#like those are two distinct issues even if they intertwine at times

[strialternatives]

[[tried a bit of a joker interlude to the palace au that goes hand-in-hand with akechi's pov i'm not 100% happy with it but akira's weird brain is pretty fun to write around]]

SIDE JOKER

Kurusu Akira has always been good at school, in a technical sense.

Memorization and repetition were both things he had a knack for, the education system uplifted those traits—though, he wouldn’t call himself smart the way Makoto is (the way “he” used to be). School work was a grind to him, something semi-productive that got him praise when he was younger. 

These days, however, it was a distraction that allowed Akira to grit his teeth and bear with his sorry situation until he could get back to Tokyo, where he could shed a mask that no longer fit.

Even with his redacted criminal record, straight 100's across the board could get him in anywhere.

Akira, had a future with his well-off parents' support and the uncountable number of cards in the deck he’d cultivated in Tokyo. With his lot, he has a plethora of options forward that others in his situation would probably kill for, but Akira himself could honestly take or leave most of them.

And yet, as he sits alone at the empty kitchen table the day he comes back, missing the scents of Leblanc and the comforting sounds of Sojiro’s gruff tones, his phone constantly buzzing with notifications from friends and the many interesting characters he’d become acquainted with; Akira finds he can’t unwind.

He’s staring at his sad convenience store bento while Morgana loudly complains about the quality of the meal. His vision swims and he blinks the sensation away.

Shoulder length honey colored hair and wine colored eyes crinkling up in amusement in the dim lights of Jazz Jinn. Pale fingers wrapping around a glass filled to the brim with colorful liquid as words weaved of silk and deceit serenade him; bitter resentment, resigned smiles.

The sheer clarity of the image makes him twitch.

Akira inhales, he barely notices he’s snapped his chopsticks clean in two with the force of his grip.

Ah.

This is no good at all, is it?

///

Morgana grounds Akira more far than the buzzing notifications in his pocket or the weekly video calls with the thieves Futaba sets up. Even Haru and Makoto make the calls, even if they’re both busy with uni. 

(He feels a conflicting warmth, knowing that they’re all scared of change, but at least they can be scared together.)

It was never about the million little tragedies, it was about making the choice to move forward despite all that.

Even if they all fell apart one day, even if the nebulous future might rend them asunder—Joker’s rowdy phantoms would still stay his thieves, and nothing could take away the precious time they all spent together, intertwined in Tokyo.

Foolish sentimentality.

(He supposed he could acknowledge Maruki for one thing—Shujin’s beloved school counselor had given Akira and Akechi that one final month. Akira would never thank him for it necessarily, but he wouldn’t begrudge that stolen time either.)

It’s not as though Tokyo was home, the way his hometown was, Tokyo itself was just another place.

Akira’s ‘home’ has always been people, it was relationships, a distinct sensation of belonging. Akira was good at things like that, finding places to belong, nothing too permanent, always temporary.

The goodbyes rolled off the tongue easier that way.

Maruki would probably have a field day linking all that back to Akira’s deep seated abandonment issues.

Morgana looks after him of course, his friend is perky and positive, bad mouthing the snide, narrow-minded classmates Akira’s been dealing with since elementary school, just to make him crack a smile. 

Akira takes him to his favorite spots to keep his mind off of things—nothing lofty, it’s mostly nature walks and caves Akira liked as a child.

He doesn’t have any other friends anymore, and the hiking keeps him in shape. Akira doesn’t really have a reason to do it anymore, but running and working out with Ryuji instilled the habit, even the pull-ups he does using his door frame felt meditative in a sense.

He liked the rhythm of it, a mindless routine to help him settle his thoughts.

Nonetheless, Akira still hunches in his shoulders, folding himself into an unassuming, submissive creature to fly under the radar, that mask keeps him safe.

(He wonders if Boss would be willing to put him up for university, it’d be nice, living in Leblanc’s attic, seeing Futaba show-off in her new uniform.)

///

‘Lonely’ isn’t the right word for the thick clench of panic in his chest he feels, the grayed out contrast of his hometown is stifling. 

This place hasn’t felt like a home since every thing he’d ever known turned on him, he’s coming to realize it never would again.

So, he doesn’t rejoin the theater club for his third year (because the memory of ignored text messages from club members he’d come to know and blocked calls from ‘friends’ he’d hang out with outside the town's sole grocery store grates and sets his teeth on edge).

His charges have been dropped but the awkward wariness lingers, his classmates give him a wide berth.

Akira doesn’t care enough to remedy the rift, he’s here for a diploma and nothing else—he doesn’t hate them or anything. Hate is something reserved for monsters like Kamoshida and Shido, for the tangled mess he feels for Maruki’s complicated everything. For gods and demons. 

Hate would require having loved them in the first place and, uncomfortably enough, Akira's also starting to suspect the indifference he feels isn’t new.

Was he really so callous? Didn't he grow up with these classmates? What did that say about him, that there was nothing, not even anger?

Shallow connections, lukewarm relationships—just like the one he’s always had with his parents, the one Akira’s parents had with each other. 

Yikes.

Maybe he’s a lot a bit more fucked up than he’s been allowing himself to process.

(God knows Maruki’s avoidant style brought out the worst of his coping mechanisms.)

Akira twirls a pen as he absently listens to a lecture on something he’s already studied in Shujin’s surprisingly advanced curriculum, stroking a thumb over Morgana’s head. His heart squeezes a little watching a little pink tongue bleep out, his friend dozing against his palm. Easy. A year of boring school in his sorry hicktown is easy compared to killing a god or two.

He’s not alone.

He’ll never be alone again.

If Igor was mean enough to give Morgana an actual cat’s lifespan though, Akira thinks he might become a supervillain—but, well, he supposes they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.

///

The days that pass are slow moving as molasses, Akira is bored out of his skull.

He keeps his head down, he barely studies and still makes first place in the student rankings, Makoto would be proud of him. Akira ought to call her he thinks but… hm. His finger lingers over the call button, stomach twisting in a complicated way remembering the tense conversation they'd had about her interning at the police station.

Like Akechi used to.

(“I want to follow in dad’s footsteps, fight for my justice! I can make a difference, I know I can.”)

Akira blinks down at his feet, the hallway seems to warp around him, as he stares down at his phone for a long time. It buzzes with a text from Ryuji in the group chat.

Him and Haru had met up in Kyoto it seems. He has a college there willing to take him on.

Slowly, carefully, Akira’s muscles unclench—he didn’t realize he’d locked up like that in the first place. He shoots back a text, short and sweet with congratulations, then shows a sparkly-eyed Morgana the selfie they’d sent.

Akira whistles a happy tune and tries not to think about the irrational twist of betrayal he’d felt in his gut. And it was irrational, Makoto’s justice was her own—it wasn’t his place to give his two cents, Haru, he’s sure, has that more than covered already. It wasn’t like she’d made a secret of setting her sights on the Commissioner's seat. 

He’s only several months into the term and he can already see their Queen starting to crack. He’s sure the problem will fix itself.

“Joker?”

Akira looks down at Morgana’s large, curious pupils and his shoulders unwind, he smiles as he scratches behind his best and dearest friend’s ears. His voice is a fond croon when a triangular head bumps against his palm affectionately.

Suddenly he feels a bit more grounded.

“Nothing to worry about, Mona, just got lost in thought, that’s all.”

///

In the beginning there’d been countless black suits following him around his tiny town—but, one by one, just outside of his field of vision, Akira watches them drop like flies.

Not in the literal sense, of course.

It starts with a lack of suits at the local corner store Akira haunts on Sundays, his third eye abruptly stops itching. The scrutinizing gazes he'd grown used to no longer there.

Then, he notices a lack of dark vans on his long trek home from school—something Akira hadn’t even realized brought him anxiety.

It’s all very gradual, if Akira were anyone else he probably wouldn’t have noticed the slow decline at all until his watchers were completely gone.

He’s cautious by the change as he is curious.

Akira contemplates contacting Futaba, but selfishly, he kind of wants to see where this all goes. Because either the government’s lost interest (unlikely) or someone’s gearing up to kill him (exhaustingly likely with his luck). Maybe it's his protective streak, they've only really followed him, after all. He doesn't want to involve the others for what could be nothing.

Yet… somehow, someway, by the time October rolls around, there’s no more men in black following him at all.

Akira’s tension leaves him along with the malicious eyes crawling down his back. His curiosity still burns and burns, Arsene’s interest rumbles at the back of his skull.

He leaves it be, he doesn't tell a soul, not even Futaba. It's like his stalkers were nothing more than a mirage. A bad dream.

/

“I didn’t used to have friends, you know.”

Morgana twitches an ear, loafing in Akira’s lap one night, pretending his little body isn’t purring like an engine. He flops over on his side and Akira’s eyes squint in affection, scratching under a fuzzy chin.

“Oh?”

“Mmhm. I was a real chameleon growing up. Sure, I had people I sat with at lunch, and we even called each other at night and said ‘good morning’ and ‘see you soon’ before and after school every day.” Akira hums in thought staring sightless at the muted television set.

