#like nothing good is happening in the community its just spiraling down a cliff

[azurine-cryptid]

bruh every time i hear news about fucking scp its always some bullshit

this community is cursed i swear

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (1/ 3-ish)

Title: An Experimental Design By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 2739 Distribution: AO3  Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts.  Takes place about a week after that fic.

Chapter 1: Far

Chapter Summary: Peggy��s at a nine, and Steve’s nowhere to be found.

Chapter A/N: You absolutely have to read “What Number?” to understand anything going on in this. Steggy Bingo Bash Prompt “Chester Phillips.” There will probably be about 3-4 chapters in this story. Not entirely sure yet.

~*~

Peggy marched through the halls of the SSR, gritting her teeth tight. She was at a nine, a high strung, desperate nine, but there was nothing to be done for it.

She’d tried, on her own, last night, but her own hands didn’t temper the pain and she couldn’t get herself off while the agony seared through her.

He’d asked her, before he went, if she wanted him to stay. She regretted her decision, now. She’d never gone more than eight hours since that fateful day when he took her from the Hydra base and his touch soothed every inch of her.

The mission had been simple: in and out with a high value target that was looking to defect in six hours or less.

They’d lost contact with the Commandos around hour eight.

It had been twenty-two hours since she’d touched him, and every cell in her body was screaming.

She stopped, gripping the doorway of the communications room as she leaned in. “Any word yet, Private?”

The young man at the console turned, his face stoic. “Not yet, Ma’am.”

She nodded moving along, missing the cold metal of the doorframe in her hand. The bunker was all cinderblock and metal and cool dirt floors and she was about ready to roll herself along one just to get some relief.

Steve hadn’t let her get to a nine in weeks and she had forgotten just quite how painful it could get. He could see the way her eye jumped, the way she hid it from everyone else, long before she got to her nine, and never hesitated to act.

~*~

“You’re sure?” He asked softly, his chest pressed against hers.

She leaned back, sitting on his knees. Straddling him had its advantages, especially when they had nearly no clothes left on. She ran her hands down his chest. “Six hours. Eight if it gets bad? Longest we’ve had to wait is twelve and I only made it to an eight then. I can make it.”

He shook his head, concerned at the ‘stiff upper lip’ she was giving him. “Peggy?”

She let the façade fall, sighing. “We have to try. If I can’t survive you going on missions then we have to talk to Howard.” She shook her head. “As much as I like all this, if I literally can’t exist on my own without touching you…”

He brushed her hair back from her face, forcing her to look up at him. “You know how I feel about getting help with this.”

“And I appreciate very much that you’re letting me do it in my own time.” She leaned forward, kissing him gently. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to survive the day without you.”

~*~

‘I’m sure I’ll find a way to survive the day without you.’

It echoed in her head as she felt the lighting pulse through her again, mocking her. Every minute that passed by seemed to take hours, and she could only hide for so long. She was due at a briefing with Phillips. The Colonel overlooked many things, but she didn’t know how well she could hide this.

She pulled the files from her desk, moving to the conference room and taking a seat towards the back of the table. The farther away from Phillips, the better. She kept her head down, looking through reports she already knew by heart, scribbling at making notes as the conference room filled in.

Phillips joined them not two minutes later; his face gruff as he sat at the head of the table. “Let’s keep this quick, today. I have a call with the General this afternoon.”

Peggy almost sighed in relief when he said he wanted to keep it brief. She could do this, she could make it through the afternoon briefing without crying out, without making a scene.

The nine was creeping up to a ten. There was no way to stop it.

She focused on her breathing, slow and steady as Smith filled Phillips in on a hostage situation. Martin talked for what felt like hours about an ammunition logging discrepancy.

It was during Martin’s droll recounting of how forty bullets got misplaced that she noticed Phillips glance at her.

Normally, she’d smile, share the moment with the man and joke about it later. No one cared where forty bullets went in this damned war, least of all Phillips, especially if, as Martin ended up explaining, he’d later found them.

Peggy knew that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t share the joke today. She attempted to smile, but it came out a wince. She was sweating. Her thighs were shaking and she tried to hide it by tapping her foot. She was spiraling down, fast, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

“Carter,” Phillips nearly barked, stopping Martin’s final accounting of weapons. “You all right?”

“Fine, Sir.” Her voice was clipped. “A bit under the weather.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but it was a Sargent she wasn’t familiar with that opened his mouth. “Missing her boyfriend, no doubt.”

Phillips pounded the table with his fist, the first signs of laughter among the men dying out at his serious expression. He looked at all of them, his eyes sweeping over each man before he spoke. “Good men are missing, you don’t joke about it.” He looked down at his papers, rearranging them, his eyes kept firmly down as he spoke to avoid accusing anyone specific. “And don’t think for a second I don’t know every single thing that happens on and around this base. I can only turn a blind eye for so long, and every one of you should be very, very aware of that fact.”

The silence after his veiled threat only served to accentuate Peggy’s shuddered breathing.

Phillips eyed her for a long moment, folding his hands in front of him. He didn’t look away, and she held his gaze. “Carter, you puke on my table, you’re cleaning it up, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He moved on to Hobbs, letting the man talk him through the planned extraction of an undercover agent, his eyes drifting to her every few seconds.

She couldn’t see her notes, didn’t even pretend to be paying attention anymore. Her hands gripped the table, her eyes pressed closed. Her hair was matting to her head and she couldn’t help the way her legs shook.

Phillips put his hand up, stopping Hobbs. “Carter, get out of here. Go find a medic.”

She couldn’t answer him, couldn’t even hear him as the migraine she had began pounding in her ears. She pushed back from the table, her head in her hands.

It made the men around her jump in surprise as her chair slid back across the floor. Phillips was on his feet, pushing the man next to him out the door. “Medic, now.” His order wasn’t loud, but insistent and worried. “Carter?”

Instead of answering him, something she physically couldn’t do, she rolled from the chair. She didn’t feel the impact on the cement floor, but instead felt the coolness of the cement on her body. She pressed her face into the ground as Phillips rounded the table, some of the other men already moving it to the side to give her room.

“Carter?” He bent down, his hand on her shoulder, shaking her.

She cried out, the scream full of anguish and pain at his touch. She hadn’t felt this level of pain since she’d been in that godforsaken Hydra lab.

He pulled his hand away like he’d been burnt, watched as she curled back into herself, convulsing and whimpering on the ground.

Phillips looked up at the Sargent, eyes full of fear. “You think she’s missing her boyfriend now?”

~*~

Steve pressed on, though Dum Dum tried to hold him back. “We need to stop, Cap. We can’t go any further tonight.”

“I can’t,” he argued, pulling out of Dum Dum’s grip. “I can’t explain why, but I need to get back as soon as possible.”

Dugan let him get a few paces away before he called out. “You’re no good to her if you’re dead.” Steve froze. “What happens then, huh? When a sniper you didn’t even know was there puts two in your forehead before you can get your shield up?”

Steve turned, looking at the man, broken and frustrated.

“We know that there’s something going on with her, Cap. We know it has something to do with whatever they did to her in that goddamned lab and we’re all trying to get you back to her as fast as we can because we know you can fix it somehow.”

Some of the tension in Steve melted away. “You know?”

Dugan smiled, stepping closer to him. “You two go into a tent, her sounding like she’s dying, a minute later it sounds like a brothel, and in the morning she’s as good as new?” Dugan shrugged. “It’d be easy to just say she’s just like all the rest of us, gets the shakes, gets a little unnerved now and again and needs a buddy to talk to or a bottle to drink, but I’ve seen her go from ready to jump off a cliff to damn right calm just because you held her hand since that day we rescued her. That’s not nothing.”

Steve hung his head. “We don’t know what’s wrong with her. Can’t explain it.” He sighed, “She needs to touch me, skin to skin, and it goes away.”

Dum Dum reached out, then let his lips crook up in a silly half smile. “Well, if that ain’t romantic.” His attempt to lighten the mood did little, but Steve nodded in appreciation. “We’re gonna get you back to her, we just—”

“She’s never gone this long.” He said, his voice cracking with worry. “It was supposed to be six hours.”

“And we were supposed to be pulling out a scientist trying to defect from a nunnery, not fighting off half of the Nazi party at a Hydra stronghold.” Dugan set his arm around Steve’s shoulders, turning him back towards the little camp they were setting up. “Us non-super soldiers just need a few hours. Some sleep, try to fix the comms, we’ll be up and marching soon.”

Steve nodded, knowing his friend was right, he was far too distracted to go traipsing through enemy territory by himself. “A few hours.”

Dugan nodded. “Peggy will be fine, she’s got the finest minds in the Allied Powers on that base.”

~*~

“Jesus Christ, Stark, are you an imbecile?” Phillips barked, watching through the glass of the observation window. Peggy was writhing in the bed on the other side, pulling the IVs from her arms. “Help the damn woman!”

“PhDs, not MDs!” Stark cried, pacing behind the man. Howard stopped at his side, throwing up his hands. “Go yell at one of the actual doctors, because none of this makes any sense. She’s fine. She’s literally absolutely one hundred percent, healthy based on everything they’ve showed me and all the tests they’ve run with the exception of her elevated blood pressure.”

Phillips swept a hand out, gesturing to the room beyond them where Peggy was curled on her side, sobbing. His eyes wide, he threw his arm out again, gesturing wildly. “That is not, by any means, healthy.” When Howard didn’t back down Phillips rubbed his hand over his mouth, turning away from the window. “I watched that woman take two bullets in the shoulder and barely wince,” he began turning back to Howard, “She trekked through enemy territory with a sprained ankle and a six-year-old on her back evacuating a town before Hydra could get to it. I have never seen that woman do more than purse her lips and move on and now she looks like this?”

Howard shook his head. “She was in that Hydra base for 16 hours. I should have insisted she let someone look at her.”

“You insist with Peggy Carter you’re risking your life,” Phillips supplied, nearly laughing. “I thought she and Rogers were hiding something from me when they got back, but I just figured it was more hand holding behind the mess. God, that kid still makes me cry.”

Howard stopped, looking up at Phillips. “You know they’re…?”

