal off screen. Same with a lot of details about New Rho, why was the building Nona lived in so bad, why shouldn't you leave the house without a jacket and mask, etc etc. New Rho itself is a bleak wasteland where you can't buy a lot of food but who cares bc Nona doesn't like most food anyways. I'm OBSESSED with the way we find out BOE is burning necromancers alive is through children who are attending public executions, debating if they helped kill someone the same way you might debate if someone actually did a cartwheel. These are all things Nona takes for granted, as long as her loved ones are safe, they don't register as noteworthy, that's just how things are, right? I have so many questions but Nona can answer none of them but she can tell me if Noodle was a good boy today

[cheralith]

poly!ryusae smut maybe? 🥺

Sorry if the question was uncomfortable to you, but I find poly!ryusae cute (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

— TEST DRIVE.

ITOSHI SAE & SHIDOU RYUSEI. — sae thinks that with the addition of shidou into the relationship, you and him should get more familiar with each other on a more... personal scale.

contains/cw ; fem!reader, she/her pronouns, polyamorous relationship, smut, fingering, praise kink, implied-bi!sae & shidou, mild voyeurism, threesome implied at end, implied aged-up characters (20s) ; not fully edited as of 03/07 a/n ; it's been awhile since i've written smut so apologies if i'm a little rusty :L also darling anonnie do not fret i've been looking for an excuse to write about them more so thank u for enjoying these two freaks as much as i do! wc ; 3.2k

**explicit content — minors do not interact.**

"Just take him out for a test drive."

... was what your boyfriend had said to you a few days ago when you asked what you and him should do next in regards to the man you've both had your eyes on for the past couple of months. Shidou Ryusei, Number 13, center forward for your boyfriend's team and one of Japan's best strikers to date currently. It's hard to miss him and Sae's chemistry on the field, seeing how fluid they move together and how the ball just migrates so naturally toward them. To a more keen eye, it's even harder to miss how eccentric Shidou is around Sae, always prying for his attention and his praise like a dog to its master.

Sae would tell you about him when he comes home to your shared apartment, sighing about how the "Devil Boy" did this or that the "Horny Devil" did that. His tales of the infamous Number 13 would make you giggle at first over dinner, but when Sae told you that Shidou had found out about your existence and that Sae could just see that mischievous glint in Shidou's eye that Sae has gotten accustomed to when he showed the midfielder your Instagram account, you couldn't help but dabble yourself into this little... incident.

It was innocent at first—just making sure that Shidou knew that you were, in fact, real, by tagging along to Sae's practices and games more than you usually did. Then the touches began. Small and brief at the beginning, just giving his chest a congratulating tap after a win post-game with the team. Then you and him lingered around more, his legs not moving when yours accidentally bump into his; or perhaps Shidou would spot you and give you a large hug, welcoming you to the game and telling you to wish him and Sae good luck.

Then he'd raise the stakes a bit. Instead of a hug, he'd hold your hand in his own and kiss your knuckles, giving you a charming wink from below and peeking to see Sae's reaction (Shidou would twitch excitedly if Sae did as much as raise a brow). Or if Sae wasn't around, he'd hold your waist whenever he was escorting you out somewhere, just so he could "keep you safe, doll."

It all came hailing down one night after the last game of the season, where you and Sae invited Shidou out for dinner. Just the three of you.

In an addition to adding another glorious win to his soccer record, you and Sae offered Shidou another chance at upping his gluttonous pride.

"We want you to be a part of us," Sae stated simply, holding your hand and stroking the knuckles that Shidou had kissed upon his arrival at the private booth of the restaurant.

You laughed aloud so prettily at Shidou's confused look, one that you and Sae barely saw since Shidou was nothing less of overconfident.

"What Sae means is," you slide your empty hand over and beckon Shidou's own to join yours, you being the weaving connection between you, Sae, and Shidou. "we want to be a part of our relationship. If that's something you're interested in."

Shidou's magenta eyes had widened so large at the offer before a wicked smile preyed upon his lips, his tongue darting out to lick them. A soft giggle escaped you while Sae's lip quirked ever so slightly, his eyes deepening intently at the sight of his beloved and his dog getting along so well to his satisfaction.

You made sure to tip the housekeeper of the hotel you all stayed at extra heavily after you exited it with dazed looks on all your faces the morning after, legs feeling a little weaker than they were when you first came in.

A week later, Sae said you should get to know him better on a more intimate level. One less of an acquaintance and more of a partner considering you'll be around him much more now that he was woven in your life as more than just Sae's teammate. Sae saw him on a near day-to-day basis, so he took the opportunity when his parents asked him to come home one evening to leave you and Shidou alone to better yourselves with each other personally.

What he didn't expect was that you and Shidou just seem to hit things off a little too well.

You gasp aloud when you feel the tilt of Shidou's fingers curl upwards inside you, the hook of them sending a spark throughout your body. Nerves on fire, teeth go to bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as your body doubles forward limply. "Don't—!"

Shidou's arm around your waist tightens, making sure you stay upon his lap to ensure the closeness between you and him was uninterrupted. He peppers a slow trail of kisses on your shoulder blade, iconic smirk tattooing itself on your skin. "'Don't' what?"

Your legs that hang over Shidou's widen apart when he expands his own. Head lolling back to his shoulder, a heavy and ragged breath escapes you and you feel his fingers start to slowly pump again with their new position from inside you. The sparking sensation floods your body—more continuous, more rhythmic this time. The pleasure that came with every torturous more exponential than the last, especially as the pressure that Shidou applied rather than the speed of it seemed to be more effective than what you were used to.

"Don't... ah, tease," you mumble weakly, one of your legs twitching when Shidou's thumb adds to the play, tracing a pattern on your clit.

"Thought you wanted to take this nice and slow, doll," Shidou whispers in your ear, smirk in his voice nothing less of evident. "Just wanna break you in first before I truly break you. If you catch my drift, hm?"

Shidou's chuckle just barely registers in your ears, your mind muddled with the sensation that rocks your body. He suddenly quickens his fingers and your spine jolts. You let out a cry as you squirm in his lap again before his fingers slow down to the normal pace again. A whine pulls from your cracked throat, dry from the huffing and gasping.

"Ngh," you bite your warbling lip again, tears pricking your eyes as Shidou pulls his fingers out of you briefly... before jutting them in again and pumping... and then pulling out once more, empty air hitting your core. "No..."

"You don't like it?" Shidou teases, coy faux in his tone. "You like it the old way?"

The rapid nod of your head makes him bare his pearly whites widely. Who knew Sae's girl could end up so pathetic and needy? Shidou wonders if you and him are just like this alone, considering he was the one pampered that night in the hotel as an introduction to you and Sae. One of the best—if not, the best—nights of his life, dare he say. Just thinking back to when Sae's hands were around his cock as you kissed him hotly, silk sheets rustling about, made his pants tighter. He thinks of himself as spoiled, truly. The two people he's always wanted now equally by his side, giving him all the drive that he needs to amp up his body to explode in full.

Shidou's unoccupied hand goes to carefully take off your delicate underwear, noticing the evident wet patch on the fabric caused by you earlier.

"You don't mind if I keep these, do you?" he hums when he presses a kiss to your hot cheek when he tucks it away. "It'll be a little souvenir from my cute girlfriend."

Oh how it feels so right when the word spills from his lips—calling you his. Shidou supposes it's the guilt that was bubbling inside of him for so long since he first laid his eyes on you, a taken woman; not only that, but one of his best bud's woman (though, Shidou thinks there's some blurriness between him and Sae's relationship since both parties knew damn well there was more than just that, especially when Sae's eyes would linger a little too long at his bare, tanned, sweaty skin in the locker room). He reveled in it, though, feeling an excitement brew at the guilt that conjured whenever he'd look at you with a swirl of want as you reflected nothing back but innocence.

God, how he just wanted to absolutely ruin you.

And now a divine power has given him the chance to, and Shidou is sure as hell making sure he's never letting this chance go.

"How does Sae do it, dolly?" Shidou mutters, watching his slicked fingers come in and out of you before he pulls them out completely, a stickiness webbing them to his delight. His other hand goes to grab your wrist and position it where his other was once was. "Go on, show me."

Your lips tremble.

"I don't know..." you murmur weakly. Sae fingered you as skillfully as Shidou did, though in a different artform. Where Shidou was teasing, Sae gave everything and anything all at once, enjoying bringing such a pleasure to you as quick as possible to pile them together. But you were always wrapped up in trying not to pass out to notice how he toyed with you. "I can't remember..."

Shidou clicks his tongue and juts out his bottom lip mockingly. "Aw, poor baby doesn't get fingered enough by her boyfriend?"

You shake your head. "No! Sae does, I just... don't know how he does it."

There's a strike of arrogance that comes about Shidou.

"Maybe he's not doing it well enough then," he says with a dry laugh, even though he knows those long, pale fingers of Sae's could and have done some damage.

You whip your head around, brows knitted with just the cutest little pout Shidou has ever seen bestowed on your glazed lips.

"He does!" you insist hotly to his delight, seeing a new side of you that fires him up. "Sae just—a-ah..."

Shidou cuts you off before you pick a fight with him, not liking how your attention turned to your boyfriend and not your new plaything, creeping his fingers back inside of you to distract you. His other hand from around your waist grabs your face and combines his and your lips, your whimpers being swallowed by him.

"I was just kidding, sweetness, " he laughs lowly as you whine. "I know Sae would never let his girl go empty like that. You guys have been together for how many years now?"

"Four," you sigh out when you and him separate, a string of saliva connecting you and him. "... and a half."

Shidou whistles, grinning. "Looks like I have some catching up to do then."

He goes back to massaging your insides, letting you get used to the feeling again in contrast from the emptiness you felt earlier briefly. Your eyes flutter shut and your body relaxes against his touch, chest heaving up and down in a steady beat as you absorb his fingers. There's a peace that overflows your body when you fully meld into the accustomed pleasure, but it doesn't last long because you feel another constraint inside yourself that makes your back arch, a strangled sound coming out of your throat.

"Oopsies," Shidou singsongs, glancing down at the three fingers stuffed within you. "My finger slipped."

"Ryusei—!" you hiss. You want to cuss him out, tell him that he should at least warn you beforehand, but the violent thrusting of his fingers that hit your threshold again and again and again make you lose and tumble over your words, Shidou's true nature finally beginning to peek out.

Your legs warble. The tips of your fingers are on fire. Your toes curl erratically as you near your first limit.

"Ahh," Shidou hums pleasantly, in contrast to the fierce pulsing of his fingers entering and exiting you, a whiteness embellishing itself between his digits to his satisfaction. Your chest heaves rapidly again, eyes shutting tightly and jaw gritting as you try to find the unbinding of the coil that builds up inside of you. "You like this, though, don't you?"

"Please...!" you heave out weakly. "S-slow down... or I'll—"

Your sentence ceases to finish, a broken moan falling from your lips when his pace quickens again.

"Hm?" Shidou cocks his head to the side, falsely ignorant to the buildup you've been collecting. "You'll 'what', angel?"

"I'll c—oh my God... I'll..." you hesitate, your body shocking itself with a seemingly limitless bliss when Shidou's thumb returns into the play. "Ryusei, please!"

"Huh? Use your words, lovely," he murmurs into your ear, smirking widely again when your head falls forward limply right before it jerks back onto his shoulder, a silent cry exiting your lips. "I'll give you want you want. You just gotta tell Ryu, yeah? C'mon now."

You sob out miserably, fingernails digging into his bicep that balances you on his lip. "I'm gonna come—!"

Shidou's eye twitches and he bites his lip. "Oh are you, now?"

"Yes," you gasp out, "yes! Just please... oh God, just please let me finish. So close..."

Funny because you didn't have to tell him. Shidou just knows from the way you writhe and squirm and thrash about in his lap, how your tongue starts to stick out ever so slightly to gain more air from the one he pumps out of you. Your words really start to falter, because your lips read out his name, but nothing comes out of them, just shattered moans and whines as he thrashes and curls his fingers inside of you at a devilish pace.

"Fuck! Harder!" you manage to grit out. This desperate side of you makes Shidou's nerves alight again, a new face of you being shown to him and therefore, bringing you and him closer together. Just what Sae wanted. Mission accomplished, he thinks as he kisses your temple gently as way of coaxing you.

It all comes loose within an instant. At a lightening-fast pace and immeasurable pressure, you manage to unfurl the tight coil in your stomach and unbind yourself from the limiting pleasure that kept building inside of you, setting you free. You finish over his fingers, walls tightening around them as your body convulses and washes over them with a loud and melodic moan that echoes through your shared bedroom with Sae, wet sounds adding into the crescendo.

Shidou laughs wickedly as your climax slowly bubbles down, your body twitching at every shudder its aftereffects ripple through you. "Oh, that was magnificent, doll," he praises, kissing your cheek. "So good, you're so gorgeous. What a show!"

"What a show, indeed," a voice drawls aloud.

You and Shidou snap your head up together to face the door. Itoshi Sae stands stilly at the entrance of it, luggage in hand and jacket still on his body, one day earlier than expected from his visit home.

Your jaw slacks at your other boyfriend appearing suddenly before you, and despite him seeing you naked many times before, you feel a sudden shyness over take you when he stares at you sat on a shirtless Shidou.

"Sae," you call out weakly with a crooked smile, your limbs so numb and barely sensible. "You're back."

"Welcome home, Sae-chan," Shidou chants happily, eyes brightening. His fingers still halfway in you, he takes them out to wave a sticky hand at the midfielder, who sighs at the sight of it.