There’s nothing that triggers the rant really, it’s been brewing for months, words he’s been holding back, biting down. 

“We’d even hang out at the only strip mall on our days off, but you wanna know a secret, Morgana?”

Morgana lifts his head at that, properly keyed-in—understandably so. Getting Akira to talk about his life pre-Tokyo is like pulling teeth. His friend is perceptive in the way he doesn’t ask.

“… A secret?”

He nudges a finger against a twitching, velvety ear, dropping his voice so low he can feel it in his chest, “I hardly ever enjoyed myself here, not until Tokyo. I was scared.”

“What? You? But you’re never scared, Joker!”

Akira snickers eyes bright and amused, “Absolutely terrified.”

If it was possible for a cat to pout, he supposes Morgana would figure it out, “…You’re teasing me again.”

“I’m really not—I used to be so anxious and it feels silly now. The worst feeling was being left behind, so I’d slap a smile on my face and try to stay on everyone’s good side.” 

He holds a squalling Morgana to his chest, slumping over on his side with a faint exhale.

“You know what everyone used to say?

‘You’re so well behaved, Kurusu-san.’

‘You always agree with what everyone says, it's hard to tell what you’re thinking, Kurusu!’

‘Are there any original thoughts or opinions in that head at all?’

 —That last one I kind of resent though. I like old movies and Mifune Toshiro, y’know?”

Morgana finally settles in his arms, baby blues wide and compassionate. “Oh, Akira,” he sighs in that forlorn way of his (and Akira adores him).

“I was always the odd one out in class. I was just trying to fit in but… you know. Whenever someone called me on being shallow I didn’t have any excuses. They were right.”

He’d always been a touch too awkward, just a bit too tall compared to his other classmates, shuffled this way and that to fit in group photos, the last person everyone picked to partner up with on school trips. Less bullied and more of an afterthought—Akira recalling joining his tiny country school’s itty little drama club as a stagehand for lack of much else to do, helpful where he was needed, a ghost where he wasn’t. 

He’d never been brave enough to audition for a true stage role.

The only things his friends and clubmates knew about Akira were his parents being some city big wigs, always away on business, and that Akira had a quirky fondness for plays and tv dramas.

Akira contemplates this for a moment: “You know, no one but my parents even called me by my first name until Tokyo, not since early elementary school.” 

Morgana is silent aside from a somewhat frustrated mewl, head butting him lightly, as though that’ll shake loose all of the morose thoughts in Akira’s brain. It’s a nice thought. It even pulls a genuine laugh out of him.

“You guys gave me that back to me—my name—without a second thought, Ryuji and Ann just made it so easy. The Phantom Thieves, everyone I met in Tokyo, Boss…” He rolls over onto his back looking at the ceiling, lips upturned, “I love you guys for that.”

“You don’t need to thank us for anything, Akira,” a fuzzy cheek nuzzles against his—Akira melts a little at that, “we’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Akira nods but his mind goes on a walk.

In retrospect, Akechi’s voice reminded him of a song. There was something in his cadence, in the way he said his words despite never hearing his rival sing.

Distantly, Akira can’t help wondering what his name would sound like in Akechi’s soft detective prince tenor, or perhaps spat like a curse in his truer raspy, no-nonsense cadence. Akira never got to hear him say it, he’d always been ‘Kurusu-kun’ then a stilted ‘Kurusu’ throughout January.

Never ‘Akira’. Then again, Akechi was never ‘Goro’, either, was he?

Sometimes, Akira wonders what would’ve happened if he’d taken his offered hand after their duel that night, would it have moved the needle just so? Would Akechi have been there, reluctant, fighting a god beside them as a proper thief, alive and with a team behind his back?

No more what-if’s.

Akira buries his face in Morgana’s fur, curled up on the couch, the warm body vibrating in comfort.

Losing hope wasn’t an option.

He had to trust that he’d know the shape of his name on Akechi’s lips one day. —Akira’s always been rather stubborn, once he cared enough to set his mind to something. That trait is what got him shipped off to Tokyo in the first place, after all. 

“Say, Akira?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think you’re fake or shallow at all. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Joker. And anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t know you at all.”

Akira smiles, holding Morgana aloft, eyes squinting, overwhelmed with bubbling affection, “I know Mona,” he murmurs, “you’re my best friend.”

And he means it. Akira only had surface level connections until Tokyo.

“Why, of course! I’m your partner in crime, not even Ryuji knows you better than I do!” His cat puffs out in pride and Akira brings him down again, nuzzling their noses together much to Morgana’s lengthy whinging.

Quietly, Akira tucks away the urge to correct the metaverse feline.

—Morgana knew him best aside from… him.

His detective always seemed to see straight through him; dissecting him with the precision of a predator, a surgeon, a taxidermist.

Even now, after almost a year, Akira still couldn’t figure out how to stitch himself back together again.

///

Akira remembers a scene from a million years ago.

Akechi sits across from him at Jazz Jin, stirring a colorful drink—he’d noted the flavor, sweet and unique with a kick. Just like his rival. Akechi’s eyes had slid across his, a dull wine color, exhausted and tense at the edges.

He’d been like that for all of January.

(Their conversations were always a dance between unbearably heavy and nonsensically mundane when they sat like this. Akira bottles the moments in his heart, the good, the bad and the ugly, so they stay sharp and pristine.)

“Do you know the myth of the Minotaur?”

“In passing.”

Akira had inclined his head, still absently stirring his drink, eyes glued to Akechi Goro’s profile in the dimmed light of the club, watching him watch the featured singer of the night. His lips had parted in a sigh, gaze slanting languidly back to Akira.

“It was a monster of Crete with the body of a man and the head of a bull—an unwanted child brought forth due to the petty whims of a god.” 

Akechi had stared into his drink, eyes half mast and far, far away, so far away it’d filled Akira with an irrational fear that he’d fade away right then and there.

“He was a punishment for the king of Minos, for not sacrificing the white bull, so Poseidon made his wife fall in love with it.”

“… What happened to him?”

His counterpoint had blinked out of his daze, eyes refocusing on Akira, “To the king?”

A shake of his head, “No, to the child.”

Akechi’s answering smile had been bemused as it was bitter—a twisted contrast to the pleasant veneer of the detective prince: “He locked the monster in a prison as soon as it was weaned, of course, he buried his shame deep, deep underground and kept it fed with the lives of his enemies.”

They’d both taken sips of their drinks, the jazz singer reaching a crescendo, Akira still recalls the perfect pitch of the saxophone. His heart had been hammering in his chest—there was something in Akechi’s tone that hadn’t sat right with him.

(He’d weighed the options, he hadn’t pushed.)

“How does the story end?”

Is that how you see yourself? 

Akechi had hummed carelessly, eyes dull and drifting again. Akira had wanted to shake him. “Why, how all stories like this with a monster are meant to end—the hero, Theseus, slays the beast and takes its head.”

“That’s kind of sad isn’t it? For the monster, I mean.”

Shrug. A smirk over a glistening glass. “That’s the fate of a monster, you should know that better than anyone, Joker.”

“Even an innocent one?”

Akechi had cackled at that, the same way he does in the throes of bloodlust wearing Loki’s skin in the Metaverse—the subject shifted after that. He’d never given Akira a clear answer.

///

Akira graduates alone.

His parents couldn’t make it with his father tied up with business in Nagasaki and his mother, a successful paralegal, working on several cases in Kyoto. He’d started packing as soon as he got his acceptance letter to a university in Kanagawa—Sojiro had been ecstatic in his quiet, stoic sort of way when Akira shyly called him up to see if the attic room was still available.

Dad had wanted him to go to Tokyo U. Akira had trashed the application thrice and there’d been a night of screaming and broken plates and threats, and now, well, needless to say he wouldn’t be getting any financial support in Tokyo outside of his scholarship. 

Luckily, Lala-san and Iwai had been happy to take him back.

He didn’t need the jobs, really, but, Akira still wasn’t sure what the hell to do with all the unmarked money he’d earned transversing Mementos and selling scraps to Iwai last year. Akira also liked to keep busy, when he got idle he tended to…spiral. And he’s already had enough self introspection to last a lifetime.

So, he’d taken his diploma and left his old high school gates without once looking back.

No one asks him for the second button on his uniform, and Akira doesn’t have anyone to give it away to.

—Red irises flash in his mind’s eye for just a moment, Akira brushes it off before the thought can truly take root.

With Morgana settled in his duffel, chirping about sushi on the train, he leaves behind his sad country town and the stark, empty walls of his childhood home.

///

Futaba catches him in a flying hug dressed in her Shujin uniform, her long skirts fluttering as she complains about how solid he is, hugging him tight, tight, tight, as though they don’t chat every night, as though she doesn’t talk to him more than Ann and Ryuji put together.

She squeezes his arm as Sojiro ruffles up his hair, complaining about Akira somehow getting taller compared to last year.

They cook curry in the Sakura family home for once. As Futaba practically vibrates in place, bouncing on her heels the entire night.