Phillips scowled. “The things I don’t know about what goes on at this base could fill a thimble.” He sighed, sitting at the small table in the room, his voice growing more sarcastic by the second. “Yes, I know they’re making moon eyes at each other like two teenagers and take long romantic walks in the woods and sometimes he even comes back with, dare it I say it, lipstick on his collar.” He sighed. “As long as the wrong people don’t catch them and I don’t get an official complaint, I can ignore it just like I ignore a lot of other men and women sneaking off when they think people aren’t looking.” This time, Phillips did laugh at Howard’s amazed expression. “It’s war, Stark, you think I’m going to deny these soldiers a little comfort and pleasure while they’re laying down their lives?”

Howard opened his mouth to reply, but was swiftly cut off by a guttural scream from the room beyond them. Peggy had rolled to her side and was kicking off the blankets.

“Burns,” she yelled out, left with only the raspiest of voices after crying out for hours on end.

Phillips put his head in his hands. “How much more pain medication can we give her?”

Stark sighed, walking up to the glass. “We’ve already maxed her out on morphine. She should barely be alive, never mind awake and in pain with the amount she’s had.”

Without warning Peggy went silent, sitting up in her hospital bed, eyes glued to the door.

The silence made both men stand tall, eyes glued to her to see what she would do. The commotion from beyond the doors made the turn, Phillips pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway to see a crowd. MPs were unsuccessfully holding back a nearly feral Captain Rogers, the rest of the commandos standing behind him, guarding his back and removing personnel from the area by force.

“Rogers! What the hell is going on?”

“Where is she?” He demanded, eyes wild, pushing past the MPs, using their surprise at Phillips’ voice to overpower them without hurting them. “Where?”

Howard swallowed hard, setting his jaw and pointing to the door beyond him.

Phillips, however, was not satisfied. “Oh no, you have a lot of explaining to do, and a debrief,” he pushed in front of Steve, half angry as hell that the mission hadn’t gone anywhere near planned, and half hoping to keep him from seeing the painful sight that was Peggy Carter.

Steve, without preamble, pushed past Phillips and disappeared into the door beyond. “Sorry, Colonel, you can charge me with insubordination later.”

Howard reached out, putting a hand to Phillips chest as he tried to follow him, the Commandos starting to flank and guard the rooms. Phillips looked at Howard’s hand, then up at his face, his disbelief that Stark would stop him evident.

“He didn’t ask how she was, or what happened,” Howard pointed out quietly. “he just wanted to know where she was.”

“Skinny bastard knows something.” Phillips murmured as the realization downed on him.

Howard huffed, “You’re going to have to stop calling him that one day.”

“No, I don’t.” Phillips started to move forward, but was intercepted by Dugan, Jones, and Sawyer, who turned him back towards the hall.

“We’ll debrief you, sir,” Jones supplied, pulling Howard by the collar after him.

Phillips set his feet, turning back towards the room. “I don’t think so, I think I’d rather be here for this.”

Dugan stepped in his path, shaking his head. “Colonel, sir, I can tell you with all due respect that from experience, you absolutely do not want to be here right now.”

Phillips pondered yelling, even flat out decking the man for a moment, but was stopped by the loud, breathy moan that came from Peggy’s room.

He looked up: that had not been pain. That had, most certainly, been pleasure.

“You’re right, I don’t.” He led them out, Howard still being dragged by Jones, “But don’t think for one second I am letting any of this go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

[islamicrays]

Top 10 Tips for Maximizing Your State During Quarantine:

1. Reconnect with the sajada.

The sajada is one of the greatest acts of devotion to God and the believer never tires of it, but rather delights in placing their face in the lowest position possible while praising the "Most High.”

Allah ﷻ commanded Iblis to make sajada to Adam (`alayhi salam), but he refused. In the Qur'an we have 14/15 places of sujood for sajadah at-tilawa. And the Prophet ﷺ mentioned in many hadith the virtue of the sajadah.

Ma'dan b. Talha reported: I met Thauban, the freed slave of God's Messenger, and asked him to tell me about an act for which, if I do it, God will admit me to Paradise, or I asked about the act which was loved most by God. He gave no reply. I again asked and he gave no reply. I asked him for the third time, and he said: I asked God's Messenger about that and he said: Make frequent prostrations before God, for you will not make one prostration without raising you a degree because of it, and removing a sin from you, because of it. Ma'dan said that then he met Abu al-Darda' and when he asked him, he received a reply similar to that given by Thauban.

In the second Hadith, Rabi'a b. Ka'b said: I was with God's Messenger one night and I brought him water and what he required. He said to me: Ask (anything you like). I said: I ask your company in Paradise. He (the Prophet) said: Or anything else besides it. I said: That is all (what I require). He said: Then help me to achieve this for you by devoting yourself often to prostration. (Sahih Muslim)

So stop rushing through it and start appreciating the gift of sajada and enjoying every second of it. Look forward to it and rejoice in the promise that your sins are being removed, your rank is being raised, and you will be promised the company of the Beloved ﷺ in Paradise!

2. Take inventory of your actions, limb by limb.

We know that our limbs will all speak against us on the Day of Judgement. Isn't it time to intervene and redress the wrongs we've all committed against ourselves? Why wait until that day to answer for everything we've done? Why not apologize to ourselves, limb by limb, body part by body part, NOW?

وَالَّذِينَ إِذَا فَعَلُوا فَاحِشَةً أَوْ ظَلَمُوا أَنفُسَهُمْ ذَكَرُوا اللَّهَ فَاسْتَغْفَرُوا لِذُنُوبِهِمْ وَمَن يَغْفِرُ الذُّنُوبَ إِلَّا اللَّهُ وَلَمْ يُصِرُّوا عَلَىٰ مَا فَعَلُوا وَهُمْ يَعْلَمُونَ - 3:135

"And those who, when they commit an immorality or wrong themselves [by transgression], remember Allah and seek forgiveness for their sins - and who can forgive sins except Allah ? - and [who] do not persist in what they have done while they know. (3:135)"

Sit with yourself, preferably after you've completed a prayer and find one limb or faculty to focus on and hold yourself accountable for all the wrongs you've used it for. For example, your tongue. Think about all the lies you've told, the foul words you've said, the gossip you've spread, the harsh and mean insults you've hurled at someone, the food/drink you ate that was haram or questionable, etc.

3. Think of the people you've hurt, and make sincere repentance to Allah ﷻ.

We've all hurt people in our lives before, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, etc.

Think about the tears you've ever caused someone. Think about the hearts you've ever broken. Think about the people you've denied. Think about the relationships you've cut off. Think about all of it and either make a physical list or a spiritual list where you go one by one and apologize sincerely before Allah ﷻ for whatever pain you've caused. This is NOT the time to defend yourself or justify your actions. This is the time for COMING CLEAN and making amends in this life before you are taken to task in the next life. Force yourself to admit what you've done to yourself and accept that you were a jerk, then ask Allah ﷻ to forgive you and to grant that person or person all the good in this life and the next.

4. Think of the money you've spent wastefully or the food/drink you've thrown away, or any other unnecessary excessive behavior and ask Allah ﷻ to forgive you. The Prophet ﷺ warned us:

“Allah does not like for you to waste wealth, nor ask many unnecessary questions, nor spread gossip.” (Musnad al Bazzar)

5. Make a vow to yourself and to your Lord and ask Him for strength so that you become more compassionate, more loving, more patient, more understanding, and LESS harsh, judgmental, critical, and cruel. Ask Him to soften your heart and heed the advice of the Beloved ﷺ who said:

“If you want to soften your heart, feed the poor and pat the head of the orphan.i.e, be kind.” (Musnad Ahmad)

P.S. Look into the work of GiveLight Foundation to do both!

6. Don't just eat clean, but listen clean and watch clean. In other words, stop watching filth and listening to garbage music. We've become a gluttonous society that indulges in every form of entertainment and base desire because we have more access to indulge our every whim and desire than ever before. The height of ignorance is being consumed with living and looking healthy on the outside for vanity's sake, but turning a blind eye to the damage we're causing to our spiritual hearts by all the garbage we consume.

The Beloved ﷺ told us:

“Verily, Allah has written for the son of Adam his portion of adultery which he will inevitably commit: the adultery of the eyes is a lustful look, the adultery of the tongue is lustful speech. The soul craves and yearns; the passions will affirm or deny.” (Bukhari and Muslim)

7. READ actual books and improve your literacy and communication skills. One of the greatest gifts that God has given the human being is the faculty of language and to understand things, but we've become a generation and a society that no longer reads and uses our intellect to its actual potential. It's time to turn off the Youtube and TikTok videos, and the never-ending stream of soundbites we get from all forms of digital communication, and actually READ, THINK, REFLECT, and PRAISE our Lord for the gifts that differentiate us from beasts and other creations.

“If Allah intends goodness for someone, he gives him understanding of the religion.” (Bukhari & Muslim)

8. Make dua'h for our scholars, past and present for their tireless service to preserving our deen and guiding us through difficult times. Sit with yourself for a few minutes and remember the teachers you've been impacted by the most and ponder on their lives and their humanity. Relate to them as humans who could have gone into any other field and profited from their brilliant intellects, but who chose the path of God instead because they understood the value of knowing this beautiful faith and teaching it to others. Make a renewed intention to show them the respect they deserve, to honor them for the purpose of honoring *the knowledge* they possess. Make the niyyah to help them if you can by supporting their works and sharing their teachings, or at the very least making du'ah for them.

The Beloved ﷺ taught us: “Whoever does not thank people has not thanked Allah.” (Abu Dawud)

9. Ask Allah ﷻ to give you the best ending from this world and actually sit with yourself and think about exactly what that means for YOU. Visualize it and BELIEVE with certainty that Your Lord will accept your most sincere wish as long as the degree with which you believe is strong with conviction. Remember the words of our Beloved ﷺ who said:

"What I fear most for my community is weakness of certainty." (Tabarani)

DO NOT be weak in your certainty with Allah ﷻ for everything else in creation is fleeting and illusory, but He is the Ultimate Reality and He is in the opinion of His servant, so THINK HIGH always of the MOST HIGH!