Unfazed, Sae drags himself and his luggage into the bedroom, seemingly unmoved at the sight before him.

"Flight got moved to morning today since Coach asked to meet with me tomorrow in private," is all he says as he shuffles out of his jacket and hangs it on the door.

You want to ask him how his parents are, how dinner and their catch-up went, how Rin is doing, but an exhaustion creeps onto you slowly that makes your lids grow heavier as seconds tick by mercilessly.

Sae slowly approaches you and Shidou, his eyes dancing about your linked figures and gazing at the wetness between your legs, the turquoise within them varnished with a glaze of want.

"I see you two have become well-accustomed with each other," Sae states.

Shidou chuckles audibly, his arm around your waist going to tightly hug you affectionately as stipples kisses on your heated neck. "Just like what you wanted, right?"

Your own eyes shoot open suddenly and you fidget against Shidou's firm hold, desperate. "He's being so mean, Sae!" you cry out with teary look.

Sae raises a brow and looks back at Shidou, who merely shrugs.

"Listen. I gave her what she wanted," he refutes and gestures to the evidence at your core. "Not my fault she was being needy."

You gawk at him, making him snort aloud. "You're the one who came onto me!"

"Was it?" Shidou dumbly asks, though the memory of him crashing his lips onto yours the moment the apartment doors closed plays in his mind. "I don't remember."

You turn back to Sae with a pout. "He kept teasing and edging me for a hour straight..."

"You clearly liked it though."

"Yeah, but sometimes, it was too much!"

Sae sighs and rubs his forehead when you and Shidou bicker back and forth like children, though a little relieved that you and him broke the ice of awkwardness so early enough to the point where you can squabble like he and you do. He was apprehensive that you and him would stay on the same platform that you usually did, where there was just that thin barrier of respect that both of you teetered crossing, but Sae's seen that the barrier has been broken through, the evidence displaying itself right in front of him.

"I told you to take a test drive with each other, didn't I?" he asks, cutting between you and Shidou's petty argument. You look back at Sae, who is suddenly lowering and positioning himself between your semi-viscid legs to your astonishment. "Maybe I should've been a bit clearer, then."

Shidou follows your gaze, chest heaving a bit when he realizes what Sae is doing as the latter hooks his hands around your thighs. You watch with wide eyes as Sae nears his head toward you and sticks his tongue out, his warmth sheathing your folds unexpectedly and making you whimper warmly again.

Sae pulls back and pierces his eyes into you, then to Shidou, then back at you, fixating on your ardent one. He draws one of his hands back and fixes itself at the cusp of Shidou's pants that sits right beneath you, drawing out a sharp hiss from him at the contact of Sae cupped hand.

The look of mild fatigue and yearning that paints your face along with the look of eagerness and lust that streaks over Shidou makes Sae's gaze darken intently.

"I wanted you both to warm each other up for me," he states simply, just before diving between your legs again and firming his grip around Shidou's hardened clothing, the actions making you and Shidou moan in unison.

a/n ; "alice aren't u supposed to be on hiatus 🤔" listen man ive been staring at this msg in my inbox while thinking heinous things as my took my midterms. i deserve this!! i also wrote this kind of drunk so you can totally tell where my self-indulgence starts to hit lol

anyways, thank you for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated and always noticed ♡

[musings-of-a-rose]

A New Life - Part 2

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia

Word Count:��3200+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?

Notes: sigh. look, I had one scene idea and it became this. If you've ever read anything by me, you know this happens. And just look at Acacius. How could I not? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

General Marcus Acacius Masterlist

A New Life Masterlist

The next morning, Marcus wakes early and I help him slide him armor on. I step back and watch him tighten the latches on the side before looking at me, his arms outstretched to his sides. 

“Looks good? All latched?”

“Mmhmm,” I tap my chin with my finger. Quickly, I reach up and take the leather barrette from my hair, sliding it under his armor over his chest. I gently place my hand over his armor where it lays and look up at him, his eyes already on me. 

“Be safe,” I whisper.

“You as well. Remember what I said.” He reaches out, hesitating a moment before cupping my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, his eyes searching my face. But then he blinks, dropping his hand from me. He turns and strides away, disappearing through the flaps of the tent. 

Within the hour, all of the troops move out. 

It’s quiet. Every sound in the forest making me jump with anticipation. I try to keep busy, cleaning Marcus’s tent, making sure his clothes are cleaned in the washbin, whatever I can find to keep my mind busy and off the fact that Marcus is out there somewhere, having arrows fired at him, swords swung at his head. 

Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and I pop outside, walking straight over to Caius as soon as I did a quick scan of the area. We walk to the edge of the camp, waiting by the back end just in case we need to make a quick getaway. I sing and talk to Caius, trying to calm his nerves as he kicks at the ground. What feels like an eternity later, and somehow, no time at all, we hear voices and footsteps, horses pounding the ground on the other side of camp. I slink back, trying to blend in with Caius as I watch the makeshift gate open, soldiers and horses storming through it. 

I breathe a sigh of relief at their armor, immediately knowing it was ours. Rome’s? Whatever country I belong to now. As the soldiers move throughout the camp, I can see many wounds, some soldiers bringing back goods and others just trying to make it to their beds. A very familiar chestnut mount strides through the crowd and my breath catches in my  throat as I see him.

Marcus, sitting atop his horse, his hand clutching his arm as blood drips down him. 

I take Caius and steer him towards our tent, quickly navigating the ground between us and toss his reins over a low tree branch. I turn and see Marcus sliding off his horse, his eyes full of pain but his expression not betraying it, aside from a slightly awkward landing. He heads straight into the tent.

“Cornelia?” He yells, worry in his tone. Concern. 

I run, flinging open the flaps and Marcus spins, relief washing over him at the sight of me. I run to him, but stop just short of his massive frame. 

“You’re hurt.”

Marcus shrugs. “A flesh wound. It will heal.” The medic comes into the tent then, a simple sewing kit in his hands. I extend my hand, telling him to give it to me. The soldier hesitates and looks at Marcus, who gives him a nod of consent. The soldier passes me the kit and a jug of wine and leaves the tent. 

I turn to Marcus. “Can I help you from your armor?”

“Please.”

We manage to get the armor off without disturbing his gash and I can see just how dirty he is. Mud and dried blood cake his body, his hair matted with it and sweat. He’s still so gorgeous. I grab a small bowl and fill it with water, taking a cloth to clean away the area around the gash. It’s deep but not too bad. A simple stitch should suffice.

“I..I’ve never sewn skin before,” I confess to him as I thread my needle.

“How are your sewing skills?”

“I used to make my own togas and pallas. Embroidery too.”

He nods. “You’ll be fine. Make sure to pour the wine over it first.”

I do as he says and he hisses, his arm flexing in pain. Somehow, I manage to stitch him up, distracting him with random questions to keep the pain at bay. I finish and wrap his arm, watching as he circles his shoulder a couple times to make sure it stays in place. He looks up at me, his eyes big and dark. Unable to help myself, I cup his face, brushing some dirt from his cheek. 

“I was so worried about you, Marcus. I was afraid I’d lose you.”

He places his hand over mine, his warmth seeping through me. “It will take more than a sword to my arm to take me from this world. Especially since you saved my life.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” I cock my head to the side. 

He points to his chest, where I just now realize there’s a nasty tear in the fabric. “An arrow came for me. Tried to take my life. But the metal and leather from your barrette stopped the tip from piercing my skin.” He pulls down his tunic enough for me to see the bruise, but no cut. “If you had not put it there, I would not be here.” He stands up, my hand falling to his broad chest as he looks down at me, a heat spreading throughout me. “Thank you.” He cups his large hand to my cheek, his eyes moving between mine for a moment before he moves in slowly, giving me time to protest. 

Like I would.

His lips press to mine, soft and gentle, but an urgency behind their movement. His hand slides around the back of my head, holding me to him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. A small moan escapes me and he deepens the kiss. My fingers twist in his tunic, desperately trying to get him closer to me. I can feel him pressing against my stomach, hard and wanting, and my body lights with an electricity I hadn’t felt in years. 

Even though it kills me to do so, I break the kiss, lingering for a moment before I look at him, his eyes dark, a fire brimming in them. I take his hand and guide him towards our mat. Before I can lay down, he pulls me to him, kissing me with such sweetness and care. He pulls back this time, looking down at me as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His hand continues down my neck and to my shoulder. Gently, he tugs my palla from my shoulder, letting it drop to the floor. 

“Lift your arms.”

I do as he says, my entire body alight with anticipation of his touch. He grips my tunic at my hips and pulls it over my head, letting it follow my palla. He takes a step back, letting his eyes slowly roam down my bare body. Not even my late husband took such time for me, almost reverence in his gaze. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” his voice is low, a slight rasp to it. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Then he reaches behind him and yanks his tunic over his body in one swift motion, his underwear quickly following. 

Gods he’s gorgeous. Strong and toned from his many years of battle, his body has many scars and marks littering it, some new from this most recent battle and others faded to white lines. A single curl falls across his forehead, his eyes soft but full of desire. He pulls me to him, the warmth from his body spreading over mine, an excited tingling firing throughout me as he kisses me. His hand roams down, stopping to squeeze and touch my breast. I gasp when he pinches my nipple, the sensation zapping straight between my thighs. 

He gently guides me to the mat, helping me to lay on my back before he lays his body over mine, my legs falling open to give him more space. He kisses me, his lips trailing down my neck to suck on a spot that has me gasping again. He pulls back, shoulder muscles flexing, his eyes on my face as he presses into me. 

“Oh!” Is all I can manage. He’s larger than my husband was, but he’s taking care, slowly moving his hips to allow me to adjust. 

Once his hips are flush against mine, he studies my face. “Are you alright?”

I nod. “Yes, just…you feel so good, Marcus.”

He smiles, a soft smile, tucking some hair behind my ear again. He moves, pressing deep into me before hitching my leg over his hip. Our grunts and moans fill the tent, Marcus’s hand sliding up to hold mind, our fingers linking together. The warmth in my body builds fast and then explodes, his name rolling off my tongue in praise. Another press of his hips and he grunts, eyes closed in bliss. He drops his head to my chest for several moments, practically purring when I run my fingers through his hair, something I had been dying to do since the moment I first saw him. He rolls off me with a hiss, pulling the blanket over us. His hand settles on my stomach and I turn my head to watch him in the darkness. 

“No regrets?” He asks me, worry in his voice.

I cup his cheek. “Just that it took us this long to get here.”

As we continue to travel, Marcus and I spend as much time as is possible together. Sometimes that’s in the form of him waking me as he presses into me, a hand clamped over my mouth so I don’t wake the camp. Other times it’s simply a meal, chatting about anything and everything. He has so many amazing stories, some sad and others happy or fantastical. He also rides by me, sometimes racing ahead of his troops, our adrenaline taking us behind the closest tree as I lift my tunic for him. 

He has also taken to teaching me archery, or expanding on my limited knowledge. My father had snuck me a bow and arrows when I was little and I practiced in secret where I could. My deceased husband had even built a little private range for me and hired a tutor. But once he passed, those things went away and I had to hide my skill.

I’ll admit some of my favorite times are when he comes back from battle, covered in blood and dirt, fueled by fighting. The first time he did this, he came into the tent where I had prepared a meal. I turned, only managing to get his name out as he stomped across the tent, eyes dark and full of fire. He kissed me hard, gripping my hips roughly and spun me around, bending me over the table as he pulled himself free, pounding into me hard enough that everything on the table clattered to the floor. He wound his fingers in my hair and yanked me up, holding me to his chest as he fucked me, whispering dark and dirty things in my ear, grunting as I clenched around him, his own release just behind mine. He had apologized profusely once he saw how sore I was, a few bruises left behind. But I begged him to do it again, and he definitely has delivered. 

But today is different. He’s on his horse next to me, quiet. Pensive. I haven’t been able to get more than a few words from him the entire ride. It’s not until we’ve made camp and were sitting at his table eating that he speaks. He sets down his fork and clears his throat. 

“I have something to discuss with you.”

I set my fork down as well, dabbing my mouth with a napkin before turning all of my attention to him. He looks…nervous. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath. “We are nearing the end of our campaign.”

My eyebrows raise. “Oh? That’s good news, right?”

He nods. “Yes. But it’s more than that. We all get to go home. Some will return, others may not. But home for me, is the capital. Rome.”

“You live in the capital? That makes sense. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

He places his upturned hand on the table, bending his fingers to ask for mine. I acquiesce, his skin always feeling warm and comforting. His eyes bore into mine and I feel like he’s reading me again.

“I want to give you another chance to leave.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. “You…you want me to leave?”

“No! No, I do not. But the capital is not…it is a great city to be sure, but it is also very dangerous. I want to give you a chance to go and live a life away from it.”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. My place is by your side. If…if you’ll have me.” My throat feels tight as I choke back tears.

With his free hand, Marcus leans closer and cups my face. “I would love nothing more than to have you by my side. Is that what you truly want? You do not owe me anything.”

“It is. I…I love you, Marcus.”

His eyes start to water, but then he swallows hard to stop them. “You do?”

I nod furiously. “I have for some time, I think.”

With the hand on my cheek, he pulls me to him, kissing me softly. “I love you too.”

We make out for a few minutes before he pulls back, taking my hand again. “As much as I want to have you, we have something else to discuss.”

“Oh?”

“Since you have decided to stay with me, I…just know this is not the way I would have done it, but your safety is everything to me, and the capital is dangerous. The Emperors-”

“Marcus?”

He takes another deep breath. “I think we should be married before we reach Rome.”