Was she always so small? So young? 

Akira blinks.

Huh. That’s a new hang up.

“We’ve got a surprise but you can’t see it yet! Sojiro wanted to do stuff right this time.”

“… ‘Do stuff right’?”

“Mweheheh! You just wait, it’ll knock your socks off, leader!”

It’s a shower.

Sojiro had got Akira’s phone call months ago and immediately got to work arranging a fucking shower so when Akira returned to Leblanc (home, it’s home, isn’t it?) he wouldn’t have to go to the bathhouse every night.

Morgana calls him an idiot for the anxieties he’d whispered to him on the train ride up. When he’d been nervous enough to shake. What if things had changed too much? What if he didn’t fit anymore? What if Sojiro and Futaba weren’t at the train station?

The relief he feels when he cries into his curry that night is unmatched, the soft fur rubbing up against his face a comfort as he sniffs and rubs his eyes when it’s just them at the cafe counter.

His fears feel silly now.

Futaba is throwing him a surprise graduation party with everyone tomorrow, and badly keeping it a secret while she drops the most obvious hints in the world. And this is the warmest he’s ever felt.

How could Akira have ever doubted them?

//

“Hey, dude, how’re you holding up?”

Akira blinks up at Ryuji, laid flat on the floor of Leblanc’s attic, Ann is perched on his bed, eating her way through a platter of sushi. Ryuji is heading out to Kyoto tomorrow, Ann’s going to America next week.

They’d decided on a sleepover with just the four of them, they always meant to, but just never had time back when they were all at Shujin with the Palaces and the targets to worry about. That entire year had moved so fast it felt like Hawaii was the only stressless event.

Ann feeds a visibly content Morgana a piece of salmon with her chopsticks. Akira glances away.

“Fine. Why?”

“Well, all of us are heading off and I know Futaba and Sumire are gonna still be in Tokyo but, it’ll be… y’know, different.”

“No doubt.”

Morgana lets out a groan, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me, Lady Ann—I’ll miss you so much! Also you’re the only reason Akira looks presentable when he goes out.”

She lets out a giggle, rubbing him behind the ears until the metaverse feline is practically melting into the duvet, “Oh, Mona! I’ll be just a phone call away, and besides,” she leans in with a mischievous air, it reminds Akira of Carmine a little bit, “I’ve still got a week to replace that wardrobe he’s had since second year.”

Akira pouts, “I look good in black.”

Ann nods looking serious, “Yeah, it’s awful. You can’t even pull off a red hoodie.”

“Hey!”

They chat and bicker into the early hours of the morning, winding up a tangled puppy pile on the floor with several futons Sojiro had brought up. 

If asked, Akira would sooner die than ever admit to playing favorites amongst his thieves, but Ann and Ryuji were special, they were the first ones he’d ever fought beside, the first real friends he’d ever made at a new, hostile school. They’d made Shujin feel safe. They were home.

This wasn’t goodbye, not really, but knowing his friends’ paths were diverging so completely made Akira ache.

Yusuke was thinking of taking a gap year, Haru was determinately pursuing her business degree, Makoto though… Well, Akira and her had another mild disagreement regarding her career choices. They hadn’t talked in a couple weeks.

That left Sumire and Futaba in their third year at Shujin, fast friends with their own futures to think about.

There was no name for this feeling—bitterness wasn’t quite right, but pride was too positive for the heavy sensation of foreboding Akira’s felt in his chest since arriving back in Tokyo.

‘He’ should be here.

He should get a future, just like the rest of them.

He should be in his seat at the coffee counter, complaining about universities, and nitpicking Akira’s choice in courses and—

He should be here. With Akira.

Ann drags him shopping after they see Ryuji off at the station. Maybe she feels the weight of their impending separation too, because there’s not a day that final week that Akira doesn’t see her in the coffee shop, once, she even brings in Shiho.

It’s a nice week, he only thinks about Akechi twice.

///

“Joker, what do you know about Orpheus?”

It’s mid-November and Sae’s palace is nearly half-way finished, they’d mutually decided to head into Mementos alone to work on synergy. Akechi looked regal in his princely marching band outfit.

(Akira knows it was all a façade now, but he’ll still readily admit that Akechi looked best in white.)

“That's a Greek tragedy, isn’t it?”

“Correct, Kurusu-kun.” His eyes squint in amusement behind his beak mask, “The son of a muse, who loses his wife to a snake’s venom on their wedding day, and ventures down to the land of the dead to bring her back to the light.”

His golden ray gun had glinted in the surreal light of Mementos as he’d shot a shadow before it could take form. It was over in a flash, so quickly and efficiently, Akira had no idea who Akechi had thought he’d been fooling, pretending to be new to the Metaverse.

“The only stipulation Hades gave him was that he absolutely mustn't look back.”

Akira inclined his head, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, “That’s the point of the myth isn’t it? That everyone looks back, I’ve always thought the story was about grief and letting go.”

Crow had hummed lightly under his breath, hands carelessly clasped behind his back, gripped loosely around his laser sword—he’d been more whimsical when he wore Robin. Clinical and precise when playing his role as he was, there hadn’t been a single thing out of place, there was a gracefulness there, an endless waltz on a tightrope parallel to Joker's.

Akira was obsessed.

If it weren’t for Akechi's slip-up that day in the TV station he’d have probably fallen for it too. Hook. Line. Sinker. He’d have welcomed Akechi Goro just as easily as he had Nijima Makoto into the Thieves’ ranks, without a second thought.

“So you read the myth as a metaphor then?”

He’d cut a smile over his shoulder at that, “That, and if I were Orpheus I wouldn’t follow some god’s rigged game. I’m only human, you know.”

Akechi had blinked at him owlishly, “So was Orpheus, in the end.”

“We’re different people. I wouldn’t let go.”

Wine colored eyes had caught his and held.

“If I had something I loved that much, enough to cross the river Styx, I’d keep going back, over and over, even if I had to swim. Even under threat of being crushed under the currents. I wouldn’t let it go.”

“How romantic,” golden hair had fluttered briefly as Akechi turned his head away, no doubt hiding his bitter scoff, softening it into a chuckle befitting of the Detective Prince, “ever the gentleman, Joker.”

“I’m a thief, first and a gentleman second, Crow. And thieves can be quite tenacious with the right motivation.”

“Oh my, is that a confession,” Akechi smirked right then, and it looked almost genuine, “shall I save us both the trouble and take you in?”

Akira had thrown his head back and laughed, wild and free in a way he only felt in Joker’s skin, “Only if you can stomach turning yourself in as my accomplice, detective.”

“Accomplice? Not a ‘thief’?”

“Hm, I don’t think so,” nesting in the back of his mind, Arsene purred his agreements, “you’re ‘Crow’. We’re allies with a common goal, at least for now, and that’s enough.”

Akechi had gone silent for so long, he’d thought that the conversation was over. But, to his surprise, his rival had swayed a bit closer, brushing up against Akira’s side as their eyes met.

His expression had been, for once, blank and flat, but his eyes were intense—burning as they searched his face for… something.

Akira still doesn’t know what he was searching for, but just the same, like the flipping of a light switch, that plastic smile was right back in place.

“… You know Joker, I think you’re right. You’re quite stubborn—you remind me more of Sisyphus.”

“How so?”

“You have a thing for lost causes. My guess is, in Orpheus’s role, you’d have kept going back, as many times as it took.”

///

“Senpai!”

“Sumire!”

Akira twirls his kouhai around and around in the fast food joint drawing stares as she giggles. When he sets her back on her feet she’s quick to embrace him, mouth going a mile a minute as she drags him over to the Bang Burger booth where Futaba is waiting.

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you came back in town, senpai! I was busy with training, then I had to go to a competition in Osaka and I just couldn't find the time-”

“It’s fine Sumi, breathe.”

It’s a nice afternoon, a pleasant lunch as Akira skirts around the subject of what he's been up to (nothing at all) and Sumire talks about getting third in her most recent meet and fills Akira in on some Shujin happenings. 

She’s made very good friends in Futaba’s computer club, it seems. And Futaba chimes in, eagerly telling him about all of her exploits as president and how ‘Ami-chan is a way better successor to my vision than Tamaki, I don’t know why he thinks I’d pick anyone else for president, he doesn’t even know what a motherboard is!’

He absently notes Sumire’s striking, scarlet hair pulled back into a french braid with her sister's bow, not in a ponytail, or down like she’d worn it while at her lowest in January. A style completely of her own.

She adjusts her glasses confidently, beaming up at him, finally comfortable in her own skin and Akira is so, so proud of her.

They’re so strong now, both of them are. He can't wait to see what they'll become.

Afterward, Akira goes home to Leblanc and tries hard not to think about how he hasn’t picked a field of study yet. He’s only in his first months of the term and he’s already so tired.

It helps to hang out with Futaba and Sumi. Taking shifts at Lala's and helping Iwai with inventory takes his mind off of the looming juggernaut that is the shape of his impending future.

The line he walks is razor thin, it’s like Akira is balancing over a yawning cavern, and once he loses balance and falls he’ll just never stop.

