#it creates a positive feedback loop or whatever. i guess.

[kimmkitsuragi]

microdosing on Responsibility by breaking every task down to very small steps

[lilbittymonster]

MSQ 98 (?) and into the next hub city

Weeeeee cool looking new alien tech and creepy literal thunderdome. Though ngl, the constant thunder and lightning is making me sleepy and comforted.

Thank you catboy and Squeenix for further making my Narnia time travel ruling during the ShB patches even more canon. I feel very fed this expansion though not for the reasons I expect the writers wanted me to. Kitali still doesn't know how old exactly she is and this further time bubble thing probably isn't going to help.

I'm not sure where I want to stick Aymeric for this arc. He might be all for the crazy idea of train hopping and blowing it up to create a hole in the fortress. He and Krile have been the backup duo a lot this expansion. Or he might stay behind with Estinien in Sheshenawazi to ward of any potential further threats. Or he might stay with Koana as a guiding hand in Tuliyollal, since I don't think Koana has any actual large scale combat experience the way Aymeric does. I'm sure Koana would appreciate the steadying presence. It is all very much up in the air at this time.

This entire cycle of souls being used as currency after being stripped of their memories sounds like what the Void had going on, and given that this is also a heavily lightning aspected area I am drawing conclusions and making red string boards. I saw someone mention Emet-Selch and his suggestion of pursuing the Golden City, and that this might have been on his radar, and to that I say well of fucking course it was on his radar. Hades, overseer of the aetherial sea, would abso-fucking-lutely be aware of a culture that interrupts the natural cycle of life and death and forcing souls into a closed feedback loop.

I think it would be safe to assume that the bubble gun that sentinel used on the old woman after she was killed was harvesting her soul to be used. And that might be also another underlying motive for an invasion into Tural. I guess that more souls would be created when new people are born, but the way that people seem to chew through them like we do healing potions it would seem like the supply does not always rise to meet demand.

I am baffled by Queen Sphene. Her body is tattooed with "many souls one heart" and "service eternal". The little breastplate on her dress says "Queen Sphene Alexandros XIV" like a SKU unit. Is she a clone? I feel like she's a clone! They already have soul recycling technology, who's to say she isn't pulling a fast one like Emmy Stink and repossessing cloned bodies of herself? That would certainly be one way to serve eternally. I don't trust her. I think she's certainly been put in an awkward position given that cutscene with Zoraal Ja in what I am assuming to be The Cloud (all hail).

I have only just arrived in Solution 9 but just walking around reading the flying text, this looks like where the devs got to vent their frustrations with the capitalist grind culture. I've only really walked around True Vue but I will be making more screenshot collections today.

As for the MSQ, I am really starting to get annoyed with Wuk Lamat's continued forced presence. I get it that it's for video game protag reasons, but I am really not into this......whatever that the writers are laying out. I want to be able to tell her no. I want to be able to say "no, I would rather go off on my own." Wuk lamat is rapidly falling into the same category of NPC that the Exarch/G'raha is in, in that there is no way to tell this person 'no', and there is no way to avoid them because the story keeps forcing them into the WoL's space, and I am really starting to resent Wuk Lamat for it. She's fine as a character! I love that she has been given a believable arc of growth and self-improvement. I also wish that she would leave Kitali the fuck alone. She's not into it and neither am I.

Things that would get a no-fuss agreement if they had come from the twins or from Krile are getting snappy pushback coming from Wuk Lamat. There is very much a one-sided unrequited friendship and I'm glad that I'm already rewriting a good half of canon. I think I will need to put in a conversation from either Aymeric or G'raha with her warning not to push her luck with Kitali. I don't know who would have the most impact, the man who has been on both sides of Kitali's favour and had to get there the hard way or the man who has begrudginly accepted that at best he and Kitali will only ever be coworkers.

And this is completely inconsequential to literally everything but. Why does Erenville sound like That while his mother sounds like that. cannot believe that accents could have shifted that fucking much in (3)3 years. It's really throwing me for a loop everytime there's a voiced cutscene.

Before I get back into the game I wanted to get down my first impressions of the first branch.

So I chose Kozama'uka for my first path, because I loved the Vanu and the Hanu seem like the same big friendly bird types. And they are! The village designs are very thoughtful about their environment and the worldbuilding with all the sidequests concerning reeds are great for my lore whore brain.

The MSQ is......kinda boring. Boring in that it feels like we, specifically, do not need to be there. Wuk Lamat does not need The Warrior Of Light, she needs someone who is significantly more worldly than her to lead by example. And the twins can do that just fine, Alisaie especially. It felt like half the time I was there just to have someone for Alphinaud to rubber duck off of. I can fully have Kitali not there and spending time with her husbands in the cabin and not miss a single thing.

The element of having locals gossiping nearby to give us more insight to the Turali view of the plot is interesting. Feels very organic as a way to reveal more information instead of just interrogating random locals.

I wonder how long it will be before we see Thancred and Urianger, since we the audience know they've been helping Koana, but our little group has only just been given the clue of "Archon allies". And what is the next weirdly coincidental appearance Estinien will make? Hello shiny husband nice to see you too. Our husband is currently relaxing and recovering from seasickness in our cabin, do you need a place to stay?

She's gonna pounce.

He's so fucking pretty. I wanna chew on his ears.

Once posing crimes come back I am just going to be living in these cabins. This is what I had in mind for what Kitali and Estinien had in Rads before we got the canon view of Estinien's bachelor pad lol.

Though, "comfy feather bed" my ass, these are solid planks of wood with a single layer of hide and a burlap pillow. I put her to sleep on the deck chair because that actually looks comfortable. The three of them will likely be sleeping on that gigantic couch until she can make a feather tick mattress topper or something.

Today's plan is to get Urqopacha tackled and possibly the first dungeon.

[iimpavidwrites]

Benzaiten Steel and the Fragility of Perception

or: reasons why setting boundaries is important #1283

I’ve figured out a reason why Benzaiten Steel stayed with his mother instead of doing the “sensible” thing and moving out. I think that it’s possible, too, that Juno has always been aware of the answer but, in the scope of Juno Steel and the Monster’s Reflection, he isn’t able to face it head-on because it contradicts his black/white, either/or sense of morality.

TL;DR: Despite Juno Steel’s unreliable narration we are able to see clearly the enmeshed relationship Benzaiten had with their mother Sarah and the ways in which that unhealthy family dynamic shaped Juno Steel as a person.

Sources: 50% speculation, 20% lit crit classes, 30% my psychology degree. 

Juno’s perception of Ben is shallow and filtered through the limitations of human memory. We all know by now, too, that Juno’s an Unreliable Narrator™.  In light of this, we need to ask ourselves why it is that Juno remembers Ben as happy, supportive, and only ever gentle in the challenges he poses to Juno. Throughout the episode, Ben’s memory is clearly acting as a comforting psychopomp: he ferries Juno through the metaphorical death of his old understanding of his mother (and also himself) and into a new way of thinking. He does this through persistent-but-kind questions, never telling Juno what to do or how to do it. This role could have been played by anyone in Juno’s life (Mick and Rita come to mind first) which makes it telling that Juno’s mind chose Ben to fill this role.

Juno’s version of Ben is cheerful, endlessly patient with Juno and Sarah, and above all he is compassionate. He acts as a mediating presence between Juno and Juno’s memory of Sarah and he doesn’t ask a whole lot for himself. If this is Juno’s strongest memory/impression of Ben’s behavior and perspective, then we can draw some conclusions about the roles they each played in the Steel family unit: Juno was antagonistic to Sarah and vice versa, and Ben was relegated to the role of mediator for the both of them.

Juno: She’s just evil. Ben: That’s a big word. Juno: “Evil”? Ben: No, “Just”.

We can see in this exchange that Ben is a vehicle for the compassion Juno needs to show not only to Sarah but to himself, too, in order to move on and evolve his understanding of his childhood traumas. 

This is not necessarily an appropriate role for a sibling or a child to hold in a family unit.

In family psychology, one of the maladaptive relationship patterns that is discussed is enmeshment. Googling the term you’ll find a lot of sensational results (e.g. “emotional incest syndrome”) that aren’t necessarily accurate in describing what this dysfunction looks like in the real world. This is in part because enmeshment can present many different ways. So, in order to proceed with this analysis of Benzaiten Steel’s relationship with his mom, I need to define enmeshment. 

Enmeshment occurs when the normal boundaries of a parent-child relationship are dissolved and the parent becomes over-reliant on the child, requiring the child to cater to their emotional needs and to otherwise become a parent to the parent (or to themself and/or to other children in the family). This is easiest to spot when a parent confides in a child as if they’re a best friend, disclosing details of their romantic life, expecting the child to give them advice on coping with work stress, and similar. Once enmeshment occurs, any kind of emotional shift in one member of the enmeshed household will reverberate to the others; self-regulation and discernment (e.g. figuring out which emotions originate in the parent and which ones originate in the child) becomes extremely difficult for the effected child and parent. When an enmeshed child becomes an enmeshed adult they often have issues with self-identity and interpersonal boundaries. For example, they may struggle to define themselves without external validation and expect others to be able to intuitively divine their emotions. After all, the enmeshed adult could do this with their parent and others easily due to hypervigilance cultivated by their parent and they may not understand that such was not the typical childhood experience. These adults are often individuals to whom the advice “don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm” is often relevant and disregarded. They may perceive their own needs as superfluous to others’-- and resent others as a consequence.

Another layer of complication is added when the parent in an enmeshed relationship is an addict, as Sarah Steel was. The enmeshed child often times becomes the physical caregiver to their parent as well and must cope with all the baggage loving an addict brings: the emotional rollercoaster of the parent trying to get clean or the reality of their neglecting or stealing from their child to support their habit or their simply being emotionally absent. Enmeshment leaves children with a lot of conflicting messages about their role in the family, how to conduct relationships, and how to define themself.

We only get an outside perspective on this enmeshment in the Steel family. It’s clear in the text that Juno’s relationship with his mother was fraught. He jokes in The Case of the Murderous Mask that she didn’t kill him but “not for lack of trying”, implying that Ben’s murder wasn’t the first time Sarah Steel lashed out at Juno-- or thought she was lashing out at Juno but hurt Ben instead. During the entire tenure Juno’s trek through the underworld of his own trauma, Juno asks the specter of Benzaiten over and over, “Why did you stay?”. This is a question that Juno himself can’t answer because Ben, when he was alive, probably never gave him an answer that Juno found satisfactory. There are a few possibilities, which I can guess from experience, as to what the answer was:

Ben may never have been able to articulate that his relationship with their mother left him feeling responsible for her wellbeing. 

Or, if he ever told Juno that, Juno may have simply brushed off this concern. After all, as far as Juno was concerned, Sarah was only ever just evil. To protect himself from his mother’s neglect and codependence, Juno shut down his own ability to perspective-take and think about the nuances that might inform a person’s addiction, mental illness, abusive behavior, etc.

It is likely that Ben thought either his mother needed him to survive or, alternatively, that he couldn’t survive without her-- as if often the case with children who are enmeshed with their primary caregiver. It was natural and necessary for him, from this perspective, to stay. Enmeshment is a very real psychological trap.

It is often frustrating and hard as hell to love someone who is in an enmeshed relationship because, from the outside, the damage being done to them seems obvious. See: Juno’s assertion that Sarah was just evil. Juno is, even 19 years later, still angry about Sarah Steel and her failures as a parent and as a person. His thinking on this subject is very black-and-white. He positions Sarah as a Bad Guy in his discussions with Ben-the-psychopomp and the childhood cartoon slogan of “The Good Guys Always Win!” is repeated ad nauseum throughout Juno’s underworld journey. This mode of thinking serves two purposes:

First, it illustrates the role Juno played in the household: he was opposed to Sarah in all things and Sarah did not require any compassion or enmeshment from Juno. Juno was, quite possibly, neglected in favor of Ben which would create a deep resentment… toward both Sarah and toward Ben. This family dynamic would reinforce Juno’s shallow moral reasoning and leave him with vague, unachievable ideals to strive for like “Be One of the Good Guys” or “Don’t Be Like Mom” -- ideals that he can’t reach because he is a flawed human being and not a cartoon character, creating a feedback loop of resentment toward his mother and guilt about resenting Benzaiten. That guilt would further bolster Juno’s shallow memory of Ben as being infallibly patient, kind, loving, etc. 

Second, Juno’s black/white moral reasoning is an in-text expression of the meaning behind Juno’s name. When “Rex Glass” points out that Juno is a goddess associated with protection, Juno immediately has a witty, bitter rejoinder  ready about Juno-the-goddess killing her children. Juno was named for a deity who in some ways strongly resembles Sara Steel and he resents that he is literally being identified as his own mother. Juno-the-goddess has one hell of a temper, being the parallel to Rome’s Hera. Juno is not a goddess (detective) who forgives easily when she (he) knows that a child (Benzaiten Steel) has been harmed. This dichotomy of “venerated protector” versus “vengeful punisher”  causes psychological tension for Juno that is only partially resolved in The Monster’s Reflection. The tension is not fully resolved, however, because Juno never gets a clear answer for the question, “Why did you stay?”

The answer is there but it is one that Juno doesn’t like and so can’t articulate: Ben is enmeshed with Sarah who named him, of all things, Benzaiten and that is why he stayed. We’ve already seen that names have intentional significance in the text. Benzaiten is hypothesized to be a syncretic deity between Hinduism and Buddhism, is a goddess primarily associated with water. Syncretic deities are fusions of similar deities from different religions/cultures; their existence is the result of compromise and perspective-taking and acceptance. Water, too, is forgiving in this way: it takes the shape of whatever container you pour it into... not unlike a child who is responsible for the emotional wellbeing of their entire family unit. Not unlike Benzaiten Steel.

Ben stayed with his mother because his relationship with his mother was enmeshed, leaving him little choice but to stay, and this ultimately led to tragedy. Sarah Steel’s failures as a parent are many and Juno still has a lot of baggage to unpack in that regard, especially where Ben is concerned. It’s unlikely that we’ll get the same kind of “speedrunning therapy” episode again but I know that The Penumbra is committed to a certain amount of psychological realism in its character arcs so I am confident in asserting that Juno Steel isn’t finished. Recovery is a journey and he’s only taken the first steps.

[votederpycausemufins]

and you thought we would have less angst~! lol nope!

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel 

Grifter left briefly and returned with Sefter and Grifect, taking them over to where Grian and Mumbo had taken Jrum. “Oh I had the best idea! Since you have your kids and Sense and I have ours, they could be best friends! I’m sure they can get along great!”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.” Mumbo said, keeping Jrum close to him. “Jrum is very vulnerable right now and-”

“I kinda do want to play.” Jurm spoke up, tugging on Mumbo’s pant leg. “It was something nice I got to do when I was with d- uh… Bad.”

Mumbo hesitated, but then nodded. “I guess it probably wouldn’t hurt. But if anything happens to Jrum-!”

“Oh calm down, I won’t do anything to him.” Grifter replied. “Besides, I’m sure he wouldn’t let me.” And he pointed behind him to a doorway where Xannes was just coming in, followed by NPG.

“Jrum’s okay!” NPG smiled, before moving behind Xannes when he locked eyes with Grifter, the hels admin crossing his arms.

“You’re out of prison.”

Grifter smiled and pulled himself close to Sense. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to leave this hot stud alone for too long, now would I?”

“Well, You’ve had time with him, now it’s time for you to go back.”

Grifter pouted. “But my kids are having a playdate with Jrum. You wouldn’t want to upset a child, would you?” Grifter’s pout turned into a sly smile and he moved closer to whisper to Xannes. “And Sense has said you’re such a softie when it comes to kids. Before you can do anything to me, I could do whatever I want to that robot. I could create a fun little feedback loop and break them like that. And you couldn’t do anything about it because you decided NPG is better to protect, hmm?”

Xannes wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t cause some problem, so he just glared. Grifter’s evil smile quickly turned to one that was much sweeter, and he pulled Grifect over, letting the child talk to Xannes. “Hi Mistew Xannes! Awe uwu weawwy the best hackew evew?”

“I… am known as the best hacker, yes.” Xannes gritted out after another smirk from Grifter.

“Wow! Thawt's so coow! Cawn uwu teach me how tuwu duwu stuff wike thawt?”

“Don’t you want to play with… whatever Jrum would be considered to you? Cousin or some shit?”

“Yeah! But cawn uwu teach me watew?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Xannes growled, rolling his eyes. Grifect went back over to Jrum and Grifter tried pushing Sefter to play as well, but the older sibling refused to join in.

“Hmm, it looks like Sefter doesn’t want to play. I guess I should take him back to Prof. Sense, you can watch Grifect, right dear?” The evil scientist nodded and Grifter gave him a kiss. “Now Grifect, remember what I told you.”

“I wemembew!” The young bot replied, getting a pat on his head from his dad. Grifter left with Sefter after that, but Grian and Mumbo watcher where they had been.

“You’ve got a bad feeling about that too, right?”

Mumbo nodded. “After what we’ve heard about him, of course I do.”

.

.

.

Sefter twirled a sword in one hand while holding an axe in the other. Behind him, Tommy was tied up and stuffed in a large chest, muffled sounds being the only thing to escape the box. 

On the other side of the room, Grifter dragged Grum along, who was doing his best to resist. “P-please. I d-don’t w-want to g-go.”

“I don’t care! I need you for this, so you’re coming with me. No one will even notice!”

“N-no. I w-want to s-stay with T-Tommy. P-Please!”

“Stop complaining or I’ll rewire you for what I need. I’m sure it can’t be much worse than a lobotomy.” Grifter threatened in a cheerful voice. “Now let’s go!”