Marriage. That is what’s causing him to not quite look me in the eye? Like he’s afraid I’ll say no? Or afraid I’ll say yes?

“Why is it important we do it before Rome?”

He leans in to my ear, pretending like he’s going to kiss me there, but instead whispers. “The Emperors can be…dangerous. They like to play games and they like to take spoils of war. If you are not married, they may command you to join them.”

“Oh.”

He pulls back, keeping his face only inches from mine, his eyes large and wide. “If this were not so, I would court you, ask you to marry me in a romantic way. But our time is running out and I need to keep you safe. So..what is your answer?”

I look into his eyes, a small smile on my lips. “Marcus, I would’ve married you the day you rescued me. But now? After getting to know you, falling in love with you? I would marry you behind the latrine.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling. “So that’s a yes?”

“Yes!”

We had a simple wedding ceremony, his trusted captain marrying us. Marcus slides a hastily made iron ring onto my finger and I do the same for him. 

“It’s not much, but I promise to get you something nice when we reach Rome.”

I don’t care about the ring personally, but I can see it means a lot to him. Also, he is the General of Rome, so I’m sure he has to have a certain appearance. The closer we get to the city, the more anxious his eyes get, and the closer by his side he keeps me. We stop in the Port of Ostia, and Marcus escorts me to a room at a nearby inn. It’s been what feels like ages since I slept in an actual bed and not a roll. This one isn’t the best but it’s better than the ground for sure. The next day while we’re eating breakfast, a soft knock raps on the door. I look at Marcus who has a small smile on his face as he gets up to answer it. A person enters in a hooded cloak, hesitating just inside the room while Marcus closes the door. As soon as he does, the hood comes back and reveals an absolutely stunning woman, her golden hair twisted half up on her head in gorgeous braids, her golden tunic forming to her body. 

“General Acacius. I am happy to see you alive.”

“Likewise, Princess Lucilla.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it and I’m not a tiny bit jealous about it. Nope. Not me. Marcus crosses the room and offers me his hand and I take it, standing up from my chair.

“Princess Lucilla, may I introduce Cornelia, my wife.” 

Lucilla glances at Marcus for a moment before looking at me, her eyes scanning down my body and back up. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

Pretty thing? What am I, 14? Marcus squeezes my hand ever so slightly, my signal to be nice. “Thank you, Princess, but I’m sure that title belongs to you.” To my utter surprise, she laughs, her head falling back with it. 

“You didn’t tell me she was witty? You’ll fit right in at court. Just..be careful, with your carefully worded insults, yes?”

I nod. “Understood.”

She pulls a lavender spring from somewhere and holds it beneath her nose, taking a small sniff as she studies me. “I think my seamstress can have her new tunic sewn fast enough. It may not be perfect but it will be fine for the ceremony.”

I turn to look at Marcus. “What celebration? What’s going on?”

Marcus sighs. “When I return to the city after a campaign, the Emperors like to make a..spectacle. I wish they wouldn’t, but they request I ride through the city on a chariot, in my finest armor, and receive my laurels.”

Lucilla turns to him. “General Acacius here sent for me to help you prepare.”

I turn to Lucilla now. “Help me? For what? And why would he ask you?”

She looks at Marcus again. “Have you never spoken of me?”

Marcus shrugs. “Never saw the need to.”

Lucilla turns back to me. “Your husband and I have known each other for a long time. I trust him fully and he me.” She glances at Marcus who nods. She leans in a little closer to me, speaking quietly. “We are both for a free Rome.”

“Is Rome not already free?”

She chuckles, but not in a mean way. “My dear, you have a lot to learn. Which is why he asked me here. To dress you for this ceremony, yes, but to tell you more about what to do or say, or what not to do or say in the capital. Especially as a woman. It is a beautiful city, but it is dangerous.”

I look at Marcus who takes my hands, giving them a little squeeze. “I’m sorry I did not tell you. I was afraid someone would hear me. The world is full of spies. The Princess isn’t technically allowed outside of the city.”

I look at Lucilla, who is smirking slightly. “Oh? So you’re a rebel?”

She chuckles. “In the eyes of the Emperors, I was born one. As my father was Marcus Aurelius.”

Now that name I had heard of and my eyes go wide. “Well I can see why they’d feel…threatened.”

She nods and then claps her hands together. “Now, shall we begin?”

General Taglist:

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@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

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@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk 

[forestmossling]

okay. oh my fucking god. oh god, okay.

this is INSANE. this is absolutely fucking crazy. what i’m about to recommend you is absolutely fucking mind-bogglingly pants-shittingly bonkers in its brilliance, so y’all better read closely.

it’s always the fics with the shortest, least descriptive summaries ever, the ones you absent-mindedly stashed in your “marked for later” and forgot about them, isn’t it?

anyway, this is a masterpiece. in every definition and understanding of the word. there are too many great points about what’s going on in this fic and why you absolutely have to read it, so forgive me if i’m gonna be pretty incomprehensible and incoherent rn, okay?

first of all, the way this fic just ties the whole of the st universe together, the way eddie munson doesn’t just spawn out of nowhere in the beginning of s4, but actually exists in hawkins all this time. the way he witnesses all the crazy going-ons in town from the sidelines, and still has his own opinions and thoughts on them, even if he didn’t actively take part in them. just, love to see it.

second of all, different “first” meeting. oh my god, but how i love thee. obviously it wasn’t really the first meeting here, but steve and eddie coming together before the original timeline is something i will never get enough of, and it was done brilliantly here. the way their first conscious interaction happens when steve comes to apologize for being a piece of shit, and the way the narrative, from eddie’s pov, never lets you downplay and just forget that steve was, in fact, a douchebag in high school, is also something i love to see. yes, he’s forgiven, but not because he wasn’t that bad in the first place, as a lot of fics love to make it out to be (which, i don’t blame them, that’s also fine), but because he actively works to become a better person. we see him, time and time again, actively holding himself back from sliding into the “king steve” persona, owning up to the shit he did and proving that he has changed, and it’s beautiful. and it’s also nice to see here, because eddie doesn’t even find out about all the upside down shenanigans in this fic, so for him, steve isn’t a better person now because he saw him in his heroic martyr era and was impressed. he’s better because he doesn’t just let these objectively heroic and admirable actions automatically absolve him of all his sins, but actively works to repair the damage he did before he committed them. which also happens in canon, i guess, but i really love how it was shown here.

third, eddie. characterization in general, but eddie’s in particular, because oh my fucking god. he’s absolutely insane in the most humane and captivating way possible. the way he has so much history that made him the way he is, the way we see this past overlap with the present and realize how it affects the decisions he makes, the interactions he has with other people. and the way his past was written in general, the way it flashes him out so deeply as a person is absolutely brilliant. and the way he sees the world around him, the way his perceptions of the moments we catch him in is so deep and full of volume, dimension. it’s like one second you’re with him, listening to the conversation he has with another person, and another - in a wave of sound and music he taps on his leg with his fingers, in the songs he hears reverberating through every feeling he has. and the author is so masterful with throwing you around from one plane of reality to another, the way eddie is in his brain, and it’s so much it’s almost overwhelming, but they catch you just on the edge in the last second and keep your brain from being torn apart from trying to comprehend the absolute insanity going on in eddie’s head.

it really felt like this fic was repeatedly slapping me across the face and all i could do was deliriously ask for more.

and, while we’re on the topic of characterization, literally every character and every interaction between them are so real and so fitting for who they are in this universe. the way even through eddie’s warped perspective of him, steve’s actions and views fall into a perfectly functioning justified mechanism for the reader, not a screw out of place. the way through simple, and, on the surface, absolutely mundane conversations about the horror and romance genres, about the characters in the book eddie’s writing (he is, btw, and it’s also brilliant), we see the whole of who these characters are, how they see the world and themselves in it, their deepest fears and desires. and even aside from steddie, a personal stand-out for me was jeff, because he has a whole life outside of eddie’s narrative, and still manages to contribute to the plot and give insights into eddie and himself while not being a cardboard cut-out, only existing for the benefit of pushing eddie’s story forward. and the rest of hellfire - past and present - while mostly serving the purpose of showing how precious steve’s attention and care for things they didn’t get about eddie is, are still their own people.

whatever the next number is, i’m losing count, - the language the fic is written in. it’s just so fucking clever. the dialogues are witty and captivating without stinking of made-up-ness, the metaphors are so deep and colorful and voluminous without being pretentious and over the top. the words of this fic are something you have to chew on before you swallow, let the author immerse you in the picture they’re painting without breezing from one predictable trope point to another (which, they aren’t really predictable and expected here, which is another huge pro) in the everlasting greed for cheap escapism, as i am prone to doing. and that’s another thing i’m really grateful to this author for - making me sit with the words i’m reading for a second, instead of just gorging on them in my haste to get to the end and start another story, frantic to keep my brain occupied.

also, this fic genuinely had me endlessly invested in the fate of the characters, scared shitless or elated for them. it yanked me right out of the usual safety of predictable plot tropes which usually makes fanfiction so attractive for me, but i really wasn’t complaining. on one of the most stressful and deciding scenes of the fic (no spoilers tho), i genuinely started crying. i felt eddie’s resignation and anguish so deeply and personally, i couldn’t hold back if i wanted to. and that’s another thing i’m extremely grateful for - the absolute rollercoaster of emotions i went through before i got the reward of the happy ending.

i would also like to say that i was floored with how period-typical homophobia and other social issues were presented in this work. obviously, i can’t really vouch for it being realistic or not, because i’m not american and wasn’t even alive during that time, but i can say that it did feel very very real. in a lot of other works that talk about these issues the homophobia and societal judgement seem like such nebulous, far-away concepts, that are obviously real and have a tangible impact on the characters, but it’s like their still escapable, still out of reach (which, again, is not a bad thing). but here i felt like the repercussions for being who you are were physically breathing down my neck, incapacitating me with horror. and, on that note, just, the author’s overall attention to detail and period-fitting pop-culture and other little things that painted such a larger picture of living in that time period, tying the fictional story so tightly down to it. it felt so grounded in reality, that i felt like a person could tell me their older relative had gone through this in the eighties and i would believe them. but, as i said, i’m obviously not an authority on that topic for aforementioned reasons.

and also, aside from the reader’s perspective on the work, as a person who tries to write myself, i realize that this is the level of writing skill i’m aspiring towards. this is what i want my works to feel like to a reader, and i’m really not there yet, but seeing works like these inspires me so much to grow.

also, i would’ve absolutely loved to see a little bit more of robin there, to find out how this change in the canon narrative would affect the events of the s4, to see how steddie’s relationship would develop and transform with the upside down thrown into the mix. and that’s definitely not a slight against the fic for not including this things, but more of a testament to how greatly invested the author made me in their version of the story and how hard it is for me to let go of it. this fic is perfectly complete without those things, but, once i got a taste, i couldn’t help but want more and more, even though this story definitely isn’t in any way lacking or in need of those to feel whole. but that’s mostly my selfish desires speaking, don’t mind me.

and, here, have a couple of snippets with no particular reasoning behind them, just because they made me giggle:

i’m getting real rambly and i’m genuinely afraid this whole post is absolutely unreadable with how frantic and jittery i am in trying to get this off my chest, but when i’m telling you i was buzzing with this word-vomit, almost frothing at the mouth with the need to express the absolute glorious hellscape this fic left me in after i finished it, i’m probably underselling it.

so, in conclusion, please read this fic. please please please read this fic. if not for my sake or the @fabelds-blog’s (who got criminally little recognition for this masterpiece), then for your own, because i can guarantee you that not one second of reading this work will feel like a waste of time or a disappointment. *me, pointing a gun at you with shaking hands while tears stream down my face* please, PLEASE read this fic, because it’s absolutely worth it.

so, yeah. i don’t think a number large enough to rate this work even exists, but my closest approximation is 999999836526272910018172654244536384847635526728190199986553781010018654463892010197654272458499900909261379/10, am recommending. and, obviously, it’s up to you if you’re going to actually read the fic, but if after this madman’s rant you still opted not to, i regret to inform you that that is, in fact, the wrong choice, and i’m strongly urging you to reconsider.

[dingodad]

You're not the first person I've seen imply that mind control in Homestuck doesn't actually make the characters act against what they would want anyway. I don't think Tavros wanted to jump off a cliff, but he did want to fly and I guess unfetered of a sense of personal safety, he'd try it? But a character can't want anything, so maybe since they don't have minds to control, mind control is just a narrative tool to make things happen with characters that would normally not do those things?

it is pretty central to Homestuck's philosophy that characters only ever act in accordance with their intrinsic nature. I'm hesitant to even use the words "mind control" in relation to Homestuck at all, because things that we identify at a glance as mind control are almost always better described as what I have previously called "psychic stimulus". Gamzee and Dirk are not at the whims of Lil Cal; rather, Lil Cal represents a part of themselves which stimulates them to act upon urges they already feel. similarly, Gamzee's own powers can only amplify fears that a character already has, and as such we can make similar guesses as to how Kurloz does what he does. this is why I think alchemy is such an important symbol in Homestuck: the really clever alchemists of centuries pasts understood that you could never change the fundamental nature of lead to make it into gold; rather, the essence of gold already exists within lead, and alchemy is merely the process of bringing that essence out.

the same principles drive the comic's command-and-response dynamic: while the readers (slash exiles) were free to suggest what a character should do next, it was never in their power to make anyone do anything. each character would respond to a command in a way that communicated the person they already were.