10. Start preparing your will. Seriously. Open up a document on your laptop or computer, or even in your Note folder or email draft. Just type. Write out who you want to wash you, where you want to be buried, who you want to distribute specific things to, how you want your kids to be raised, the qualities you want your spouse to consider in a future spouse, etc.

It doesn't have to be a formal document, although that would be ideal. Just write and get the ball rolling. If God forbid anything happens to you, at least you will have given your loved ones SOME direction on how to proceed without you. And something is better than nothing.

As I have said on multiple occasions, this time we've been given is a SPIRITUAL WINDFALL. We will likely NEVER in our lifetimes ever see an opportunity to TURN OUR LIVES around and change course.

Imagine yourself all these years headed down a perilous path but because it was shiny and so full of sparkly lights and distractions, you THOUGHT it was great. And then Allah ﷻ causes your car to spiral out of control and you are finally away from all the blinding lights and distractions and you can see that you were headed towards a cliff!!

He has just taken us off course, the choice is ours: do we go back on the bright and shiny street or choose a quieter, less busy, and more serene road that leads to somewhere truly SAFE?

May Allah ﷻ guide us and give us and help us come out as winners after all of this, not losers. Amin.

-Ustadha Hosai Mojaddidi

[mutanitys]

I CAN’T FIND IT ANYMORE but in this one interview, james offhandedly said “you never sent me postcards (from genosha)” to fassbender. i went on a spiral and started working on this... it’s a wip... i’ll try and get the completed thing on ao3 soon u3u

*****

No one's ever hailed Erik as an art connoisseur, nor praised his eye for any type of stylistic workmanship. For flamboyance and extravagance, maybe, if he counts that one snipe remark Charles made during their many fights (he can't even remember which one it had been anymore)—but nothing in this postcard screams ‘byproduct-of-rage-overreaction.' 

Definitely not. He's hired the best artist on the island—a bright, albeit slightly too excitable, youth by the name Brad—to work on that very handmade postcard, after all. It was a good call; Brad had been profusely enthusiastic when Erik had first approached him.

"This could kickstart a profitable line of creative exports from Genosha in the long-term!" he gushed, flitting around as he turned everything he touched into paint of different viscosities and hues. "And for us to start off with something as easily marketed as postcards and prints... that is so smart of you, Mr. Lehnsherr!"

Personally, Erik thought it was so smart of Brad to extrapolate his selfish wishes into a much more productive economic plan for his personal-have-turned-micronation, but he never really said that out loud. Not because he thought Brad wasn't actually smart, but because he'd rather like to keep his real intentions hidden.

Erik traces the soft watercolour painting of one of Genosha's beaches with his pointer, the pale blue waves on its shores melting into dark blue depths closer to the horizon. Whitish-yellow cliffs cradle the beach, peacefully sunlit; it's the perfect picture of serenity. A sanctuary.

The hard surface of the high-grade card feels a little rough under Erik's fingertips, and the touch is almost wistful in nature, if he allowed himself to be that little bit more sentimental—but he isn't, and won't be. Because when he drops this in the sole mailbox they have down by the city square, it will be the tenth postcard he sends out to Charles with not so much as a hastily-written reply back. 

Beside him, a nib-pen lies innocently on his hardwood work table. The act of even picking it up again is so cheesy it becomes intimidating, yet Erik doesn't know what else he's supposed to do—can do. He needs—wants—to know, if only a little bit, despite fully realising the choice to leave had been his own and his alone. 

My old friend, Charles...

In all his previous letters, it had always just been 'Charles', and as his fingers trace out the inky curves of the 'S' Erik immediately regrets his decision, wishing he'd picked up a pencil instead. But what's done is done—this is his tenth postcard after all (Jesus, tenth, how pathetic). An extra word or two in the greetings wouldn’t harm anyone. 

Not much has happened in the last week since I last wrote to you...

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Erik mutters under his breath, throwing the pen aside. Can he sound any more desperate? He can’t even pretend months have passed since his last postcard. He knows Genosha isn't the most accessible place in the world (deliberately designed to be exactly the opposite, in fact), and mail originating from it is likely to be slow and infrequent. Likewise, no contact from or knowledge of the outside world has really reached his peripheries, so anything could be happening. An outbreak of cyclones, storms, the like. Charles being incredibly busy. Or Charles hiring someone to handle his mail who’s ordered to destroy any communication from a certain ‘Erik Lehnsherr’ upon sight. 

But it's not the affairs of the entire world that he's been sitting at the edge of his seat for—not at all. Several mere sentences, words even, from the world he knows and has always been strangely fond of; from Charles and his silly, posh school—that’s the desire that’s been keeping his hands occupied writing on flimsy little postcards. Sending the first felt like a diplomatic gesture—a peace offering, as one kingdom would present to another. The second, third and perhaps fourth postcards could all be classified as such: logistical necessity, to consolidate Genosha's self-contained peace, even in a roundabout way. 

But everything else after that? Erik couldn't deny it if he wanted to—they were all for Charles. 

At the moment, however, he's feeling quite hurt and angry at the realisation of events. He'd just messed up the lovely postcard Brad had painstakingly spent hours of manlabour on with his ill-chosen words, his fancy pen had just left a dark blue trail on his favourite white work shirt and the chances of Charles sending anything back to him is still slim to none.

There's a pinprick of pain behind his eyes that make his fingers twitch—tell-tales of rage surging in his chest, rattling the cans lined up along his bedroom shelf even when he bottles up the heat with a twisted mouth and furrowed brows. One can falls off its shelf--the metal nib of his pen shakes, rolling the tool onto its side—his fingers tremble, then clench—and then—

Nothing. Everything is still all of a sudden, Erik left panting as he slumps back into his creaking chair, left feeling drained and... resigned.

He picks up the pen and feels it in his every bone: resignation. There's no point in lying to himself: resignation is all he's truly felt ever since the day he'd left Charles.

[fart-gate]

SG1

Season 4 episode 21

"DOUBLE JEOPARDY"

Notes by me

- uh daniels hair is long again???

- when the guy says that he knows them. My kids got a rep ayyyy 🤙

- bro I doubt theyve met you

- Jack just gets up and walks away and nobody notices????

- tealcs cheek muscles jumping out of pure rage

- daniels hair is bothering me. Doesnt he have it short for the rest of the series??? Why would they have it long for one ep

- this guy has the BIGGEST crush on cronos and his wife is literally helping the rebels

- DIRECTED BY MICHEAL SHANKS

- "he called me major" ????? Is this another dimension of sg1 wheres shes still a captain??? She did say the realities overlap

- cronos looks like my homophobic aunt

- uuhhhh he brought up killing tealcs dad thats it someone hold my beer

- hello what the hell is going on

- he gives Jack a lil shake of his head. I'm going to jump off a cliff

-uuhhhh Daniel just got his head BLASTED off????? and he closed his eyes to accept it

- FUCKIN!!!!! ROBOTS!!!!

- that makes sense actually. He said there were two of them and Sam said something about 8 hrs earlier and i remember they cant leave the planet for a very long time

- ALSO this means I was right. Robot Jack didnt bury the gate and someone owes me MONEY

- I guess the robot duplicates are in trouble this should be fun! TWICE the fun haha get it

- actually now that i think about robot Daniel accepting death is really on point for the character bc he would be really depressed about not being able to go home and continue his work. Plus he would have all of OG daniels mental health issues. Maybe he felt there was nothing to live for...no sha're.....lost all his research.....all his possessions.....his house.....his job. I'm depressed now

- KOMTRAYA

- jacks like no please anyone but him

- "what are you" robots!!!

- Sam said she built a portable charger for the robots in their chests but then why did robot Sam say they only had 8 hrs?

- "what is it that you do?"

PLEASE TELL ME I NEED TO KNOW

- they ignored the question and im about to throw my phone out the window

- what do they have on their resumes??? "Space Shit"

- "your robot counter part is equally as good at following orders as you are"

- daniels not in this one I guess. Michael shanks had to be behind the camera the whole time to Direct

- they're not gonna HELP?? Arent you guys suppossed to protect the planets you liberate or do you just drop them when your done with them? Bitches

- P3X729

- Jack taking them down from the bushes likes a ninja

- "your the Other PAL"

Jack on Jack violence

- robot Jack sad about robot Daniel :(

- whos this lady in all black with the worst lipstick

- "what the hell you think your doing?"

"What you do.....only BETTER"

Robot Jack petty as fuck I love him

- confirmation Jack gets embarrassed when he does something wrong

- "come on fly boy!!" Guys....guys this isnt gonna help *scuffling in the backround*

- Jack 1 has Jack 2 in a headlock, ref is starting the countdown

-

- "sirs!" Sam is done with your SHIT

- who would win a fight. Jack or Jack

- "its not like you havnt lied to yourself before" ooooooohhhhhhhh snap

- "I so own you" aldjsjdjdjd

- FINALLY they are saving the planet like they SHOULD

- daniels lovely decapitated body on the table is a bit unappetizing

- this is like the 3rd version of Daniel that is dead btw

- "this kinda thing happens to us all the time" Sam has had a rough life

- they can communicate with their brains??? You cant tell me they didnt fall in love and become poly

- "its simple....." I seriously thought she was gonna finish the sentence with You shove it up your ass

- robot Jack can take a hit!

- several hits

- is he dying

- "got gas" has just gonna let one rip and he'll be fine

- robot tealc came here to FIGHT

- shooting him not gonna work you gotta get close and rip his arms off

- its always fun when they listen to me

- robot Sam starting a bomb like a bad bitch

- ah for fucks sake when will cronos DIE

- TEALC TEAM WORK

- "for our father"

- and all the robots are dying ??? This isnt fair

- robot Jack is the last one left oh god

- "are we still so far from real to you?"