Grum was scared by the threat and then stopped resisting. Grifter found it much easier to move the robot now, though the screen changing to a smiley face confused him. He hefted the bot onto his shoulder, quickly sent a message to Grifect, and then they were gone.

The_Grifter left the world

Sefter left the world

The_Grifter joined the world

Grumbot_System joined the world

When they arrived in the SMP, Grumbot jumped off of Grifter’s shoulder and pulled out a sword. “Alright, I’m guessing that means you can also find Theseus from here, right?”

“Theseus is likely to be with the admin. The admin also has a needed item. That item must be retrieved.”

“Good.” Grifter smiled. “Take us there!”

Grumbot hesitated, buffering for a few moments. “Console commands have been disabled. Locating Theseus is not available. Reinstate programs before trying again.”

“Ugh, well how do I do that?” Grifter huffed, smiled gone. 

Coordinates appeared on Grumbot’s face for a few moments before it spoke again. “If it has not been moved, those should be the coordinates. There will be people around it.”

“And they know my ‘good’ copy?” Grifter asked, using air quotes.

“Correct.”

Grifter sighed and pulled on his new outfit, replacing it with a standard red sweater. He cleaned up his hair a bit, resisting the urge to mess it up again and then showed himself off. “How do I look?”

“You look like bzzt.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Grifter asked. Had the robot just censored a word. “I look like what?!”

“Was that not the goal? To look like bzzt? You did change into what looks like bzzt sweater.”

Grifter calmed down. “Oh, you were trying to say Grian’s name hmm? And people say I’m the bad one. He won’t let you say his name.”

“Incorrect. That is a recent addition as protection against the Admin and Dream.”

That got Grifter’s attention. “Oh really? So it’s something you’re doing on purpose?”

“Also incorrect. It has not been turned off and knowledge about the program is recent. It also cannot currently be turned off.” Grumbot explained in a deadpan voice, starting to walk to the quartz mansion, leaving Grifter to follow behind.

“Well now I’m curious. Why can’t you turn it off?”

“Another component controls that program.”

“Hmm, I see.” The helsmit nodded. “So, where are we headed?” He paused as Grumbot pointed to a building in the distance, far enough that Grifter needed to squint. “Over there? Pfft, why walk. I can get us there quicker.”

He grabbed Grumbot, and greenish magic swirled around them, teleporting them next to the building. “If you are attempting to mimic bzzt, that is not helpful for the image.”

“Pfft, it’s fine. No one saw. And if they did, I would deal with it. Now let’s go inside. I already know what I’m going with. Oh, and you better play along, or else.”

Grumbot nodded, making Grifter frown about that fact that it didn’t seem even a little scared from his threat. The helsmit picked Grumbot up before walking into the building, putting on a smile. “Hey, we’re back. Mumbo’s still back in Hermitcraft with Jrum keeping Tommy company.”

“Did you not figure out how to help him out? His body’s still here and obviously he didn’t come with you.” Philza spoke, having returned and Techno gone once again.

The helsmit didn’t need to worry about figuring out an answer because Grumbot quickly answered. “The revival process for those from this world requires an extra step in the form of an item that the admin was in possession of. He will need to be found.”

Those there glanced at each other, which obviously didn’t mean anything good. “What’s wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Fundy held out his communicator, letting Grifter look at it before showing Grumbot. Grifter held in a smile when he saw that Theseus was here, and it looked like his old admin was here too. The errored message was interesting though.

“Obviously it isn’t good news. Dream was bad enough, I don’t want to see what an evil version of him is like. Unless of course it’s an opposite version and he’s nicer.” Phil spoke again.

“From what I’ve heard? He’s not really that nice.” Grifter replied. Not nice to most people that is, at the very least. But he wondered if this Nightmare person would want to be on the good side of a Listener. In fact, he had already lost his server, hadn’t he? So what more could he possibly lose from some sort of partnership. “And while it probably isn’t a good idea to go near him, it looks like we’ll have to.”

“I’m not sure how long it would take to gather people up to help with that.” The hardcore player said. “A lot of people are still injured from the banquet and-”

Grifter cut Philza off. Grian would probably be concerned for his faaamily~. Ugh. “I’m sure I can do fine on my own. Even an admin can’t do much against a Watcher. And while extra help would be nice, you getting close could just end up being more harm than good if you end up in the crossfire. I don’t want to need to revive anyone else just trying to get this thing.”

“He will also be getting some assistance already.” Grumbot spoke up, and Grifter held in the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Grifter tried his best to sound genuine. He’s pretty sure calling the robot by its name would be more effective, but to be completely honest, he had forgotten it at this point.

“There is to be no discussion on this matter. You will be getting assistance.” Grumbot replied, pulling out an axe. “And the sooner travel is started towards the new admin, the better.”

Grifter looked over the people in the room. Obviously getting Philza to look after the robot wouldn’t be a good idea. Even if he wasn’t like his own dad, the helsmit was sure he would be equally as experienced. The demon was off the table too. No way the robot would escape from that. The enderman thing could just teleport around.The fox hybrid might also be too quick on the draw, though he did look young. But no, the fluffy haired boy with little nubs of horns poking out, he seemed like the best option.  He even already had a kid attached at his leg, so adding another would make things tougher on him.

Grifter took Grumbot over to Tubbo and put the robot in the teen’s arms. “Here, try to keep him occupied. I’m sure those two could even play together.” Though Grumbot didn’t react, it looked like the ziglin liked that idea, making it even more likely for the teen to respond positively. And that he did.

The helsmit sent a little wink to Grumbot before giving it a hug and leaving the building. As soon as he was outside, Grifter leaned against a wall and waited for the robot to come out. In a few seconds, there was a commotion from inside and then Grumbot rushed out of the building. Grifter immediately pulled the robot into his arms and teleported them away before anyone could follow outside. “I’m hoping you got what you needed?”

“That could not be obtained.”

“Well then what the fuck was all that noise?”

“Attempting to reconnect programs followed by a necessary escape.”

“Ugh, well I’m sure everyone’s out looking for you now. I’ll take us back and you can do whatever the hell you need to.”

“That would be a good idea.”

Grifter teleported them back. The Fox hybrid unfortunately stayed behind, but the helsmit quickly bashed him over the head, letting him fall to the floor unconscious. “Hmm, I think I could have gone a little harder without killing him. Normally there’s more blood. Maybe I’m just out of practice?”

Grumbot didn’t respond to the banter, just staring at the replacement console. It didn’t need all the programs, but it would be so easy to just add them all back. Its arm reached to plug itself in, but the other arm’s hand stopped the first. Its screen flickered for a moment, and then it released its arm and plugged in. Just a copy of the coordinated program. That’s all that was needed.

When Grumbot unplugged again, Grifter picked it up. “I’m guessing that means you’re ready. Where are we headed to?”

Coordinates appeared on Grumbot’s screen and Grifter smiled before teleporting them there. They reappeared in a large field of snow, the helsmit glad he had changed back into a sweater. “You’re not going to freeze in this, right?”

“Correct.”

Grifter nodded and then looked around. “I’m not seeing them. Are you sure these are the right coordinates?”

“The coordinates were altered slightly based on movement, positioning and terrain. They will be four chunks in that direction in a number of ticks.” Grumbot answered, pointing towards a hill.

“Alright, sounds good enough!” Grifter shrugged and then started dragging Grumbot along in the pointed direction. When they reached the top of the hill, the helsmit looked around, smiling when he saw the people he was looking for. Theseus was following behind what was presumably Nightmare. Then the helsmit’s gaze drifted to a few blocks behind them and the extra set of footprints following the pair. It looked like someone was using an invisibility potion.

Grifter pulled out a bow and arrow, attaching his signature TNT to the end of his arrow, and then fired it so it would land in front of the pair. Not enough to hurt either of them, but enough to startle them at the very least.

When it exploded, Grifter teleported closer, leaving Grumbot behind. “Hi there. I don’t really want you going much further.”

“Who the hell are you?” Nightmare spoke as Theseus glared.

“Mmm… I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m a Listener. Grifter to be precise. I’m sure Theseus has talked about his much better older brother. If not, well I guess he’s just more of a little shit than I thought.”

“Nope, he never mentioned you. But I’ve heard of your kind.”

“Aww, that’s too bad.” Grifter pouted, pulling back another arrow and firing it at the invisible figure. “Anyway, nasty tail you’ve got there.”

Nightmare and Theseus turned around to see an arrow floating in midair, footprints being created in the snow with nothing visible making them. Immediately the invisible figure was pulling armor on, ready to fight. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime! Anyway, I need Theseus. Apparently Dadza really likes him still and is upset he’s gone. I wouldn’t do anything, but he kinda cursed someone that I actually care about, so if I don’t do this, it’ll end badly for me.”

“Well tell him Theseus is staying with me. There’s still some training he never finished.”

Grifter’s eyes lit up briefly and the implications, but he still frowned. “Can I at least have him long enough to take back to Dadza? It’ll take five minutes, ten tops. If he doesn’t let me bring bitch boy back, I can just try killing him.”

“Try killing death?” Nightmare asked, sounding skeptical.

Grifter nodded. “Yeah, we’re pretty sure I’m the only one who can actually do it. It’s why people really prefer being on my side.” The helsmit’s smile shifted to something darker. “Which is why you should probably… you know… Listen. Besides, being on my side has plenty of perks!”

Grifter couldn’t see Nightmare’s expression because of his mask, but eventually he nodded. “Fine. But you better be back before those ten minutes.”

Grifter nodded, giving a beaming smile before grabbing Theseus and disappearing. Nightmare put his arms behind his head, acting bored, before pulling out an axe and shield at the last second, blocking an attack. “I know you’re still here idiot.”

The invisible figure didn’t respond, so Nightmare just threw their axe at the person, the blade digging into the armor, deep enough to break through it. “I guess the durability was low.” Was all Nightmare said as he popped his arm back into place, having dislocated from the amount of force he used in the attack. “So, got a na-” Nightmare continued before being cut off as he was grabbed from behind.

“You are in the possession of a needed item. It must be handed over.”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

Grumbot buffered for a moment before answering. “Console. The admin used a console for various jobs before he was taken away and replaced by you. You likely still have an Item needed for the revival process of this world in your possession. The surrendering of that item would be appreciated.”

Nightmare kicked Grumbot away. “Not a chance.” He then pulled out a sword, hitting away the invisible figure. “Not like I can do it with this person fighting me.”

“Then they will be eliminated.” Grumbot replied, booting up its combat program. It pulled out a sword, ready to attack, but then was pushed to the ground.

“Nah, you might be useful later. Get out of the way.” Nightmare said before pulling out a trident and stabbing it into the ground, impaling Grumbot’s arm and nailing it to the ground.

As Nightmare and the invisible person fought, Grumbot looked at the trident. Fortunately it only injured one arm, and as a robot, it was ambidextrous. It pulled the trident out and held it in its hand. With the combat program active, Grumbot angled the throw, adjusting for movement from the other combat, and then threw the weapon.

In a moment, Nightmare was the one stuck to the ground. The invisible person tried to take advantage of the situation, but Grumbot managed to push them aside. The face flickered and then changed to its normal self, though even then it still flickered a bit. “Look, I’m just after my book. Give it here and you can be on your way.”

No one moved, Nightmare wasn’t even struggling, so Grum pressed his foot into Nightmare’s chest. “Give it up, or we could just stay here.”

“Who are you?”

“I think you know.”

There was quiet for a bit, but then Nightmare pulled out a book. “Fine, but I’ll be getting answers.”

“No you won’t.” And Grum pulled the trident out again before smashing it down on Nightmare’s face, shattering the mask he wore before the body disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Immediately Grum closed his combat program and curled into a ball. He started crying at what had just happened, everything quickly catching up with him. But the danger was gone now, right?

The sound of armor moving drew Grum’s attention to the now formerly invisible person, the piglin now looking down at Grum. The bot immediately regretted closing his combat program and tried to boot it up again, shakily drawing his sword. He didn’t want to die again, especially now he had the- the book! Grum dropped his sword and grabbed the book, shoving it into one of his extra inventory slots. It was just in time too as Techno grabbed him.

“D-d-don’t kuh-kill m-me ple-please!” Grum stuttered out. He was lifted up, which he thought was a curious way to kill him, but he also didn’t expect fireworks as a weapon, so anything was on the table with him. 

Instead, Techno just moved Grum onto his back before leaning down and grabbing the dropped sword. “Already made the mistake of killing you once. Besides, you’ll get rid of my ghost problem.” And then he started walking. Grum was still a bit scared of getting killed, thinking the piglin could be lying, but he was also tired. He was glad he still had the trident, which was channeling at the very least, so he wouldn’t necessarily need his charger, but conserving power would be good right now, so he went to sleep.

[winxwrites]

What You Want

Pairing: August Walker x Reader 

Warnings: Smut, oral, D/S themes, workplace sex 

Word count: 2k

Description: You never expected the racy texts exchanged between you and a coworker to get you in this position...

A/N: Thank you guys for all of the love you showed my first Henry fic! I hope you all enjoy this one! As always, feedback is appreciated ❀ 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Startled, you looked up at the brooding man walking towards you. His presence immediately sent a shiver up your spine. You were so taken back by his entrance that you failed to close the tab on your screen. All traces of laughter were suddenly removed from your demeanor.

“Mr. Walker, I was just... I-”

“Oh save it,” he cut you off as he reached your desk. “I’ve been waiting nearly an hour for your response to my email and then I come down here to find you playing around on your laptop. You’re the last one here, what was stopping you from responding?”

You stuttered over your words attempting to string together a coherent answer that would be pleasing to your boss. 

“I just had some other things to wrap up. Today’s been pretty busy I guess I got beside myself. I’ll be sure to check my emails more frequently.”

He raised an eyebrow at your flustered state. You were grateful that the screen of your MacBook had gone dark as your superior planted himself by your workspace. Your comfort was broken when he tilted his head toward the computer. 

“Turn on your laptop.” That you weren’t expecting. 

“I’m sorry?”

Walker laughed. “You heard me, let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

Before you could protest the intimidating man hovered over your desk, his finger gracing across the trackpad to illuminate the screen. All you could do was sit there and pray your on shift doings wouldn’t result in the loss of your job.

Your heart leapt as he took in the sight of the tabs on the screen. Your resolve nearly crumbled when his eyes fell onto the opened messages app. 

A shit eating grin was on his face as he mockingly recited the conversation you were engaging in with your coworker Harper. 

August is so sexy - He made sure to draw out his words in a teasing manner. 

You’re so lucky he’s your boss. If I was the one under him we wouldn’t be getting much work done.

Believe me it took everything in me not to drop to my knees the last time he called me into his office.

I bet his dick is fucking massive. God I can’t believe you haven’t fucked him.

The smirk Walker wore was the biggest you’d ever seen. He looked down at you clearly enjoying your uncomfortable state.

“Want me to read more?” 

You hated that you’d been caught. You hated even more the arousal you felt as he spoke to you. 

He removed his dark suit jacket and tossed it aside. He called you by your last name to address you as he rolled up his sleeves. 

“Stand up.”

You quickly stood from your seated position not wanting to be in even more trouble. You were going to apologize for your indiscretion but your boss waived a dismissive hand to silence you. 

He made himself comfortable in your work chair and laced his hands behind his head.

“Never been much of a people pleaser but I guess I can give you what you want.” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t think you’re going to be productive unless you get something to satiate that slutty little mind of yours.”

You bit into your lower lip as you realized what he was asking of you.

“Get on your knees.”

The timber of his voice left no room for discussion. You mindlessly lowered yourself to the floor. The cool feel of the tiled pattern the only thing able to settle the heat that rang through your body. 

Your eyes widened looking up at August as you waited for his next command. He chuckled darkly at your submission. 

“Go on, be a good girl for me.”

Your unsteady hands reached for the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down enough to expose his black briefs. Your nimble fingers worked to release his hardening member from the tight confines.

Confidence sprang into you as you sat back on your legs. A lewd moan slipped off your tongue as you tasted the salty precum leaking from his tip.

You wrapped your lips around the engorged tip giving a generous suck. You removed his cock from your mouth and stared up at him as you licked a long, wet stripe from his balls to the head of his dick. 

His eyes glossed over as you continued to work your mouth over his generous size. Your wrists worked around his shaft as you flattened your tongue around the bulbous head. 

August eagerly slid himself down your waiting throat as you gasped for air. You barely had time to adjust before he pushed you onto his thickness. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he quickly pushed you to your limit. 

Your blurred vision caught sight of the smug look he wore as he watched you swallow him. You knew he was close when your nose touched the patch of hair that spread across his pelvis. 

His cock twitched at the sight of seeing you take whatever he gave you. He reached down and stroked your hair out of your face as his orgasm reached its dawn. His gaze was unwavering as he drank in the image of you swallowing his cum. You tried to hide your struggle as you slurped down the liquid. A relieved sigh left his lips once he’d come down from his high. His dick was still surprisingly hard as the heavy girth weighed against your tongue.

An aggressive hand wrapped around your throat pulling you off his slick cock. A trail of drool dribbled down your chin as you disconnected with his thick member. He used the firm grip on your neck to guide you back onto your feet. You gasped a breath you didn’t realize you were holding once his thumb was removed from the column of your throat.

He shifted his grip to your waist and pressed your backside against your desk. 

“August I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again. I’ll be more professional in the future, I promise!”

He released an ironic laugh. “I think you and I can both agree that we’ve clearly passed any professional boundaries that were formerly in place.”

You nodded at his reference to the events that had just occurred. 