Vriska is an interesting case, and in some way seems like an exception (as she often is) - but the important caveat with her powers is that she can't mind control humans. she can control chess people because carapacians have always largely been blank game pieces for the audience to project what they like unto - they're free game. and while she can control some trolls, it's worth noting that all of the more important troll characters are basically immune to her psychic manipulations. the fact that she can only control "weak wills" is almost like an acknowledgement of the fact that she can only control people who aren't really characters - the main cast will always be free to act upon their own wills.

but I think you're right that she doesn't have absolute carte blanche to control minor characters, either. someone suggested to me once that the incident with Tavros had her tapping into the death drive or "call of the void" that all people have, which is one explanation; I think what's especially important to remember, though, is that her psychic powers were not the only tool she used to engineer that accident. as Tavros' clouder, she had already engineered a situation where Tavros had no choice but to either pit himself against unbeatable enemies or flee over a cliff! her psychic powers are ultimately just one of a variety of tools she uses to engineer situations in her favour, and she uses the existence of these powers to make herself seem omnipotent. which is exactly what she learnt to do from her mentor Doc Scratch, who also proudly claims omnipotence but is still limited by the personalities of his game pieces; he could never make Vriska do bad things, but he was very good at engineering situations where she had no choice but to act on her own instincts to lash out and hurt people. from inside, the narrative webs they weave just seem inescapable.

I think you're kind of touching on something with the idea that characters "can't want", though I don't know if it's necessarily quite that straightforward. characters are slaves to their own personalities, and while we like to think that our personalities lead us to make decisions that benefit us or make us happy, it's just as easy for us to make decisions that align with our own values but still have negative consequences. so it's less a question of whether Tavros "wanted to jump off a cliff" in that exact moment, and more a matter of whether we think it's in alignment with Tavros' personality for him to risk severe injury in order to avoid a confrontation with a mob of impossible enemies. we should treat the question 'why did the character react to this psychic stimulus in that way?' the same way we treat questions like 'why did the character behave this way in this timeline but another way in that timeline?'

or maybe Vriska really is just a special girl who gets to do things to trolls that the Condesce isn't allowed to do to humans.

[canaidliafail]

Stay grounded

streamer Abby x streamer f!reader 🌿

[part 1 ]. [part 2]

Not proof read like at all. pure crap. Im just horny had an idea and wrote it down. enjoy tho~ MDI cause it will get explicit in later chapters

CW: college exams, weed

“fuck, give me a caption”

“I like tits”

“literally fuck you”

you mumbled and your friends laughed, enjoying your misery. You stared at the blank space below your post and pursed your lips in concentration. Eventually you started typing cringing at every word

“trying some new products ˖◛⁺ ⑅ ♡”

and pressed “post” on the photo tossing your phone on the other side of the couch defeated. Been a presence online sure had its fun but you were also filled with the existential dread that people knew you “existed”

150k people to be exact. not much but more than you ever expected to get from your hobby. You usually posted your figurine collection from the most recent games you streamed with the occasional over the top pic of you dolled up and in clothes styled to fit the game of the month which unsurprisingly always over performed in statistics.

you had been doing this for a good two years now give or take and it was a wild turn of events considering how quickly and well your career took off. You loved the financial comfort but hated how exposed you constantly felt.

“Don't you have a stream tonight?” your friend,june, asked and you shook your head rubbing your face and squeezing your eyes shut to hopefully get rid of the persistent ache

“No, I'm resting for the week. Told them I have exams or whatever”

she passed you the blunt and you took a few puffs in silence staring into space

“Mind if I put on some music?”

“no go ahead” you mumbled and went to the kitchen to make coffee as you heard the first notes of mr.kitty after dark play in the living room.

“We need to go on a trip somewhere”. June said and Cassie agreed

“trip? where?” you shouted loud enough to be heard across the halls

“I don't know man but like, leave this town for a bit. Remember how fun we had on our last trip ?”

you smiled. Italy was fun. England was insane and Germany was borderline a fever dream. all three unique and all three with a romantic disappointment that entertained your friend group for months and you had to admit you had been craving leaving your city for a while now. Had it not been for the fact that you were on your last semester at college you would be somewhere else every other week -without any romantic endeavors-

You made the quickest shittiest coffee and went back to the living room sitting on the floor “Once Im done with exams we can go anywhere you want” you promised. Your phone pinged the flash going on and off

“What the fuck”

“Im suing for optical damage”

they yelled and grabbed your phone tossing it your way and you all but laughed

“Sorry sorry my bad forgot to turn off flash alerts”

You tapped your screen and almost choked on your coffee fumbling to unlock your phone the lyrics blurring in the background until they became a numbing buzz

staygrounded69 just made a new post

you tapped the icon and saw the new photo. You couldn’t quite understand what it was about her but she had you hooked and entirely captivated. It wasn’t a crush but you always found yourself checking for new posts or streams.

Abby, known by her public name staygrounded was a gamer who streamed here and there. In a more a casual stream she eventually explained that her nickname was a jab by her friend when she asked for ideas and he said “staygrounded, get it? cause of your fear of heights?” and it just stuck by.

That wasn’t why she had blown up though. No it was due to her coming out as a lesbian and that fueled every female straight and not. She was after all, a tall muscular woman with beautiful blonde hair and a face with unique features that deserved appreciation in the form of oil paintings and perhaps a face seating

you shook your head trying not to let your mind fall too deep into hopeless thirsty thoughts and admired the new photo. a casual gym pic. Fuck she wasn’t even flexing her muscles or anything. she wore the baggiest grey sweatpants with a black hoodie and a black cap with her braided hair and the lower half of her face peaking through sitting on a bench casually

and yet you felt weak. you bit your lower lip and chewed on it a little

“Cotton????” your friends called out to you by your streamer nickname and snapped their fingers. you looked up feeling your cheeks heat up

“aaah did she post?”

“mhm” you nod excitedly and went back to looking at the photo. You tapped the share button and posted it on your story leaving a small note

“her <3”

not been shy of publicly “aPprEciAtiNg” her since she was hell of a popular figure and would for sure not see your reshare.you let out a sigh and june smirked

“what ails you my victorian maiden”

“I love women” you said dreamily and took a sip of your coffee

“Wish they loved you back” Cassie bit and you grabbed your pillow and went over to her “oh you’re dead” you barked and she laughed as you started playfully smothering her with the stuffed item.

“alright time for me to bounce” june said first and grabbed her things “my teacher will probably be up my ass for coming so late” she groaned and you looked at the time “yeah I need to also get going”

“sucks to suck. Ill go take a nap” Cassie said and grabbed her things.

you and June both had afternoon classes while Cassie was happily a drop out who did seasonal work and rested during winter. The two of you were very visibly jealous of her not having to deal with the pain of exams.

“Yeah yeah get over yourself” June said jabbing her at her sides and Cassie yelped running in front of her, June chasing her down the stairs and you being the last one to leave the apartment to lock the door.

•••

You were in class when it happened. Your week ended with a babging 3 hour lecture entirely dedicated to pattern making. You were ready to grab the scissors and stab yourself to end this. You friend also seemed to slowly wither away while your teacher remained as chipper as always

“Now regarding coats-“ she continued and you pushed your chair away from the desk softly getting up to grab fresh paper to start copying the notes she was starting to draw on the board

You spread it out on your desk and grabbed the ruler and pencil and started measuring a No.44 coat purposefully being slower than usual so that you wouldn’t have to do much work. Your brain was squeezed dry for the day and this class was always the most difficult

you grabbed your phone to take a picture of the finished measurements and pattern on the board to have it for later. You opened the camera and zoomed in ready to take a pic

staygrounded69 liked your story

came the first notification and you fumbled with your phone as it nearly fell off of your hands. You sat down on your chair and stared at the icon for a hard long minute not wanting to tap it and see just a fan account instead. You decided to stay delusional

staygrounded69 liked your post

staygrounded69 liked your post

a few minutes later came another few notifications and then that was it. You opened your page and tapped the username that led to her profile.

holy shit

it really was her

its fucking her

You breathed in quitting her page and tapping her username again still in disbelief. She saw your photos. She had specifically liked the ones with your face in.

“Refrain from using your phones in class” your teacher reminded you and you were snapped back into reality

right patterns

coats

you shoved your phone in your bag and tried to focus on the sheet in front of you. for the remaining half hour you faked working on the class assignment and pretending to draw lines and correct them and the second your professor dismissed you, you bolted out of the class and grabbed your phone and checked for any new notifications. There was none and you tried to ignore the soft pang of disappointment that filled your chest.

You did hope she would follow you back or something but that was ridiculous considering how famous she was and by your knowledge she only followed her friends the she hang out with outside her online careers which was a dreadfully low number of people meaning there was no reason for her to follow you

you called june “you won't believe what happened”

“Oh my god. Its about that hot beefy streamer isn’t it?”

“Yes yes it is!”

and you heard screaming on the other line till the mic peaked and muted her out entirely. You gave her a few moments of squealing till she was back on the line ready to question you

“spill. what happened? Did she see your story? did she reply to it?”

“alright no nothing that important but-“

“oh come onnnn”

“BUT!” you interrupted and she waited for you to continue

“but she liked two of my pictures. You know what this means? it means she went through my page and liked two of my pictures June!”

“Wow oh my she will propose to you. She is so in love oh god”

You kept hyping up each other’s delusions all the way to your bus station

“did she text you ? any other notifications?”

you pulled your phone away and checked your page.nothing new so far

“no nothing yet, oh my bus is here”

“alright keep me updated if anything happens”

you hung up and walked inside the vehicle and sat on a plastic seat daydreaming of every possible scenario between you and Abby. However the more you sat the more the high of the excitement wore off and the more you settled back into your usual sorrowful self

ok and? she liked your posts. hell she is probably a player and likes every cute girls posts

you thought and sank further into the seat drowning in the soft music playing from your headphones. you tapped your foot on beat and rested your head against the cold misty windows of the bus. You started lying to yourself pretending this didn’t affect you much and that you'd be over her by tomorrow

You walked back home and tossed your bag carelessly near the shoe rack while taking off your boots and coat in one go leaving them on the floor not caring to tidy up. You went to the sofa and turned on your ps4 feeling excited that you finally had a few hours to dedicate to yourself

You logged into assassin’s creed valhalla ready to continue. This was your third play through and the only game you refused to play on stream. You liked keeping it as a way to comfort yourself and disassociate. You were planning on eventually getting tge ¼ scale Eivor statue that cost the not so humble amount of 1,2k $. Until you were ready to commit to such an expense though you settled for seeing your favorite character in game and left the statue in your wishlist amongst the other figurines you wanted to get

in between enjoying the game you checked the time and remembered today was Abbys turn to stream. You hated to admit that you had purposely made a schedule around hers so that you wouldn’t miss any time she went live, good example being now. You unlocked your phone leaving her stream open waiting for it to start while simultaneously running around in the forest, leisurely exploring the areas in your game

“Hey everyone! Can you all hear me fine? musics not too loud?”

came abbys voice and you snapped your head to your phone looking at her. fuck she was wearing that grey sleevless tank-top again

“Todays stream will be more chill. thought we could just catch up and chat a bit. I ugh had a long day at the gym”

she continued in her usual timid tone. On first look you would never think a woman like her would be so damn shy but she was. Or maybe it was just the camera and audience that caused her to be a bit more chaotic. Its not like you knew what she really was like behind the lens.

“Oh hey Alice nice to see you again!” she said taking her time to greet most of the people viewing her

“Oh we have Nora and Manny in the chat too” she said with a soft laugh. Nora. Oh you knew Nora. Abby usually posted with two women. Both seemed to be friends with her but could equally be suspected to be her girlfriend. One was Nora. They went to the same gym together and often hung out on stream. The second one was Ellie. Another streamer who in the beginning had a very well known hatred towards Abby until one day they miraculously made up and started occasionally hanging out.

not that it mattered to you if either of them was dating Abby…

“Next games? hm..Im not sure. Any suggestions”

you hesitated. You were a silent watcher most days. actually you had never said a damn word other than a donation to her stream and when she called you by your username back then to thank you, you felt so embarrassed that you decided to be one of the lurkers in her stream. Must have been a year ago or so when no one knew you either so there wasn’t a big deal made out of your name being mentioned. You felt stupid for even considering that anyone knew you at all to care if you left a comment. Even in the slim chance that your audience overlapped no one would really bother making a big deal out of it

“Have you tried ac valhalla?” you looked at your comment again and again till deciding to press send and then wait

“yeah not sure about that one..” she seemed to be reading and expanding a bit on which games she considered giving it a go or not. You felt a bit of relief thinking your comment was lost in the sea of others and resumed your game only to pause it shortly after

“Cotton? heh, cute nickname…I haven’t tried any of the assassins creed games but Ill check it out” You heard and your hands started to shake in excitement your ears burning from the heat.

Its not like Abby had any unique accent but the way she said your nickname made you twirl your hair and giggle to yourself. You grabbed your phone again

“oh really? she is?” you heard abby say and you read the comments the excitement turning into plain horror and mortification when you saw people start to recognise you and tease you for recommending the game they had probably seen you continuously post on your stories for a year straight. You exited the stream in shame and gently put your phone on the coffee table continuing your game.

I will end it all for real

this was my last straw

By the time the embarrassment of this minor inconvenience wore off You were in the middle of finishing the Granterbridge arc when you decided to post another story with a short caption regarding the characters. Your phone slowly started going off with notifications with people responding to your story and being in a sour mood you decided to mute it and continue your game till you fell asleep on the couch. The only reason you woke up was because you actually had a really shitty sofa with the thinnest pillows that did nothing to shield you from the hard wooden planks beneath.