He’s waiting in anticipation for something while in stasis, lethargic, drifting.

Morgana is dozing on his bed as he plucks up his groggy friend after his shower, curling around the warm ball of fur as he falls asleep, dreaming of a smile full of knives and flinty red eyes.

He’s thinking of him a lot these days. 

(Akira wonders if they’re looking at the same sky.)

///

The incident happens on his way to campus on an unremarkable day, it’s on a rare occasion when he doesn’t have Morgana with him.

Akira spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye.

The otherworldly shade is so familiar it's downright disorienting, a ghostly blue glow seems to light up the narrow alleyway. At first, he shifts from foot to foot, hesitating at the mouth of the opening between buildings the door is tucked into. The foreboding feeling is heavier than it's ever been, but below it still is a twinge of adrenaline.

Inside him, Arsene shakes off the stiffness of his feathers; Raoul slits open a single eye.

Akira gathers his nerve before he takes one step forward... then another, then another. 

This is not a hallucination, the feel of his fingertips on the coarse brick of the buildings the door is nestled between is too solid to be a dream.

It’s not a prison cell this time, but a sturdy oakwood door, and isn’t that curious?

When his fingers close around the handle, it pushes open without fanfare.

What follows is disorienting, a bit like entering Mementos, real world surroundings warping and churning. Akira squeezes his eyes shut against the white-blue flash of light and the all-encompassing feeling of his insides twisting together.

He’s unceremoniously spat out into a booth. 

Dizzily, Akira glances around the room. In front of him there is a cocktail bar of blue-tinted black oak wood, reminiscent of Jazz Jinn’s. Front windows with curtains of navy stream in a soothing ultramarine light that reflects softly off the pale walls of the lounge.

The rest of the booths are empty, but Akira quickly registers that he isn’t necessarily alone. 

He cocks his head towards a blindfolded man on a humble stage, fingers flying across the keys of a pleasant sounding piano, and an opera singer with a swooping hair style and curling wisps of silver at her temples. Her voice is intimate and nostalgic, Akira feels like he’s heard it on loop in a dream within a dream somewhere. 

Finally he looks to the bar, one by one, his muscles unclench at the sight of faces he finally knows.

“… A jazz lounge is an improvement, I guess.”

Behind the bar, Lavzena stands, ramrod straight by Igor’s side, fidgeting with her skirts, doe-like yellow eyes seeming to glow in the dim room. She worries her bottom lip, Akira thinks if she had the length of the room she'd be pacing.

“Forgive me, Trickster, but you are needed once more. This is something only you can do.” 

(Well, university was getting tedious.)

[centrally-unplanned]

The Harvard "crisis" is a very illustrative example of collective action problems & tipping points. What is happening now - simultaneously an institutional revolt by some of its board and influential donor class and a wider cultural zeitgeist degrading its status - is a reflection of very long-simmering tensions between its stakeholders.

Harvard, like most top universities, has a dozen+ stakeholders but for our purposes today they sort into two buckets; internal & external. Internally, it has to run a university that educates students & publishes papers - it needs to make those students happy, make its staff happy, etc. Externally, it has a brand to manage as a lodestone of America's elite reproduction, and a status-holder for a set of values of US (and even wider) society, as well as being a networking organization building relationships between and for said elite. These are intertwined goals - students only care about a Harvard education because it gets them rewards in the form of jobs from outside companies & orgs, which is in part (not all) a reflection of that societal status. And that outside societal status is replenished, again in part, by the success of its students after graduation, and so on. For this system to function each side needs to 'buy in'.

Starting in ~2010 most elite universities experienced a sea change in the values of their internal stakeholders; large swathes of vocal students and huge swathes of internal staff began to push for governance & priority shifts. These changes - like many societal changes btw, this is not a unique thing - did not have the majority on their side, but internally they were close enough (and, somewhat but not wholly uniquely, employed a variety of dissent-silencing techniques to maximize impact) to carry the day. They never had anywhere close to majority buy-in from external stakeholders; but the unique structure of universities is such that, while the missions are interdependent, their day-to-day operations are quite distinct. A lot of the changes over the past decade have been looked at askance by the donor class and groups like corporate hiring partners, but never askance enough to actually bother to do anything about it. It was too low-stakes to overcome the coordination problem of fighting the internal stakeholders, these things aren't the primary concern of external stakeholders.

So you get this string of controversies throughout the decade, as high-stakes as faculty firings or the Asian applicant discrimination case, to the low stakes culture drama of things like changing the title of "Housemasters". A lot of internal stakeholders were on the other side of these issues - they could have coalitioned with the external stakeholders, but they didn't care enough to really bother. It's all sizzle in the end, they can't coordinate in the face of the unified internal stakeholder mission.

Then Israel-Palestine hits, which is an issue that has its own extremely well organized, high valence stakeholders who absolutely, 100%, care enough to bother. They will take the opposition on and go to the absolute mat. Israel is extremely popular in the United States, Jewish people are literally the most popular religion in the country on some surveys, fighting terrorism is a bit out-of-mind but the default stance for both political parties, etc. But all that really isn't enough to get what you are getting right now - this is the seeds of long dissent, not the response to a singular misstep. After all the misstep was mealy-mouthed doublespeak at a hearing, it's not that high stakes.

However, while those external stakeholders didn't care enough for the past decade, they cared! And those internal stakeholders on the losing side *really* cared. And so suddenly an extremely salient, external stakeholder (America's Israel political advocacy group) shows up and starts scoring wins, and everyone in the room senses "oh yeah this is our time". And so they rise up in coalition to express, not just condemnation of the individual event, but building grievances with the direction of the university. They were just waiting for something to give them the push to do it.

Personally btw, I think the cleavage between the internal & external stakeholder's actual interest in how the university functions is too wide, and too independent of its day-to-day governance (Harvard is in many ways just a stamp for inherent student traits, but companies need that job done in society). As such this will fizzle with minimal changes. Still a good model for how these kinds of moments come about in driving change in social structures though, you need to study the full spectrum as it were.

[pagesandpothos]

Storm and Sea by Tereza Kane

Official Summary:

Atreus has carved out a quiet, stable life among humans on the island of Baia Vita, earning their respect while hiding a dangerous secret - he is Mer. Exiled by his own people for the color of his scales, he has learned to navigate life as an outsider, finding solace in the rhythms of the fishing village. But his fragile peace is shattered when Nyel, a naïve and determined runaway Mer fleeing the suffocating traditions of his home, lands on the island. Nyel’s arrival disrupts everything Atreus has built. Though they clash at first, their growing friendship—and the flicker of something more—forces both men to confront the prejudices and traditions that shaped them. But their personal struggles are interrupted when a powerful criminal family begins stripping Baia Vita’s bay of fish, threatening the village’s survival. As starvation looms, Atreus and Nyel must join forces to save the humans they’ve both come to care for. Yet, with their secrets on the verge of exposure, they must tread carefully. After all, the very people they hope to protect might destroy them first. Storm and Sea is a heart-wrenching novel by Tereza Kane. If you enjoy found family, mythical creatures, and LGBTQ+ representation in fantasy, you'll love this captivating tale of acceptance, betrayal, and finding a home in the unlikeliest people.

My Thoughts:

Storm and Sea is a new queer romantic fantasy about two young outcasts who find love, friendship, and a found family together.

The Mer in the story have complex societal structures that include belief systems and deeply held prejudices. Both Atreus and Nyel are misfits among the people for different reasons and retreat to the human world for refuge.

Including Atreus and Nyel, five characters get points of view chapters in the book. Some chapters are from a single character's POV, and others are shared between multiple characters. I was worried that this might get confusing, but POV switches are clearly marked, and characters are distinct with various plots that intertwine together. I enjoyed all five characters and liked the time we spent with each.

The only issue I had with the POV changes was that some rehashed events we'd just read about from another perspective. That felt repetitive and it stalled the pacing of the story. This was especially bad in the chapters of supporting characters, which sometimes recaped large portions of the book.

Even with this pacing issue, I enjoyed the book. The characters are delightful, the main romance is adorable, and there's a secondary Achillean romance that I'm hoping gets more focus in the sequel.

I'd recommend this most to readers who enjoy coming-of-age stories. This will probably appeal to Young Adult and New Adult readers the most.

Finally, this is the first book in a planned series, so not all plots and character arcs are wrapped neatly at the end. There is a satisfying conclusion, but some plots will presumably continue in the next book. The main relationship is one of those.

My Rating: 🌕🌕🌕🌖🌑 (3.75/5 stars)

Pages: 490 (Kindle Edition)

Tropes/Tags: New Adult, Queer, Achillean, Romance, Fantasy, Found Family, light Love Triangle

Content Warnings: prejudice beliefs, parental abuse/neglect, violence, abandonment, homophobia, alchoholism

Other Notes: The author is selling signed editions with very pretty sprayed and stenciled edges on her website!

Links: Storygraph | GoodReads | Tereza-Kane.square.site

Storm and Sea will be released on April 6, 2025, and is available for pre-order!