“You’re right. But August can we just-“

You were cut off. Walker ran his thumb over your chin and collected some of the spit that still resided there. He playfully rubbed the saliva over your bottom lip before popping his thumb into your waiting mouth. You felt like a whore as you sucked on the digit without objection. 

“You address me as sir or Mr. Walker, are we clear?” You shook your head in agreement as he removed his thumb from your mouth. “Call me August again and you won’t be speaking at all for a while.”

He gingerly sat back in the chair. “Take off your panties.”

Your hands worked to hitch up the hem of your dress and tug the material down your parted thighs. Walker looped his finger through the flimsy lace and took in the sight of the soaked crotch. 

He pressed his palms flat against your knees to part your legs even more. His middle and index finger made their way into your waiting hole. You yelped at the thick intrusions. Walker stroked his fingers back and forth inside your exposed hole. You were reduced to a moaning mess. No man had ever been able to locate your most sensitive spot so quickly.

He withdrew his fingers and wiped your glistening cum on the indigo material of your dress. 

His hand reached for your wrist as he impatiently tugged you toward him. Your parted knees were on either side of the chair as you found yourself in his lap. His erection pointed callously at your waiting cunt. You gulped as you worked your hand over his cock realizing -once again- just how big he was. This didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. 

“What’s the matter kitten? Are you scared?” Your breathing became uneven as he spoke the taunting words into your ear. “Don’t try and act shy now. You said you wanted this.”

Your right hand squeezed his shoulder as your left guided his thickness into your pussy. You let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down and realized he wasn’t even half way in. 

Walker’s hand came up and gripped the back of your neck. He tilted your head in a way that made it impossible to look away from what he was doing to you.

“Oh no kitten, I don’t want you to miss this.” His other hand gripped your thigh and roughly pulled you onto his dick.

His pleasure came first, he made that more than clear. A cocky grin shone on his face once he bottomed out. Your body writhed from the shock of the tight fit.

Reaching between your thighs you tried to rub your clit but August quickly wrapped his hand around your wrist to stop you. A frustrated groan slipped through your lips. He was definitely going to make you work for your release. 

His calloused hands dug into your sides as he pulled you deeper onto his dick. You struggled to keep up with the swift pace he’d created. 

“Sir please...” you whispered in desperation.

To your surprise he moved his hand between your legs providing you some stimulation. He leaned forward and pressed sloppy kisses to your covered chest. Your eyes rolled back as you noticed the wet patches he’d left over either breast.

A relieved groan left your throat as you slumped against his toned chest. Your fingernails dug shallow crescents into his broad shoulders as you indulged in your impending orgasm. 

 “Walker let me cum. Oh God! Sir please!” The only sounds in the office space were your desperate moans. August took a second to look away from the place where your bodies connected. 

The pattern he drew on your clit became sloppy and you knew the end was in sight for both of you. You graced his neck with kisses as you reached your peak. 

A rough hand smacked your ass as you rode out your orgasm. “Look at you being a dirty little slut cumming in my lap.” 

Tears rolled down your cheeks and onto his shoulder as you came down from your high. 

August latched onto your collarbone and sucked brazenly as his own orgasm rang through him. You fidgeted against his thighs from the overstimulation. You knew there would be a blotchy mark left behind but you didn’t care. You were just happy you’d have something to remind you this wasn’t just some dream. 

August stood up and placed you back on your desk. You felt vulnerable when you noticed his darkened eyes watching thick globs of cum drip onto the wooden surface. 

Neither of you had said a word since you’d finished. You weren’t sure your brain could even fathom a coherent sentence after how hard you’d just cum. 

The weight of your encounter suddenly hit you as you leaned down to retrieve your discarded panties. August lifted a heavy foot and trapped the underwear underneath his polished shoes. 

“Oh no kitten. You’re gonna keep my cum in that tight little cunt of yours for the rest of the night.” You looked up at him is disbelief. “And tomorrow morning when you come in I’m gonna check and see how good you take direction.” 

Lost for words you nodded in compliance.  

“Yes sir.”

You slowly stood up, your legs still unsteady. Suddenly you were thankful you’d worn flats. Walker adjusted himself back into his pants and straightened his tie. You were both unsettled when your MacBook rang signifying a new text. 

The illuminated screen captured both of your attentions. Of course it was from your friend Harper sending yet another raunchy message about your boss. If she only knew...

August began heading back to his own office. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass windows and thanked the heavens you were the only one working in the office this late. 

The heavy footsteps came to a halt as your boss stopped before the elevator. He called your name in an even voice. 

You looked back at him in a daze. “Hmmm?”

“Tell your friend she can be next if she’d like.”

[forgotn1]

It has taken me a long time to learn and understand that what I feel or think about other people isn't inherently reciprocal. It exists solely within me unless I choose to express it. And even when it is expressed, a positive response does not mean reciprocity. The positive response was to the expression of the thought or feeling, not me, and it does not inherently imply any form of reciprocity of the thought or feeling.

Unfortunately, understanding this does not mean I no longer fall into the trap of confusing a positive response for reciprocity. My brain can still override itself in its search for connection and attention, because it is severely lacking in both. It also doesn't help that I don't have a set of examples of reciprocity that my brain can compare new interactions to to see if they fit the established model for determining reciprocity. So it's kind of guessing at random and latching on to whatever it thinks has the greatest potential for reciprocity, even if there is none.

Which, I suppose, is a long-winded and technical way to say that I do not have a lot of experience making friends or dating, so I have no idea how to tell if a person I have interacted with is interested in either and if they are, which of them they are interested in. In the past, it has happened seemingly at random or without effort on my part, so I do not know how to make it happen again on purpose or correctly read if it has happened. I end up looking for signs based on what I think worked in the past, which is an unreliable and, frankly, toxic method that means I easily get myself into situations where I have assumed interest that wasn't there and hurt myself, someone else, or both.

And I don't want to hurt anyone, least of all myself. So I stop trying, because that is the only way to assure that I do not make the same mistake again. But the problem with that is, not trying also hurts me because I am extremely lonely and in deep need of both friendship and companionship. That loneliness drives me to eventually try again, but without any new understanding that will lead to a different outcome. So I am stuck in a repeating cycle that I cannot seem to figure out the solution to and apparently only manage to escape at random or when someone pushes me out of it.

I would really like to break the cycle for good, but I don't even know where to start in learning how to. I've tried reading about it or doing what others do, but I'm neurodivergent and most advice I have come across is for neurotypical people. And for some reason, neurodivergent people doing what neurotypical people do is Wrong and creeps out the NTs. Which just creates a negative feedback loop that is amplified by rejection sensitivity and only causes more problems.

[daggerzine]

The Simon Provencher interview (by Tom Murphy)

Simon Provencher is perhaps best known for his frenetic and creative guitar work for the post-punk band VICTIME out of Québec. But on March 26, 2021 the musician released his debut EP Mesures via Michel Records. It is six tracks of free jazz collages that bear favorable comparison to the avant-garde compositions of Anthony Braxton as Provencher makes creative and playful use of clarinet, electric guitar, percussion and processing to convey a strong sense of mood and place while making one very aware of aspects of the environment around us we often tune out. In pairing aspects of exploratory jazz and musique concrète, Provencher has given us an album that is both soothing and keeps us grounded in the present. The composer and musician recently answered some questions we presented to him via email about the nature of his music, its inspirations and methods of crafting its elegantly evocative passages.

 Dagger Zine (Tom Murphy): Mesures will probably hit some people's ears as akin to a free jazz or spontaneous composition type of record. How did you approach putting together these songs and experimenting with sound compared with maybe how you do with VICTIME?

Simon Provencher: People wouldn’t be wrong in these assumptions at all. Mesures is a record that was written very quickly. I decided to trust my first instincts for much of the record. With VICTIME, our approach has always been more iterative. By that I mean that we’ll loop “embryonic” parts over and over again, slowly changing elements, morphing the composition until we found ourselves happy with how everything sounded together. I’m still very much into this way of writing, but Mesures was a much more immediate affair.

For me, inspiration almost always comes from timbre, usually through loads of guitar pedals. In this case though, I wanted to see what sounds and textures I could get out of the electric guitar without using any external effects or even amplification. Timbre was still my main concern, but in a more subtle way I guess. I slightly detuned the strings and experimented with resonances, chord shapes, finger placement, fingernails, etc. I also “prepared” the guitar: I jammed objects between the strings and tied sewing thread to the strings (if you pinch the thread with slightly wet fingers and slide them around, you get eerie, reverse-like effects).

Enough about me though, another big change was that this record was made remotely with two new collaborators, Elyze Venne-Deshaies (clarinet) and Olivier Fairfield (percussion). Both of them had “carte blanche” (pardon my french) to do whatever they wanted. I can’t speak much to their personal approach to improvisation, but both of them are seasoned veterans and delivered absolutely amazing performances.

 D: Some people might think of any kind of music declared experimental is a barrier to its acceptance but your album seems to me very accessible as a form of pure expression. Do you have a sense of why your songs seem so open and, as one reviewer put it, welcoming?

 S: I don’t quite know actually. I do agree that the songs have a certain softness to them that was certainly somewhat intentional. When I did the initial guitar parts, I did set out to make something conventionally “beautiful”, or at least “not harsh”. I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe what happened there, but the resonances, repetitions and patterns definitely implied a soft mood from the get go.

I guess this foundation inspired Elyze and Olivier to also play with softer tones, to approach the music with warmth and subtlety in mind. They really “got” the vibe of the music without me ever telling them anything about my intentions. A “shift” of some kind happened when the clarinet parts were added to the drums and guitars. I felt like the mood of the pieces almost completely changed (in a positive way, of course). I think there’s something to the linearity of Elyze and Olivier’s playing, in contrast with the repetitive, hypnotic guitars that gives the music a sense of wandering aimlessness which I really love.

On the audio engineering side, I did intentionally mix the songs with a certain softness in mind. We added some warm tape saturation to some of the sounds and carved out a lot of higher frequencies. On the songs with feedback and noise, Simon Labelle, who mastered the record, made it so that when the clarinets get louder, the high-frequency content ducks out of the way a little bit. This nifty little trick does help out a lot with making the noisy songs more warm and inviting too.

 D: Listening through the album I found it resonated with the albums of Anthony Braxton and Ornette Coleman. The former of which never considered his music part of jazz though he is often associated with that form of music and the latter who expanded the range, dynamics and tonal choices of jazz. Were you inspired by in any way by those forms of abstract yet emotionally expressive music? How might you describe its impact on what you've done?

S: I totally was! I discovered Anthony Braxton through Québec jazz guitar great René Lussier. I’ve been a fan of Le Trésor de la Langue for a while and I got into his back catalog last year: his collaborations with Fred Frith, EAI stuff and more, some of which was released on “Les Disques Victo”. “Victo” stands for Victoriaville, a small city between Quebec and Montreal, where there’s a great contemporary music festival named FIMAV. Shamefully, I haven’t actually been to FIMAV yet, but I’ve loved finding recordings of some amazing concerts, a favourite being Anthony Braxton and Derek Bailey’s 1987 Moment Précieux. I was amazed to find out about this rich local history of musical experimentation and improvisation. This record was very much inspired by the whole FIMAV sound.

Coleman is another great point of reference. His records and those of his collaborators, Don Cherry being another big one, all are major inspirations. As a guitar player, I especially got into James “Blood” Ulmer’s career. I really admire his approach to guitar and the immediacy and expressiveness of his music.

 I’m probably paraphrasing it all wrong, but Don Cherry said of Ornette Coleman’s “harmolodic” approach that instead of improvising from chords, like in bebop, you’d start with melodies and improvise to create new forms, harmonies, rhythms to try and reach a certain “brilliance” as he calls it. You’d try to make the music transcend. In harmolodic theory, melody, rhythm and harmony are treated as equals, no solos, no lead and accompaniment dichotomy, no strict timing, scale or tonality.

This is both quite simple but also quite hard to actually grasp in a musical setting, and I’m far from mastering any of it, nor is it necessarily something I strive for, but it is an inspiring way to conceive improvised music for sure.

 D: The first half of the album you make great use of what sounds like atonal melodies yet they perfectly convey the mood and lend a sense of texture. What informed employing those sounds in the songwriting?

S: I’ve always written music without much regard for tonality, key, etc. My musical background is still very much anchored in No Wave and noise music, where skronky chords and weird, unstable melodies are the norm rather than the exception. When playing, I really don’t think much about it, I follow what sounds good to me in the moment.

Looking back on the recorded music though, I feel like there is a lot of nuance to be found in atonality and imperfection. Detuned chords ringing out have such complex and interesting decaying resonances, you can almost hear the frequencies battling each other. These interactions between notes and lines that fall just short of resolving are part of the magic and intrigue of abstract music. In the case of Mesures, I think there’s something special with how some of the atonal, out of tune textures and weird synths clash beautifully with the in-tune clarinet parts, making either one “pop out” depending on where you focus your attention.

 D: The second half or at least the second three songs on the album use processed drones and what some might call noise underneath or in the background, although very much a presence in the mix, of the clarinets? What do you feel this almost contrast in sounds conveyed that say a more conventional arrangement might not?

The second half of the record is basically a rearrangement of the first three songs. There’s four clarinet parts in there! On the first side, they fade in and out of focus, but on side B, everything is there all at once.

This is basically the result of me simply “soloing” the clarinet takes in my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation, the software used to arrange and mix the music). When I heard the four clarinets at once, I really fell in love with the sound.

 So I knew I wanted this to be the focal point of the rearrangement, and I knew I wanted to add something. I just happened to be working with feedback that week, so it kind of fell in place. Feedback manipulation was a technical interest first, I had gotten a new guitar pedal called a Feedback Looper, which sends some of your output signal back into the input of a series of pedals. This creates self-oscillating and rich, detailed noises that are somewhat interactive and malleable. By turning some knobs and flicking some switches on ordinary guitar pedals, you end up with an infinite amount of possible glitches and shrieking high frequency tones.

I don’t know if my ears got accustomed to it or what, but I’ve come to really enjoy the sound of this process. I also really love the tactile aspect of it, it feels kind of like an unpredictable modular synthesizer. When I had recorded the feedback improvisation, which I did in one single take, I thought this sparse, harsh rearrangement was a nice contrast with the more warm, conventional first three songs. At that point, the record felt complete.

 D: The final three songs also remind me of Philip Glass in his soundtrack work wherein he mixes the playful and flowing with the dissonant. How would you say these sounds complement each other in your own music?

S: Especially on this release, while there are a lot of sounds that are contrasting with each other, I also feel like there is a sense of shared directionality. The song Et quart is a good example of this. The high feedback notes start out in almost complete opposition to the meandering low clarinet lines, but, as the song progresses, the sounds somehow seem to merge with each other and they end up flowing in the same direction for the song’s climax.

 D: What are some other artists operating now that you find interesting and/or inspirational and resonant with what you're doing?

There’s way too many to name them all, but I’ll try! I think there’s a very interesting local-ish scene around me. I admire the work of N NAO, either her solo releases or her collaborations with Joni Void. Sarah Pagé does mind-bending music with harp and effects; I’ve had the pleasure of catching her live in Ottawa just before the pandemic started last year. Kara-Lys Coverdale is also a major inspiration, so is Kee Avil, whose live show and guitar playing blew me away.

I also need to shout out my friend (and bandmate) Mathieu A. Seulement, whose end-year list allowed me to catch up on a lot of fantastic new music, including, but not limited to Ana Roxane’s Because of a Flower, Jasmine Guffond’s Microphone Permission, Caterina Barbieri’s Ecstatic Computation and, last but not least, Holly Herndon’s magnificent Proto.

  **the three Simon photos were taken by Charlotte Savoie

www.simonprovencher.bandcamp.com 

[celestial-vapidity]

So Don’t Let Go, Because I’m Afraid

Jeanne and Cereza talk after the events of Bayonetta 2. 

Author’s Note: Howdy y’all! Hope you’re all staying safe and healthy. Welcome to day two of Bayojeanne Week 2020! I’m so pleased with the positive feedback I received on yesterday’s fic and I only hope to receive more as the week goes on. Thank you so much! The prompt for today is ‘shadows’. Also posted on FF(https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13545757/1/So-Don-t-Let-Go-Because-I-m-Afraid) and AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539525). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! WARNING: This fic contains mentions of past abuse and trauma.

“And you said ‘no, these demons will fall

You're so precious to us all’

And I said ‘I can't do this alone

I still need you to hold

So don't let go, because I'm afraid’”

I Exist I Exist I Exist by Flatsound

Cereza knew something was off with Jeanne. It was obvious. It shouldn’t have been surprising, considering that she was recently rescued from Inferno, and a desperate creep of a demon, but it seemed like more than that. She was determined to figure out what it was.

“Dearest?” She asked gently. The two of them were lying in bed, preparing to go to sleep. Jeanne, who was turned away from the dark-haired witch, grunted in response, seemingly half-asleep. Cereza snorted at her lack-luster reply, before continuing.

“How are you doing? I know it can’t be...easy. The whole ordeal with Inferno and Alraune...I just want to do whatever I can to make you feel better. I love you.” 

Cereza moved an arm to wrap around Jeanne’s front. She could feel the stiffening of her girlfriend’s frame and knew she had heard. She frowned in concern.

Jeanne hesitated before replying. “It’s not just that, Cereza. It was also...seeing him.”

It suddenly clicked for the older witch. Seeing Balder...Of course. That must have been painful for her. 

“Seeing him and knowing what he would end up doing to me. And not being able to do anything about it. That almost hurts more than the fact that my soul was nearly eaten by a demon. At least being eaten would be quick. Unlike the years I suffered under him.”