You groaned in pain and looked at the screen of your Tv. Your ps4 was on rest mode and at 4.00 am you couldn’t be bothered to do anything about that so you just grabbed your phone and walked to your bedroom quickly going through the unusually vast amount of notifications in case there was something from your friends that you had missed

you stopped in front of your bedroom door and rubbed your eyes. your mind was blank. it was 4.00 am

you read the notification again

staygrounded69: hi

••••

heres my ko-fi tip jar if you enjoy my work 🤍

[thecurioustale]

Writing Psychological Horror Is Hard

Writing horror is hard for me.

I think it is perhaps the clearest example, at least when I'm the subject, of the difference between being the author and being the audience. I find it extremely difficult to know what will creep out someone who doesn't know all the behind-the-scenes details of what is happening. This is despite my considerable experience as a consumer of [psychological / environmental] horror media.

When I think about the things that scare me, or maybe "unsettle" is a better word, it usually comes down to two things: 1) narratively plausible violations of the laws of nature; and 2) foreboding, i.e. the slow-building setup that something bad is coming—something that is specific enough to be apprehensible but still ambiguous enough to be cloaked in mystery.

But! Not just any attempt at these things will actually work. There is definitely a secret sauce that makes some efforts fail and others succeed.

In the game Oxenfree, probably my favorite horror game of all time, there is a scene on the "Find Clarissa!" subplot where Alex et al. are in something akin to a classroom in an abandoned military base on an uninhabited island, and a discordantly upbeat and normal-sounding midcentury-style gameshow host is talking to them through a haunted radio asking them questions in a game of Hangman (whose figure is gradually being drawn by invisible means on the chalkboard), while a lamp overhead illuminates the room in a very unnatural light as it swings back and forth for no apparent reason. And this was one of my favorite moments in the entire game, because it was really scary. It benefitted from the existing atmospheric horror build up in the events immediately preceding it, and also benefitted from not being a narrative climax; it actually ratchets up the tension in the story even higher, without resolving anything (other than itself).

But I think that if you went purely by my description, you would be hard-pressed to create a scary implementation of this scene. I certainly would be—and I know that for a fact, because I have more or less tried it!

What is it that makes something profoundly unsettling in that oh-so-delicious manner of a good horror story? Well, the academic answer is that it's appealing to our instincts of danger: dangerous environments (like rocks or cliffs or plants, or, indeed, "the dark"), dangerous predators, dangerous people, dangerous forces (like fire and wind and water), and dangerous sicknesses (e.g. infectious disease). Most horror taps into at least one of these primal apprehensions in the human psyche. And to succeed it has to feel real, the way a roller coaster feels like you're really falling. But I don't think "the academic answer" really sheds all that much light on the mystery of actually composing horrifying situations and events.

A lot of the craftsmateship is a balancing act.

For example: You don't want to hit the audience over the head with obvious bogeymates—jumpscares for the sake of jumpscares, as it were, or having your big scary cryptid jump out in its full costume in broad daylight and look absurd—but I have also found, through experience, that it is very easy to hide horrifying details too well, to be too subtle about it—and it is extremely difficult for me to get a sense, on the audience's behalf, of how subtle is too subtle.

That leads me to an important insight: Part of the secret sauce of horror is contextually embedding horrifying story elements into a broader context. A "haunted stick of furniture" isn't going to get many people a-quailin' in their boots. It has to be more about how that object is embedded in the story. You know, like a haunted couch, or a haunted table: How do you make that scary? I don't think it can be scary on its own. Not consistently and convincingly. Instead you have to set it up ahead of time in some way(s), by providing information to the audience that you are then going to subvert or manipulate later. Yet it is all too easy to do this in a way that comes across like a paint-by-numbers exercise: "Wait a minute! Wasn't this couch pointing the other way earlier?! GASP!!" No one is gonna be scared by that. It's not enough.

Ultimately, I think scaring people successfully, in the psychological horror sense, therefore involves an element of overwhelming their ability to cope with and anticipate environmental changes, which assumes an elaborate environmental structure that you're going to have to set up, in non-obvious ways, earlier in the story. You have to give them expectations about how things will change and then either gradually go beyond that magnitude of change or else go in a different direction of change entirely—usually the former. Psychological horror is all about the fear of the jumpscare that never comes.

But I'm also just spitballing for the purposes of this essay. I don't really know. I struggle with this stuff!

It really is an art form to be able to scare people in this way.

Additional, medium-specific difficulty comes in the fact that the written media that I work in does not have access to a scary soundtrack or sound effects or voices, or to scary visuals and visual effects. Written text does have the corresponding advantage of having unfettered access to the reader's imagination, allowing them to essentially self-select the personally scariest interpretations of some of the details of a scene. But taking full advantage of this power is not easy at all; you have to put the right kinds of details in, and you have to do so in a digestible format, all without cluttering the flow of the story.

I have been doing a lot of Galaxy Federal writing lately, and have been trying to write some of the "scarier" bits and pieces in it, and I almost resent how totally clueless I am in regards to whether I am hitting the mark to my satisfaction! 😮

[countrymusiclover]

1 - The Arrangement

Part 2

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

When I was a child I wouldn't have believed you if you told me that one day I would find myself tangled in the claws of both a Lion and Wolf......

Monterys Velaryon, a name that every young child knew of our house before my grandparents died. He was declared the heir to Driftmark at only the age of six and got control of an entire fleet of ships and sea. The name doesn't truly live alive to this day...except for the fact that I exist as the only true born child. My father only was with one noble girl but she died giving birth to me.

But in this world women don't get any claim to a household

Walking through the castle hallways I was lost in my own thoughts about our current situation. It was declared that House Velaryon was to no longer have any high power when House Baratheon took the Iron Throne from the Targaryen.  So we had a small castle that was near the same sea that brushed up against Dragonstone that was also claimed by the Stag house too.

Footsteps came running down towards me when I stopped to peek out one of the windows. "! There you are. I went into your chambers but couldn't find you."

"You know I don't care about being stuck up in the same rooms all the time." I responded leaning my back against the wall responding to my lady in waiting who was also my best friend, Chezney Ally.

She became close to me since she had lost her mother at a later age then I did. Unfortunately I never got to know who she was. Chezney had dark brown hair pinned up into two braids while she wore a light blue dress to match our house colors. "You're not trapped here, ."

"Really. Let's think about this shall we." I tapped my chin with my index finger in thought. "I live in a castle that is only surrounded by sea and the only way I will ever be forced to never see this place again is if I wed off to some snob lord far far away."

Chezney sends me a raised brow. "Don't say that you could be wed to a young lord who is actually nice to you."

"Pfft I doubt that. But anyway, what were you wanting me for exactly?" I questioned my friend.

She clasped her hands together. "Since you're not busy with ridiculous lessons can we go swimming off the castle."

"Absolutely you know I love the thrill." I nodded in agreement where we both ran through the hallways. I wasn't wearing flat dress shoes like she was. I was wearing riding boots with a knee length sea blue tunic shirt that was big enough on me it looks like a dress.

Chezney swings opened the door that led to one of the boat docks that was just a little high above the water. She ran to the edge not caring about her clothes get wet when she hit down into the sea. "Come on, !" She cheered, pooping her head above water.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear I ran forward and hugged my knees to my chest. I hit the water and felt my hair that was in a braid slightly fall apart. "If I ever have a husband they better be fun or I'm running away." I swam up taking a breath once my head is out of water.

"And I'll come with you if they allow that." She replied, grinning at me.

Splashing some water playfully in her direction I laughed. "Of course I'll allow it and if they don't then I'll find a way to make them."

"Yeah I know you will. Uh oh they found us." Chezney splashed some water back at me looking over my shoulder and her smile dropped.

Turning around in the water I glared at the young guard my father had assigned to me for my protection since he was always busy with being Lord of the Tides. "What are you doing here, Antler!"

"You're wanted by the small council, My lady." He bowed with the wind catching his dark brown curly locks.

Shaking my head I grumbled. "What could they want with me? And tell whoever is asking that I am spending time with my friend."

"I don't think that will fair over with your father, Lady Haelesa ." Antler gulped in a slight nervous tone. "For he is the one asking for your presence at the time."

"I better go. Can't keep daddy waiting I suppose." I swam away and Chezney followed after me. We didn't bother changing into dry clothes since he clearly wanted to see me right this second.  Tying my boot laces back properly I sighed following Antler through the dark hallways. The castle was usually cold during nighttime but during the day the ocean wind wasn't unbearable. I honestly enjoyed the taste of sea more than most did and that's saying something since we're all raised to be able to handle sea life. The three of us finally halted outside a set of large double doors where Antler knocked three times signaling we were there.

The doors opened and I stepped inside seeing my father's lord advisors and him sitting around a circle table. The doors were shut behind me where I felt slightly nervous since Antler and Chezney were left outside in the hall. "Leave me alone to speak with my daughter now." My father Monterys declared getting to his feet.

"What did you want to talk to me about, father?" I questioned softly under my breath.

His eyes locked on mine. "It has come to my attention that our house is almost gone. Our heirs are either dying out or are Bastards by my only living son. That needs to change before we're gone forever."

"Change how?" I nervously asked him.

My father rounded the table and came to stand in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders before he spoke out. "It is past time you were wed, ."

"What...no." Immediately came from my mouth.

He lowers his gaze. "This isn't up for discussion, dear. It must happen to save our house and name."

"That's not right, father.  Something shouldn't just be done because it's been done for a thousand years and no one else has had the balls to change the tradition!" I snapped at my father in disbelief.

He drops his hands from my shoulders. "Watch your tone. You are my daughter and you will serve your house like your mother did before she died."

"If the only way I will ever see the rest of the world is through a ridiculous marriage then I have one condition. Chezney comes with me to whatever house you're sending me to for the rest of my life." I suggested to him with my hands on my hips.

The lord of the tides paused in thought watching me closely then finally replying. "Fine. I'll inform Lord Tywin of the response.....just remember where you come from my dear girl."

"The Old, the True, the Brave." I mumbled back to him when he started to walk away from me until I realized what he had said to me. "Wait a second you said Tywin Lannister?"

My father looked over his shoulder. "Yes I did. Tywin of House Lannister. You are to wed his eldest son Jaime. You will be sailed to Kings Landing and from there the wedding should take place within a fortnight."

"But isn't Jaime a member of the Kingsguard? He took the oath. He can't marry or bear children with anyone. He would be exactly like my brother." Listing off my fingers, this wasn't making sense anymore.

Lord Monterys moved back and sat down in his lord chair. He ran a hand over his chin in silence. I knew that he had a lot of weight on his shoulders and I was probably making it worse. Yet I had all the time in the world to read up on all the houses and history that we had gotten from Dragonstone. "Tywin has assured me that he was removed of his white cloak by King Robert Baratheon. The man who now seats the Iron Throne. So you shouldn't be worried about such matters. Now go back and start packing your leaving in a few days."

"Okay...I still love you father." Pausing in my step just beside the double doors I eyed my father in his chair figuring this would be the last time I saw him.

He sends me a grin. "I love you too, ."

The day for me to leave my family home had finally come to pass. The whole castle staff had been gathering supplies and getting the ship prepared that would go to King's Landing. Gazing out the window I just sat on the windowsill listening to the sea hit against the castle as best as I could. There was no guarantee that we would immediately go to Casterly Rock so this comforting sound needs to be my last memory of home. ", can I come in?" Chezney's voice broke me from the silence.

"It's open, Chez." I answered her, seeing her peak her head inside.

She shut the door with her foot behind her. "Antler sent me to inform you that everything is ready. We just need to get you dressed to go."

"I'm not wearing a tight dress on that boat. It doesn't matter if I'm marrying the wealthiest family in the seven kingdoms, I will be comfortable for as long as I can." I responded to my friend watching her go over to my chest of clothes and shoes searching around for what we could pick.

Sliding down from the seel my bare feet hit the wooden floor until I snagged my boots on. Tying the laces I stood upright. "Okay so let's do one of your brother's old tunics that he grew out of." Chezney draws out some dark blue trousers with a sea blue tunic.

"Can you do the braid your mother taught you?" I asked her to sit down at the window once I had changed my clothes for the trip.

She nodded beginning on the braid. "I heard some of the kitchen staff gossiping about the man you're to marry. They said that Jaime is supposed to be so handsome and the best swordsman in the kingdoms."

"Looks and sword skill aren't all that should define a person. From what I read about the Lannister's they throw gold at all their problems. It's the decisions that someone makes that matters." I rolled my eyes when she finished the braid, letting my silver-blonde hair over my right shoulder.

Chezney shakes her head. "Maybe you'll get lucky and you'll find your right person before your wedding." We clasped hands and left the castle with my father accompanying us on the journey. I don't really remember much of the trip. It was just a lot of sea and not many nights of proper sleep before we were woke to see a much warmer climate and a large populated city unlike what I was used to.

One of the Baratheon guards helped me out of the boat when we ported it to land. My gaze shifted around recognizing the certain king and his queen that was Jaime's twin sister Cersei. "Lady Velaryon, here I thought that your house was gone for good. And all the material with your name had been forged into weapons." Someone remarked in my direction where my gaze shifted across the crowd of people.

I finally stopped searching when I met a second pair of green eyes and blonde hair that fell almost down to his shoulders. And a sword attached to his hip. "Jaime Lannister, I presume."

"The one and only, my lady." He smirked at me smugly.