"No......i guess not"

- he gave up. U know he probably didnt think there was any point in living if he didnt have his team with him

-this ep ripped my heart out I'm prepared to sue

~

Robot tealc whump: hands tied,manhandled, forced kneeling electric pain?, shot, noises, fought, death

Robot Jack whump: shot by zat, passed out, shot in arm and leg and side, "bleeding" out, death

Robot Sam whump: hands tied,manhandled, forced kneeling, electric pain? , forces hand thru force shield (painful), cut on cheek revealing circuitry, death

Robot Daniel whump: hands tied, manhandled, forced kneeling, executed, decapitated by staff blast, death

Original tealc whump: staff blast, fought with cronos

🤓no glasses!Daniel for about 15 minutes up until robot Daniel dies

🎶listening to 10,000 Weight In Gold by The Head And The Heart🎶 "it never feels like treasure, til you lose it all" thinking about how they lost everything when they had to stay on the planet and how they wanted to keep fighting and do the right thing. How much they cared about each other. Im spiraling

[inmournfulnumbers]

TAGGED  BY : stole it from the dash TAGGING :  @wintersflower​ @lathal​

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? Hodge is shorter than the average man by a few inches, standing at roughly 5′8.

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? As a younger adult/older teen it bothered him, he insisted he’d grow just a few more inches until he was about 25 when he finally accepted he’d never get any taller. In some ways he was lucky to be born a mage because it spared him from ridicule from other boys who would think him less manly. He never had to worry about appearing intimidating or brawny because of his role as a scholar, though after escaping the Circle he thought that a couple added inches to his height would come in handy.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? Jet black with loose curls, Hodge finds his hair difficult to manage. Brushing it out makes his hair go frizzy and look altogether ridiculous, but without brushing it looks like a bird’s nest. A wide toothed comb helps ease the struggles of untangling his hair but he has no clue how to style it. Given how he cuts it himself, its a wonder he looks presentable at all even with years of practice behind him. His hair is also coarse, dry, and thick which only makes the styling and cutting process more difficult. When his mental health declines, Hodge has a very difficult time with self-grooming. During those spirals he’ll often let his hair grow untamed and wild.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? Hodge dislikes a full beard on himself, so he’ll trim and shave to keep his growth in check, but he usually has a bit of a goatee (like his faceclaim). When his mental health dips he tends to have more stubble and may have a ragged beard if he spirals long enough.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? While he does care about his appearance, it is low on his list of priorities. Hodge has had few chances over the last decade or so to put much effort into his appearance beyond the bare necessities. For years he’s worn stolen clothes and patched them up himself, he’s maintained cleanliness and grooming standards to the best of his ability but when his health takes a dip he struggles with taking care of himself. Joining the Inquisition is the first point of relative stability in his life since before things went wrong in the Circle.

He’s not concerned about whether he’s well liked, to the point that he’d rather try for an opinion of him where people won’t be outright violent towards him. However, he cares a great deal for the opinions of those he already considers close friends.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?  Outdoors ▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?  Rain ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?  Forest ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?   Metals ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?  Flowers ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?  Personality ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?  Alone ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?  Order ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?  Painful truths ▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?  Both. ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?  Peace ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  Night ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?  Dawn ▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?  Warmth. ▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?  Close friends ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  Reading

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? Hodge tends to pick at his skin and chew on the insides of his cheeks while he’s thinking, also humming or talking to himself when he’s alone. These fidgety habits can sometimes annoy others. Keeping himself awake far longer is reasonable is a more serious bad and sometimes dangerous habit. While insomnia often strikes him, sometimes he stays up because he doesn’t want to sleep (or more accurately, doesn’t want to dream) which can leave him weak and exhausted as well as compromise his mental health.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? He’s lost a few people.

Death wasn’t his first experience with loss. His very first experience was when he lost contact with his parents at 11 years old. At first he’d sent a few letters to his parents, but without ever receiving a reply he stopped trying. Even after escaping the Circle, Hodge never attempted to rekindle a relationship with them and he’s not sure whether they’re still alive today. Like most young mages brought to the Circle, he was terribly homesick even years after leaving home.

After that he lost his mentor, Heinrich, in the Circle when he learned that the man was planning on turning him over to the Templars for the Rite of Tranquility. Rather than a loss from physical distance, it was that of shattered trust between the two. Hodge had thought his mentor would understand him, he’d trusted Heinrich to guide him through the his study of magic and to shield him from Circle politics. Instead, he learned that Heinrich had not only lost faith in Hodge’s abilities but that he was scheming behind his back. Already Hodge had paranoid tendencies, but it’s been difficult to discount all of his delusions when some turned out to be true.

It was then that he lost his few friends in the Circle, one of whom he was in a relationship with at the time. His closest friends didn’t believe him when he told them Heinrich and the Templars’ plans for him, and they wanted nothing to do with him when he staged his ‘escape’. He lost them permanently during the Annulment process when they and everyone else he knew in the Circle, were killed. He doesn’t blame them for their initial disbelief, he might not have either if he didn’t see the possibility for cruelty from Templars directly, but at the time it only served to solidify his isolation. Losing them to death was harder than he’d expected. Already they were distant, and he was in the throes of a downward mental spiral at the time, but he didn’t feel the full loss of their friendship until it was too late to ever go back.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?   Hodge has fond memories of home before he was taken to the Circle, and he has a few fond memories from the Circle (working to master his magic, the exhilarating moments of discovery he’d had, moments with friends and... more than friends, etc). Despite the last ten years proving difficult, the pain he endured towards the end of his stay in the Circle, and the dark spots that plague his life, he holds onto the bright spots.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? No. It’s easier if they’re attacking him and he has no other way out of the situation, or if they’re actively harming other people. When sees them as people, people with lives and friends and family, it’s more difficult. Everybody is trying to survive, he has a difficult time faulting people for that even if they must do wrong to accomplish that. However for those who carry out undue harm, for those who are cruel without purpose, and for those who are impinging on others’ struggles for survival he has little mercy.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? There are two main ‘modes’ in which Hodge might break down.

The first involves a loss of trust and acceptance of his paranoia. For his last years in the Circle his paranoid tendencies kept him alive, so he may sometimes trust his instincts even when they’re unfounded. He’ll avoid people and struggle to take care of himself. Attempts to reach out are almost always in the form of pictures or notes. They might come as warnings to others or other attempts to communicate his jumbled thinking with other people. These breakdowns are difficult for him to escape on his own and difficult for people to help. He hasn’t reached the lows of these breakdowns since being trapped in the Circle and he works hard to avoid this type of breakdown.

Emotional breakdowns present somewhat similarly but to a much smaller degree. Hodge retreats into himself, his paintings become more abstract and rushed. He may sit on the parapets alone at night and he’ll avoid talking to people. The best way to pull him back up from this is to just talk with him, not even necessarily about what pushed him to this point but just make sure he’s not alone.

Actually there is a third type of breakdown which is just... angry. If he’s pushed far enough with someone, forced to stay after the point where he normally would have left, he’ll grow bitter and sarcastic. Hodge doesn’t blow up exactly, but he stops watching his mouth and his tone with people.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? If asked? No. But in actualitiy, yes. For him to give that kind of trust takes great difficult and a long time, though. First and foremost, he considers his life to always be in his own hands. If he gives that control over to someone else then he considers his life functionally lost already. Say he’s dangling over a cliff, and someone else is the only thing holding him over the rocks below: Hodge wouldn’t doubt that they would drop him and he has already either made peace with that fact or tried to come up with a plan to save himself on the way down. It would take proof that they didn’t let his life go (ie. not dropping him) to make him reconsider. On the battlefield, this is liable to happen as he can’t possibly control every facet of his own safety when fighting in a team. He must rely on his teammates to watch his back, just as he’s watching theirs.

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? Hodge is quiet and he is gentle in love. He’s not very good at openly expressing emotion on his face, but he yearns to show it in any way he’s able. Holding hands and other small touches of reassurance are his go to, as well as being attuned to the needs of those he loves. He’s more open with those he loves and he’s willing to share things that are private and special to him with them, he wants to share pieces of himself. He tries to encourage them to be unabashedly themselves when they’re together and works to prove himself safe enough that they can take down their walls. Whether it takes a listening ear or a shoulder to lean on, a cup of coffee in the mornings or having their back against a foe, Hodge wants to show that he cares.

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 80)

*These next few chapters are really the final stretch for this fic guys. It is going to get ugly and even I am not prepared for what is going to happen. So have fun thots!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

Past me is an asshole!

She ignored her job of getting Henry away from this camp and back to his family and instead spent the night dancing and stealing kisses with the person who kidnapped him. Now as I lay half awake in this tent wrapped in said kidnapper’s arms I have to deal with the other problem she left me last night.

Peter Pan…god help me this Peter Pan.

How can I like someone who has caused such misery for the people I care about? How can I want to stay with someone I basically just met! These memories that keep coming back aren’t helping either. They’re familiar but they don’t feel like they’re mine. It’s like watching snippets of home movies I didn’t know happened. They were there and they showed me what life was like but it didn’t do anything. They made me happy but it didn’t transform me from Marigold to Y/N either. How can the others stand having two lives stuck in their head like this? It’s horrible!

I tried to sit up but Peter tightened his hold on me and kept me in place next to him. This is fine. It’s still really early and I am a little tired yet. If I can just go back to bed…

No! Stop leaving this for future you to deal with! It’s just gonna be you in a couple hours you dumbass!

Yeah but present me is still sleepy and Peter is warm and smells nice.

Get. Up. Now.

Fine!

I removed Peter’s arm from me and slipped out of the tent. If I’m quick about this then I can get back to bed before Peter notices I’m gone. The camp was still asleep. I found where Henry was and poked him awake. We snuck off to call Emma and the others.

After a few tense seconds the mirror showed us Regina’s face. “Henry, Marigold, thank god you two are safe.”

“What made you think we wouldn’t be?” I asked.

“You never checked in last night. I thought you said you were gonna be able to get out last night.”

“Right…” I had completely forgotten about the escape plan last night. Sitting with Peter’s head in my lap as I played with his hair kinda took priority. Not that they needed to know that. “Sorry, things didn’t go as planned.”

“As it is that seems for the best. We don’t have an exit strategy so even if you can get out of camp and back to us we’ll all just be sitting ducks for Pan. Hang tight, we’ll let you know when we can get out of here.”

“Sure. No problem.” I breathed out a sigh of relief. It was too early to start dodging questions I’d rather not hear right now.