Jeanne’s voice was dry. Cereza knew she rarely cried. She had only seen it a few times in their time together, and it was almost always for someone else, instead of for herself. The white-haired witch sighed and rolled over to face her lover, her arm sliding off of her in the process.

“I know I can’t change the past. Well, I guess I could have. But I know it would have probably created yet another time loop for us to deal with. And...I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you like that.”

“Jeanne, you-”

“Cereza, don’t deny it. I know you loved him before Aesir took him. Maybe even after too. He’s your father, you have every right. And I don’t have any right to take that from you.”

“But you were hurt! You were so badly hurt!” 

“And you weren’t? I saw what losing him did to you the first time.”

Cereza quieted at that for a moment, before continuing. “I don’t want this to be about me. I’m doing fine. Surprisingly fine. I got closure and answers as to why he did what he did. I want you to feel better now. What can I do to make that happen?”

Jeanne shut her eyes and sighed yet again. “Just hold me. Please?”

The short-haired witch obliged. “I love you. More than anything. You can talk to me if you want to.”

“I know. I will. I just need time. I love you too.”

[satyr-syd]

Number Three Hero Miruko’s three U.A. interns stand at attention in the middle of her office. Miruko’s office is unlike any other hero office Tsuyu’s seen, in that it’s less of an office and more of a garden, with grassy floors, a high-vaulted ceiling painted robin’s egg blue, an obstacle course, and a dozen raised carrot beds. Tsuyu finds it a pleasant space, although she thinks it would be even better with the addition of a pond. Bodies of water are calming, and right now Tsuyu would appreciate anything that would slow her racing heart.

Miruko paces in front of them, large feet padding through the grass. She stops and points to Tsuyu’s left, at Kodai Yui from class 2-B. Kodai’s shoulders tense.

“Rule!” Miruko shouts. “You have been doing an excellent job.”

Kodai lets out a sigh of relief.

“But!”

Her shoulders tense up again.

“You keep coming into work tired,” Miruko continues, ears swiveled out. “You’re overextending your quirk use. Be smarter about saving your energy for when you need it most.”

Kodai bows. “Yes sensei!”

Miruko continues pacing.

“Bakugou!” She points to Tsuyu’s left, at Bakugou Katsuki, who looks unphased.

“You’re strong on the battlefield. But off the battlefield - ” she grabs his shoulders and looks him in the eye, “ - you’re weak.” Bakugou’s lip twitches. “Be more compassionate.”

Miruko releases her grip on him and continues pacing. Tsuyu doesn’t know why. It’s obvious she’s next. “Froppy!”

Miruko takes a step towards her and bends down, so their eyes meet. “You need to learn to be more flexible.”

Tsuyu puts a finger to her chin and waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn't.

“That’s all!” Miruko says. “Week one’s performance review is over.” She breaks out into a big smile. It’s truly a wonderful smile, Tsuyu thinks. A hero’s smile - the kind of smile that you can't help but smile at in response. “I didn’t have much to say because you guys have done so well.”

The three of them bow deeply and say, “Thank you Miruko-sensei!”

Miruko pats them each and on the head and laughs. “Alrighty then, head on home, kids.”

The three of them head down a few floors to the locker rooms to change out of their hero outfits and grab their belongings. Kodai loops the straps of her nice leather satchel over her shoulders, while Bakugou stuffs his hero costume into his. While she waits for him, Tsuyu pulls out her phone. She has two texts - from Miruko.

 Miruko-sensei ／(=⌒×⌒=)＼: Come back up. There’s something I want to talk to you about.

 Miruko-sensei ／(=⌒×⌒=)＼: Don’t tell the others.

Strange.

“Bakugou, Kodai,” she says, slipping her phone into her pocket. “I have a few questions for Miruko-sensei. You can head back without me.”

“Tch.” Bakugou slams his locker closed. “I wasn’t gonna wait for you.”

Kodai grins. “Thanks for letting us know. We’ll see you back at the dorms!”

Odd,  Tsuyu thinks.  Is she really going right back to school this time? In the last week since the start of their work study internship, Kodai hasn’t once accompanied them back to U.A. at the end of the day. Tsuyu is sure to invite her every time, but Kodai always has an excuse, whether it’s to go shopping, or visit her aunt, or babysit her cousin, or catch a movie with friends from middle school. Tsuyu is convinced she's making it up. She wonders what secret Kodai’s really hiding. Maybe it’s a secret lover, from a rival school? Kodai seems like the type to keep her love life to herself. How romantic!

Tsuyu hops back up to Miruko’s office, where the hero is sitting on the edge of one of the planters, munching on a carrot, deep in thought. Tsuyu sits down beside her.

Crunch.  Miruko shoves the rest off the carrot into her mouth, stem and all.

“Froppy. I need you to do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s about Rule,” she says. “She’s hiding something from me. I want to know what.”

Tsuyu raises her brows. “You want me to spy on her?”

“We both know she’s not going where she says she’s going after work.” Tsuyu’s surprised: she didn’t realize Miruko was paying so much attention. That’s the Number Three Hero, though. Always ahead of the game. “I’m worried about her. I don’t want any of my interns getting into trouble.”

Tsuyu definitely has qualms with spying on a classmate, a coworker. A friend, maybe? Tsuyu doesn't think they're friends quite yet. If she spies on her, though, they might never become friends.

But Miruko’s asking her to do this. And Tsuyu would be lying if she said she doesn’t want to know what Kodai is up to.

“Hey.” Miruko stands up and faces Tsuyu. “I know it might be uncomfortable. And it would be extra work. But I trust you with this.”

Tsuyu taps her fingers together. She wonders if this is a test, if Miruko’s asking her to prove herself.  Be flexible.  Does this have something to do with Miruko’s feedback from earlier? “Alright.”

“You can start by following her after patrol, tomorrow,” Miruko says. She smiles and ruffles Tsuyu’s hair. “Thank you, Tsuyu.”

Tsuyu matches her grin. “Of course.”

Tsuyu spends the train ride home regretting not asking Miruko what she meant by “be flexible.” Tsuyu likes Miruko a lot. She was excited when Miruko scouted her out; not only is Miruko the Number Three hero, but Tsuyu has never had a mentor with an animal-mutant type quirk like hers before. Learning from her has been incredible; she’s building up strength, especially in her legs, that she never knew she had before.

But sometimes her mentor is hard to read. Like Bakugou, she speaks better with her actions than her words.

Tsuyu doesn’t think she means physically flexible. As a frog, she’s pretty limber, isn’t she? So it must be metaphorical - but Tsuyu isn’t good with metaphors. Flexible about what? Her battle strategies? Her teamwork, or communication skills? The direction of her patrol routes?

Whatever it is, Tsuyu hopes she can figure it out by the end of their internship and make Miruko proud.

Next evening’s patrol starts out a quiet one. No major villain attacks, or minor villain attacks, no purse snatchers or jaywalkers. Not even an old lady to help across the street.

And it would have been quiet - if Bakugou would stop complaining.

“....doesn’t think I’m compassionate...what the fuck, I’m compassionate as hell!”

Tsuyu knows Bakugou can be crude and sometimes a little airheaded when it comes to matters of social civility, but this level of obliviousness is a lot, even coming from him. “No you’re not,” she says.

Bakugou raises his fist and glares at her. “Say that again and I’ll kill you.”

A gentle laugh comes from behind them. “Case and point,” Kodai says.

Bakugou whips around to direct his fury at her. “Hah?”

Kodai jogs ahead of them, nuts and bolts clinking around in her shoulder pouch, and hits the button for the walkway. The sun is just beginning its descent, casting long shadows of tall buildings across the roads. Everyone’s just gotten home from work, so aside from a few stragglers, the streets are mostly empty.

On the other side of the street is a little girl walking with an older couple, probably her grandparents, crying. Her grandparents are trying to cheer her up, but big Ghibli tears continue to flow from the girl’s buglike, compound eyes. Kodai plucks a small dandelion growing through a crack in the concrete and uses her quirk, Size, to grow it to the size of a baseball.

The walk sign turns green. “Instead of listening to what Tsuyu had to say, you dismissed her and threatened to kill her,” Kodai says. As they pass by the family, she hands the giant dandelion to the little girl, who gasps in delight.

Once they’ve reached the other side of the street, she mutters, “Usually that would be called a ‘criminal threat.’”

From across the street, they hear the little girl shout, “Thank you hero Onee-san!”

Kodai looks over her shoulder and calls, “Stay safe out there!”

A block goes by. Tsuyu is just setting into the nice silence when Bakugou asks, “What the fuck was that?”

“That was called being compassionate,” Tsuyu says. “Making an effort to care for others who are in need.”

“Compassion isn’t confined to the battlefield,” Kodai says. “In fact,” her voice drops an octave, “when the battle is over...that’s when it’s needed the most.”

For the rest of the patrol, Bakugou doesn’t say a word. It's a nice change of pace.

Patrol ends without anything else interesting happening. After giving Kodai the obligatory offer to head back to campus together - to which she says she actually promised to help her cousin with her algebra homework, and runs on ahead of them - Tsuyu begins to head out with Bakugou.

Tsuyu stops right at the doors to the hero agency and tells Bakugou she forgot she had some shopping to do, so he can go on without her.

“ ’s the second day in a row you’re ditching me.”

Tsuyu tilts her head. She’s not sure what he means by that. Is he mad? “Oh, I’m sorry - ”

“I don’t fucking care!” Bakugou interjects. He throws his backpack over his shoulder and treks on ahead. “See you to-fucking-morrow.”

“Bye.”

She watches Bakugou round the corner before hurrying back inside and changing into her hero costume. She rummages through her bag to pull out the tracker she had Momo make for her yesterday. The other part of it, creating the homing signal, should be at the bottom of Kodai’s bag, where Tsuyu had hidden it before their patrol.

Sure enough, the dot indicating Kodai’s position is on the move, crossing from the downtown area to the poor district of the city. Tsuyu tucks the device into a pocket of her utility belt and hops out the window.

She jumps gracefully from building to building, putting as much power into her legs as possible, like Miruko has taught her. Kodai winds through numerous side streets and alleyways, all the way to the heart of the slums. She seriously doubts that this is where Kodai’s cousin lives - if Tsuyu had to guess from her neatly ironed uniform and expensive bookbag, Kodai’s family is somewhat wealthy. Maybe their families don’t get along well? Then why would Kodai be helping her cousin in the first place?

By the time Tsuyu catches up to Kodai, the sky is a deep, dark blue. To the west, the horizon etched in white from the last light of the day. It provides just enough light to see where Kodai's finally stopped. The neighborhood isn’t so much a neighborhood as it is a dozen crimped metal sheets smushed together to form a few buildings. Telephone wires stretch like spiders above squat buildings mottled with water stains, rusted awnings, and blue tarpaulins. Old bikes litter the dry, cracked asphalt. White shirts with yellow armpit stains and plaid dresses with holes in them hang from balconies barely large enough to stand on.

Kodai stands in the shadow of the buildings, on the only patch of green grass visible from this high up.

She’s not going into any buildings. There’s no algebra in sight. Most tellingly, Kodai is wearing her hero costume. The tip of the metal crest on her helmet glints in the fading light.

It seems that Miruko was right - she’s up to something.

Half a dozen dogs start barking. A few run up to Kodai and start licking her. Slowly, people stream out of their apartments and tents and crowd around Kodai.

“Rule is here!”

“Rule!”

“She’s back!”

Kodai smiles at all the people that come to see her. Just like Miruko, her smile is infectious. The people around her smile, too. The streetlights - at least the ones that still work - turn on, illuminating Kodai in a fluorescent glow.  She looks like a hero, Tsuyu thinks.

Someone hands her a plastic bag. Tsuyu can’t see what it is, but Kodai rips open the bag, digs her hand in and scoops out a handful of something brown. She places it on the ground and touches her fingers together. Immediately, the small handful grows into a giant pile of round, brown rocks. The dogs rush over, tails wagging. A few of the adults hammer at the rocks with big books and odd tools, and flakes of brown start to chip away. The dogs slurp up the bits in a happy, drooling mess.  Oh, it’s dog food.  

Each person begins to hand Kodai something - an older woman hands her a container of pills, a young mother hands her a loaf of bread, a man hands her a near-empty tube of toothpaste, a child hands her a tiny action figure. Kodai makes everything bigger, and the people come away smiling.

Someone tries to hand her coins. Kodai laughs and turns them away. Tsuyu wonders if they were offering her payment or if they wanted her to make the money bigger, which doesn’t sound very helpful. Big coins didn’t mean they were worth more. In fact, they might not be worth anything then, considering -

  Pfftt pop pop

Tsuyu twists around, hands up, ready to defend herself. The popping sound came from behind her. She doesn’t see anyone on the roof with her: only a few vents - one on the left, the other on the right - and a door rising up from the middle. A few dirty buckets and cardboard boxes are strewn along the edges of the building, but it’s hard to make out anything in the darkness.

A slight scraping sound comes from behind the left vent.

That’s when the smell hits her skin. Smoke. Smoke from an explosion. A type of explosion Tsuyu is very familiar with.

“...Bakugou?”

Another bang, followed by a bucket rolling out from behind the vent.

Tsuyu walks over to the vent. There is Bakugou, crouched behind it, in his full hero costume, scowl on his lips.

Tsuyu cocks her head and puts a finger to her chin. “Why are you here?”

“You’re not supposed to know I’m here,” he says.

“That’s what I surmised. From your attempt at sneaking.”

Bakugou jumps up. “Attempt?!”

“I found you quite easily. You’re not very stealthy.”

Bakugou growls.

“So why are you here?”

Bakugou glares at her for a moment. She finds it a little funny that Bakugou still tries to scare her with his glares; she’s never found them that intimidating. She just blinks at him and waits.

“That rabbit asked me to follow you,” he relents. “She said you were looking after Kodai.”

Tsuyu can’t help but deflate a little. Even with her mixed feelings about Miruko’s request, she had taken pride in the fact that Miruko had asked  her, no one else. Evidently that was not the case.  I trust you with this. Was that really true? Then why had she sent Bakugou to spy on her? She can’t help but think that Miruko doesn’t trust her after all.

Bakugou walks over to the edge of the roof and peers down at the scene below. “So what’s up with Nuts and Bolts?”

Tsuyu shakes her head. She still has a job to do; she can worry about personal matters later. She joins Bakugou, watching Kodai enlarge a blanket for a family with six kids. “I think she’s using her quirk illegally.”

“Huh.”

They watch her for a few minutes. A half dozen rice cakes, a jar of soap, a clothing line. She shrinks parts of an adult’s bike strategically and hands it off to one of the children. After than one, she sits down and rubs her head. She must be exhausted by now, still using her quirk after a full day of training and patrol.

The unregulated use of quirks is illegal. The unregulated use of quirks in interference with trade and economics is  highly illegal - she knows that from what Momo’s told her. But that’s exactly what Kodai is doing: using her quirk to giantize disadvantaged peoples’ belongings, so they would last longer, and wouldn’t have to buy new things so quickly.

“ ’s charity work,” Bakugou summarizes.

Tsuyu nods. “Illegal charity work.”

Tsuyu and Bakugou walk back to the hero agency in relative silence. They’re both deep in thought. Tsuyu’s at a loss for what to do. On one hand, what Kodai is doing is clearly illegal. If the police found out what she was doing, they would arrest her. And anyone who sees illegal activity is obligated to report it. Not reporting it is the same as hiding it, which is the same as being an accomplice…

But on the other hand, Kodai is doing a good thing. She’s helping the poor, in a way heroes rarely help them. Using her quirk in a way Tsuyu, or Bakugou, or most heroes could never hope to. She can’t help but recall what Kodai said earlier that day: Compassion isn’t confined to the battlefield. In fact, when the battle is over...that’s when it’s needed the most.

Tsuyu’s also thinking about what Bakugou’s thinking. Will he turn her in? Tell Miruko the truth about what Kodai's doing? Bakugou’s a total rule follower - but only when it suits him. Is this one of those times? Or will Bakugou stay true to the laws of this world?

They stop outside the agency doors and look up at the tall, pristine windows leading to the top floor, where the lights are still on. Miruko must be waiting for them. “What do we tell her?”

Bakugou thinks for a moment. “Nothing,” he says. “For now. We should...we need to collect more information.”

Tsuyu lets out the breath she was holding. “Right.” Bakugou’s decision takes some weight off her shoulders. The'll wait - that gives them more time to think and figure out what the heroic thing to do is.

 Miruko’s bunnies ⌒( •ㅅ• )⌒:

Kodai-chan: could we meet before we head to miruko’s?

Me: sure :(¦)

Bakugou-chan: What the fuck for?

Kodai-chan: i’ll tell you when we meet

Nine o’clock is when they need to be at Miruko’s agency to start suiting up. It’s eight right now. The morning air is still crisp with last night’s dew. Tsuyu rolls up her sleeves; she loves the sensation of misty air on her skin. It makes her feel at home.

Kodai stands with her head high, stance firm, but she won’t look directly at them. Tsuyu can sense she’s nervous.

“Spit it out, Bolts,” Bakugou says. “We’ll miss the train if you take too long to open your fucking mouth.”

She takes a deep breath, then lets it out.

“I know you guys saw me yesterday.”

Tsuyu’s eyebrows raise. “You saw us?”  She grimaces; apparently Bakugou isn’t the only one who needs to work on their stealthiness.

“It’s hard to miss a frog and a guy with that ridiculous mask stomping around a rooftop.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Bakugou retorts. “It’s cool as hell.”

“It also makes you easy to spot.”

“Tch.”

Kodai reaches into her bag. “Plus, I found this.” She holds up the circular tracking device.