Putting one hand on my hip I flipped my hair out of my face, getting the sense that I was right about what I read about this family. "Well, be careful, Lannister. My house may not be as known as yours. But I may surprise you and everyone here." Jaime smirked still down at me before I took a bow in front of him and Chezney just quietly smiled at our interaction knowing this was not going to be an easy arrangement.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[hms-no-fun]

i just want you to know that i read... i think Most of godfeels and had to stop because i was not enjoying it. but i think its really good and i really respect what you do. i think it's all too easy for people to mix up "this is not my cup of tea" with "this is bad and/or problematic". they dont take the time to see the artistry in it, why it is what it is, what it might be saying beyond their surface level read and the kneejerk reaction to it.

i also wanted to note that ive always been kind of scared of sharing fanworks for fear of writing "out of character" - and ive also even been afraid of it in original works. character isn't real and concrete, so anyone can decide something's out of character. so your exploration of that concept gives me more confidence as a writer. i really appreciate that and everything else you do. :)

thank you so much for this message! i'm glad you tapped out rather than force your way through something you weren't enjoying, that's a very mature response and something i wish more folks would recognize as a perfectly valid option. in fact i think pushing through and reading long after you've given up on the material, so to speak, is a great way to wind up angry at a writer for having "forced" you to endure such a trying experience. as i've said before, an author can't force you to do anything. you can close the book any time you like.

as far as the tension of "in character/out of character" goes, i think a lot of people in fandom struggle with the fact that "character" is very much in the eye of the beholder. sub-groups form within fandoms based on identities, politics, sexual predilections, etc, and typically gather around the fire that is their particular interpretation of a character. but from within that sub-group, it's rarely considered "an interpretation" so much as the obvious intended truth of the text. it's that intoxicating mood of finding people who share a perspective you rarely see elsewhere, like oh my god, you GET it, finally someone GETS it!

in homestuck fandom, for instance, quite a lot of people hate vriska and think she sucks, with a vocal sub-group of that sub-group still actively beating the drum that everything about her arc after [S] Game Over is the worst part of homestuck. but i love vriska, and my corner of the fandom very much organized around a full-throated defense of her. some folks think homestuck did tavros and gamzee dirty and that this is a fatal flaw in the text; when i countenance these people, i am convinced we read two very different comics. who's right and who's wrong? there are degrees. i can pull out any number of quotes from andrew hussie about the importance of vriska and the weenieness of tavros, but then, authors love to say things, and there's plenty of stories i love in ways that directly oppose to the authors' stated intent. the debate can never end because we are only ever talking about the version of a character or story that exists in our heads, based on the things that stuck with us when we read the thing (however long ago that was-- which is important because i find a LOT of people adamantly defending their headcanons haven't read the source text in a number of years. as time passes, your perception of the media you've experienced in the past morphs and distorts. someone who was right five years ago can be wrong today and not even notice the difference).

something i've realized in the last year is how much godfeels emerged from a very specific milieu, not just in terms of how we interpreted certain characters but in our approach to analyzing and talking about the text altogether. i believe most of the important stuff in godfeels is "in character" in most of the ways that matter, but it's built on a very specific meta that centered vrisrezi and transness and radical leftist politics and experimental hypertext. really, it's a post-Epilogues fanwork even despite the fact that godfeels 1 predates their release by a few weeks. and i think to this day a lot of homestuck fans haven't read the epilogues but have read fandom posts about how terrible they are (quite a lot of which will have either been written by teens, by people who already didn't like homestuck very much, or by one of the regressive stalkery weirdos prominent in the homestuck reddit/discord), and that misapprehension keeps them in the dark about just how many amazing tools the epilogues introduce to the homestuck formula that exponentially expand the expressive possibilities of attentive fanworks. and it of course elides the fact that the homestuck epilogues are a story about being in your 30s. i think we'll be getting a big re-appraisal of the epilogues in 5-10 years. it'll be the "twin peaks: fire walk with me" of homestuck, just you wait.

so these readers see my version of dirk being an unhinged murderous dick to a newly-out trans woman and go "he would never do that." then if i point at the epilogues, they'll say "i didn't read them/they're not even canon/that wasn't in character either." at which point there's nothing really to say, because we have two completely different perceptions of the text. who's right and who's wrong is almost always infinitely subjective, a circumstance that humans are notable for being very good at handling in a mature and politely discursive manner.

so i've got an "author's introduction" to godfeels baking in my docs to provide some context about the meta this story is built on, the milieu it came out of, that sort of thing. it won't make much of a difference in practical terms, but it'll at least be something i can point to.

in any event, thanks for this message. all i ever want is for people to give it an honest shot. i hope you can continue harvesting confidence from wherever it can be found. it takes a lot of audacity and backbone to be an artist, especially when you have something worthwhile to say. remember that you're not writing for the haters, you're writing for the kind of person, like you, who wants to see more stories like the thing you're writing. they're the ones who'll get it, they're the ones who'll stick around long after the haters have lost interest.

[kingofthewilderwest]

If the live-action HTTYD does end up being bad, how is it going to affect our view on Dean as a person?

Personally, I believe folks shouldn't tangle their opinions of Dean into the HTTYD live action. Or get tangled too deeply into opinions about Dean, tbh. Below are my thoughts in too many words. ^.^

It will be what it will be, the product of hundreds of workers on a project likely initiated out of trend. And that's the nature of making movies. You're hired. It's making art, but you're also hired, and that's not a bad thing. That's a normal thing and that's how things get made. Work doesn't exist in a platonic cave. We aren't working with Perfect Ideas; we're working with what's available to us.

It doesn't make a creator more pure, more corrupt, more guided, more tumultuous, more inspired, less inspired, more of a sell-out, more greedy, less greedy, more successful, less successful, if they are part of one project that wasn't conceived out of the deepest emotions possible. It means they're like every person on the planet who enters the occupation of artist.

The idea of an artist as the independent owner and free-moving agent of all their ideas isn't reality most of the time when it's your occupation. When you are in a fortuitous situation, you may be able to tap into your deepest desires and hopes and passions and inspirations. And that's fantastic! But that's not the baseline. Fortuitous situations are the aberration. We make do with a less-than-platonic idea the high majority of times, and that's fine. I shouldn't be judging a creator only by the points in time where they got to fly in rare situations - and expect them to only exist in those spaces.

I am just as much of an artist when I am writing an assigned essay for a grade in school as I am writing an original work on my own. In fact, sometimes the assigned essay, even if I don't like the concept, ends up the better product. Other times, it won't be the best product; but the nature of things is sometimes I have to do what I can and what I can will look different on different days and on different projects. That's okay. That doesn't change anything about the nature of being a creator.

Dean isn't a deity, Dean isn't a more highly elevated being existing on a plane above my head, and I don't think I should let my opinion of Dean be swayed so quickly and easily. I probably shouldn't have a strong opinion on Dean since he's someone I haven't met. He's a regular guy with strengths and weaknesses like us all, and I should probably approach him with the level-headness that I will see strengths and weaknesses. If I learn about a new weakness? I should be able to levelly acknowledge that and accept that that's to be expected. And on the flipside, it likely means I should keep respecting him for his good, too.

But I do know he's someone who, like me, by the nature of having a job, works on opened projects - some that have more potential than others; some that have more heart than others; some that the creator feels more inspired by than others - and I don't mind. If I do start to mind, it might say more about me and how I think than it says anything about the person external.

Dean was involved in some of my favorite movies. That fact won't change. It was sorta inevitable someone like Dean would've been brought back for the LA...... I don't "hold that against him," even if I am very intentionally not following news on it and you won't see me in theatres on its release. I won't even look up reviews of it in the news or its trailer. It is what it is, and the good facts of life will remain, too.

[stop-pressing-e]

Beginning of Heaven - Chapter 1

New chapter

/This has taken me a year to complete writing this due to personal events and also a few months of not touching it earlier this year. But I finally done it!

This is basically a prequel to The Lost Swan but serves as it's own standalone. I hope all of you will enjoy reading this as I post each chapter whenever I can./

Summary: Set in the RE4 event, Dullahan has a mission located in the isolated mountains of Spain but she's isn't the only foreigner there for a reason. Reunited with an old face again but he's not the same as she remembered.

‘Good afternoon, Dullahan. I know you’ve recently returned from your previous mission in the Mediterranean and I understand that the heat was unbearable based on your report, so here’s a change of weather for you. Your next mission takes you to somewhere in Spain. A village called Valdelobos. The file should be delivered at the usual spot containing the information you need. 

Your mission is to infiltrate and investigate a Spanish cult called ‘Los Illuminados’ and see what they’re doing. Our contact failed to give us further details behind the purpose but they’ve managed to inform us about a form of parasite from centuries ago that supposedly dealt with mind control and manipulation of the human body. Sound familiar? That is another part of your mission, find any evidence and collect any documents regarding this parasite and see what has become of our contact.

Good luck, agent.’

The corner of a brown thick envelope was found sticking out in her mailbox upon returning back to the apartment building from her civilian job one evening. Rarely does Trish Odile receive any mails but packages she would order, her money would be sent discreetly, and groceries delivered. So it was left with the very answer upon seeing the logo stamped at the top right corner of the envelope upon examining it. The hitman tucked the envelope away into her messenger bag but carried a package containing her new collection of artbooks under her arm, and made her way towards the elevator.

Papers and photos covered her entire table while she sat comfortably on her red plush chair, her laptop sitting on her lap, and a cigarette dangling between her fingers. The information she had been reading was limited and photos on the ‘parasite’ looked to be some sort of fossil stone and behind the photo was written ‘plaga’. Spanish meaning for plague. It has piqued her curiosity regarding the history behind it and what purpose it was before it was fossilised. The contact she had to search for was apparently a scientist who helped research the plaga. She couldn’t help but wonder, mostly allowing her imagination to run wild, if this scientist was from R.A.S and survived the massacre which led them to somehow find refuge with a cult who are in need of a smart person to look into the fossilised stone. 

“Now how did Los Illuminados come upon this plaga?” She muttered to herself after taking a drag of her cigarette. “More importantly, who do they plan to use it for?” Her search about the village offered her a limited history lesson and if there was anything related to the said village, all it mentioned was about people disappearing. Foreigners, hikers, people from the city especially. “Curious and curiouser.” She hummed and tapped the ashes off her cigarette before taking another drag. Missions like this were a special thing to handle and with a knowing fact at the back of her head, she cannot let this kind of information reach her creator’s ears if there was a snitch to report back to him. Whatever power the plaga holds with the ability to control the human body, she cannot allow this existence to be made public. 

The number of tasks in this mission was too many for her to handle; collecting more documents, searching for the researcher all while investigating the cult without getting caught. It would take days more importantly and Trish can’t do this alone. She needed help and she knew just the right person to come along with her to Spain. In fact, she was one of the few people she trusted. Trish scrolled through her contacts, pressed the call button, and awaited for the caller to answer.

Trish’s alias popped on her phone screen and Denise Poulin frowned at the sight of her name. She allowed the phone to keep on ringing as she forced herself to retreat to her little office space separated from her makeshift laboratory with thick plastic flaps, not before yelling orders to her ‘assistants’ to be careful with the materials they were given. The informant answered after Trish called her again for the second time and sighed heavily into the speaker.

“Give me a good reason why you’re calling me at this time? I am in the middle of something here, Odile.” Denise said firmly, hand on her hip whilst leaning against the desk. Trish can hear something in the background and she responded with a lighthearted chuckle. A chuckle that no longer felt stiff or forced. A small achievement to perfect it after how many months since her escape.

“I hope this little project of yours can wait for the time being, darling.” She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray and clicked her tongue. “I require your assistance with a mission they need me to do.” 

A sigh was heard over the line and Trish simply smiled to herself. Small and pleasant that it doesn’t strain her facial muscles anymore. Always the little things could put her informant off. 

Denise rubbed the bridge of her nose while resisting the urge to drag her face down. “Why not bring Nicole this time? Last I checked on her, she’s been doing well and she’s able to collect information faster than I could in my position.” The fact was true based on both of their observations regarding the second informant. There are still a few flaws for her to improve on but overall, she has shown excellent performances to the point of working in a private paramilitary sector as an officer since her termination before the fall of R.A.S. Soldiers who used to work for that facility were considered unique if they have inside knowledge behind the inhuman experimentations to strive for human evolution.

“Oh no, my dear Basilisk.” She started with Denise’s alias to fully capture her attention. “This kind of mission will need a professional such as you and little Banshee is not in that category. You would certainly find this information tempting when I tell you. Of course, I cannot tell you everything on the phone, but I will meet you at the airport tomorrow. We’ll be flying to Spain, to a village called Valdelobos deep near the mountains.”

Once more Denise let out another sigh, a long one this time. Trish can already see Denise furrowing her brows together and wrinkling her forehead too. She found it oddly amusing how she’s only three years older than her and already she’s forming wrinkles on her face. She has developed grey strands of hair however for working at R.A.S for all those years and as an assistant for a particular doctor who got on her nerves at times. A fact Trish agreed with too well.

“Odile, what kind of mission is this?”

“Meet me there at the little coffee kiosk, 8 am sharp, Basilisk.” Trish chuckled. “Bring what is necessary and wear something warm. Spain is looking quite chilly in this particular month.” Her last reaction was a final heavy sigh.

“It better be business class.” Denise hung up on her. The phone grasped tightly in her grip while she tapped an index finger against her forehead. Tomorrow. It would mean putting her project on hold, or having someone she trusts to oversee it while she’s away. It’s not easy finding good help who are trustworthy to the core while she’s away to assist the weapon. Those tests are dangerous if she ever left the lab or dared to close her eyes for a quick catnap. Being a former R.A.S researcher whose job was to analyse every single experimentation the scientists have subjected on their test subjects for any effects, how they’ve fared by the change in their genetics, and the aftermath of their progress by becoming R.A.S’s weapons. Natasha was one of the very few subjects holding a high amount of information she has produced; information no one has ever discovered from Denise owning a full in-depth research she created and hidden away for many years. Now it’s locked away in a safe using a biometric reader only she can open.