I received an advanced copy of this book for free, thanks to NetGalley and Whispered Words Press. The above are my honest feelings about the book provided. I don’t have any affiliate links in this post, and I do not make any money from my reviews. I review books simply because I love to read.

[ See Everything I’ve Read in 2025 ]

[masterofd1saster]

CJ court watch - Big Win for religious freedom

SCt decided Mahmoud v. Taylor, 605 U.S. ___ (2025) on 27jun. Decision was 6 - 3.

The Board of Education of Montgomery County, Maryland (Board), has introduced a variety of “LGBTQ+- inclusive” storybooks into the elementary school curriculum. These books—and associated educational instructions provided to teachers—are designed to “disrupt” children’s thinking about sexuality and gender. The Board has told parents that it will not give them notice when the books are going to be used and that their children’s attendance during those periods is mandatory. A group of parents from diverse religious backgrounds sued to enjoin those policies. They assert that the new curriculum, combined with the Board’s decision to deny opt outs, impermissibly burdens their religious exercise. Today, we hold that the parents have shown that they are entitled to a preliminary injunction. A government burdens the religious exercise of parents when it requires them to submit their children to instruction that poses “a very real threat of undermining” the religious beliefs and practices that the parents wish to instill. Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U. S. 205, 218 (1972). And a government cannot condition the benefit of free public education on parents’ acceptance of such instruction. Based on these principles, we conclude that the parents are likely to succeed in their challenge to the Board’s policies.***

As one email sent by MCPS principals reflects, the Board selected the books according to a “Critical Selection Repertoire” that required selectors to review potential texts and ask questions such as: “Is heteronormativity reinforced or disrupted?”; “Is cisnormativity reinforced or disrupted?”; and “Are power hierarchies that uphold the dominant culture reinforced or disrupted?”***

The books were the usual left wing drivel about sex.

An MCPS official has made clear that “[t]eachers cannot . . . elect not to use the LGBTQ-Inclusive Books at all.” Ibid. The Board also contemplated that instruction involving the “LGBTQ+-inclusive” storybooks would include classroom discussion.***

If a student claims that a character “can’t be a boy if he was born a girl,” teachers were encouraged to respond: “That comment is hurtful.”*** In March 2023, less than a year after the “LGBTQ+-inclusive” texts were introduced, the Board issued a statement declaring that “[s]tudents and families may not choose to opt out of engaging” with the storybooks and that “teachers will not send home letters to inform families when inclusive books are read in the future.”***

At the time when this lawsuit was filed, petitioners Tamer Mahmoud and Enas Barakat had three children enrolled in MCPS, including one who was still in elementary school. Mahmoud and Barakat are Muslims who believe “that mankind has been divinely created as male and female” and “that ‘gender’ cannot be unwoven from biological ‘sex’—to the extent the two are even distinct—without rejecting the dignity and direction God bestowed on humanity from the start.” Id., at 165a–166a. Mahmoud and Barakat believe that it would be “immoral” to expose their “young, impressionable, elementary-aged son” to a curriculum that “undermine[s] Islamic teaching.” Id., at 532a. And, in their view, “[t]he storybooks at issue in this lawsuit . . . directly undermine [their] efforts to raise” their son in the Islamic faith “because they encourage young children to question their sexuality and gender . . . and to dismiss parental and religious guidance on these issues.”*** Petitioners Jeff and Svitlana Roman also had a son enrolled in an MCPS elementary school when this lawsuit was filed. Jeff Roman is Catholic, and Svitlana Roman is Ukrainian Orthodox. They believe that “sexuality is expressed only in marriage between a man and a woman for creating life and strengthening the marital union.” *** The Romans further believe “that gender and biological sex are intertwined and inseparable” and that “the young need to be helped to accept their own body as it was created.” **** The Romans understand that their son “loves his teachers and implicitly trusts them,” and so they fear that allowing those teachers to “teach principles about sexuality or gender identity that conflict with [their] religious beliefs” would “significantly interfer[e] with [their] ability to form [their son’s] religious faith and religious outlook on life.”***

Multiple other plaintiffs with religious objections.

At this stage, the parents seek a preliminary injunction that would permit them to have their children excused from instruction related to the storybooks while this lawsuit proceeds. To obtain that form of preliminary relief, the parents must show that they are likely to succeed on the merits, that they are likely to suffer irreparable harm in the absence of preliminary relief, that the balance of equities tips in their favor, and that an injunction would be in the public interest. Winter v. Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc., 555 U. S. 7, 20 (2008). The parents have made that showing.***

In light of the record before us, we hold that the Board’s introduction of the “LGBTQ+-inclusive” storybooks—combined with its decision to withhold notice to parents and to forbid opt outs—substantially interferes with the religious development of their children and imposes the kind of burden on religious exercise that Yoder found unacceptable. To understand why, start with the storybooks themselves. Like many books targeted at young children, the books are unmistakably normative. They are clearly designed to present certain values and beliefs as things to be celebrated and certain contrary values and beliefs as things to be rejected.***

Public education is a public benefit, and the government cannot “condition” its “availability” on parents’ willingness to accept a burden on their religious exercise. Ibid. Moreover, since education is compulsory in Maryland, see Md. Educ. Code Ann. §7–301(a–1)(1), the parents are not being asked simply to forgo a public benefit. They have an obligation—enforceable by fine or imprisonment—to send their children to public school unless they find an adequate substitute. §§7–301(a)(3), (e).10 And many parents cannot afford such a substitute.***

the dissent asserts that, under its approach, the parents would “remain free to raise objections to specific material through the” democratic process. Post, at 28. In making this argument, the dissent seems to confuse our country with those in which laws enacted by a parliament or another legislative body cannot be challenged in court. In this country, that is not so. Here, the Bill of Rights and the doctrine of judicial review protect individuals who cannot obtain legislative change. The First Amendment protects the parents’ religious liberty, and they had every right to file suit to protect that right.***

If the Board can structure the “Family Life and Human Sexuality” curriculum to more easily accommodate opt outs, it could structure instruction concerning the “LGBTQ+-inclusive” storybooks similarly. The Board cannot escape its obligation to honor parents’ free exercise rights by deliberately designing its curriculum to make parental opt outs more cumbersome. The Board also suggests that permitting opt outs from the “LGBTQ+-inclusive” storybooks would be especially unworkable because, when it permitted such opt outs in the past, they resulted in “unsustainably high numbers of absent students.” Id., at 12. But again, the Board’s concern is self-inflicted. The Board is doubtless aware of the presence in Montgomery County of substantial religious communities whose members hold traditional views on marriage, sex, and gender. When it comes to instruction that would burden the religious exercise of parents, the Board cannot escape its obligations under the Free Exercise Clause by crafting a curriculum that is so burdensome that a substantial number of parents elect to opt out. There is no de maximis exception to the Free Exercise Clause.***

The Board’s introduction of the “LGBTQ+-inclusive” storybooks, along with its decision to withhold opt outs, places an unconstitutional burden on the parents’ rights to the free exercise of their religion. The parents have therefore shown that they are likely to succeed in their free exercise claims. They have likewise shown entitlement to a preliminary injunction pending the completion of this lawsuit. In the absence of an injunction, the parents will continue to be put to a choice: either risk their child’s exposure to burdensome instruction, or pay substantial sums for alternative educational services. As we have explained, that choice unconstitutionally burdens the parents’ religious exercise, and “‘[t]he loss of First Amendment freedoms, for even minimal periods of time, unquestionably constitutes irreparable injury.’” ****** Furthermore, in light of the strong showing made by the parents here, and the lack of a compelling interest supporting the Board’s policies, an injunction is both equitable and in the public interest. The petitioners should receive preliminary relief while this lawsuit proceeds. *** Specifically, until all appellate review in this case is completed, the Board should be ordered to notify them in advance whenever one of the books in question or any other similar book is to be used in any way and to allow them to have their children excused from that instruction. The judgment of the Court of Appeals is reversed, and the case is remanded for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.

[animodaoactive]

The most effective method to watch Latest Anime episodes ?

Anime is a style of animation popular in Japanese movies and TV series. Animedao frequently combines stark, bright graphics with action-packed plots. Early anime films were intended primarily for a Japanese audience. Therefore, they utilized many cultural references special to Japan.

Line Novel

Portrayal The Line Novel web-based help where clients can distribute books online through the Line application sent off on Tuesday. The launch coincided with the release of two animated advertisements.

Liang Bu Yi

His Majesty approaches in such a stunning manner that the flushed queen pushes him in response and plunges with him into the pool together. After that, they swap bodies. It's not clear how to go back and

swap. The fact that the emperor is now quite enraged is the most significant aspect. The emperor must deal with his vicious imperial concubines, of whom he has no knowledge, before things can return to normal, and the queen must act as a mediator between those ministers.. Liang Bu Yi

Let’s Nupu Nupu

Description This animated title maintains the same quick pace by following the regular cast of colorful characters through distinct but intertwined story Let’s Nupu Nupu lines in each episode. It has four-frame comic origins. From Ms. Shitara's tireless however consistently insufficient sexual quest for youthful Takagi to the undertakings of the heroicly dumb yet adorable Sushi Feline, you will be perplexed at the absurdity, all things considered, yet end up snickering for a similar explanation!