Tsuyu melts. “Oh…” Just seeing it makes her feel ten times more guilty. Tailing her was bad enough, but the invasive equipment...that feels extra dirty.

Kodai tosses it to the ground and crushes it with her foot. “I’ll get straight to the point. Why were you guys following me?”

Tsuyu glances at Bakugou. He looks back at her. They both seem to have the same question in mind: should they tell her the truth? That Miruko was the one who them to spy on her?

“Who’s not opening their mouth now?” Kodai says. “Spit it out.”

“We wanted to know where you were going all the time,” Tsuyu says. Technically, it’s not a lie. “Your excuses weren’t very convincing.”

Kodai’s face flushes pink. “Oh.”

“You really think we were gonna buy you ditching us every fucking day?” Bakugou adds. “Hell no. We knew you were up to something fishy. Just wanted to know what it was.”

“Okay.” Kodai tucks her hair behind her ears, flushed red from the morning chill. “So now that you know, will you drop it?”

Tsuyu looks to her feet. Bakugou throws his head to the side and looks at the sky. Kodai must know they can’t just drop it. They’re heroes in training; they have more of a duty than anyone to uphold the laws.

“Look.” Kodai grabs them both by the tie and pulls them in close, until they’re all nearly nose to nose. “I know you think it’s wrong. But those people...if they can eat, if they can get their medicine, then they don’t have to steal. And if they don’t have to steal, then they don’t have to become villains.”

Kodai releases their ties and pushes them back. She hoists her bag over her shoulder and heads for the front gates.

“That’s less work for us, right?” she calls.

Bakugou’s face is as red as Kirishima’s hair and his snarl matches that of a wild dog. Tsuyu thinks his head might explode instead of his hands. He wrenches his tie back into place and mutters to himself. “Goddamn bitch how dare she fucking touch me…gonna explode her fucking face off if she tries that shit again...”

“Let’s get going!” Kodai shouts. “We don’t want to miss our train, right?”

Tsuyu would argue that technically, she never told Kodai they would drop it. So it’s not dishonest to follow her again.

Guilt churns in her gut anyways.

This time, since they don’t have a tracker, she and Bakugou tail her from the moment she leaves the agency that evening. Discretion, they agree, is key. Instead of their costumes, they don their school uniforms. (And a few parts of their costumes: Tsuyu takes her goggles and utility belt. Bakugou takes his string of mini grenades. They have different priorities.) They have a general idea of where she’s heading, so even though they’re not positive she’s going to the exact same neighborhood as last time, they can afford to hang back a bit.

Without his costume, Bakugou is leagues less noticeable and intimidating. Even without them, his general angry demeanor alone would usually make him stand out, but right now he doesn’t look that angry. His brows aren’t furrowed, and his jaw isn’t clenched tight. He’s exchanged his laser-like glare for a thousand yard stare. If Tsuyu had to name it, she’d call this look..contemplative.

“Are you thinking about what Kodai told us this morning?” she asks.

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t actually deign to answer.

They’re getting closer to the slums, so they switch from main streets to side streets. Kodai is several blocks ahead, still heading in the same direction as yesterday.

Instead of pressing Bakugou on the issue of Kodai, she asks another question that’s been on her mind since internships started.

“Why did you choose Miruko for work study?”

“Simple,” Bakugou says. “Endeavor ain’t taking interns this session. The rabbit was the next highest ranked hero to give me an offer.”

“Oh,” Tsuyu says. That answer is very straightforward - very Bakugou. “Why do you think Miruko asked for you?”

Bakugou shrugs. “I’m the best.”

Another very Bakugou-like answer. “I think it’s because you are both very alike.”

Bakugou raises a brow.

“You’re both physically strong, that’s true. But you also both have strong personalities. A loud conviction that you’ll win shines through you. You’re very charismatic, Bakugou, when you try to be. Miruko knows how to use her attitude in a heroic way - and I think she wants to teach that to you.”

Bakugou doesn’t have an answer for that. He just gazes ahead. Contemplating.

This time, they pick a different rooftop. Ideally, they would get closer, to hear what kind of conversations Kodai’s having with these citizens. Tsuyu wishes Jirou or Tooru were here, but they have their own internships to worry about. Plus she wouldn’t want to drag them into this mess. Spying on a classmate isn’t fun.

Kodai carries out the same ritual as last time. She stands in the one green patch, the dogs start barking, and people file out of their homes. Tonight, there’s even more people; they come pouring in from other neighborhoods. They seem to have established a rule among themselves: everyone gets to bring Kodai one item a night to giantize or shrink.

“What’s that?” Bakugou points to someone in line, carrying something big and white. Tsuyu turns her goggles on them, thankful that Hatsume upgraded them to have nightvision.

“It’s a cake.”

“A cake?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the man with the cake presents it to Kodai. He gestures to an older man standing off to the side. The older man is pushed by the crowd up to where Kodai and the cake man are. Kodai shakes his hand and takes the cake. She places it on the ground a few feet away from them, then gestures for people to move out of the way. She taps her fingers together. The cake grows and grows until it’s almost as tall as her and several meters wide. The pastry is truly giant, taking up nearly half of the courtyard. From up here, it looks like a blinding patch of snow in the middle of a nighttime desert.

The whole neighbor cheers and begins to sing happy birthday.

This is a kind of joy Tsuyu doesn’t often see as a hero. So far she’s been content just knowing that she’s helped save lives - and if that’s all she ever did, she would still be content - but seeing this, she remembers why she wants to save lives. She wants to be as important to a community as Kodai is to this one. She wants to bring people joy.

There’s no such thing as bad joy, is there? Joy that doesn’t harm anyone?

What’s the point of quirks if they can’t be used to help people?

“Oi, froggy.”

“I told you you can call me Tsuyu.”

“Just look.”

Two figures are rounding the corner one street over. They’re dressed in flashy colors and have a sort of swagger to the way they walk. It appears to be a hero patrol. And they’re pointing at Kodai’s neighborhood.

“I think they see the cake,” Tsuyu says. She looks to Bakugou. “That’s not good.”

Bakugou looks at the patrol, and then at Kodai, then back at the patrol.

He strips off his U.A. blazer and shirt and throws it on the ground, clad in just his tank top. Then he grabs Tsuyu’s goggles off of her head. “I’m borrowing this. Get them to clear out. I’ll buy you time.”

“Bakugou - wait - ”

“Are you gonna do it or not?” Bakugou asks, pulling the goggles over his head.

Is hiding Kodai’s misdeeds a heroic action? Evidently Bakugou thinks so.

And honestly? So does Tsuyu.

She nods. “Of course I am.”

Bakugou grins wide. He grins at her in a way that says,  I’ll get us through this. Just watch me . And Tsuyu smiles back - because Bakugou’s smile is a little infectious, too. Maybe he really is learning from Miruko.

And with that, he hurdles himself off the edge of the roof.

Tsuyu runs after him. She watches him land gracefully on the ground, cushioned by a few small explosions.

“Hey idiots!” he yells at the hero patrol. Immediately he has their attention. “Stain’s memory lives on! You guys are all fakes!”

The moment the heroes begin heading toward him, Tsuyu leaps to the other side of the rooftop and begins scaling down the side. She pushes her way through the crowd surrounding Kodai until she locks eyes with her classmate.

The people’s hero looks at her in shock. “Froppy - what’re you doing here?”

“You all need to clear out!” she yells as quietly as she can, turning in a circle to address as many people as she can. “There’s a hero patrol right around the corner. If they find you all here - ” she points at Kodai, “ - they’ll take her away.”

Kodai’s eyes widen in understanding. “Listen to Froppy!” she calls. “Everyone, go back to your homes! Take all your belongings!”

Immediately, the crowd disperses. It’s clear these people trust Kodai, and want her to stay safe. Watching them hurry to follow Kodai’s orders makes Tsuyu’s heart ache, but in a good way.

“We need to get rid of this cake,” Tsuyu says.

Kodai nods. She touches the cake again and touches her fingers together. It shrinks until it’s only the size of a mushroom. Kodai picks it up and hands it to the elderly man who’s birthday it is, who’s still standing there in shock. “Please go inside, sir. I promise when this is over I’ll buy you a new cake.”

He nods and waddles away, guided by one of the other residents. “Thank you, Rule…”

Tsuyu grabs Kodai’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before Kodai can respond, Tsuyu hears the pounding of footsteps against concrete coming from up ahead. Tsuyu leaps up and onto the side of the nearest apartment building, thrusts her tongue out, wraps it around Kodai’s waist, and flings her up to the top of the roof.

It’s not a moment too soon. The hero patrol duo rushes into the middle of the courtyard. Tsuyu camouflages herself against the building.

They look around. “Where the hell did that brat go?”

“God, we lost him!” the other shouts. “If I ever see that kid again I’m gonna - I’m gonna - give him a harsh talking to!”

“You tell’em, buddy…”

They sniff around a bit - one of them, who has an extremely long nose, really does sniff - and ask a few of the residents if they’ve seen anything unusual, to which they all say they haven’t. Eventually, the patrol moves on.

Tsuyu swears she feels the neighborhood let out a collective breath.

She climbs up the side of the building and onto the roof, where Kodai sits with her legs crossed. She looks up when Tsuyu joins her.

“Sorry about throwing you up here,” Tsuyu says. “Are you hurt at all?”

Kodai shakes her head.

Tsuyu cocks her head and crouches next to Kodai. “Are you all right?”

Kodai smiles at her, but Tsuyu doesn’t think it’s a real smile. “You guys were following me again.”

Her stomach drops. A guilty pulse thrums through her.

“Yeah, we were,” comes a voice from behind her.

Tsuyu looks around - Bakugou, still in just a tank top, carrying his blazer and her goggles. He trudges over to them and drops Tsuyu’s goggles into her lap. “Good think we were, too.”

Kodai looks down at her feet. “Yeah. Thank you.”

She picks herself up and dusts off her knees, which are covered in dirt and dust from the unkempt rooftop. She runs her hands along her shoulder straps and bites her lip. “Are you going to tell?” Kodai says. It's hard to see in the poor lighting, but Tsuyu swears her eyes look misty.

Bakugou scoffs. “What, after all of that?”

She lets out a little laugh. “I don’t know...maybe you just wanted to be the ones to turn me in.”

“Turn you in for what?” Bakugou barks. “I didn’t see you doing anything wrong.”

Tsuyu nods. “You were doing your hero duty and saving people.”

Kodai looks at her, as if asking if that’s really true. Tsuyu lets their eye contact speak for her.

This time when Kodai smiles, it’s genuine. And all of Tsuyu's discomfort evaporates. “I know,” Kodai says. “I know...”

“So. What do you have to tell me?”

Tsuyu stands next to Bakugou in the middle of Miruko’s office, feeling the fear that prey feel when they’re in the middle of an open field. Miruko stands before them, ears raised to attention.

Bakugou speaks first. “She’s going where she says she’s fucking going.”

“Kodai has a thriving social life,” Tsuyu puts in.

Miruko looks at them for a long moment. Tsuyu can’t read her. She counts the seconds that go by as Miruko looks between them, waiting for one to crack.

Then she smiles. “Very good. Thank you both. You’re dismissed.”

For the rest of their time as Miruko’s interns, Kodai continues going to the neighborhood, and surrounding neighborhoods, every day. Tsuyu and Bakugou may or may not accompany her to keep watch for hero patrols and cops. They may or may not gain some fans. Tsuyu may or may not point out one of the little boys wearing two oranges sashes over his shirt to form an X. She may or may not get a glimpse of Bakugou’s furious blush before he hides his face behind his mask.

The rest of her time with Miruko is uneventful. Well, anything is uneventful compared to last year’s shenanigans. She does learn a lot from the Rabbit Hero, though. On her last day, she’s sure to thank her profusely.

“You did good kid,” Miruko tells her, patting her on the head. “Now, I know you wanna ask me something.”

How does she know? Maybe this is the intuition of a hero. Tsuyu fiddles her fingers for a moment before working up the courage to ask, “For that assignment...why did you send Bakugou, too?”

Miruko nods, as if this is what she expected Tsuyu to ask. “Just extra insurance, kiddo,” Miruko says. “Plus, thought you could learn something from each other.”

Tsuyu cocks her head, and connects the dots. “Is Bakugou...flexible?”

“HAH!” Miruko laughs. “That kid’s about as pliable as a steel beam.” Miruko looks over where Bakugou furiously watering carrots. “But even steel beams have their melting points.”

Tsuyu nods. That sounds wise. She isn’t quite sure what Miruko means, but Tsuyu thinks she can draw her own conclusions.

The teachers catch on, eventually. Or the cops, or a hero patrol. The point is someone noticed, and disciplinary action was taken.

Kodai hadn’t told Tsuyu or Bakugou, but Tsuyu learns, after everything comes out, that she continued to sneak off campus to feed the neighborhood even after their internship was over.

This was always going to be the outcome, wasn’t it? Even though Bakugou and Tsuyu kept quiet. It was only a matter of time.

Kodai is confined to campus. If Miruko hadn’t fought on her behalf, she might have been expelled, or even arrested. Her punishment is simply that she isn’t allowed to leave U.A. without adult supervision, and if she’s caught using her quirk for ‘non-heroic deeds’ again, she could face prison time.

Everyone knows that her deeds were  always heroic. The truth is that bad people aren’t the only type of villains in this world. Those people were also battling a villain - just not one heroes could beat in a fight.

The more she thinks about it, the stronger and deeper Tsuyu’s suspicion grows: that Miruko had wanted Tsuyu and Bakugou to follow Kodai so they could keep her out of trouble.  

Tsuyu’s hovering by one of the couches in the common room, not quite paying attention as Ashido and Tooru debate over who the most attractive person in class 2-B is (“It’s obviously Kuroiro,” Ashido says. “What do you mean  obviously ?” Tooru retorts. “Have you seen Kendo’s adorable face?”), thinking about Kodai, and about what it means to use your quirk to help people. Would this world be better if most people were allowed to use their quirks for good? Where could the line be drawn? Would it then be moral to force someone with a beneficial quirk like Momo’s to provide public goods? It gets even more complicated the more quirks you consider, like water generating quirks, or -

“What’re you standing around for?”

Tsuyu’s drawn out of her thoughts by the sharp voice. Bakugou is holding a tray with a bowl full of something steaming. From the scrumptious smell steeping through her skin she guesses it’s oden. “Are you gonna come with me to 2-B’s dorms or what?”

Tsuyu smiles. She’s almost mad she didn’t think to visit Kodai sooner. Although she doubts she could have made her food as delicious as what Bakugou's holding. “That’s a great idea.”

“Good.” She hears him mutter: “...Don’t want to be a fucking creep going to a girl’s room by myself...”

As they walk to class 2-B’s dorm, they pass by their old 1-A dorm. A wave of nostalgia washes over her. So much happened last year to change them as a class and to change each one of them as an individual. Kodai has certainly grown in confidence; she was so shy last year, Tsuyu didn’t even know who she was.  Tsuyu doesn’t think her first year self would even recognize the Bakugou that’s walking alongside her now, bringing warm food to a friend going through a rough patch. And Tsuyu’s changed as well.

She’s become more flexible.

The urge to say something that she’s held with her a long time bubbles up and out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry."

Bakugou stops and looks at her funny. “The hell are you apologizing for?”

“That time, last year,” she says. “I didn’t...I didn’t try to save you.”

Bakugou goes quiet. Ambient night sounds - crickets chirping, wind through the tree - feel louder than ever. “I didn’t need you to save me."

“I know. But...I should have. I wasn’t being flexible in my compassion.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen. He looks to the side, thumbs rubbing against the side of the tray. “Don’t - you don’t have to...whatever. Just - just forget about it.”

“I’m not going to. It’ll remind me, the next time I’m faced with that situation, what a hero should do. ”

What is a hero? Someone who shows compassion to people, no matter what that law says.

Bakugou grunts in what she thinks is agreement. “Yeah. Now let’s deliver Nuts and Bolts some fucking soup.”

“I know you know her name is Kodai.”

“Fuck off.”

_________________________

ao3 | based on this hc | more like this

_________________________

[newmoneytrash]

Death Stranding

I had to write about Death Stranding to get this not very good game out of my head and soul

(this has spoilers I guess but honestly who cares)

I was going to wait to play Death Stranding, if I ever even played it at all. I had barely seen any trailers outside of the first couple. I remember seeing them and thinking “this isn’t going to be the crazy, weird experience everyone thinks it’s going to be”. I didn’t think that I knew better than anyone else, or that the people who were excited were stupid to feel that way. I just felt like I could see what it was and knew that, having played the majority of Kojima’s work, that this probably wasn’t going to be the experience that people thought it was going to be.

And I was comfortable with my disinterest, content to know that this thing existed, that I was fine with it existing away from me. But then a week before release when the review embargo lifted and people started posting their impressions and experiences and reviews my interest was piqued in a way that no trailer or announcement had interested me before. It wasn’t the glowing and fawning reviews that drew me to the game, the people who played and loved the game. It was, weirdly, the negative ones that changed me from not having any interest in playing Death Stranding to going to the store on the Friday morning it was released and standing in the rain waiting too long for an Uber so I could get home as fast as possible to start playing.

The reason the negative reviews drew me to the game so much is not because they were negative, it’s not that I was taking some joy in getting to play something that I thought was going to be bad and now I had an opportunity to be vindicated by seeing for myself that it is bad. It was the things that they were negative about that sounded so interesting. The idea that a group of people would spend so much time and effort and money in creating a large premier video game experience where the main crux seemed to be tedium is an inherently fascinating concept.