Trish opened a new tab to contact her handler if the jet can provide a specific coffee for Denise on short notice, lit herself another cigarette, and leaned back against her chair. She stared at the papers on her table and mused to herself on what will the organisation have her do once she has all the information collected. What kind of enemies will she encounter? How long will it take? She then wondered what she needed to pack for tomorrow before a ping from her handler alerted her attention with an answer.

[curator-on-ao3]

Again, cool response to the last question, so I'll let you pick from these options:

And there are things I have fan-fixed in my head to the point that I have to remind myself that the fix-it isn’t part of the actual canon: favourite one of these?

Or

Your/a favourite part of actual canon. Like, maybe something little but it's just so lovely and fitting to you and you're just happy that it exists?

I’ve been a little down on Trek lately, so I’m going to type as fast as I can to brain-dump, in show order, the first things that pop into my mind that I absolutely love in Trek canon:

Kirk calling Nomad his son, the doctor

Christine Chapel’s snark to Roger Korby about schtupping the androids

Mark Leonard’s performance in Balance of Terror

the Horta (a great mama)

“Edith Keeler must die.”

Captain John Christopher, United States Air Force. Serial number 4857932.

Tribbles

the lesson of The Cloud Minders that we must have empathy and listen to others when they tell us about their lived experience in an environment unlike our own

the cheap-ass animation of TAS

Q

Bynars and Minuet

Beverly Crusher’s frustration in Arsenal of Freedom (and the episode’s Good Ship Lollipop joke)

Picard shooting the other version of himself in Time Squared (to clarify: out of respect for those times when we have to stop ourselves from getting caught in loops/doing stupid stuff and we summon up the courage to break a bad cycle and move forward)

K'Ehleyr

Picard out-lawyering the Sheliak

Rachel Garrett; Yar and Castillo

Lal (but I can’t watch the end anymore, it hurts too much)

the Shakespeare and “Set a course for Betazed. Warp 9.” comedy in Ménage a Troi

Best of Both Worlds, I and II (Shelby inclusive)

every conference table discussion in all of TNG

Beverly’s jump in Remember Me (such a damn good episode)

the reveal in Future Imperfect (which one? all of them)

The Dancing Doctor tap dancing with Data

Darmok. And Jalad. At Tenagra.

Ro Laren

Troi saying, “You could have easily been right” to Ro in Disaster

Hugh, Third of Five

the fact that The Next Phase has so many plotholes and they’re forgivable because the episode is so fun and great

Scotty on the holodeck version of the TOS bridge and Picard joining him

Rascals!

Deanna’s “Ancient West” outfit

the Jefferies tube music and make out session in Lessons

Attached. Oh, my heart.

the Enterprise with three nacelles … and that absolutely perfect last shot of the series

“You exist here.”

Sisko’s casual, everyday affection for Jake

“Old Man”

Rejoined. Lenara Khan. The love. That kiss. The emotional stakes. All of it.

the three Ferengi hitting their own heads to try to fix their universal translators so the 20th century Earth military people mimic the movement to try to communicate

every second of Trials and Tribble-ations including Sisko working overtime to stop fuckmaster Dax, tossing the tribbles, Sisko meeting Kirk, “We do not discuss it with outsiders,” and so much more

Kira blaming Bashir for putting the baby inside her when … you know … behind the scenes

The Sons of Mogh helping with the harvest in Children of Time

Far Beyond the Stars — some of the best if not the best science fiction I have ever seen

the monster fakeout (and kindness) in The Sound of Her Voice, even though the end makes me cry

“Computer, erase that entire personal log.”

Solok

Sisko and Kassidy discussing their comfort levels about a simulation in which the reality was segregation

Janeway waterfalling off the sofa to be closer to Mark on the screen

“Warp particles!”

the lizard babies

the two Janeways in Deadlock

Remember (a painfully good Holocaust episode that doesn’t get enough credit and, yes, I know the path the script took and I’m glad it ended up as a B’Elanna episode)

“I don't know what I'm seeking.” “Then I believe you are ready to begin.”

“The child you spoke of, the girl. Her favorite color was red.” Also, Tuvok’s meditation lamp in the window for Kes.

hot damn, Counterpoint, yaaas

everything in Relativity

“The Yankees, in six games.”

Janeway going after Seven in The Voyager Conspiracy

“This is Lieutenant Reginald Barclay at Starfleet Command.” “It's good to hear your voice, Lieutenant. We've been waiting a long time for this moment.” “The feeling is mutual. Unfortunately, the micro-wormhole is collapsing. We have only a few moments.” “Understood. We are transmitting our ship's logs, crew reports, and navigational records to you now.” “Acknowledged. And we're sending you data on some new hyper-subspace technology. We're hoping eventually to use it to keep in regular contact, and we're including some recommended modifications for your comm system.” “We'll implement them as soon as possible.” “There's someone else here who would also like to say something.” “This is Admiral Paris.” “Hello, sir.” “How are your people holding up?” “Very well. They're an exemplary crew, your son included.” “Tell him, tell him I miss him. And I'm proud of him.” “He heard you, Admiral.” “The wormhole is collapsing.” “I want you all to know we're doing everything we can to bring you home.” “We appreciate it, sir. Keep a docking bay open for us.”

“Nice hair.” (Live Fast and Prosper)

Janeway and Jaffen in Workforce

the spot-on legal concerns of Author, Author

“Set a course. For home.”

(Nothing from Enterprise or Prodigy only because I haven’t watched enough of Enterprise or any of Prodigy)

Burnham and Georgiou forming the delta with their footsteps

the CGI on only the shields protecting Burnham from space

“Are we in session? Because I didn't know you were practicing again. Because if I have your undivided attention for fifty minutes, I can think of a whole bunch of other things we could be doing.”

“That's as depressing a trait as I've ever heard.” “I don't give a damn … I still don't give a damn.”

Cornwell beaming in, phaser aimed, taking command of Discovery

Cornwell phasering the fortune cookies

Cornwell’s voice breaking: “So my Gabriel is dead.”

Detmer’s little bounce when Emperor-as-Captain Georgiou takes command

Pike beaming aboard and instantly being all like MOJAVE to prove to the audience he’s the guy from The Cage

New Eden. Everything. Oh my God (pun intended). The visuals. Owo’s backstory. Pollard patching Pike up after he’s shot. The light at the end. Oh my God, yes. That episode. Yes.

Number freaking One beaming aboard and having her lunch briefing with Pike (Chris and Una’s decades-long friendship wasn’t canon yet, but it shows here so beautifully)

Gabrielle Burnham

“In case the shit hit the fan.”

Michael Burnham on truth serum

Book

Laira Rillak, everyone!

Q&A

season 1 Raffi Musiker

Fleet Admiral and Commander-in-Chief Kirsten Clancy

“You owe me a ship, Picard.”

“You need a feather in your hat.”

Riker greeting Picard

Hugh greeting Picard

the separate trio of Raffi, Clancy, and Deanna all telling Picard he’s shit

Rios singing in Spanish

President Annika Hansen

everybody finding each other in the Confederation Universe

Liam Shaw — a character with incredible highs and lows

Majel Barrett as the computer voice when the crew gets to the Enterprise D

“Somehow I figured you might.”

everything in Ghosts of Illyria

Spock and La’an’s mind meld

Spock and T’Pring in Spock Amok

“You cannot resign. The loss to Enterprise would be unimaginable. To me.”

“If you’re going to steal a starship, do it correctly.”

Neera Ketoul

La’an normalizing needing to eat all the time as a teenager (especially important for girls to hear)

Pike and Una visually checking in with each other so often that it’s in their cartoon versions (that whole episode, actually, including, “Riker!”)

That’s scrolling through episode titles and jotting down stuff I love off the top of my head, fam.✨

Thank you so much for this ask, anon! ❤️ I needed this positive energy in my life.

[damonblack966]

What does it mean when you dream about the Devil

We all engage in the act of dreaming. It may not occur every single night; however, even if it happens as seldom as once a week, each one of us rests our head and delves into the realm of dreams. As many are aware, dreams possess a highly symbolic nature. They are filled with imagery that often serves as preludes or allegories for the circumstances, individuals, or dilemmas currently dominating our waking existence.

Dreams offer a gateway to tap into the depths of our subconscious, provided certain elements of the vision are comprehended. Yet, deciphering them can prove challenging if the symbolism eludes us, leaving us to ponder the significance of encountering the devil in our dreams.

Dreams featuring the devil can be unsettling, but they need not be so. Let us explore the multifaceted symbolism embodied by this infernal entity and its implications for the dreamer. Demon Dreams: Symbolism

For many, dreams about the devil is a horrifying experience usually involving a visit to hell. But not all dream encounters with Satan fit the nightmare mold. There is also a range of interesting and complex ideas about the devil in dreams.

To better understand such a powerful symbol from your subconscious mind, you must first understand its history and varied symbolism in different religions.

History In 1923, Sigmund Freud—a dream psychologist—studied a patient named Frank who claimed to be possessed by the devil. When Frank dreamed about the devil, he only became more convinced that he was possessed.

Freud concluded that Frank’s nightmares were caused by his own feelings of stress and fear.

Psychology The devil is often associated with evil and negativity, but it doesn’t indicate that something terrible will happen in your life.

Carl Jung believed that you manifest the devil in a dream because you’re scared of being caught for your misdeeds. However, it’s essential to understand that dreams about devils don’t necessarily foretell evil tidings. In fact, many psychologists believe that dreams about devils can be beneficial, as they warn against negative energies or past mistakes.

Religious Beliefs Devil mythology has been a part of religion for centuries, and each faith has its own interpretation.

Demons are a common feature of the Bible, appearing in both the Old and New Testaments. Demons are evil spirits that cause temptation in devout Christians to sin or tempt them to worship other gods. Jesus is considered a symbol of hope for Bible’s followers and says they should be careful of the devil’s deceit.

Islam has a similar take on the devil and commands its followers to walk away from the wrong path, or they’ll be ridden with a moral burden for the remainder of their lives.

The devil also made an appearance in Buddha’s life, asking him to abandon his journey towards enlightenment.

Demon Dream Meaning: Interpretations Nightmares about demons may be a bad experience, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that evil spirits possess you or that you’re going to go crazy. The meaning of your demon dream depends on what the demon represents in your life.

In many cultures, demons are thought to be fallen angels. They are not necessarily evil but rather the result of humanity’s free will to choose how we use our powers.

By paying close attention to the details of your dream, you’ll be able to develop a close relationship with your subconsciousness and better your waking life.

Let’s take a look at the various types of devil dreams and the potential meaning they may hold in your everyday life.

Red Devil Seeing a red devil in your dream indicates that you are passionate about something, but this passion has taken control of your life. It has come in the way of your relationships and is now affecting your mental health.

If you’ve been working overtime at your current job or pulling all-nighters to ace the upcoming university exam, it is time you take some days off to focus on what really matters: you and your loved ones.

Black Devil The black devil is a symbol of evil, and if you see one in your dream, it means that your heart is filled with hatred, jealousy, and envy. Aramaic religions say that seeing a black devil in your dream represents your dark side. It’s a reflection of your true desires, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re an evil person.

Old folklore and legends say that those who tend to use their power for evil are paid a visit by the black devil himself from the underworld.

You may have been misusing your power without even knowing that you’re doing so. It’s time you reflect on the decisions you have made so far and think critically if they have caused harm to anyone.

Human Form The Devil is known for its craftiness and may appear in front of you as a beloved person from your life. It doesn’t necessarily mean the devil is trying to trick you, but he may make it harder for you to understand the dream’s true meaning.

These types of dreams signify that you may have hurt someone and are now suffering from a sense of guilt. If you want the devil to stop chasing you, you must seek out the person you hurt and apologize to them.

Child’s Form If the devil pays you a visit in the form of a child in your dream, it signifies that you feel great remorse towards a kid. You may have caused them harm and are now experiencing feelings of guilt. The dream may indicate that you have suffered a great loss if you’re a parent. Maybe you had a miscarriage, stillbirth or your beloved child took their own life.

While it’s hard to move ahead, these dreams are considered a positive sign of good luck.

Woman Form The female devil symbolizes that your personal life is ridden with guilt. It’s not because you caused harm to someone but because you simply believe you do not deserve the life you have built for yourself. These dreams aren’t a bad sign but a message from your subconscious to take your mental health seriously.

Talking To The Devil This dream can be interpreted to mean that you’re trying to control your own destiny. You may feel that you’re in a situation where you have no control over what happens to you, and it could be your subconscious mind’s way of letting you know that even though things seem bad, they will get better.

Dreams, where we are talking to the devil or Satan, can symbolize our inner struggle with our own negative thoughts and feelings. It may also represent our battle with temptation and desire for something we know is wrong. If you have this dream, it could indicate an issue inside yourself that needs to be addressed immediately.

Getting Attacked By The Devil The devil, a negative force in your life, is attacking you in your dreams. This dream might be a warning that something terrible is going to happen. It could also mean that there is some evil influence in your life.

This dream is usually linked to feelings of guilt or shame about something you have done or are doing. You may also feel attacked by someone else’s anger and negativity towards you.