Regina woke the others up to say hi to Henry real quick before we ended the call. We rushed back and I crawled back into Peter’s tent. He was still fast asleep and when I laid back down next to him and put his arm back around me it was like I had never left.

We have to stay on Neverland longer. No need to rush things. I can stay here pretending to be Y/N as long as needed. I nuzzled my face into his neck inhaling the sweet scent of wind and jungle that clung to him constantly. It was getting easier to do pretend.

How much longer before it wasn’t pretend though?

~~~

After last night with Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire trying to steal Henry, Peter was in a tough position. Learning that Rumple was the one that had confined and tortured Y/N should have made the decision to kill all the adults and leave their corpses to the mermaids an easy one. The fact that they were using her against him was bad enough but this had pushed him to the edge of mass homicide. If it wasn’t for the fact that Y/N is not entirely herself right now and actually cares for some of these bastards is the only thing keeping them alive right now. One more horrible revelation like last night though and their entrails would be hanging from the trees like garland.

As it is he had a hard time facing her right now knowing that she was abetting the man that had almost tortured her to death. So she was with Wendy while Peter went about trying to figure out what to do about all this. One thing was for sure, he needed an ally. Someone he knew that feared him enough to do as he says but also be trusted by the adults to a degree.

Fate seemed to part the heavens and reveal a perfect opportunity with Hook taking the prince up the cliff to Dead Man’s Peak. They were up a steep stone face and the pirate was about to throw the rope down to help the quickly dying prince before Peter stopped him.

“Pan,” Hook dropped the rope at his feet, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here to offer you a deal.” He didn’t have time to beat around the bush. Every second was a moment off his life and he needed this to work, “Come back and work for me, like the old days.”

“I don’t miss the old days.”

“What if I were to offer you something very hard to come by? Say passage off the island?”

“Still not interested.”

“So stubborn.” Peter prowled around him in a slow circle, “What if I said you can take Emma with you.”

“Emma would never leave her son.”

“She did once before, and you can be there to pick up the pieces. We've known each other a very long time, Killian. We've done business before. And I think this is the perfect time to restart that relationship.”

“What if I'm not interested?”

“You not listening to me has never worked out for you, Killian. This whole crusade to save the boy will lead to nothing but every single one of you dying. You really want to keep testing me?” He could feel his patience starting to wear thin.

“I think you don’t have as much control over this game as you think you do and you’re starting to spiral, Pan.” Hook smirked and Peter had to resist the urge to punch him and prove him right.

“I suppose you’re referring to your inside informant.” Peter said and a shadow passed over Hook’s face. “What was that about me not having control?”

“Y/N…” Hook sighed.

“Yes. I know that you have her helping you. I don’t know what you think you’re playing at but know this,” He pressed the edge of his dagger to the pirate’s throat, “No Evil Queen, Dark One, or Saviour will be able to stop me from gutting you all if any harm comes to my Lost Girl.”

“Strangely enough, as Marigold none of us have any qualms with her.” Hook shrugged. “She’s in more danger sitting in your camp than she would be with us.”

“Insult me again. I dare you.” Peter wanted to scream but kept it in. He would not give this walking liver failure the satisfaction.

“And what of the lass? She doesn’t remember you. You really think she’ll choose to stay in this damned jungle with you when she has an entire other life back in Storybrooke? A place with people who have not tried to kill her before.” Hook pulled out his flask and took a sip.

“I see you are excluding yourself and the Dark One from that list.”

“Again, as Marigold, we have no issue with her.” He offered the flask to Peter. He took it after a moment and had a quick swig of rum.

“So that’s all it is. You took away everything she is and are calling what’s left, what you people filled her head with, as the truth? As what she should want to be without bothering to ask her if that’s who she wants to be.”

“How is it any different from what you’re doing?”  Hook barked with a short laugh, “You have a girl who doesn’t remember you and are trying desperately to bring back a version of herself that she isn’t. Did you bother to ask if that’s what she wants?”

Dark clouds started to roll in above them as Peter’s self control started to tear itself apart. He took a deep breath and met the captain’s gaze once more with murder in his eyes. “I’m trying to restore what you people stole from her. What she chooses to do with it after the fact is her decision.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“You know,” Hook picked up the rope again, “I have to pull the prince up at some point before he gets suspicious.”

“Then go right ahead. Dragging him up the cliff should give you more than enough time to mull over my offer.” he shoved the flask back at him. “You have a choice, Killian. Choose wisely.”

In the next moment Peter was gone and back at the outskirts of the camp. Hook’s words about trying to bring back a version of Y/N for his own means itched and festered under his skin. Of course Peter wanted the Y/N he knew back. It’s all he’s wanted.

But what if the drunkard had a point? What if by some miracle Peter was able to bring back Y/N’s memories? Would she still want to stay here? Would the two realities in her head make her question where her loyalties should lie? If she remembered everything what life would she choose?

He wanted to believe that she would choose Neverland. She had more history here. Knew the boys better. This is her home. It has been since he saved her from dying in the cold wood of the Enchanted Forest that night many years ago. From then she became much more than a Lost Girl or a friend.

Peter meant what he said about the choice being hers for whatever life she wanted if he could restore her memory. That didn’t mean he would let her go without a fight though.

~~~

This is bad! This is very bad! I checked my pockets and retraced my steps a dozen times but the looking glass I had used to communicate with Emma and the others was gone. I had asked Henry if he had it but it wasn’t with him either.

What am I supposed to do if I can’t talk with them? If I don’t at least check in then they’re gonna think something is wrong and storm the camp and get themselves killed! I was on my hands and knees looking under leaves and and rocks hoping to god that I could find it.

“Lose something pet?” I heard Peter behind me and sat up straight.

“Just a little trinket from Storybrooke. Nothing to worry about.”

“Good. Cause I want to show you something.”

“Alright,” He helped pull me up and a feeling of wind engulfed us before we stood on another part of the island. I could tell because a huge tree, taller than any building I had ever seen was next to us. It looked like you could fit an entire house in its trunk!

Peter moved closer to the tree and kicked at one of the huge knots at the base. A hole opened up and he gestured for me to hop in it. This didn’t seem a good idea but I was too curious now. I slid down what felt like a dirt slide and was deposited at the bottom. It was so dark I couldn’t even see my hand two inches in front of my face.

I should have moved because a moment later Peter came barreling down the tunnel slide behind me and knocked me over. “Sorry,” I heard his voice and reached for it. “I’m right here, pet. No need to worry.”

He caught my hand and pulled me to him. “We could probably do with some light.”

Instantly various torches and candles stubs sparked to life. I could see now that we were in a much larger underground cavern. Tables, chairs, a few odd knicknacks, a pile of books and a large bed at the back were squeezed in.

More memories came back as I looked around. They were less innocent as the others I had remembered till now.

All of that was shoved from my mind though as I got a closer look at the various drawings scattered across the tables and pinned to the walls. They were beautiful. So detailed and lifelike that it seemed that the landscapes were moving on the parchment. Many drawings of plants and various animals, a couple of the camp and Lost Boys dancing around the fire, scenes of the beach and views from the cliffs. But among all those drawings I kept seeing portraits of myself. Every other picture was a different version of me. It was definitely my face but the figure behind them was someone else. It was the life behind the eyes, the crease in her smile that brought into stark reality that this girl on the parchment and I were so far from one another yet so similar.

“I hope it doesn’t unsettle you.” Peter came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my middle, “I didn’t want to forget what you looked like.”

“You drew these?” I whispered in awe.

“Yes. You gave me a pencil case and a ream of parchment because you knew how much I enjoyed drawing.”

“Right,” I cursed myself for saying anything, “Just a little in wonder I suppose.”

He rested his chin on top of my head, “Do you remember what else we did that day?”

“I um…” I tried to but it was just out of reach just like everything else, “It was so long ago.”

He sighed and held me tighter. “That was the first time we made love.” he whispered in a tight voice, “You’re saying you don’t remember that?”

“Well I…” Shit!

He was shaking slightly. The grip he was keeping on me started to worry me. He knows I’m a fraud. He has to. This is it. This is the end. I tried to trick him and now with one slip up I was going to be left for dead in this cavern.

He turned me around and I braced myself for the blind fury. What I saw though was nothing close. Peter wasn’t angry, he didn’t even look annoyed. He looked...heartbroken. His eyes were glassy as if he was trying not to cry as he held my face in his hands.

“Please, Y/N, please remember. You have to remember.”

“You know--”

“Yes I know.” he cut me off. He sprung away from me like I burned and ran his hands through his hair, “I’ve known for a while now. That’s not the point.”

“I don’t understand.” I tried to keep my breathing even, “If you know that I’m not Y/N then why are you doing all this? I would have thought you’d just kill me or something.”

He looked at me like I had slapped him. “Gods,” he clenched and unclenched his fists to the point I swear the air in the room was constricting with them, “You think I could ever hurt you? That after years of you being my best friend, my second in command, my most trusted confidant and precious lover that I could hurt you out of malicious intent? That I would ever want to see you dead?”

“I--”

“I have spent the last twenty eight years wondering and worrying whether you were alive. Years hoping that you would come home someday. Praying to the gods, the stars, anyone that could give me a sign that you were safe somewhere in the realms. And you think that based on your limited knowledge of me from this past week that I would forsake everything you mean to me, whether you remember or not, because you were betraying me?”

I didn’t know how to react. How could I? This went so much deeper than I originally thought. What Hook told me was barely scratching the surface of the history between Peter and myself.

“Peter, I...I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

He calmed down almost instantly and came back towards me. He hugged me and left a kiss on my forehead. “You shouldn’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I promise I’ll get your memories back.”

“Your word is your bond.” The sentiment echoed in my head. “I know.”

“You’re still in there.” he pressed his forehead to mine. “I want to trust you but I also can’t have you helping the adults.”

“Peter?”

“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Read a book or something till then.”

“Wait, what do you--”

I blinked and Peter was gone. If Peter knows that I’m helping the others to rescue Henry then what was he going to do? He’s going to hurt them! Hurt Henry!