The kind of elevator pitch descriptor that interested me the most (that was used by people both derisively and positively) was that it was a post-apocalyptic truck simulator. Travelling a dead or dying world as a UPS driver. Mad Max meets King of Queens (that’s a comparison that I made and I’m too proud of it not to use it). What if a development team who made one of the great action games on the last decade (Metal Gear Solid V might be a terribly lacking narrative experience with some frustrating mission design, but the core gameplay is extremely good) and funnelled all of that energy into something intentionally boring and monotonous?

Not only did that help reset my expectations of what this would be, it made me feel excitement for something that I had previously thought I wouldn’t be able to feel excitement or anticipation for.

I spent 40 hours with it over the course of a week. That might not sound like a lot of time in video game speak, but I don’t remember the last time I spent that much time with a game over such a short period of time. Over the first weekend I had it I played for just over 20 hours. Twenty hours. I don’t know if I’ve ever been that focused on a game in my life. But still when I reflect on my time with it, and especially when I try to recall those initial 20 hours which were far and away the most fun I had with the game, I feel nothing. It’s like static, like someone has gone back and just erased that time from my memory.

That’s maybe not entirely fair. I remember general things, just not specific gameplay moments.

I remember the gameplay loop. It’s less a truck simulator game and more of a hiking game, at least initially. And this was appealing to me. You’re slowly traversing across these barren, empty environments delivering packages to and from outposts and shelters. You’re packing a huge amount of garbage on your back and climbing up mountains and down cliffs and wading through rivers. You’re given ropes and ladders to try and ease your journey, and later you’re able to build greater structures like bridges and towers to help you more easily navigate the environment and scout your path ahead. Eventually you’re given access to motorbikes and trucks that can both help and hinder your deliveries, depending on the paths you take and forge. You even get a chance to help rebuild an actual honest to goodness highway, creating it piece by piece by providing an increasing amount of materials to each section. Maybe the greatest accomplishment I felt playing this game was spending a few hours creating large sections of the highway and then getting to just fly down it on a motorbike. It really did feel like I hate created something big, that I not only radically changed the world by creating this, but that I had bettered it.

And there’s there community aspect of the game. Having others donate materials to your structures as well as seeing structures others have built and abandoned vehicles and packages in your world is all really neat and interesting. Everything positive I have to say about this game is wrapped up in these systems, because there is a lot of the game that feels like you’re on a genuine journey. Taking a package over the peak of a snow capped mountain for the first time can feel like a legitimate achievement, it was rewarding just walking from one place to the next. Seeing a bridge helpfully placed in a frustrating location made me feel real gratitude toward that person, and receiving feedback that other people were using and liking things that I had built made me feel good, as if I was paying forward the help that I had received.

For a long time I didn’t even think there would be combat in the game but it gradually increases as you go along and, while it’s never good, it’s still serviceable and easy enough to never really get in the way. The shooting and melee combat feels off, and I might have had a better time if it wasn’t there at all, but a few boss encounters and combat vignettes were interesting and would occasionally help when the monotony of just delivering packages started to grow.

But after 20 hours of this nothing really stood out to me, there’s no one gameplay moment that will stay with me. I won’t reflect on this game and think “wow, remember that one journey I took by following the coastline?” It’s all just a long, sustained blur.

And it’s not that I don’t remember the story or the characters either. Those are all easy to recall. The story is especially easy to recall because, over 40 hours, it’s just basically telling you one thing over and over and over. It’s hard not to recall it, because there is only one thing to recall.

The thing that I was worried about before the game came out was that the story was just going to be a huge mess. Kojima’s games are always functionally good to great, that’s never really been an issue I’ve had with his work, it’s always been the stories he tries to tell and how he tries to tell them. From the first Metal Gear Solid through to The Phantom Pain there are always misgivings I’ve had with character representation, general themes, and just the delivery of that narrative. I know this isn’t a unique position to have regarding his work (sexism and his consistently awful portrayal of women is a pretty famous issue he has, even among his biggest fans), but beyond that I just never felt that anything he was doing was particularly special. They were different and almost always interesting, but a lot of people would like to tell you that Kojima was doing masterful video game storytelling that no one else was capable, that he was single-handedly raising the medium of video games to something as artistically valid and viable as cinema or art. But, to me, he was never doing that. He was making fun and compelling video games, but they were inconsistent and messy and overly verbose and self-righteous.

So my concern was that, now that he was the head of an independent studio that for all intents and purposes answered to no one, he would let that his storytelling get further away from him. In an attempt to prove his level of creativity, maybe to even prove his worth, he was going to put all of his ideas on the table and the result was going to be an indecipherable mess.  When they would release a trailer of a naked Norman Reedus on a beach holding a baby attached to him with an artificial umbilical cord, or Guillermo Del Toro standing in a sewer holding a baby in a jar while Mads Mikkelsen is covered in black tar leading a bunch of skeleton soldiers a lot of people responding with a variant of “wow Kojima is going to make something crazy, this is going to blow my mind”. But all I saw was a giant red flag.

So when I finally experienced the story of Death Stranding I was kind of taken aback. Not by how crazy or nonsensical it is, but by kind of how… boring and one note it is? There isn’t really any room for interpretation in this story. It’s all very, very literal. It tells you how and why things are happening, and if you missed the exposition the first time don’t worry! Here is another twenty minute info dump reiterating the same boring, one note narrative over and over.

The game just tricks you into thinking it’s being more creative than it is because it’s filled with endless jargon. There is timefall, void outs, BTs, BBs, Beaches, repatriates, chiral energy, and extinction entities. Ha and ka. But it’s all in service of creating a world and a narrative that ultimately says nothing, and spends dozens of hours painfully and slowly telling you nothing. It’s borderline torturous.

There is also some high school art level social commentary on social media. Likes are a huge commodity in this world, with people becoming addicted to the feeling you get when they receive one. And instead of having a smart phone or whatever you have Cuff Links, which is a literal pair of handcuffs that, when strapped to your wrist, functions as a way to communicate with people through the Codec or email. Because our phones are a prison, right guys? Pretty deep. In Kojima’s world we truly do live in a society.

But it’s not just the small stuff like that that’s so literal, every part of the game is literal. You’re Sam Porter Bridges, a porter who has a contract with the organisations Bridges, created by someone named Bridget, to create bridges with people across America (both figuratively and literally) to create a network across the continent that will bridge everyone together. Every metaphor and theme in the game is so painfully literal that the game never gives you the opportunity to interpret anything else. The only time there are moments in the game when you don’t know what is happening is when characters start talking about things that you could have no way of knowing about as if you did know about them, but even then these moments of mystery are immediately undone because they always immediately explain the thing that you missed. You will have a cryptic conversation with someone about something you have had no opportunity to deduce or discover on your own, but it never matters because it’s followed up a few minutes later with a flashback or exposition that lays everything out on the table.

Instead of Kojima creating something nonsensical and imaginative and impossible to follow, he managed to make the world’s most shallow metaphor about really nothing in particular. When he said that the game was inspired by Donald Trump and Brexit he meant that it was inspired by the division that these things caused between people and how we need to create Bridges to reconnect with people.

That’s it, that’s the game. That is its message. And it’s not interestingly presented, there’s nothing more to it than that.

One of the podcast conversations I listened to before released (that was largely critical of the game) that drew me toward playing it ended with one of the people saying “It is a game that I think everyone should experience, but not one that I could ever recommend” which is a perfect way of articulating how I feel. It’s a unique experience that does things that a game of its size has never really done before. I don’t think there’s merit in being different for differences’ sake, but this isn’t that. The gameplay is considered and deliberate and purposeful, but that doesn’t mean that it’s fun and it doesn’t negate the parts that are tedious and tiring. Just because you make something boring and annoying on purpose that doesn’t make it good.

If you had asked me six months ago if I think I would like Death Stranding I would have said no. I probably would have qualified it by saying I hope that I was wrong, that I would like it to be good, but that I was probably more likely to hate it.

I didn’t love it, and I don’t like it. I don’t even hate it, but in a weird way I wish that I could. Because then at least I would feel something toward it. Instead Death Stranding leaves me feeling something much, much worse.

It makes me feel nothing.

[voicesfromthelight]

On Free Will, Divination, and Shifting Timelines

I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about the relationship between free will, soul contracts, manifestation, and divination. Not so long ago, when I started doing readings professionally for other people, my spirit guides were fairly reluctant to predict the future, opting instead to focus on patterns going on in people’s present lives. The reason for this was that they were, and still are, adamant about the sanctity of free will, the power of intention, and our ability to mold our futures through them. In light of this, it is perhaps somewhat surprising that a few months ago, for reasons I can only guess at, my channelings began to include mentions of a new guide being assigned to me, whose function was specifically to help me read the future more accurately. Since then, I have noticed a gradual shift in my readings towards including more elements of divination.

The predictions that come through in readings can take a while to manifest in the lives of my clients, who generally only consult with me once or twice, and will therefore usually be given whatever information will serve them best in the long term. Sometimes, the possibility of less auspicious developments is brought up in the interest of helping a client change courses and avoid the suggested outcome. Predictions can also come with a clarification that the events are still taking shape, energetically, and therefore are more likely to change. If a prediction seems too outlandish in light of the client's current reality to be easily assimilated, but is important to be acknowledged, the guides will also sometimes provide evidence of their accuracy by alluding to future events that the client already has planned and is aware of, but I myself have not been informed of before the reading. All in all, everything that is brought through serves the purpose of helping my clients make the best possible decisions, bringing them hope in times of adversity, and healing interpersonal patterns so they can flourish.

The dynamic of readings I do for myself is somewhat different than those done for my clients, and has helped me shed some more light on the way in which free will interacts with the timelines, or trajectories for the future, we set ourselves on with each action we take. Since I talk to my guides daily, I’ve had ample chances to have their predictions confirmed, and get feedback on the shifts in my trajectories almost in real-time. In fact, lately, Salvador, Natalie, and the third, as-of-yet anonymous consciousness have taken upon themselves to regularly guide me through certain situations by describing details of events that then usually unfold over the next couple of days. They often do this in the form of quoting or summarizing conversations in advance, and addressing the ensuing emotional reality along with instructions on how to approach it from the most constructive perspective. While being on the receiving end of this phenomenon, delightful as it is, has been downright bizarre at times - as if I had somehow hacked reality - the wonderful thing about it is that it has helped me anticipate challenging situations, as well as taught me greater patience and compassion. (Perhaps some of you have seen the TV series “Good Omens," based on the work of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, with the book of "nice and accurate prophecies" informing the characters of what is about to happen, down to bafflingly minute detail? Yes, it's a work of brilliant fiction, but that’s actually a bit what my life feels like right now.)

What then, of destiny? Are any of the events in our lives set in stone when we incarnate to this earth?

When we choose to engage in an endeavor, a relationship, an interaction, etc., it can sometimes seem as if certain things that happen have been pre-ordained. I personally believe that we are born with certain encounters that have been planned (soul contracts, if you like), patterns to work through, and purposes to fulfill - or at least something to that effect. However, our ability to create and mold our realities is generally quite broad within this framework. It is how we use this co-creative power in our lives that matters. This is where free will, the choices we make about where to direct our attention, and making decisions based on love rather than fear, come in. For better or worse, we can choose, almost at any time, to take a different path, and delay, repeat or undo elements plotted out for our life experience.

I've come to notice that the shifting of timelines apparent in my personal predictions somewhat paradoxically reinforces what the guides have always said about free will and the malleability of the future. See, when I speak to my guides about upcoming events, the information they bring through will often have both long-term and short-term dimensions to it. However, it's not always easy to tell the difference, as the channelings are filtered through the emotional energy of the moment. Certain shifts that occur in the predictions day-to-day can then seem more final or portentous than they ultimately are. But with each short-term adjustment, the outlook of the long-term trajectory, or timeline, can change. The energy of free will interacting with the world, shaping reality, is constantly in motion.

As a result of this ever-changing energetic transformation, even though the guides will inform me of the long-term trajectories of certain pursuits, the way in which the events play out sometimes seems to contradict what has been said before, only to shift back into alignment with it later on. It seems we have the ability to shift the trajectories we are on amazingly quickly, with each decision we make. The arc that we then perceive as our lives unfold is all a matter of perspective: We can measure our experiences in moments, days, weeks, etc. as we choose, kind of like following a graph showing fluctuations in the stock market over a shorter or longer period of time (if you'll pardon the humdrum comparison).

As a practical example (which must nonetheless be kept somewhat abstract to protect privacy), I recently found myself in a situation in which I was navigating a somewhat volatile relationship with both personal and professional aspects to it. The resulting dynamics were throwing me for a loop. Thus, I found myself often checking in with my guides to make sure I was approaching each development appropriately. Their advice wasn’t always what I expected it to be, nor did we always agree on what exactly was going on, but they never failed to guide me to the best possible results. They seemed to have their own explanations for the higher purpose of our collaboration, and where it was leading, which trumped any superficial changes in the relationship. They assured me all would ultimately be well.

At one point, things came to a bit of a head, and I found myself in a rather heated conflict with this person. Up until then, the guides’ advice had always been to focus on patience with a positive outlook, and to simply ignore any negativity, keeping the long-term picture in mind. But at that moment, I felt I had no choice but to stand up for myself and walk away. Over the course of the previous few days, the tone of the guides’ predictions had suddenly shifted, as if our “plans” - possibly those written into a soul contract - were being canceled, and now, they seemed to be saying, “Put an end to it. Move on.” I felt disappointed. As an empath, my personal boundaries tend to be a little mushier than they should be, and putting my foot down felt uncomfortable. However, I pushed myself, and did what needed to be done, thinking: “Well, that’s it. So much for that project. What a let-down!”

After the ensuing quarrel, I sat down to meditate, feeling sad and frustrated. I decided to spend a while praying for healing and going through the Ho’oponopono process, hoping to dissolve the conflict. As I then shifted my consciousness into channeling mode, I felt an intense physical warmth and gradually strengthening sense of well-being, as if I had more guides around me than usual. When they then came through, they informed me that everything was back on track, and I now had good things to look forward to in the collaboration again. Salvador cheered me on, saying I had learned an important lesson about how to use my anger constructively. Natalie, who has taken to opening channeling sessions with an introductory sentence that always begins with the word, “enjoy,” started this one by saying: “Enjoy studying trouble!” - the implication being that the most important lesson of the day was to understand new spiritual truths around dissolving conflict.

As it turned out, the guides were right. The honest expression of my anger triggered an energetic shift that led to a reconciliation and set us back on course.

Now, whether the guides knew this dramatic course-correction would happen all along, or I had, in fact, shifted long-term timelines with different outcomes several times, is not quite clear to me. Perhaps the frequency of my personal readings had merely created a situation in which I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. What I do know is that a very quick, unexpected shift for the better happened in the trajectory the guides were describing, after I changed my response to certain patterns in the interaction. The prayers and meditations played no small part in this energetic transformation, I think, and working with my guides helped me to understand first-hand just how powerful the process could be.

So, in conclusion, I offer you this. While it is possible to predict the probable future, especially in the short term, if we are not happy with what is being created, we should never feel powerless to shift courses, even if we feel we have to do so on a dime. What future would you like to create for yourself today? Think it, see it, feel it, create it!

[tezla7]

Greta Thunberg speech to MPs at UK Parliament Tue 23rd Apr

My name is Greta Thunberg. I am 16 years old. I come from Sweden. And I speak on behalf of future generations.

I know many of you don’t want to listen to us – you say we are just children. But we’re only repeating the message of the united climate science.

Many of you appear concerned that we are wasting valuable lesson time, but I assure you we will go back to school the moment you start listening to science and give us a future. Is that really too much to ask?

In the year 2030 I will be 26 years old. My little sister Beata will be 23. Just like many of your own children or grandchildren. That is a great age, we have been told. When you have all of your life ahead of you. But I am not so sure it will be that great for us.

I was fortunate to be born in a time and place where everyone told us to dream big; I could become whatever I wanted to. I could live wherever I wanted to. People like me had everything we needed and more. Things our grandparents could not even dream of. We had everything we could ever wish for and yet now we may have nothing.

Now we probably don’t even have a future any more.

Because that future was sold so that a small number of people could make unimaginable amounts of money. It was stolen from us every time you said that the sky was the limit, and that you only live once.

You lied to us. You gave us false hope. You told us that the future was something to look forward to. And the saddest thing is that most children are not even aware of the fate that awaits us. We will not understand it until it’s too late. And yet we are the lucky ones. Those who will be affected the hardest are already suffering the consequences. But their voices are not heard.

Is my microphone on? Can you hear me?

Around the year 2030, 10 years 252 days and 10 hours away from now, we will be in a position where we set off an irreversible chain reaction beyond human control, that will most likely lead to the end of our civilisation as we know it. That is unless in that time, permanent and unprecedented changes in all aspects of society have taken place, including a reduction of CO2 emissions by at least 50%.

And please note that these calculations are depending on inventions that have not yet been invented at scale, inventions that are supposed to clear the atmosphere of astronomical amounts of carbon dioxide.

Furthermore, these calculations do not include unforeseen tipping points and feedback loops like the extremely powerful methane gas escaping from rapidly thawing arctic permafrost.

Nor do these scientific calculations include already locked-in warming hidden by toxic air pollution. Nor the aspect of equity – or climate justice – clearly stated throughout the Paris agreement, which is absolutely necessary to make it work on a global scale.

We must also bear in mind that these are just calculations. Estimations. That means that these “points of no return” may occur a bit sooner or later than 2030. No one can know for sure. We can, however, be certain that they will occur approximately in these timeframes, because these calculations are not opinions or wild guesses.