Lily C.A.T. (Dub)

Portrayal The Profound Rest Cases, innovation that has permitted man to contact the stars. These chambers slow the maturing system by 95%. The journey lasts twenty years, but the traveler is only one year old. It most certainly enjoys its benefits, yet after you've been on a couple of excursions, it sure gets desolate. However, that is not the primary issue at this time. It is 2264. The Syncam Organization has sent the Saldes and its group of 13 (and 1 feline) out into profound space to investigate the capability of a newly discovered planet 20 years away. However, as soon as they emerge from their stasis, a series of events begin to take place… Lily C.A.T. (Dub)

Like the Clouds, Like the Wind

Depiction When the seventeenth Sokan Head bites the dust and his child plans to rise the privileged position, the breezes of upheaval and political interest begin to blow. The new emperor still needs to find an empress, despite the difficulties of his ascension. Girls from all over the country are invited to participate in the competition, and before long, the Forbidden City is crowded with young women training and competing for the title of empress Like the Clouds, Like the Wind.

Lie Huo Jiao Chou

 In the modern era, a small number of people who are referred to as "Special Abilities" possess powers and skills that normal people do not possess. Lie Huo Jiao Chou  An independent association, the Degenerate Control Office, holds these Unique Capacities under wraps. Even though some people want to keep this peace and order, others want to use their skills to gain more power in this world.

[brekkie-e]

@asterofthesapphires

In regards to it being because she’s touch starved, I still don’t find that to be reasonable? She is one of the friendliest natured characters in the game who clearly in her reaction scenes considers all of the companions to be her dear friends. Even Astarion, who I imagine would roll his eyes at it half the time. She cares about everyone regardless of if they’re dtf or not. She is also the only companion who develops friendships outside of the party. She runs into her old friend outside of Sorcerer’s Sundries and is excited to be an auntie. She develops a bond with Dammon. She’s very close to Wyll to the point their endings can be intertwined.

So if anything, I feel she makes the most sense to be the game’s Dorian/Varric character. Game Assigned BFF. You can romance her, as you could with Dorian, but if you don’t- you’d have to be playing a very particular kind of character to turn her off to the point she isn’t your character’s best friend.

And honestly, it’s not just an issue within the relationships between player and companions. Most other games of it’s kind flesh out character relationships between the companions. DAO with Morrigan and Alistair, the many rivalries in DA2, Mass Effect has many, heck even the Horizon series makes very distinct relationships between the companions in the second game. Story based games like these need many different types of scenes for a complete narrative, imo. They can’t all be between the player and a singular companion. It makes it feel empty and flat. Where as the Inquisitor walking in on Cassandra hurling a chair at Varric makes it seem like the world around you is alive and reacting with or without you.

The game alludes to these scenes? Halsin mentioning seeing Shadowheart sneak off to change her hair. Minsc talking about an arm wrestle he had with Halsin. Shadowheart saying she caught Astarion practicing lines. If any of those interactions had been visually done? It would have made it feel much more alive at camp.

@lily-orchard I agree. I think that the reason I’ll cut BG2 a little slack is because it released in 2000, and was in many ways still one of the first of it’s kind. It improved upon aspects of BG1. Baldur’s Gate 3 has made leaps and bounds of improvement upon those two, but it’s frustrating that for all it’s an incredible game we are now in a situation of feeling like there are older rpg’s that did it better. Atleast, they did it better in my opinion.

I think the reason that the lack of multi-dimensional relationships within the party, and for Tav, is eating away at me so much recently is because it’s significantly affecting BG3’s replayableness for me. It’s a huge game, and I’m ever guilty of taking a completionist approach. Now, there are many branching narratives in BG3 which means there’s endless new content to explore by taking different approaches. Personally though, that’s not quite enough of a reason for me to want to keep revisiting a story. I don’t feel compelled to replay hundreds of hours worth of content just to see what happens to Sazza if you rescue her in Act 1 instead of leaving her in the cage. But if I’m invested in a story and the characters in it- I will replay a game 10,000 times just to rewatch my oc become ride or die besties and trauma bond with their companion. Thinking of Liara’s relationship with an unromanced Sheperd in ME3. Tali declaring herself Tali’zorah vas Normandy?? Gut wrenching. Garrus taking you out on a friend date and making fun of your go to catch phrase in the process? Iconic. Varric writing Cassandra a book to bury the hatchet between them? Unforgettable. Solas and Varric co-parenting a kid together? Can’t get enough of it. Those are the interactions that keep me coming back to replay a game over and over again. Seeing the effect my character has on the lives of their friends, and the effect their friends has on them. Absolutely, I adore the romance aspects of these kinds of rpg’s. It is also a reason I will replay a game. But I don’t want to replay a game as massive as BG3 if the only real significant connection my character develops during it is with their love interest. There’s too many hours that have to be invested to just be playing for a couple of scenes with their boo.

Same goes for trying different romances! If I want to try out the game taking a different approach, and exploring a different character’s romance- I’m dedicating a significant amount of time just to get a handful of scenes over the course of the entire game that focus on an emotional connection for my character. If replaying the game with a different oc meant that I could explore their friend dynamics differently as well? Heck yeah. But as it stands, it just feels like you pick your romance option and then have to stand awkwardly while you’re surrounded by acquaintances who want to bang you.

[foxzgrrl]

DSMP Sanders Sides AU?

This is an AU me and my friend came up with (they don’t have a tumblr, if they do get one I’ll tag them), this is very much a Work in progress (W.I.P), but we’ve had some fun with it. The basic premise is that every member of the SMP has their own sides. It’s a known fact, so it’s not weird to see someone talking to themself. People can’t see each other's sides, you can only see your own, (Tommy can’t see Ranboo’s sides, but Ranboo can see his own sides) (I hope that makes sense) I won’t go too in depth in this post, just a basic overview of what me and my friend came up with. We haven’t done all the characters in the SMP, these are all the ones we’ve done so far.

The characters we have done and their sides are under the cut.

Starting off with Tommy sides, we have: Tommy has two Chaos sides, Disk Innit, and Patriot Innit. Disk Innit embodies mostly harmless fun, mainly when Tommy started the drug van with Wilbur, the cartel, and silly money making schemes that tend to involve drug dealers. Disk Innit doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wants to annoy them or make them laugh. Patriot Innit is a different story. He causes problems on purpose, and likes to cause others issues. Patriot Innit is the one who gets into the wars and conflicts, and even starts them. However, he is very loyal, and will fight for what he cares for till the very end. Loud Innit is the embodiment of just how much Tommy screams and yells, and other such things. He embodies the need for attention, for people to see Tommy and acknowledge him. He hates being ignored, and people disagreeing with him. He’s known to buddy up with both chaos sides a lot. Clingy Innit is well, Tommy’s clingy side. He’s a very shy side, and doesn’t fully interact as much. He’s the one who calls others clingy, and when people call him out for being clingy, Clingy Innit will back off fast (mostly replaced with a chaos side or Loud Innit). Clingy Innit hates the idea of losing those he cares for, and has strong opinions about everyone. They buddy up with Loud Innit sometimes when they’re feeling brave, which isn’t often. Finally, we have Exile Innit. This is the side that deals with most of Tommy’s trauma. He’s the fight or flight, the one who eats the gapples when he feels the slightest bit of danger, the panic from an unexpected noise. He’s the opposite of Loud Innit, preferring to slink away and keep safe rather than be seen or heard in fear of being hurt again. He rarely works with the other sides, preferring to stay secluded.

Then we have Awesamdude. His sides are: Dad, the one who cares a lot about any of the children on the server, mostly Tommy. He worries about Tommy constantly, and is very protective over him and the other children. He is stubborn and refuses to give up on those he cares for. Warden, the one who runs the prison. He’s strict, uncaring, and his top priority is the prison and making sure Dream doesn’t escape. He does care about the others, but they're not his top priority. Warden doesn’t get along with the other sides, he wants to, but he puts his job first. So he’ll listen to the other sides when he can, as long as it doesn’t hinder his work. He and Dad have a rocky relationship, Dad thinks he could care more, Warden thinks Dad cares too much about the others. Then he has Valentine. Valentine cares deeply for Ponk, and wants to save him from the egg, and to spend as much time as he can with Ponk. Valentine and Dad get along, but Valentine and Warden have a horrible relationship, and have even gotten into physical fights with each other. Sam has a hard time with his sides, as they never seem to get along, and it makes things much harder than it has to be.