I ran back toward the hole but it was blocked now. I looked around for another exit but there were none. I grabbed a spear propped against the wall and stabbed it against the ceiling. It shimmered for a moment. A forcefield! I’m trapped…

I threw the spear away and collapsed against the bed. What am I gonna do?

Next to the bed I spotted the pile of books. If I am trapped down here then I might as well do something to pass the time until someone saves me or Peter comes back. I picked up the largest. It looked like Henry’s storybook but instead it was titled Neverland.

Once upon a time there were children. Children who would fly away in their dreams to a land unlike any other where they would play and forget their woes. A place where only children could venture. This place was called, Neverland...

~~~

Peter was really not in the mood to deal with Hook after the confrontation with Y/N. But he couldn’t let him think he was off the hook (pun not intended) for saving the prince. “You really should've taken my deal.”

He noticed with some pleasure that the pirate tensed at Peter’s appearance. “It doesn't look like I need your help with Emma after all, mate. Nor anything else for that matter.”

“What, you think that kiss actually meant something?” Peter wanted to laugh.

“I do. I think it means she's finally starting to see me for the man I am.” Hook said and tried to walk past him.

“What?” Peter stepped in front of his path. “A one-handed pirate with a drinking problem? I'm no grown-up, but I'm pretty sure that's less than appealing.”

“A man of honor.”

“A man of honor,” Peter scoffed in disgust. “Well then, man of honor, I want to know what something like you would do with a big fat secret.”

“Depends on what the secret is.”

“Baelfire. Neal. The guy Emma loves. Henry’s father. He’s alive. Even better, he’s on Neverland.”

“No...no he died.” The fear in his eyes gave Peter all the ammo he needed.

“Afraid not. Now it’s up to you whether you tell the others about this and kill that budding romance of yours or not.” He grinned. Hook met his gaze with both fury and hesitation.

“You’re a wicked little boy.” Hook muttered.

“Nothing wicked about this. It’s equivalent exchange, Hook.” Peter grabbed a handful of his vest and yanked him down, “You messed with my heart so I mess with yours. You could have left here with the woman you care for and had a nice long life. Now you’ll die like all the rest and I will be sure to make yours a painful and slow one. That’s a promise.”

He let him go and stalked away. “Oh and I wouldn’t try contacting Y/N or Henry. They won’t answer.” He held up the little looking glass they had been using and snapped it in two. “Have a nice night, captain.”

~~~

I closed the book as I let the content of the storybook’s pages settle in my mind. I had skipped some parts here and there but what I had read was infallible proof of what I had feared. Y/N, me, whoever, was in love with Peter.

Years of fighting, compromising, friendship, growing, laughing, crying, and trust created something dangerous. Dangerous and powerful and dare I say it...beautiful.

Reading through their story--our story--I felt a longing. A longing to step into the book and relive those moments. Not for the first time I realized. Ever since I came here I wanted to forget about my old life and my mission to rescue Henry and just be a Lost Girl again.

I wanted the dances around the fire. I wanted to run through the jungle with my brothers. I wanted to laugh and play with Wendy and the fairies. I wanted to fall asleep next to Peter for all my nights. I wanted to feel the love and belonging that I used to know everyday. I wanted to be Y/N again.

I can’t let Henry die though. I read that too. If Peter succeeds in this endeavor then Henry was going to die.

I felt a chill go up my spine and inhaled the scent of jungle and wind suddenly upon me. No time to think now. A decision needs to be made.

(First) (Previous) (Next)

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Remarks: And the day is saved thanks to Oscar Pine.

miggy97 asked “ Just had a scary thought: what if when they find the plane, Oscar is mortally wounded, and when Jaune tries to use his semblance to heal him, he realizes his aura is still completely depleted after taking the full brunt of the mech??? Queue Oscar temporarily dying and then meeting the God of Light. Probably not gonna happen but I can dream, can’t I? 😂 ”

miraculouscorazone asked “ So, you think Oscar flew out of the airship, unconscious, before Maria possibly crash landed it? Honestly, a few RoseGardeners, including myself, really wanna see Ruby use her semblance to save Oscar; whether it’d be saving him or for a new team attack (though, now, more likely the former, rather than the ladder)” 

Squiggles Answers:

Righto. Whelp I think it’s official to say that V6 C11 has dispelled my theories of the Fire and Ice-cream duo showing up in Argus to challenge our titular Rosebuds for a rematch. At least for this volume. There is still hope for the Atlas Arc. I’m not letting go of these theories just yet.

I’m actually happy with this development because if I’m correct in Oscar dying while trying to protect Ruby and achieving immortality through an unexpected encounter with the God of Light then imagine how much more powerful that moment would be if it’s done in a future season when Ruby and Oscar’s relationship has blossomed further to the point where mutual romantic interest starts to form. So for now, I’m going to stick a pin in this theory of mine for the time being.

Building off of what you guys presented here, I’m going to present to you two new possibilities for how the next episode---V6 C12 can go:

Possibility 1

Looking back on C11, I noticed that the airship doors were actually opened on both sides of the ship. How convenient. I say so in support of Cora’s hunch about Oscar falling out of the ship and Ruby using her semblance to save him. What if…as the missile went off and Maria is doing her best to pilot it from completely crashing, Oscar ends up stumbling background and right out the conveniently opened left-side compartment door to the airship.

As Oscar is falling from ship, Ruby who is also conveniently positioned hanging from the cliff side, spots Oscar’s descent and thinking quickly, Ruby uses Crescent Rose to one-shot propel herself into the air with enough momentum to spiral herself into her semblance catching Oscar before he can hit the water.

While Ruby saves Oscar, Weiss sees to it that Maria safely lands the ship by using her gravity glyphs on the airship to slow down its descent and soften the crash. We actually saw Weiss make use of this technique twice before. 

Last volume when she used her gravity glyphs to soften the crash with the Atlesian pilot and in this volume’s first episode with the Argus Limited crash. So I can definitely see Weiss aiding Maria in landing the Atlesian ship before her and JNR go to make sure that Maria and the ship are in one piece after landing in the forests not too far from the cliffs.

The reason why I wouldn’t mind if Ruby used her semblance to save Oscar in this instance is a) obvious Rosegardening Rosebuds moment and b) Oscar’s mention of figuring out something regarding Cordo’s mechazord. I feel like Oscar needs to be conscious for the next episode otherwise how else is he going to be helpful in helping everyone stop Cordo?

A part of me actually would love it if Oscar’s plan involves actually going inside of the Atlesian Mechazord; that way Ruby and Oscar can aid everyone from within while the others help from the outside. I don’t know what it is that Oscar figured out about Cordo but I’d actually love it if somehow, someway; the Rosebuds end up inside the Mechazord and work towards finding a way to stop it from the inside while keeping in close communication with the others on the outside.

A part of me really just wants an entire episode dedicated to Ruby and Oscar just working together to help thwart Cordo who is practically maniacal at this point. If Ruby catches Oscar from falling then she’d need a good place to land where the two can be safe. It’d be interesting if of all the places Ruby could land it’s right on top one of the ice platforms Weiss conjured which in the end Oscar says is perfect since he will need Ruby’s help to get him inside Cordo’s mechazord.

Since attacking it from the inside failed then their next best bet is to go inside, right? Again, I just want an entire episode dedicated to the Rosebuds working together to thwart Cordo while the others hold down the fort and work to repair the airship from the outside before they can fly back in to help them.

Weiss and Jaune will both need time to cool down and recharge their auras because they both seemed the most battered by this battle.

One thing I don’t understand about this fight is why they didn’t just have Jaune amplify Weiss’ aura levels so that she can summon her Armor Gigas? I mean, as indicated in V5, the Armor Gigas can change its size so… why not have Weiss just summon her Gigas and make it grow to the size worthy of taking down the Mechazord?

If she needs more aura to achieve such a feat then there is Jaune to give that extra firepower. It’s just an obvious strategy option I wondered about during this episode y’know. Who knows? We might still see it. But for now, I’m just gonna hang on to the point of Oscar surviving the crash through Ruby’s help and the two working together on their own to stop Cordo from the belly of the beast.

Will this happen? I really dunno but I’m leaving it open as a possibility.

Possibility 2

Whelp, this is one I’ve been singing since C11 ended. What if…the plane crashes but not too badly since Weiss was able to assist with her gravity glyphs. But although Maria makes it out alive and well, Oscar on the other hand isn’t so hot. During the crash Oscar either gets knocked unconscious or seriously injured, putting him at death’s doorstep in the Realm between Realms while in the real world, the others do their best to resuscitate him.

From there, Oscar has his full episode of focus with reuniting with Ozpin. Maybe even Pyrhha will be there for Oscar to have his encounter with her and for Oscar to help Pyrhha to move onto the afterlife by informing her of what happened to her friends and former JNR teammates or something like that.

If this happens, a part of me would actually love a nod to Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood when Ed found Al’s body in purgatory and promised him he’d bring him back some day. I think it could be interesting if Oscar and Ozpin’s reunion ends on a sour note where Ozpin is trapped in the Realm between Realms and try as he might, Oscar can’t get him back because he doesn’t want to come back or whatever. So Oscar makes a promise to Ozpin, like Edward did to Al that he’ll bring him back someday. Just…wait for him.

From there, Oscar wakes back up in the real world and returns to helping the others---awakening the Oz-cane. I don’t expect an Oscar semblance reveal but I do wanna see an Oz-cane magic trick along with a badass Oscar battle theme.

I know some fans want to see Ozpin and maybe see him come back by the end of this season but…personally I don’t. I feel like Ozpin’s isolation holds more meaning to it. I actually want the Merge to be prolonged until the Atlas Arc just so that we can have more time with the story developing Oscar as his own character outside of Ozpin.

I’m not sure if I wish to hope for this to be the case in the event that my expectations might be crushed. It’s just something I would’ve liked to see done. Since Oscar mentioned himself having limited time then I honestly feel like that time should be spent developing him as his own person; seeing him build his own bonds with the other characters all the while giving us audience members more time to get to know more about Oscar.

After 5 seasons and his backstory in this volume, I feel like I already know what I need to know about Ozpin---Ozma. I’m still learning things about Oscar so I’d like more seasons to get to know him as him before the inevitable; y’know what I mean?