These projections are backed up by scientific facts, concluded by all nations through the IPCC. Nearly every single major national scientific body around the world unreservedly supports the work and findings of the IPCC.

Did you hear what I just said? Is my English OK? Is the microphone on? Because I’m beginning to wonder.

During the last six months I have travelled around Europe for hundreds of hours in trains, electric cars and buses, repeating these life-changing words over and over again. But no one seems to be talking about it, and nothing has changed. In fact, the emissions are still rising.

When I have been travelling around to speak in different countries, I am always offered help to write about the specific climate policies in specific countries. But that is not really necessary. Because the basic problem is the same everywhere. And the basic problem is that basically nothing is being done to halt – or even slow – climate and ecological breakdown, despite all the beautiful words and promises.

The UK is, however, very special. Not only for its mind-blowing historical carbon debt, but also for its current, very creative, carbon accounting.

Since 1990 the UK has achieved a 37% reduction of its territorial CO2 emissions, according to the Global Carbon Project. And that does sound very impressive. But these numbers do not include emissions from aviation, shipping and those associated with imports and exports. If these numbers are included the reduction is around 10% since 1990 – or an an average of 0.4% a year, according to Tyndall Manchester.

And the main reason for this reduction is not a consequence of climate policies, but rather a 2001 EU directive on air quality that essentially forced the UK to close down its very old and extremely dirty coal power plants and replace them with less dirty gas power stations. And switching from one disastrous energy source to a slightly less disastrous one will of course result in a lowering of emissions.

But perhaps the most dangerous misconception about the climate crisis is that we have to “lower” our emissions. Because that is far from enough. Our emissions have to stop if we are to stay below 1.5-2C of warming. The “lowering of emissions” is of course necessary but it is only the beginning of a fast process that must lead to a stop within a couple of decades, or less. And by “stop” I mean net zero – and then quickly on to negative figures. That rules out most of today’s politics.

The fact that we are speaking of “lowering” instead of “stopping” emissions is perhaps the greatest force behind the continuing business as usual. The UK’s active current support of new exploitation of fossil fuels – for example, the UK shale gas fracking industry, the expansion of its North Sea oil and gas fields, the expansion of airports as well as the planning permission for a brand new coal mine – is beyond absurd.

This ongoing irresponsible behaviour will no doubt be remembered in history as one of the greatest failures of humankind.

People always tell me and the other millions of school strikers that we should be proud of ourselves for what we have accomplished. But the only thing that we need to look at is the emission curve. And I’m sorry, but it’s still rising. That curve is the only thing we should look at.

Every time we make a decision we should ask ourselves; how will this decision affect that curve? We should no longer measure our wealth and success in the graph that shows economic growth, but in the curve that shows the emissions of greenhouse gases. We should no longer only ask: “Have we got enough money to go through with this?” but also: “Have we got enough of the carbon budget to spare to go through with this?” That should and must become the centre of our new currency.

Many people say that we don’t have any solutions to the climate crisis. And they are right. Because how could we? How do you “solve” the greatest crisis that humanity has ever faced? How do you “solve” a war? How do you “solve” going to the moon for the first time? How do you “solve” inventing new inventions?

The climate crisis is both the easiest and the hardest issue we have ever faced. The easiest because we know what we must do. We must stop the emissions of greenhouse gases. The hardest because our current economics are still totally dependent on burning fossil fuels, and thereby destroying ecosystems in order to create everlasting economic growth.

“So, exactly how do we solve that?” you ask us – the schoolchildren striking for the climate.

And we say: “No one knows for sure. But we have to stop burning fossil fuels and restore nature and many other things that we may not have quite figured out yet.”

Then you say: “That’s not an answer!”

So we say: “We have to start treating the crisis like a crisis – and act even if we don’t have all the solutions.”

“That’s still not an answer,” you say.

Then we start talking about circular economy and rewilding nature and the need for a just transition. Then you don’t understand what we are talking about.

We say that all those solutions needed are not known to anyone and therefore we must unite behind the science and find them together along the way. But you do not listen to that. Because those answers are for solving a crisis that most of you don’t even fully understand. Or don’t want to understand.

You don’t listen to the science because you are only interested in solutions that will enable you to carry on like before. Like now. And those answers don’t exist any more. Because you did not act in time.

Avoiding climate breakdown will require cathedral thinking. We must lay the foundation while we may not know exactly how to build the ceiling.

Sometimes we just simply have to find a way. The moment we decide to fulfil something, we can do anything. And I’m sure that the moment we start behaving as if we were in an emergency, we can avoid climate and ecological catastrophe. Humans are very adaptable: we can still fix this. But the opportunity to do so will not last for long. We must start today. We have no more excuses.

We children are not sacrificing our education and our childhood for you to tell us what you consider is politically possible in the society that you have created. We have not taken to the streets for you to take selfies with us, and tell us that you really admire what we do.

We children are doing this to wake the adults up. We children are doing this for you to put your differences aside and start acting as you would in a crisis. We children are doing this because we want our hopes and dreams back.

I hope my microphone was on. I hope you could all hear me.

[mackenzie-wolf]

I’m Here all Week p.7

Emily stood perfectly still, trying her best to comprehend what James had just told her. Her fingers were laced in to her belt loops as she tried to wrack her brain for a response, but before she could give one, James spoke again.

"Emily, I understand that you may not have realised exactly how I feel about you; but I can't just ignore it anymore. I don't know if you feel the same way, as for now I don't think I want to. Just, please, take some time to think about what I've said. I know for certain how I feel but that shouldn't put any pressure on you. If you want to, I'll be up for most of the night going through the papers I was given today, if you want to talk about maybe seeing where this goes, just knock. Either way, you should know that I do enjoy your company, as a friend above all else. Please don't think that this means you need to make a decision to be with me or lose me entirely. I would never want that to happen."

The two of them shared a silence before Emily pulled James in to a tight hug that, if she weren't half the size of him, would certainly have taken the air from his lungs. James retreated to his room and the two were separated again. Emily flopped down on to her bed as her mind buzzed with the events of the confusing afternoon she had just been through. She looked over at the door that, just moments ago, James was stood by; confessing his feelings towards her. She hadn't expected it. Granted, she and James had flirted in the past, but not to a level she thought had indicated a genuine interest. As for that night at MacKenzie's, Emily could hardly remember it at all. In retrospect, she couldn't have asked for better company that night. For a brief moment, she could have been in real danger. Luckily, James Ashton was not the type of man to take advantage, which, albeit sadly, made him one of the good few.

As she tried to get into a comfortable position, Emily pulled a pillow closer and noticed it smudged with the gothic makeup Kaitlyn had been wearing. Her mind drifted to last night as she held Kaitlyn in her arms. Feeling her ribs move softly with each deep breath while she slept, Emily had spent most of the night in awe of the beautiful girl that had decided to join her. Even if it was just for plutonic company. She let out a heavy sigh as she felt her headache creeping back. With a determined aire, Emily jumped from the bed and started to get ready for the evening. A hard afternoon could be easily forgotten if done right.

Emily made her way downstairs. The dress she was wearing was less classy than the last. The low cut neckline of it was hemmed red over the black dress. It fit her beautifully and hung near her upper thighs. Though it looked as though she was dressed to be seen, Emily sadly just didn't have a lot of options as far as dresses were concerned. She walked to the function room that was already pounding with music, not live but played over the speakers to create the atmosphere before the band took to the stage. Emily walked through the darkened room and it wasn't long before her look caught the attention of a few pairs of eyes. Making a beeline for the bar so she could sit and wait for the band to begin, she was suddenly stopped by a heavy set man who looked as though he was in his mid 40s.

"hi sweetheart..." he slurred."Here alone?" the very sound of the question made Emily's skin crawl.

"No I'm...." she began, defensively.

"Well I don't see anyone with you..." he chuckled, somehow making himself seem even more off-putting."Dance with me. You look like you're a great..." he was interrupted by Emily being lifted off of the ground by a pair of large strong arms.

"Hey Emily, you made it! I ordered you your regular drink at the bar." zig's voice spoke out behind her. Instantly, she felt safer and wrapped her arms around zig's neck in effort to look closer to him.

"Zig, you scared me" she giggled as she planted a small kiss to his cheek.

"I'm sorry baby, did I interrupt your talk with...." he trailed off, signalling to the large man stood in front of them.

"No. I was just about to tell him my boyfriend was coming to meet me here."

"And here I am" he winked slyly.

"Here you are" she said with a warm smile, silently thanking zig for removing her from the other mans interest.

As the two of them walked over to the bar, Emily watched as zig tied the white apron around his waist before taking his place behind the bar. He took a small glass and picked up the bottle of Jameson's, looking at Emily questioningly.

"I think I'll take something sweeter and less pain inducing this time zig" she said, shaking her head slightly at the sight of the green bottle in his hand.

"I've got just the thing..." he turned around and made a show of moving a lot of bottles, shaking a mixer, adding ice and lime zest. Whatever he was doing out of Emily's view looked intricate and complicated. As he turned around, he held a glass of amber liquid that shone under the colored lights of the room. Placing a napkin on the bar and setting the glass on top, he slid it across to Emily who picked it up, looking at it quizzically.

"This looks like whiskey" she laughed.

"Exactly! It's for whiskey drinkers who don't want to drink whiskey but don't want to lose their aesthetic." he smirked.

Emily took a small sip as if to test the strength of the drink. "Zig...."

"Yes Emily?"

"This is apple juice..." she said, trying to contain her smile.

"Excuse me? I'll have you know its apple juice that was lightly heated with brown sugar stirred in to it and combated with lime zest."

"Ohhh. Fancy apple juice." she said, trying not to laugh hysterically.

"Damn straight it is" he winked. As he went to speak again, he was cut off by the feedback of the microphone. Emily looked over to the stage to see Rachel, Amara and Annisa setting up their equipment and adjusting the microphone stand. Her eyes searched the stage for Kaitlyn but she couldn't see her among the girls.

"Hey zig...." Emily began. Zig put his hands up and shook his head with a smile.

"I may be stuck behind the bar but I can see pretty well from here Emily..." she looked at him questioningly."What I mean is, go find her. It's the singer you're looking for, right?"

Emily gave a weak laugh before reaching over to gently brush zig's arm. "Thank you zig. For everything."

"Don't mention it Emily... I'm serious, don't go spreading around that I'm the kind and caring type. I have a reputation to uphold." he winked before sending her off in to the crowd that was now starting to clump around the stage. She made her way through the sea of people who were bouncing excitedly in anticipation of the band starting. Emily had made it to the front and had a great view of the stage; but still, Kaitlyn was nowhere to be seen. Her view was obstructed again when a pair of hands slipped over her eyes. Emily froze in place, nervous to say a word to the stranger behind her.

"Hi Milly. Guess who." her accent was like warm honey as Emily drank in the sound of the soft voice being spoken less than an inch from her ear.

"Hmmmm... no idea" she said nonchalantly. The hands moved from Emily's face and down to her hip, quickly spinning her around. "Oh my god..." Emily said with mock surprise. "Kaitlyn! Who'd have thought it could be you?!" she winked.

"What gave me away?" she asked as she stared in to Emily's eyes.

"You mean besides everything?" she giggled.

"Yeah besides that"

"I guess I was just hoping it was you" Emily said softly into Kaitlin's ear. Kaitlyn stammered, unsure of what to say back. Before she had a chance, the two of them caught sight of Annisa waving Kaitlyn to join them on stage.

"I've got to go... wait here for me ok?" she said with a timid expression.

"Sure thing" Emily beamed at her.

As with the night before, the band was amazing. Song after song gaining more cheers than the last. The crowd loved them and it was easy to see why. As Emily danced she locked eyes with Kaitlyn who seemed to only be singing to her. The air between them was electric. Emily could feel the fire in Kaitlin's look as she danced in front of her. The red and black dress moving fluidly as her hand moved over her body. She was sure for just a moment that she heard Kaitlyn stutter a word or two as she watched.

In what seemed like no time at all the band were playing their last song. Emily looked up at Kaitlyn who was moving to the slower melody as she sang. She leaned on the barricade that separated her from the stage and looked up at the beautiful girl in front of her. The last few lines of the song made Emily smile as she had a feeling that they were meant only for her.

"What's the point in love if it's just heartache?

What's the point of happy when it makes you ache?

But still there's still those ten words that I can't shake...

You'll miss all of the shots that you don't take."

With that she winked at Emily before leaning back into the mic. "Thank you everyone who came out tonight! We're Suicide Notes and we're here all week."

Practically jumping down from the stage, Kaitlyn bounded through the fans the gushed as she passed them. Within seconds she was face to face with Emily, taking her hand and holding it to her lips as she pressed a small kiss to her knuckles.

"So... shows over..." Kaitlyn said with a wry smile.

"So it is..." Emily said, trying her best to mask her obvious blush.

"You... wanna get out of here?" Kaitlyn asked nervously.

"As it so happens, I do" Emily said back giddily.

"Music to my ears" Kaitlyn winked, causing Emily to roll her eyes heavily. The two of them ran through the lobby and up the stairs, not even bothering to take the time to wait for the elevator. As they made it to her floor, Emily pulled Kaitlyn along by her arm. They passed James' door first and Emily noticed the thin line of warm light that was shining underneath it. Moving a few more step towards her room, she slipped the key card in to the door and opened it slightly before turning back to face Kaitlyn. The thoughts of what James had said earlier resonated in her mind. She searched Kaitlin's eyes and said in a soft tone; "Kaitlyn... are you sure... about this? About us?" She hadn't expected to sound so nervous, but something about Kaitlyn was cutting right through her, taking down every defence that she had set up around herself.

Kaitlyn gripped the handle of the door and pushed it open, leading Emily in to the dark room.

"Come on..." she said flirtatiously."I'll show you how a rockstar trashes a hotel room."

The door closed behind them as they were enveloped by the darkness.

[shigookocanblog-blog]

Steps to Independent Music Success

1. Do not view signing to a record label as your ultimate goal.

Many people view signing to a record company as the ultimate goal. Every action they take is for that moment and all must be done in order to reach that goal. What if the outcome isn’t achieved? Does that mean that everything you have done up until that point was a waste of your time?

Record deals shouldn't be something you need, but they are something that could come out of your efforts. If you are interested in achieving more real-world success, like a record deal or extra income, then that is a good thing. You're more likely than not to be satisfied with different levels of success and you'll enjoy music more.

2. Spend less and make more.

You aren't signed to a major label so I would guess that the money you use to fund your music comes from your pocket. It may seem obvious, but the more you release your music, the more people will buy it. While I don't recommend being cheap or skimpy when it comes to music presentation, quality is very important. To find cheaper alternatives, think outside of the box. Perhaps a relative or friend is a photographer and will take your photos at no cost or at a reduced rate. You might be able to get a professionally designed album cover or promotional artwork for free from an up-and-coming designer who is looking for work for their portfolio. Don't be afraid to think outside the box.

3. Create Links

You can't make it in the music business if you have only talent. These people will be your links as you progress. While some will be more valuable than others, you should treat them with respect and let them know how much you appreciate their efforts. It is crucial to build the right connections. One good link can open doors for you and allow you to perform alongside the greatest stars in the world.

4. Accept rejection.

Everyone is trying to make it happen in the music industry. You'll find that not everyone is willing to help you when you try to create links or make things happen. This is normal. This is normal. While you will want to make it bigger, there are going to be many people who are just starting out or lower than you trying to help them. Someone in this position would not be able to respond to all emails or help everyone. You can approach people in any way you like, but don't be offended if they don't respond. Music is not for you if you are unable to handle rejection.

5. Every project should have a goal. (Targets).

Music should always have a goal. What are you trying to accomplish by releasing this CD? What are your goals for the music video? How much revenue do you hope to earn from it? How will it benefit you if you offer your fans a free copy? These are just a few of the questions you will need to ask throughout your career in music. If you don't have a positive answer, it's probably not worth doing.

6. Regular feedback is welcome.

To see how to download free, you need feedback. You can learn from others and see what you have missed. It is important to not ask the same person every time. Your sound and business plan will become too familiar and they won’t be able give as much feedback. You also need to make sure that the people who are giving you feedback are honest. If she doesn't like your style of music, it's pointless asking her what she thinks. She will tell you everything is good to keep your feelings from being hurt. This brings me to my next point.

7. Accept criticism.

It's something I've seen so many times that people ask me "What do your thoughts of my song?" The reply is "I didn’t like it because x–y-z” and the original artist gets defensive or tells them that they don’t know what they’re talking about. WHY ARE YOU QUESTIONING IN THE FIRST PLACE? If the criticism is constructive and comes from someone who knows the music you play, then you should at least try to understand what they are saying. If you hear a lot of negative feedback, you should admit that you aren't doing well and work to correct the issues. It's worth it to learn from it, even if it causes you some ego damage.

8. 8. Analyze your success and capitalize on it.

It is important to constantly analyze how your music career is progressing. What is working well and what isn't? What other things can I do to make it work? You must build upon your discoveries. To make the craze even more popular, you might consider creating a Devon section on your website if you discover that you have a large fan base in Devon. You could also try doing some shows there. Whatever your case may be, discover the area where you are having success and capitalize on that. You can then use this information to promote in other areas, such as 'Mr. Musically Talent #1' (as seen at Devon's largest music events).

9. Realistic.

You shouldn't expect to be enjoying cocktails in Hawaii by next year. The music industry can be difficult and slow to enter. Many people fail to reach their goals and give up.

Music should be something you love. Music will frustrate those who are only interested in making money but don't see the results they desire. Music should not be seen as a way to make big money. It should be enjoyed for its own sake. It's great if you can make it financially secure. It's not easy to quit your job and make music a career.