Badboyhalo’s sides are: Wholesomeboyhalo, a kind hearted and sweet demon. He just wants to make sure everything is kid friendly and doesn’t like conflict that much. He cares deeply for his friends as well. Wholesomeboyhalo represents just the overall vibe that BBH wants to keep around himself, where people are happy and don’t make crude or mean jokes. He’s happy most of the time, and a joy to be around. Annoyedboyhalo is the side for whenever BBH gets annoyed about anything. He’s quick to call people out and not afraid to yell. He and Wholesomeboyhalo are friends, as annoyedboyhalo wants to keep wholesome happy, and mostly shows up whenever someone curses or is crude. He’s also very petty, and almost constantly stressed out. He needs sleep. LANGUAGEboyhalo wasn’t originally a side. He was kind of the fusion of Wholesome and Annoyed, and with it being common for them to work at the same time when yelling at anyone who makes an adult joke or says any curse words, LANGUAGE just, ended up popping into existence to fill the role. LANGUAGEboyhalo shows up whenever someone curses or says anything suggestive. He gets along with Wholesomeboyhalo and Annoyedboyhalo, though he doesn’t like Tommy. Piningboyhalo came around when they met Skeppy, mainly because of how Skeppy and Bad’s lives are intertwined. He cares deeply for Skeppy and is very protective as well. He’s also been nicknamed ‘clingyboyhalo’ and ‘jealousboyhalo’, and has given up on fighting the nicknames. He’s willing to do anything to keep Skeppy safe. Anything. Dadboyhalo is a combination of when Wholesome and LANGUAGE have influence. He isn’t an actual side, but is distinct enough to have the nickname. Typically ‘shows up’ when Sapnap is around. T̹̅-̱͍̠̼̎͐̈̈́_̧̤̟́̿̚ ̧̧͈̥̬̏̈͊̐͘5̣̪̰̇̿͞!̭͛ ͔͖̺̳̓̅̿͡ ̛̹͇͒̍͟_̳̣̝̩͙̈́͆̒̑̒ 

We also have Skeppy’s: Clingy is very attached to all of Skeppy’s friends, and willing to fight for them to the death. He’s the one who is connected to BBH’s life, and the one who gets jealous over things. He doesn’t like even the idea of losing the people he cares for. Chaos, also known as Chaos in Control, or Let’s Cause Problems on Purpose, is Skeppy’s chaotic side. He likes to crack jokes, make pranks, and in general be absolutely feral. He and clingy sometimes butt heads, as his antics get’s Bad angry, and that makes Clingy sad. Flirt is an interesting side. Flirt only flirts with BBH, which is odd, because there are no sides that have only one purpose. Flirt likes to hang out with Chaos, when they team up it typically ends in an angry BBH, but Flirt seems to get distant after that. Skeppy and the others don’t really like to talk with flirt often. No one asks about the side. _͚̦͕̑́͂7̪̼́̎͑ͅ-̡̨̗̥̔̓̓͡ ͔̤̼͊̀̉̓͢3͈̺͓̞̇͐͐̾g̡̘̏͆͒ͅ_̨̹̼̙̓̈́̄̎

[thal-fox]

Criticism and hate online usually doesn't bother me. I got a hard shell the wrong way in an awful industry, where people threatened to punch me in person and men spent hours sending me detailed awful threats of a certain kind. Attempted doxxings, transphobic hate... the works.

And it broke me, more than once. I left that industry after several years, finally in the therapy I'd badly needed since I could first talk.

More recently, online hate didn't bother me. I only share what I want to, and I only say what I mean. If someone takes issue with my words, then if it's a viewpoint I've overlooked or I've mistepped, I listen and learn. But if it's someone being hateful over nothing, I don't really care. I am never mean, or vindictive, or snappy because... there's no point in letting trolls anger me, and toxic people don't deserve a seconds thought. I've never been a mean person. Why would I be?

But I didn't factor in being criticised for something I haven't said. For things I haven't done. For things said in sarcastic context amongst friends, that even out of context still don't say anything I don't mean. (That Luke is not a kid =/= he shouldn't be treated as one. He should be treated as a kid, that is my opinion. I have made that distinction countless times, along with my assertion that I do not hate on or harass or censor those with 'problematic' adult ships. It's fucking fiction anyway, but even so - I did not say what they have decided I did).

It's gaslighting. It's them pointing at words I have said and them saying my words hold a different meaning. It's them pointing at me venting about antis cancelling SFW artists and them stating I have created NSFW work featuring a child character. It's them pointing at a channel I created (demon x demon) and them saying I have therefore created content for that channel.

Sure, it's lies. But it's more than that, it is gaslighting. It is holding up the truth while at the same time insisting it says otherwise.

The other people in my past who have gaslit me were my abusers. And the gaslighting was the beginning of a nightmare that ended in broken consent, living in fear, and being permanently disabled.

I'd seen antis attack artists for fictional adult ships before, and could see the parallel many pointed out with witch hunting. "Burn the witch!" they cry, but with a thousand other metaphors for painful death, hounding their victims out of employment, a performance of remorse only ever shown when they actually get their way and a person loses their life.

But just recently, I was asked about a character in OM and whether I thought there was merit to a theory they had undergone religious trauma. It is a question I sidestepped, for two reasons. One, bringing religion into fandom is a recipe for disaster.

And two, I underwent religious trauma. It is intertwined with the early to mid to teen severe childhood trauma I survived.

I know what it is to be told I am a sinner. To feel that my soul is beyond redemption unless I submit to men in authority. I understand all too damn well what it is to stamp down my own sexuality and gender long after religion was escaped, because those scars go so fucking deep.

I know the fear of being met with those who believe so fervently in their moral superiority, that only their lives have value, only their choices are moral, and that only they have the right to dictate whether others get to live in peace or be subject to slurs, eternal punishment, death.

~

I've had multiple breakdowns in my lifetime. Dissociative disorders and cPTSD be like that. This was not a breakdown. But only because I have been in therapy, and still am in therapy, and have and am and will be forever on meds.

For all the shit I've been through, I consider myself lucky. A bad spiral for me today, would have been another attempt in the past. I've done some damn hard work but if my friend hadn't paid for my therapy, if my dog hadn't been there that one time, if if if...

I am lucky.

A bunch of twenty-something supposed adults decided to circulate screenshots of my private server showing my own words, but attached their own meanings.

Without ever speaking to me, they gaslit me in front of people who for whatever reason, obeyed their words rather than think for themselves.

As a SFW blog I blocked and will block anyone who writes or endorses messages of threat or death, as well as any words that can trigger people.

This was held up as an admission of guilt, rather than a survivor of abuse seeking to protect themself from yet more abusers.

~

To those who did this, and who think an excuse of "but I didn't say-" "I wasn't the one who-", you all did it. You added to a situation in which threats were made, lies were spread, and you saw the story grow and not once did any of you say to stop adding to the lies, to stop putting in the wishes for my death, to cease reblogging the hate and harassment and gaslighting, to put an end to taking screenshots of my blog to share with people I have blocked for their support of abuse.

You are all complicit. Not only in the harm done to me, but in the harm done to other vulnerable people on my server, who I have done my utmost to try and protect.

You gaslit me, just as my abusers did. You condemned me by those lies, just as those who caused me religious trauma did. You broke the privacy of a private server, and as a result CSA survivors left because they no longer felt safe because of YOU.

You plastered vile triggering words attached to my username, with only the most grudging apology to the one CSA survivor who asked you to stop.

And you laughed about how you should rewrite my content so you could still fucking use it, and claim I ever said my server was small or public. Even over these little things, still you gaslit.

~

My blog is about a fucking mobile game.

Get help for your abusive behaviours before you hurt even more people. This has cost me blood and scars and I don't expect you to care, because you are walking in the footsteps of those who did far, far worse to me.

I sincerely hope you never have to suffer a fraction of what I have been through, but not as much as I wish you'd stop harming survivors of CSA, and survivors of any sexual trauma online.

I'm gonna go back to writing about made up demons now.

~

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #08

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [AO3]

** TW/suicide of family member implied (it is marked ahead with ((text)) so you know what to skip) ~POV shift Mori~ In my old life I had spent 4 or so years as a historical reenactor for the mid 1700's through early 1800's on my weekends. My group mainly acted as pirates/privateers and sang sea shanties. We had done performances on different ships, but every time we were invited onto a period ship I couldn't make it, so I was geeking out when I saw the ship we'd be taking to Sindria. I prayed it didn't show on my face. Sure it was exciting for an other world's nerd like me to get to see a ship like this in use, but to everyone else it was a normal ship. The ship had two masts -both square rigged with a fore and aft sail at the back for better steering. Considering the reputation for the waters around Sindria I expected a bigger three mast ship for strength, but who was I to judge?

With only two masts, this ship probably only needed a crew of about nine people to allow for different shifts. It didn't look like it had room for many passengers. No doubt, Sinbad didn't expect to be bringing four extra people back with him. I was in full on research mode by the time I got on the ship, and I tired my best to not stand out or get in the way. Getting to look up at the rigging from on the deck was an experience. After everyone was settled I'd definitely make a point to look around more. I might even take one of the scrolls out and try drawing the deck of the ship since I never got around to drawing that gorgeous room in the hotel. I considered myself lucky that no one tried to talk to me until the rooms were being divided out -I had been hyperfixating so I might not have even noticed if they did.