Now that I think about it. I actually don’t want Oscar to be out for the duration of C11. I actually wouldn’t mind if he gets knocked out by the end of C12, having his Ozpin reunion for the final episode of the season.

I think it would make a really terrific cliff-hanger for C12 if we actually do get to see Oscar get hurt and put in the Realm between Realms while trying to protect Ruby. Going off of my first possibility, perhaps we’ll get to see Ruby and Oscar fight a crazed Cordo inside her mechazord.

 Imagine if…Cordo at some point loses control of her Mechazord and the machinery starts pillaging through Argus heading straight for the Wall which would be destroyed if the group don’t do something to stop it. I actually dig the idea of Ruby and Oscar facing off against Cordo inside the mechazord.

If Ruby and Oscar somehow end up inside the mechazord making their way up to Cordo; imagine if they arrive at the passenger’s cockpit only to find the seat empty and the zord moving on its own on some kind of autopilot. And as Oscar and Ruby check for Cordo, they are suddenly blindsided by the special operative who comes charging at them out of nowhere with a giant weapon.

Perhaps Cordo has a battle axe/magnum gun weapon that she suddenly whips out to make mincemeat out of our Rosebuds, going straight for their heads only for something to happen during the fight. Like perhaps Cordo swings her axe straight into the controls for the Mechazord which short-circuits the machine causing it to go berserk and start moving on its own.

So Ruby, Oscar and Cordo are all trapped inside the Mechazord while the titan-sized bucket of bolts rampages the forests of Argus, reaping nothing but destruction in its walk heading straight for the Wall of Argus. Because if the Wall is destroyed then that will certainly bring forth panic and distress to the People of Argus and a whole population widespread of panic will definitely bring forth the Grimm lurking near the area.

The fact that the Wall of Argus was highlighted in C7 still bothers me along with the fact that Oscar was the one seen in the shot with the Wall. If I had to make an assumption going off that then I’d like to think that if anything were to happen to the Wall, it’d be Oscar who ends up saving the day through the magic of the Oz-cane; somehow

If the Mechazord does go berserk then it’d be interesting if the group actually wind up saving both Argus and Cordo. That and a part of me would also love to see a parallel to this scene between Ozma and Salem with Ruby and Oscar. I don’t care how it’s done I just would love to see it done where at the end of it all, Ruby and Oscar survive the mechazord fight together and just take a moment to catch their breaths before looking at each other and smiling.

Maybe Ruby smiles at Oscar and he looks away kind of blushing. Ruby then asks Oscar “What do we do now?” mimicking Salem in the Lost Fable only for Oscar to outstretch his hand to her; mimicking Ozma saying “Whatever we like.”

Not sure if we’ll get any of what I just theorized but once more, a squiggle meister can dream. I hope this answers you guys @miggy97 and @miraculouscorazone. Let me know your thoughts on my thoughts if possible. In the meantime, that’s my full $2.50.

 More Squiggles’ RWBY  Content

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[tumblingoli]

Agora of Atmospheres

Today media worldwide are not in a good condition, the damage in the industry is obvious: fake news, closures, layoffs, mergers as a result of austerity measures and bankruptcies, [1] The system collapses in front of our eyes. There is a real danger [2] and it is a problem. [3] Because we let them shape us. [4]

Just to mention one example the Pentagon, has a public information service that involves many thousands of employees, spending hundreds of millions of dollars every year and dwarfing not only the public information resources of any dissenting individual or group but the aggregate of such groups. [5]

Exactly this problem is Elisabeths chance. Soon she will own a significant proportion of influential media outlets and publications worldwide. As of 2019, Rupert Murdoch (her fathers) net worth is estimated to be over 19 billion dollars, with in total 50.000 employees and his vast fortune through his media acquisitions undeniably will make Elisabeth one of the most influential person in the world. [6] This might be today; this might be tomorrow. [7]

Her empire will get bigger, it will be the biggest and the most powerful of them all. In short, her representation will become infinite… [8] Her journalists will have the possibility of investigation of various attempts at uncovering abuses [9] and defend the world against the abuses of capital and of the state. [10] Scandal politics is the weapon of choice for struggle and competition in informational politics… This opens her the door and is her key strategy for her power making. [11]

For she endeavoured […] to stifle all their labours, designing to herself an universal monarchy over opinions. [12] Evidence means neither truth, nor proof; it implies nothing incontrovertible. [13]

Elisabeth is omniscient. She is the authorial playmaster who pulls the strings, she is the director who leads the theatre of media, she is the tamer in the ring. She is in control of the picture. [14]

Interview 

In an interview with the Wall Street Journal she was asked, what she plans with the empire of her father.

Reporter: What would you do with your power? [15]

Elisabeth: My brother and sister, Kathryn and James' views on climate are well known; they are extremely dissatisfied with the way the issue is presented on News Corp and Fox. [16]  

So am I. I am concerned with […] the conditions of the world. [17] Every year, there are other atrocious and horrible catastrophes. [18]

I remember when I was younger, and in school, our teachers showed us films of plastic in the ocean, starving polar bears and so on. I cried through all the movies. [19] I kept thinking about it and I just wondered if I am going to have a future… I read about it more and more and sort of understood how important it was and how severe this crisis is. [20]

Everything was still happening too slow and that it wasn’t going fast enough. So then I just decided that I’m going to do something on my own, and that might not work, but there’s a chance it will – it can have an impact. [21]

I don’t care if what I’m doing […] is hopeful. We need to do it anyway. Even if there’s no hope left and everything is hopeless, we must do what we can. [22]

R: And what is the difference between Greenpeace and the Friday for Futures movement? 

E: Unlike Greta, mine is a top-down movement: I am one of "them up there“ like she says. I sit at the lever of power and have the means to invest. Even these are far from enough, saving the diversity and abundance of life on Earth may cost USD 100 billion a year, say scientists who have proposed a policy to prevent another mass extinction event on the planet. [23]

My point is not that all people should become equal, it is that humanity should become more in balance with nature. A coexistence with nature (extensively side by side), with no content to it, no difference, the same throughout in its pure extensive in difference. [24]

This change in the form of living may well not take place without friction, but it must take place. [25] Self defense is our first law of nature, even if that means harming everyone else in existence. [26]

That has to stop now!

R: How will you achieve this?

The 3Rs axiom “reduce, reuse, recycle” is the best place to start. [27] Formal industrial scale recycling can recover substantial amounts of material and energy. [28] But we have to go bigger than that. 

All things recycle. [29] 

All things cycle.

Look at the nature!

The Earth’s water cycle is a process of constant renewal. [30] Surface water […] constantly moves through a cyclic modulation known as the “water cycle. [31] 

We are as well creatures of rhythms and cycles. [32] To recreate a community of balanced life cycles requires, first of all, that the idea take its place as a principal guide in the development of communities. [33]

And if the same things be not thus repeated in cycles, then they […] shouldn’t be produced. [34]

R: What would you risk for even a tiny chance of making the world more sustainable? [36]

E: I will donate each month 80 million into sustainable projects. People will trust me because I will listen to the them around me. Everyone can meet me any time in Paris. We can have a chat and discuss the things. Perhaps I will listen to you…

Now, of necessity, all persons must have a right to judge of all these different causes, appointed for that purpose by vote […]. [37] So regular weekly voting sessions are held, where anyone who wants can express their opinion and vote on two investments I will chose.

R: Elisabeth Murdoch, thank you for this interview, good luck with your plan and all the best.

Me at the table Elisabeth

On a rainy Saturday morning I was sitting at the table with Elisabeth Murdoch in a café in Paris, we were discussing her new palace next to the Notre Dame.

At this first gathering I could not fail to have the impression that every great mind feels itself in an extremely unsafe position as soon as it leaves the shelter of its cliff top eyrie and has to be comprehensible on common ground. [38] I now may even think of Elisabeth as an unsafe driver because of the strength of the first Impression, which should have been wiped out when you learned her confidence was all untrue. [39] Elisabeth always tried to talk as though there were lots of people in it with her. [40]

Elisabeth is still unsure of her way, her path; She will need the help of a quantum computer, he will take her by the hand to guide her. [41] The external circumstances will play a large determining role in choosing a route. [42] He will give her suggestions on how to proceed, which she can then present at the forum the attendees. 

In contrast to the approach for a more sustainable world, Elisabeth has much clearer ideas about how she wants to live.

The architecture

The Palace of Elisabeth should stand in the Heart of the City, it should be easy of access, beautifully adorned, and rather delicate and polite than proud or stately. [43]

In Paris, next to the Notre Dame, there will be the new center of sustainability. It will be in one line from the Eiffel tower to the Notre-Dame. There will stand a palace of unimaginable splendour and prodigious size. [44] He will outshine all the other palais in Paris. The palace will not be just a center of interest but a center of activity, an epicenter [45] for a new sustainable world. Here ideas are exchanged and influenced, sustainable goods are traded, investments are made, events and parties are held... A stock exchange for sustainability.

Reuse of ancient building material was common in the Renaissance because zones like Lombardy and Emilia, with their alluvial soil and flat topography, made building material scarce [46] This tradition will be revived here, the whole building will reuse building materials. 

Since the palace of her must accommodate a large number of people, it should have rooms notable for their number and size. [47]

The building has at its core a mystic space of public ritual and renewal […] in the form of a faceted five storey hall of corbelled brickwork, capped by a crystalline rooflight. [48]

The most important part is that which we shall call the "agora" of the house, although you might refer to it as the "court" or „atrium"; next in importance comes the dining room, followed by private bedrooms, and finally living rooms. […] The "agora" is therefore the main part of the house, acting like a public forum, toward which all other lesser members converge; it should incorporate a comfortable entrance, and also openings for light, as appropriate. [49]

The atrium, salon, and so on should relate in the same way to the house as do the agora and public square to the city: they should not be hidden away in some tight and out-of-the-way corner, but should be prominent, with easy access to the other members. [50] The agora is a busy place: among other things, a market, a meeting place. [51]

Our agora has a width two thirds their length; Shops would line the portico, and above, on top of the entablature, would be balconies and storerooms for the public revenue. [52]

In the assembly hall of the Palace [53] the tripartite bema is located to the east of the room…The bema, where most of the ritual will take place, is visible from almost anywhere inside the room. [54]

Moreover, the corners throughout the building need to be exceptionally strong, and so must be solidly constructed. […] Each corner represents half of the building, in that damage to one of the corners will inevitably entail the destruction of two of the sides. [55] For this reason the following advice is given for columns on a corner: make the columns thicker or increase the number of their flutes, because they stand in the open air and appear somewhat narrower than the rest. [56]

The dining room is situated just above the hall, in a lower, more intimate space, overlooking the hall. [57] A freestanding spiral staircase behind the Bema leads up to him.