Being Watched By The Devil The devil in dreams is often associated with evil and temptation. When you dream about the devil watching you, perhaps someone is trying to deceive you or mislead you into taking a certain path. It’s also possible that this dream warns against doing something that will lead to your downfall or destruction.

The devil in dreams can take many forms — he can appear as an old man or woman, an animal, or even a monster. He may also appear as an attractive person who tempts you with promises of riches and fame when in reality, they’re working toward your downfall.

Marrying The Devil A dream about marrying the devil could symbolize your fears or worries. This is because, in the dream, you are marrying Satan, who is viewed as the embodiment of evil.

The devil can also represent an aspect of yourself that you feel is evil or immoral. For example, if you have been cheating on your spouse and feel guilty about it, then marrying the devil in your dream represents this aspect of yourself.

In some cases, a dream about marrying the devil is a symbol of someone else’s negative personality traits. This can happen when you are close to someone with these personality problems but don’t want to admit them because they are similar to yours.

In conclusion Dreams of the devil can be interpreted in numerous ways. Some believe that dreams of evil spirits refer to the thoughts and feelings inside our own minds, while others believe that demons are actually attacking us in our sleep.

[sdenvs3000w25]

Unit 7 Blog: What Music in Nature means to Me

Upon first read, I thought this prompt was quite strange because how could plants and animals possibly listen to music? However, Patricia M (2001), introduced many concepts in her article that reminded me music and nature simultaneously exist all around us. 

Where is Music in Nature

 Nature is packed with rhythmic and harmonic patterns that closely mimic human music. Birds, for example, make sounds that reflect musical features such as rhythm, pitch fluctuation, and even scales seen in human compositions (Gray et al., 2001). Birds are constantly chirping, but how often do we sit back and appreciate the songs they are singing? In such a fast-paced environment, I know I do not sit back and listen as often as I should. She mentions other animals including cockatoos. As part of their courting rituals, these animals shape sticks into drumsticks and tap them on logs to make their percussion instruments. According to Gray et al. (2001), humpback whales also write songs that have patterns similar to those of human music, such as rhythmic components, recurring refrains, which stands for theme, elaboration, and return. These illustrations imply that music is an essential component of nature rather than a uniquely human creation. I wonder if animals enjoy the songs they create the same way that I enjoy blasting Tate Mcrae or The Weeknd on a long car ride. Reading this article was a true reminder that all living things are connected, and even though we cannot talk to animals, there are other ways to communicate with one another, which we often take for granted. 

Where is Nature in Music? 

One of the most prominent ways nature is present in music is through Indigenous cultures. Using music to analyze and communicate environmental links, many Indigenous societies do not separate music from nature (ENVS 3000 Notes, 2025). The Sami people of Scandinavia, for instance, have a distinctive vocal tradition known as "yoiks," which employ absurd syllables to convey the spirit of a person, location, or natural feature (Gray et al., 2001). This oral tradition is a means of transmitting environmental knowledge and fostering a connection with the land. Similarly, as mentioned in the reading this week, the natural environment has always been represented in Finnish folk music, with traditional songs depicting seasonal variations, landscapes, and even the mythological beginnings of nature, such as the idea that the universe was formed from a bird's egg (Sahi, 2012). Folk singing is employed in contemporary environmental education to help people rediscover their connection to nature, highlighting the fact that it is a living, breathing source of inspiration rather than merely a resource (Sahi, 2012). This reminded me how important music is to my everyday life. I love going for long walks listening to music, going to concerts or listening to music while I clean the house. As mentioned in the lecture, music is a way to deepen our lens for interpretation (ENVS 3000 Notes, 2025). It gives me something to relate to no matter my mood, provides me a sense of calm, and allows me to connect with groups of people who also enjoy the same artists as me. 

A Song I Associate with Nature 

“The Nights” by Avicii immediately takes me back to my Grade 12 graduation trip at Camp Olympia in Muskoka Woods. It was a trip filled with adventure, bonding, and unforgettable memories which perfectly captured the spirit of the song’s lyrics: “Live a life you will remember.” This trip was at the end of high school. The whole graduating class was reminiscing on the amazing past 4 years we had spent together.

Arrived in the Wilderness for the Weekend!

We stayed in small cabins, and every morning we awoke to the sound of birds, the crisp aroma of pine trees, and a stunning view of the lake. During the day we spent time doing high-rope activities, learning how to construct campfires, and hiking through the forest.

Hike in the Forest surrounded by nature.

I can now think back to this and remember all the beauty I was surrounded by as well as the breathtaking scenery and sounds of birds chirping and coyotes howling that have long served as an inspiration to storytellers and musicians (Sahi, 2012). For me, the most memorable part of the trip was the last night when we all built a campfire together. Someone started playing The Nights on a speaker, we were all singing along, arms around each other, feeling more connected than ever. No matter our differences or silly little arguments we got in with one another in the hallway, or how little we interacted with one another at school, everyone was present. The song captured our collective excitement for the future while also allowing us to reminisce on the last 4 years we all spent together.

Campfire that reminds me of "The Nights"

This experience reinforces the deep connection between music and nature. Just as folk traditions have long used songs to interpret and celebrate the natural world, modern music continues to shape our experiences in outdoor spaces. Whether through Indigenous yoiks that reflect the essence of the land (Gray et al., 2001) or Finnish folk singing that honors sacred landscapes (Sahi, 2012), music has always helped people form deeper bonds with their surroundings, and I am so grateful for that. 

References

ENVS 3000 Notes (2025). Nature Interpretation through Music.

Gray, P. M., et al. (2001).��The Music of Nature and the Nature of Music. Scienceorg.com, 291(5501).

Sahi, V. (2012). Using Folk Traditional Music to Communicate the Sacredness of Nature in Finland. Spiritual Values of Protected Areas of Europe. University of Guelph. pp 129 - 132.

[shimmywhenyoucantbounce]

The Unsleeping City Chapter Two and Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

Ally Beardsley said, "I get her Kitchen, that really old book" and I perked up a little bit because I know a book called Kitchen, a niche one that I have analytical thoughts about and love as a piece of art and have never heard anyone mention outside of the class wherein I read it. And then they said "it has this really cool trans character in it," and I had to pause the video to scream about this, because the book I know does in fact have a cool trans woman in it. Her name is Eriko. When I had calmed down enough, I pressed play again and Ally Beardsley said "It's by this writer Banana Yoshimoto" and that is as far as I am into that episode because at that confirmation I had to stop and scream again.

Kitchen, the novella, is made of two different pieces: "Kitchen," about short-novel length by itself, and "Moonlight Shadow," a much shorter story. Both stories are about grief, isolation, connection, and food. Notably, both stories start with the main characters already in mourning, their loved ones already dead. We enter their world as one that is notably empty. This parallels the setting of season two, which opens with introductory scenes that still keenly feel Kugrash's absence.

I have been thinking about Kitchen through this entire season, which is part of why I got so excited when Ally Beardsley mentioned it. Kitchen is a book about grief and grieving and relying on others in your time of need to help you and care for you and give you food. Yoshimoto uses light and dark imagery not as symbols of good and evil, but rather of isolation and connection. Multiple times, she brings us the image of distinct points being connected by light in a dark void, including the main character looking up at the moon in a dark sky and, in one of the closing images of "Kitchen," a lighthouse tracing a road of light across black waves. When our narrator meets one of the people who will become her new household, she sees "in the black gloom before my eyes...a straight road leading from me to him" (Yoshimoto 6-7) (I don't have my book with me but I did find one of my old essays about it :) ). The darkness in these images is that which is not known, that which the characters cannot see through, which is why it represents isolation. They do not have knowledge or connection to that place, even though they may in the future. That way, the imagery is also connected to agency and the act of exploring and reaching out to one's world. Kitchen portrays characters in grief and dangerously deep in self-isolation, and the events and relationships that help them deal with that and figure out how they are going to live now. Yoshimoto characterizes the universe not as malicious but uncaring, and proposes that the response to this is to look for meaning instead in each other and the world we make. Which is exactly the struggle our characters are embarking on against NULL! Meaning, value, the things we personally hold dear; and it doesn't matter if they're "cosmically insignificant" or doomed or can be corrupted or whatever because they exist while they exist and they matter while they're there. Aaaaaaaaaa!!!

I've just remembered that one of the characters in "Kitchen" climbs up on someone's roof in the middle of the night to eat katsudon with them. They were not invited there! It was not katsudon that was in the hotel room! They bought the katsudon in the middle of the night and put it in their backpack and climbed up onto the roof and tapped at the window and said "Hello I brought katsudon"! I love this. It's so good. It's also Kugrash behavior.

Victoria Brown also persistently cares for people by providing them food, which is just to say that these two stories are both thinking about the comforting and communal power of cooking for people and eating together.

If I had a nickel for each time a mysterious, apparently-human but probably supernatural figure connected to a liminal location appeared to a character in need and offered them specifically tea in the Unsleeping City and Kitchen, I would have at least three nickels. Also the liminal location in "Moonlight Shadow" is a bridge over a river, which is traditionally a powerful symbol and also something that holds significance in Unsleeping City geography and lore.

In "Moonlight Shadow," a young man in mourning for his girlfriend wears her clothes every day after her death. I'd like to show Ricky Matsui this bit and hear his thoughts on it because of how he has taken on some of Kugrash's role. Ricky feels pressure from other parties as well, the Questing Blade and the Peasant's Sword, to carry on a legacy (that is symbolized by something one wears or carries).

I think that's all the thoughts I have about it for now, except that I seem to remember a line in "Moonlight Shadow" about a cloudy sky hanging heavy like stone, which might characterize the emotional state of New York in Chapter Two as well.

I'd like to know Pete's (and Ally Beardsley's) thoughts on Eriko as a character, and also if they talked to any of the other people in the season's production about the similarity of themes between the book and the series. If anyone has thoughts they'd like to share about this or about Kitchen in general, please do let me know! I vibrate whenever I get to discuss parallels between different media I'm into.

[cherry-coke-death-cider]

Finality,the trailblaze and stellarons, and a potential end of Hsr.

So I've been thinking a lot today and I had some ideas about the aeons.

So , Terminus the finality yeah? Aeon of the end, big deal probably,and evidently different enough than Nanook the destruction that the two can exist without one absorbing the other's path, which I think makes sense , because while the concepts may seem similar,I think the two are quite the opposites in their approach to those concepts.

Now , Finality has only been mentioned a few times so far, we only know a small amount about it compared to Destruction, but Finality is about the end in the sense that the end is inevitable and unchanging, their wisdom grants them knowledge of a definite end but no beginning.

Destruction however is a lot more active in the sense that they are working towards the end, the end will be brought by their hands(figuratively and literally).

Followers of the finality as far as I can remember don't really,how do you say, make the same impact that the emenators of destruction, lord ravagers, the antimatter legion and even the annihilation gang (even though it's been said that Nanook did not bless them with thier gaze) make in the universe.

That is to say, the finality knows the end , but the destruction makes it.

That aside, I've also been thinking about how the trailblaze is arguably the most compatible path with any path, this isn't to say that any follower of the trailblaze can become a path strider for other paths while also being a trailblazer, but well, we do have an abnormal case on our hands with TB(the main character,the Trailblazer,this is what I'll be referring to them with for the sake of avoiding confusion), TB has already been gazed upon by 2 aeons, the destruction,and the preservation.

The first aeon was most likely attracted by the will to destroy that TB displayed when fighting the lord ravager, while the preservation was most likely attracted by their determination to save belobog , as well as being potentially attracted by an object of significance (the lance that the first leader of Belobog used, who I wouldn't be surprised if she was in any way blessed by the preservation), and as they go on, TB will most likely catch the glances of every aeon of a playable path (and maybe the non-playable ones too), the reason TB is able to do this,aside from the stellaron hunters working in the background to guide them towards certain roads that lead to meeting an aeon, the stable stellaron TB has, and the fact that they were "made" for this so to say, could be that the trailblaze, a path supposedly without it's aeon (whose dead somehow) is a path that can be repurposed as a base for a new path,keep this idea in mind for the next part.

So Aeons, despite being all powerful,can still die, whether that happens by getting killed, or by their path getting absorbed or by some other way that we might not know, but even if an aeon is killed (not absorbed,killed) ,or they disappear, Thier path stays, the trailblaze still exists as a path, but it's without it's aeon,but what if someone becomes the aeon of a dead path?

What does it mean for a Trailblazer,with a stellaron for a heart, to be able to tap into several paths?well, the revival of the trailblaze in a new form, a form that can somehow includes other paths but does not absorb them, I wouldn't know how that would work though, there is no precedent for it, so this is all just conjecture.

So, Stellarons , seeds of disaster, cancer of the worlds, they just fuck shit up, but TB's is calm for some reason, and I'm thinking what if Stellarons aren't just what we've seen of them, technically speaking while they are sort of implied to be related to the destruction,there is a possibility that they're not destroyers by default,maybe they're just things made of imaginary energy that can be effected by any aeon, but I guess that doesn't explain why every stellaron we've heard of has been a disaster,but if it's true then that would work with what I said about the trailblaze and TB, a vessel that can adapt to several paths.

Now I've come up with 2 possible endings, 1) TB, having the power of several aeons behind them, fights against Nanook and their followers alongside all the allies that they made, and kills Nanook.ooooorrrrr TB creates a new path that absorbs the destruction in an attempt to stop it completely.

Now it's still too early to really guess but I've had this in my brain for quite a while.

Small note: I know not everyone refers to TB with they/them (for both Stelle and Caelus), some just say he/she (which is stupid just say they tbh) but it's kind of similar to how all the aeons have been referred to with They/them,no?