10. Keep it going.

Many people make the same mistake: They put all their effort and focus on one project or CD. They spend over a year making sure that everything is perfect, and then they release it with a lot of success. People expect more. People don't want to wait for another year and half before they get their next CD. By then, they will be completely out of the loop and ready to focus on the next big thing. Keep something going! You can give away a free download every few months, perform at shows, or release a mini mixtape before your next album. Whatever it is, you need to be in the spotlight. It's hard for people not to remember who you are.

[thematildaeffect]

Caption: Tera and Christine (both smiling) at the East Bay Zine Fest, Dec 2017

An Interview With Christine Liu of Two Photon Art and The Stem Squad

In the cultural imagination, science and art are opposing fields, with no overlap in techniques or practitioner. But Christine Liu, a fourth-year graduate student studying neuroscience in the Lammel lab at UC Berkeley, is proof of just how wrong this stereotype is. Using techniques like optogenetics, which allows scientists to turn “on” and “off” genetically-modified neurons and ion channels with light, she studies how nicotine addiction changes the brain, probing what neural cell populations are responsible for the positive and negative feedback loops associated with nicotine. As accomplished outside of the lab as she is in it, Liu is the co-founder, along with Tera Johnson, of the Two Photon Art collective. The two make beautiful and informative zines about scientific topics ranging from volcanoes to prosopagnosia, or face blindness. Liu also created the social media collective, which currently boasts a Facebook group and Instagram page, “The Stem Squad,” a place for women working in, and interested in, STEM to come together, support each other, and connect with others in their field. Because of her prowess in science and art, Liu was a runner-up in the Search for Hidden Figures contest. Liu was kind enough to sit down with me, and talk to me about her work with the Two Photon Art Collective and The Stem Squad (questions and answers have been edited for clarity).

Soleil: Could you tell me a little bit about your background in science, and how you got interested in neuroscience specifically? Were you always sort of drawn to the field or did you come to it after a certain experience?

Christine: I started getting really into neuroscience my senior year of high school. People were trying to figure out what college they wanted to go to, what major they wanted to pursue, and I was always good at science but I never sort of saw myself as a scientist. I was gifted a few books by friends, one of which was the Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat by Oliver Sacks, as well as The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge. Usually, even today, I’ll read about 3/4ths of a book, and I just won’t be able to bring myself to finish it. For some reason, I’ll get bored of it. But these were two books that really stuck with me, especially the idea that our brain is involved in the control of our lives, and that missing even just a small chunk of it can alter a human’s ability to go through life the same way that others do. I ended up going to University of Oregon, which has a very robust neuroscience research core, and I was able to start doing neuroscience just a few months into my freshman year and I haven’t stopped since. I feel very lucky I was able to start doing research so early in a field I love. I just kind of stumbled upon it; it was never really a mission of mine. Even going to pursue my Ph.D. wasn’t really a mission either; it just seemed like the next logical step.

S: What does science-art means to you? What are you trying to accomplish with the art you do?

C: Fundamentally, art for me is something that takes the pressure off of other aspects of my life. Its something I really enjoy doing.  Even before I started Two Photons with Tera, I really enjoyed going home after a long day in lab and painting. My friend Tera, who I met doing a summer research program, and I do Two Photon Art together. It’s grown very organically based on who we are. We’re both women of color who do research and science, but didn’t always grow up being fed this (kind of) information. Science was never something I saw myself doing necessarily, which I think might be because I never had much access to this world until I became a part of it serendipitously. One of the main goals we have is to increase access to science, especially for people who don’t really identify with it. There’s this dichotomy that people often fall into that you’re either creative and artsy or you’re analytical and scientific, and oftentimes people put themselves into one box and forget to explore other sides of them. Sooner or later people forget they have that capability. So some of the work we try to do is to remind people you can be both, and you can be proud of both. We try to choose interesting topics that will reel people in who wouldn’t normally be interested, or might be intimidated by science. We make pins because of a slightly selfish motive. We were getting really active in a zine community full of artists and creative people who get to wear their passion on their sleeve. A lot of them screen print their own t-shirts, or wear enamel pins of stuff that they love. There wasn’t a lot (of enamel pins) for science, so we created them. Really, the fundamental thing is that we do the art for ourselves, but we’ve found a lot of opportunities along the way to make science a little more inclusive and welcoming to other people.

S: What was the first thing you guys created together?

C: It was the volcanoes zine, because we were in Nicaragua (together) where there are tons of volcanoes. We were hiking on volcanoes, and we were swimming in lakes with volcanic ash all over them, and we took the opportunity to be where we were and to try to disseminate the information we were learning a little more widely. We’ve grown a lot since then in terms of citing our sources, and formatting and illustration, so it’s kind of fun to look back at that one. We were just doing it for fun, and wanted to find a way to keep in touch with each other, and a driving force to hold us accountable in making art. We started it for fun, so we’ll stop doing it if it’s not fun anymore.

S: Could you tell me a little about how you started The Stem Squad, and what exactly you’ve done with it so far? How does one get involved with it?

C: So I’ll start with your last point, I would love for you to join the group. We have an Instagram page where we have the most followers, but most of the support we have occurs in the Facebook group, which has almost 800 members now. It started because I started to get more active on Instagram, with my personal account and with the Two Photon account, and I noticed that there were a handful of really expressive, honest, women in STEM who were telling the stories of their lives, and who were unafraid to embrace their femininity. I thought that was such a cool community that I really wanted to be a part of and foster connections with. We made a Facebook group, and people started inviting their own friends, and we made an Instagram page. With the Instagram page, we let people in the community take over for a week and post whatever they want about their work, their background, and it’s just grown exponentially over time. It’s really amazing. It's a very organic, pure kind of community. I don’t have to do anything to advertise it. It’s just grown from people who stumbled upon it and found that they really want to be apart of it, and there’s very little that I have to do in terms of administration to keep things caring and kind, because people in the group are so intrinsically nice and supportive and creative. I always feel weird when people give me credit for founding it, because all I did was name it and create a logo for it, but really it’s all the people inside it that do all of the work. Anyone can join, anyone who identifies as a woman, or a girl, or female in science and STEM, especially if they are interested in joining a caring community and providing resources for others as well.

S: I really like the way that you talk about it, it seems very caring, and the way you guys center care is very nice, especially since science is seen in some ways, I guess correctly, as kind of this one-man, often white, for themselves, hypercompetitive world. Community can be such an important starting point in so many things

C: Absolutely. I didn't realize how much I needed this community until I had it. It’s been really amazing seeing all the beautiful things that have come to fruition from this community. Tons of people meet up that found each other through the group. People who have started podcasts have found guests through the group, and everyone is really in there to support each other. It’s a community founded on support and collaboration, and there’s no place for competition at all. This is a place we want to be safe and free to talk about things that might be taboo to talk about elsewhere. This is just how women in STEM want to interact with each other; it’s full of love.

S: Are you working on anything in particular right now?

C: We are always working on like 3 things at a time. It’s actually pretty overwhelming because we have so many ideas, and we can’t wait to get them done, and sometimes people approach us with things we just can’t pass (up on). So one zine we are really close to being done with is a collaboration with an artist called Natelle Draws Stuff, and she does a lot of enamel pins and will donate some of the proceeds to conservation efforts. We are making a zine with her called “Same Difference”, which is about convergent and divergent evolution, and why we see so many kinds of animals that fly, but also why closely related animals have evolved different functions.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

If you want to learn more about Christine Liu and the art and science she does, check out her Twitter and her webpage. To learn more about her and Tera’s zine collective, check out Two Photon Art’s webpage and Patreon/Etsy.

[wannabeagrunklefan]

Fic: Fire and Freedom

Pairing: Stancest Rating: PG-13 for language and some implied sexy times, I guess ^^; Author’s Notes: Circus AU! This was written for the Stancest Discord server’s  scavenger hunt. I just wanted to say a quick shout out to my very talented teammates for making this event so fun and for being so kind! You’re all brilliant and I was so inspired by your lovely writing and art! :D And a hearty thank you to my beta team @yehvaru and @reinstotheworld, who made this legible! I know you’re both really busy, so it really touched me that you made time to look over my story and give me some feedback and encouragement. You two are the absolute best and I adore you both to the moon and back! :D <3

The link to this fic on AO3 can be found here.

                “Little shit!”

                Carla sighed heavily, eyes rolled up to the ceiling as if seeking divine patience. “Stanley, don’t start-”

                “‘He’s cheating! He’s behind a curtain! ANYONE could have got him out! You think that’s a good trick?’” Her companion continued on with his tirade in a squeaky, off-key parody of what she assumed was meant to be a child, if the child in question sounded like a leaky bike tire.

                 A leaky bike tire with a serious chain smoking problem.

                “Seriously, kid?” He continued arguing with his imaginary, tiny antagonist, weaving haphazardly through the throng of performers backstage preparing for their acts to start. Carla heaved a frustrated breath as she attempted to keep up, neatly dodging some acrobats and coming dangerously close to Ms. Petunia’s prized, trained poodle, Rex, earning her a vicious glare from the older woman. “Anyone could have gotten me outta handcuffs and a locked tank of water in the middle of a giant, empty stage?? The entire point is that I escape on my own!”

                “To be fair, the tank’s not really sealed as tightly as it looks, though,” Carla couldn’t help but point out, trying to take the wind out of his sails before he made it clear across the Atlantic Ocean fueled on spite alone.

                It seemed to work slightly, as far as distractions went, as Stanley’s steps did slow somewhat. “I know that, and you know that, but that’s not the point,” he growled, punctuating the end of his sentence with a few vicious stabs in the air with a pointer finger. “My job is to create an illusion that inspires ‘wonder’ and ‘the inner child’, and that real child is being a real asshole!”

                “Yeah, I see what you mean,” Carla replied dryly. “What child wouldn’t experience a sense of wonder watching a happy-go-lucky guy like you answer their innocent question with a ‘Bite me, kid!’?”

                Her companion narrowed his eyes in a mockingly fierce glare and put indignant hands on his hips as his body relaxed into a more playful posture. Bull-headed as Stan was, at least he could concede the point when he was being ridiculous. In his own, silent way, of course. “Yanno what? You can bite me too, Carla.”

                “Been there, done that, sugar,” she replied, patting him lightly on the shoulder as he grinned. She wrinkled her nose for effect as she added, “never again.”

                He burst into laughter, resting a hand over his heart. “You break my heart, McCorkle! Just like you did that night when you left me fer some clown!”

                She immediately shoved him in frustration, forcing more laughter out of him. “NO! It wasn’t funny the first fifty-thousand times you made that joke, and it isn’t funny now! Ugh, I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. Where’s your brother? Why isn’t he suffering you like the rest of us? FORD!” She yelled at a nearby camper, their original destination (Stanley’s destination was always Stanford), and relished the violent tremor that ran through it as she had no doubt startled Ford out of a deep focus.

                One chair scrape and several heavy, booted steps later, and the door to the RV swung open, revealing Ford’s perplexed face and emitting a faint scent of chemicals. He quirked a brow in Carla’s direction. “You bellowed?”

                She frowned at his word choice and crossed her arms defiantly, pointedly ignoring the sniggering coming from the manchild behind her. “You’re a fire tamer, right?”

                His brows scrunched together in a mild frown as he thought the question over. “I suppose you could call it that. But I prefer to say I work with fire-”

                “Deal with this,” she interrupted, grabbing a handful of Stan’s sleeve and dragging him over to his brother. “There was a rowdy kid and now he’s all riled up, and if you don’t take him now I’ll throw a knife at him and I can’t guarantee I’ll miss.”

                Stanford rolled his eyes as he stepped back to allow Stanley entry. “I’ll deal with it, but I can’t promise it’ll stay dealt with,” he countered, leaping back as Stanley laid a comically exaggerated and loud kiss to his cheek. “AGH! Stanley, what the hell?” he yelped, rubbing a hand up and down his cheek, face flushed and lips twisted into a grimace when his hand passed over saliva.

                “Thanks, bro,” Stanley said as he made his way cheerfully into their shared space. “I feel so loved!”

                Ford turned back to Carla, his expression deadpan. “Run, while you still can.”

                She laughed and punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

                “Oh, and Carla?” Stanley popped up over Ford’s shoulder, and that’s when Carla realized she had to leave now.

                “Gotta go, Stan! Talk to you later, ok?” she called over her shoulder as she swiftly turned around and began making her escape.

                “Oh! Ok. Could you just thank Thistle for me when you see ‘im?”

                …Damn him and damn her curiosity straight to hell. She turned around with what she hoped was an effective warning look. “Thank him for what?”

               Stan quickly held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa! Hey! No need fer that! I just genuinely wanted to thank him for helpin’ me put away all my props ‘n stuff yesterday.”

               Carla could feel her shoulders returning to their more relaxed positions. That was actually… “…Thanks, Stan. I’ll tell him you said that.”

               He smiled. “No problem, Carla. I just wanted to make sure he knew I appreciated his kind jester.”

               There’s no way of knowing for sure, but it was generally accepted by everyone at the circus that day that the ensuing, aggrieved shriek could be heard the next city over.

               “We’re going to need hearing aids soon if you keep winding her up like that.”

               Stanley grinned mischievously from his place against the wall as he watched his twin fiddle around with his latest fuel-concoction. “That was a good one, wasn’t it? Even better than I hoped for!”

               Ford shook his head in exasperation as he continued with his work. “I honestly don’t know what you hope to achieve by bothering that poor girl. Didn’t she suffer enough as your girlfriend?”

              Stan barked out a laugh and pushed off the wall, coming over to Ford to wrap a hand around one shoulder as he leaned over the other to observe his twin’s progress. “Yanno, I’d clock you a good one fer that remark if it wasn’t dripping with jealousy.” He glanced to the side to look for Ford’s reaction and – there! A quick spasm of fingers around the beaker he was holding, a slight quiver of a pipette in a suddenly unsteady hand and a jaunty bounce of an Adam’s apple were all Stan’s to cherish; small pieces of evidence of his twin’s affection that he could collect like an emotional magpie, decorating his life with pieces of love and hoarding the warmth they brought him.

              “Who’s jealous?” Ford asked, in the most chalant-nonchalant sort of way. Stanley hoped he wasn’t sincerely trying to sound unaffected, because that would mean his brother was the worst liar in history and bullshit was basically their trade, so…not a good combination. “I just meant that perhaps you should…ease up a little. No person should be screaming that much, that regularly.”

               “No?” Stan asked casually, plucking the beaker and pipette out of Ford’s hands and setting them down safely out of harm’s way, as Ford avidly stared at the side of his head. “You couldn’t see any advantages to screaming loudly on a regular basis?” He continued his line of questioning, pulling out the chair Ford is sitting in and sitting down in the newly created space of his twin’s lap. He looped his arms around Ford’s neck, grinning in triumph as he felt strong hands grip his hips, some stray fingers slipping under his shirt and coming to a stop to lightly caress the skin underneath. He licked his lips as he gazed into brilliant, warm brown eyes, so much more vibrant and arresting than his own. “No fringe benefits, at all?”

               He watched Ford’s eyes shift from side to side - searching for something, it looked like. The inner workings of Ford’s mind often eluded him. Whatever it was, he must’ve found it, because the firm, stiff line of his mouth softened and melted into a charmingly lazy grin and the feather-light caresses began to move downward with intent. “Well, Carla was certainly right about one thing. You are riled up, aren’t you?”

               Stan grinned devilishly, bringing one hand up to run through Ford’s curly locks, pausing every so often to deliver light, teasing scratches to his scalp. “You bet. She seemed to think that you should deal with me.” Here he grabbed a mass of hair, pulling Ford’s head back. Ford went willingly, offering his throat in its entirety to his brother. “What do you think about that?”

               “I’m not sure,” Ford admitted, looking up at the ceiling. “I’ve never really done well trying to force fire to bend to my will, as I’m sure you remember.” Stan responded with a non-committal hum and a light caress to a pale, pink patch of skin on his brother’s throat. “As I mentioned earlier, my best work seems to come when I treat the fire with respect. Like a partner.” He flicked his eyes down in an attempt to meet Stan’s despite the awkward angle.

               Stan considered him briefly, laid out and submissive beneath him, before throwing aside the façade and finally giving into temptation, bending forward to kiss, lick and suck at every inch of skin he could reach. His twin came alive immediately, hands coming up and grasping at Stan’s shoulders for purchase as he gasped and moaned his pleasure, completely losing himself in the moment.

               It was times like these, here in this narrow world where he and Ford were the only things in existence, that Stanley felt like everything slotted into place. Where he could slowly, carefully free his brother from all the invisible trappings of the world outside and celebrate his freedom, celebrate Ford. It was always his most thrilling escape, and when he succeeded it brought him more pride and joy than hundreds of locked tank performances could ever touch.

               Every soft gasp was like the rattle of a loosening chain, every moan the click of a lock springing open under his hands. Every desperate plea was like the awed gasps of an enthralled crowd and every call of his name the thunderous applause of a phantom audience. With Ford he reached new heights and it was with Ford that he achieved some of his greatest accomplishments.

               When they were together, he received some of Ford’s magic too. Every light caress trailed fire along his nerve-endings, and every kiss seared into him like a brand. Ford’s intense gaze lit a fire in his gut and his fierce embrace was scalding enough to melt away the outside fears and anxieties that plagued him while leaving his heart and soul feeling blissfully warm.

              Together they were two fires that burned brightly, twining and melting into one another to become an intimidating force of nature. Together, they broke locks and rent chains asunder, lifting each other to previously unattainable heights where they could soar in their freedom.

              Together, the future was bright.

              Together, they made the impossible possible.