The public spaces and the public portion of the promenade through the house end at the dining room. [58]

What Elisabeth's private rooms above the dining hall look like has been a closely guarded secret until now...

[1] Republik [2] Plato, The Republic [3] Taleb, The Black Swan [4] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [5] Herman Chomsky, Manufacturing Consent [6] Nomajesty [7] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [8] Deleuze, Difference and Repetition [9] Forensic Architecture, Forensis The Architecture of Public Truth [10] Castells, The Power of Identity [11] Castells, The Power of Identity [12] Hayek, The Constitution of Liberty [13] Forensic Architecture, Forensis The Architecture of Public Truth [14] Harrison Wood Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648-1815 [15] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [16] The Guardian [17] Hayek, The Constitution of Liberty [18] Augustine, The City of God [19] The Guardian [20] The Wire [21] The Guardian [22] The Wire [23] The Economic Times [24] Zizek, Less Than Nothing [25] Marx, Capital Volume One [26] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [27] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [28] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [29] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [30] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City [31] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [32] Alexander, A Pattern Language [33] Alexander, A Pattern Language [34] Augustine, The City of God [35] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [36] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [37] Aristotle, A Treatise on Government [38] Musil, The Man Without Qualities [39] Hofstadter, Godel Escher Bach [40] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [41] Foucault, The Courage of the Truth [42] Hofstadter, Godel Escher Bach [43] Alberti, 10 books of architecture 1755[44] Leibniz, Theodicy [45] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [46] Marzano, The Roman Villa in the Mediterranean Basin [47] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [48] Frampton, Modern Architecture A Critical History [49] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [50] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [51] Forensic Architecture, Forensis The Architecture of Public Truth [52] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [53] Kessler, Pictorial Narrative in Antiquity and the Middle Ages [54] Wescoat Ousterhout, Architecture of the Sacred [55] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [56] Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 1988 [57] Leatherbarrow Eisenschmidt, Twentieth Century Architecture [58] Leatherbarrow Eisenschmidt, Twentieth Century Architecture

[lifeofnes]

Wk 5

Ok so from Sunday to Wednesday I did nothing but stay in bed. The weekend really kicked my butt.  I researched and listened to OPM and read manga and comics. I caught up on Shokugeki No Soma and the Immortal Hulk. Both I feel describe me well: a culinary enthusiast who is a thoughtfully aware rage monster. That’s a joke. I’m only up and mobile a 6-8 times a day to eat, bathroom, or say hi to inay and tatay. I don’t want to get them sick so my interactions are distanced and brief. I can still tell inay’s not at one hundred, but in your mid-eighties who really is? Every day I hear my mom buzzing around the house trying to literally do everything she can to make the living situation more comfortable for inay. They got her an at-home oxygen machine and a new cane. Mom is cooking almost every meal for five people. Cleaning and trying to find a suitable home and caregiver. Most of which is impeded by her brother and inay who do not want to spend the money they’re not even using. When she’s not here she’s at the apartment holding herself back from sticking her foot up the neighborhood managements ass to come fix our roof. It's been a month. We’re already bribing them to put us on the top of the list of repairs. I have no idea if its worth it, or if it will matter since we leave in a day. She’s also trying desperately to sell our car, but with only a weeks worth of time and wanting a full payment in cash in hand, I doubt this last day will be any different. It’s heartbreaking really. I knew we were coming into this to take care of inay, but I had no idea the amount of pressure she would put on herself doing so. Not to mention the lack of thankfulness and for some reason underlying anger, I have noticed coming from either of my grandparents and uncle Ver. We have a few moments with each other during those days and she tells me that of all the times she’s ever been back to the Philippines, this has been her loneliest experience. She starts crying and I hold her hand. She really wants to go home and see dad. And I get it. Imagine having to live with your parents who still treat you like a irresponsible teenager, when you’re 58, in front of your own child. The difference in tone and dynamic in how they talk and act towards my mom and how they talk and act with me are worlds different. I have no idea who’s mad at who, or for what reason, but every conversation is laced with this scent of resentment. It is a sad feeling to want to raise your voice, but know that it has no sound behind it. By Thursday I was healthy (enough,) fed up, and only had six days left. I escaped quarantine and went to the mall to have churros and by a sim card. With that pocket Wifi gone I needed to have some form of communication. A sim with 5 gigs cost 20 pesos. That’s less than fifty cents. That was wild. I got churros with an ube white chocolate dip. That was wild. My mom was letting me travel by myself. WIIIILD. We met up for lunch at this place called army navy burger and burrito. I had a burger for the first time in thirty Gregorian calendar days. Though not the best burger I had, it was welcoming. Mom and I talked about the plan for the next few days and told me that she found someone to replace her and convinced everyone in the house it was the smartest decision. What a trooper. I love her. The next few days mom and I spend hanging out with Kristel and Vicky, sleeping at their place, and being treated like proper guests. It’s nice to see my mom not having to everything for a change of pace. I work a few shifts at Conrado’s and hang out with two of Kristel's friends. Both of whom are lesbians and in a very “will they, won't they” rom-com situation. It’s entertaining. I’m hoping they don’t because they seem bad for each other, Kristel doesn't want it to happen because she knows one of them isn’t a lesbian, she just likes the attention lol. We go out to Korean BBQ! It was pretty good, and super cheap for unlimited everything! Like 6.50 usd. But I did spend 700+ on a plane ticket here so my small monetary victories don’t mean much. On Friday ate Vic brings us to Tagaytay to go sightseeing. We eat bulalo and is easily one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life. They also did a beef shank karekare which changed all my life experiences with that dish. The view we had was over a cliff during midday. The whole experience was Michael Lawrence Tyler (Mystkal.) We hit a few other restaurants on the way back home for coffee and pastries. The first is at the newly opened Ridge Park. They have natural cut bench tables and secluded huts for bigger parties, lining a path mere feet from the edge of the mountain. We grab coffees there which are crap, but we’re there for the view anyway. Wish we could visited the island that’s inside a lake that’s inside an island that’s inside a lake that’s inside a island. We were really close to it. You’ll know what I’m talking about it you Bing it. View is breathtaking and I’m happy to be sharing the moment with my family. We head out to a cafe called Bag of Beans. This one is definitely ritzier, not at all indicated by its humdrum name. Like destination wedding reception levels of fancy. It’s terraced, meaning all of it’s rooms are on different levels of the mountain but all part of the same grounds. The main area has 3 dining rooms. One next to the cashier and glass shadowbox with their baked goods. Its adjacent to the kitchen which looks fully loaded and up to date based on my nosy looks though the circular glass of the door. There’s the upstairs dining area accessed only by spiral staircase, and an outdoor area with a view of Mt. Taal and its lake. One terrace down is a newly renovated ballroom, that is slightly overhanging the cliff-side. One terrace above is an auxiliary kitchen/ power/boiler room with rooftop garden access. There’s a ridiculous water fountain piece stocked with koi between levels 2-3. The grounds manager stocked every nook with flowers and every flavor plant. This joint is swanky. Kristel and I take a look around with hot cocoa in hand and I jokingly (not jokingly) tell her to make sure to have her future wedding reception here. We head home after sundown and hit a night market before the highway to eat jackfruit on the ride home. Saturday the Mayor side throw me and my mom a going away party. My cousin Onyok who owns a wild boar piggery comes through with the lechon. It’s sweeter and has a deeper savoriness than all of the other lechon I've had. I think it’s because he finishes raising them on just fruit in their final months. It’s also ate Agnes’ birthday but as usual she’s cooking something. I join her in making empanadas, fish lumpia. She says she wants to make a career of this somehow. I tell her that just because she’s 40 now doesn’t mean she shouldn’t go for it haha. My two eldest cousins Cesar and Emma got to see each other. They’re the ones who both got strokes within weeks of each other and are pretty much bedridden. Everytime they see each other Cesar is crying and Emma is getting mad at him for it. Kuya Onyok’s wife, Cori, wouldn’t stop taking pictures of every single thing. It was a good day for her. After eating twice, I ended up playing volleyball with Onyok’s grandkids (they’re my age so that how old Onyok is if you were wondering) and I had a hard time keeping up. It was my first physical exercise in over a month I think. All of my older cousins were asking how my time here was. If I had a relaxing time being back or if I had hard time adjusting. It was “all of those things and more.” I told them. Some of the physical space I was in, but mostly depended on the people I was getting to know. Some gave me hope and drove me to keep going. Others filled me with pity, a longing to help, but not knowing where to. But all of them gave me a perspective change. Life in the Philippines is hard. Weather you have money or don’t. There are going to be relational problems between families and lovers. Government here is twice as corrupt and convoluted as it is in the states. There are actual ongoing armed conflicts, real firefights, going all over the islands. Wages suck, good jobs are scarce, and opportunities to get ahead in life seem narrow. There are some beautiful places but the uneducated majority of the populace leaves pollution thick in the air, in the water, in the streets. Religion and tradition still hold a tight grip against modern, practical, and sound policies. Still, all of the people I’ve interacted with and observed seem generally happy-go-lucky. Like things are going all according to plan. Maybe I’ve only met a handful of people here in a small amount of time, but a spirit of endurance is prevalent here. I have to pack still and say bye to the cousins I can manage to get in touch with. So i’ll leave it at this, I love this place and I’m thankful for how it both made my world smaller and larger in perspective. Ingat ka! See you in Eat-aly.