Studying the ship could only boost me for so long. About 15 minutes before we left the port I could no longer ignore that my head was throbbing from exhaustion. This headache was undeniably becoming a migraine if it wasn't one already. I decided that sleep was the next thing on my agenda. Luckily, I made that decision around the same time the rooms were being divided out. I had figured I'd end up in the same room as Alibaba, Aladdin and Morgiana, but Alibaba was put in the same room as Ja'far and Masrur. Everyone put their bags down, and headed back on deck except me. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands as I started to let myself fully calm down. In the quiet it hit me just how much I had been using working on the scrolls as a way to avoid thinking about my guilt and lost home. I'd have to find time when no one else was in the room to work through these feelings. There was no way I could keep it bottled up until we reached Sindria. "Excuse me, Miss Mori?" Aladdin had re-entered the room and closed the door. We might not have been formally introduced but he was told who I was. "What is it?" I lifted my head to look at him, and tried to keep my expression positive. I felt the waves rising. A Magi was talking to a Prophet in private; something was bound to happen. The walls of the ship creaked, and I heard steps and the floor boards creak in the hallway. The wave got a little bigger. Silence hung in the air as the boy just stood there. Instead of trying to guess what he wanted I waited. His hands tightened around his staff. Aladdin looked nervous as he confronted me. "I know you say you've read Fate, but I don't think Fate is something written in stone. It's something that everyone makes together. It can always change." The hallway floor creaked behind the Magi again. The wave was getting bigger. Someone was definitely listening in, and there was only one King that was a chronic eavesdropper.

"I agree," I said bluntly. I wanted Sinbad to hear my answer. Ten years ago, he came to the conclusion that Fate was something already written as a way to cope with his guilt and trauma, and he thought he was 'the chosen one' for being able to read ahead through the waves, but he was wrong on both accounts. "You do?” Aladdin was surprised. It must sound weird coming from someone who read Fate. "I've read more than one Fate for this world, so I know there is no one true path." The manga, anime and OVAs were a little different after all. "And if Fate couldn't be changed then I couldn't be here." I turned so I was sitting facing him. "You see, I wasn't in any of the Fate I read. I wasn't even in this world until five days ago." The magi took a few steps towards me with wide eyes. Aladdin had felt very alone for not being from this world -now he would know he wasn't the only one. It wasn't a reveal that caused problems on its own when Aladdin explained in the original so I didn't see an issue in letting Sinbad overhear about me either- I had already implied as much the previous day. I felt the need to elaborated. "Everything I do changes the Fate I read because I wasn't here. For example, only one of the Fates I read showed the conversation where you all found out about the Kou Fleet. Remember how I yelled at Alibaba? If I didn't convince him to leave then King Sinbad would have knocked him out, and Alibaba would be kept asleep with medicine for this whole trip. Since I was there this time, I was able to change that." "Oh!" He brightened up a bit. "I much prefer things this way." "I agree. Like this it will be much easier for him to heal." I looked down at my intertwined hands. "I have no idea how this will change the Fate I read though." Aladdin hummed a question mark, but he didn't say or ask anything directly. I answered the obvious question to my words, "I can't read a Fate that I'm a part of, so now that I'm here I can't read how my actions are changing Fate. Eventually, the Fate I did read will become useless, and I have no idea if I'm changing it for the better." It was only as I said it that I remembered that Sinbad was listening. I had basically just told him that my usefulness as his Prophet would have a definite expiration date. All I had wanted was to let Aladdin know that he might not be able to rely on me for everything. I definitely wasn't thinking clearly. Aladdin cut into my thoughts. "Is that why the Rukh are so active around you? Because you weren't originally a part of the Flow of Fate?" "Probably." I didn't know what else to say. I knew I had to be making distinctive waves in the Rukh just by being here, let alone with all of my changes. "Miss Mori, where are you from?" I hummed in amusement at that. "I'm from much farther away than you or your parents-if you can believe it." I was from the same world as the person who wrote the original Fate of this world. There was no way I could tell anyone that. He was shocked again. It was written all over his face that he was questioning if I was really from a dimension farther away than Alma Torran. Aladdin gripped the flute that he always wore. "Then... Are you the person he didn't recognize?" "He?" Which 'he' -oh. I lowered my voice. "Ugo?" I put one finger over my lips and looked at the door. Sinbad has to remain ignorant about the Sacred Palace; he's too self-absorbed. Aladdin looked confused at my change in volume. He followed my gaze to the door and back then nodded. He didn't look all that surprised that I knew about Ugo. I kept my voice low. "Aladdin, let's talk more about this some other time. The walls have ears on such a small ship. And I'm exhausted." "Okay. Rest well, Miss Mori." Aladdin spoke at normal volume. I heard a scramble in the hallway, the magi left, and I put my glasses in the top of my bag for safe keeping. I could hear Aladdin through the wall. "Oh! Mr. Sinbad, Mr. Ja'far, did you want to check on Miss Mori too?” "Uh, yes. How is she doing?” Was King Sinbad's response. I could hear the nerves he was trying to

cover up. "Real smooth there, Sin." I mumbled as I finally drifted into unconsciousness. --- I was a young man of 20 some years. I had started a family. We didn't have enough money for food. I ended up taking a risky job because I knew it would pay better. ... No. I'm a six year old girl? I don't remember if I had parents, but I remember going to visit this old dog every day. ... If life was hard, and I had nothing to loose then there was no reason not to bet everything I had on one last round. How could I return to my family without money? The last time I saw my son he was three. Would he even remember me? ... Ya know, when you grow up with someone and everyone else can see your chemistry you'd think it would be obvious that we'd marry when we grew up, but she met someone else. ... I knew things were bad, but I never even considered that my neighbor was stealing from me when I was at work. Bastard stabbed me with my own kitchen knife when I caught him. --- I wasn't myself in my dreams. Every time I woke I had to ground myself and remember where and when I was. Rereading the scrolls I had made helped. Just how many Rukh had merged with me, and why? I had no connections to any of those spirits while they were alive. Was it just because ghosts like me? I wrote down every dream I had; their lives might have been over, but they were a part of me now. I was too exhausted to go on deck, and I could feel that there were still more lives inside of me that I had to get aquatinted with. When I wasn't sleeping, I was working on scrolls again since I at least had enough energy to write and draw. My breathing was getting difficult, and I was struggling with temperature regulation. I wasn't okay enough to tell if it was my body struggling with the changes in my magoi, like when Sinbad took in all the Rukh after the Fall of First Sindria, or if I was just sick. After making sure I could still use magoi manipulation I decided that it was probably the later. I mainly left that room for food, and I waited until almost everyone was done before going. I avoided talking to others too. If I was sick I needed to minimize my contact with others. Alibaba seemed to be in a similar state to me. We both found that staying near each other when around the others made them less likely to approach us with the depressing cloud that hung over us.

Those that did see me could obviously tell I was unwell. From their words it seemed like they were assuming I was just mourning -they were only half wrong. It gave me an easy excuse to leave, so I never corrected them. I did feel bad for worrying everyone. The whole situation sucked. I wanted to cry. I had been in lock down back home because of Covid-19 for 8 months as an at risk person (it's still Oct 2020 in this story). I was literally in a fantasy anime world now. I wasn't given a better immune system, but my boobs didn't need a bra anymore??? WTF?? If the current arbiter of Fate was me writing fanfiction, then they had a lot of explaining to do. ... Who was I kidding? I knew why I would write something like this. I wanted to see more stories about people like me -someone with my disabilities and life experiences- get to be someone "valued" even if they couldn't be on the front lines. My migraine wouldn't go away, and it wasn't the only part of me in pain. I think I got palpitations a few times -breathing was even worse during those episodes. If I hadn't had health problems growing up I probably would have been panicking. I knew it was stupid to not tell anyone what was going on with me. But would anyone even be able help me on a ship? Telling them would just make them worry more than they already were. Aladdin and Morgiana could tell something more was wrong with me; I couldn't fully hide from them while sleeping in the same room. They must have let the others know since they gave me some pain killers at some point. It tasted awful. I'm honestly not sure how affective it was, but it did knock me out. ((Skip to the next paragraph to avoid the trigger)) At least I was left alone most of the time. I had no choice but to sit with my thoughts about Balbadd. I grew up mourning. The blood on my hands might not be the same as losing most of my loved ones back home, but it was damn similar to when I was in high school thinking "if only one of us had answered the phone that day." The Balbadd revolt would have been much worse if I wasn't there. And even if I had said something sooner there was little that could be done to actually stop Al Thamen when they had their hands so deep in that country. Even with Sinbad there to sway Fate, Al Thamen would still find a way to spill blood. Even if I told Alibaba days in advance and he tried to talk to Cassim about it, Cassim wanted nothing to do with Sinbad, so any help that came from him would be refused. Cassim was twisted around Issnan's fingers and out for blood. I did the best I could. My actions did save some people. I'd have to take solace in that. --- I woke up to something wrapped around me, almost like I was tied down. I couldn't move my legs. I gave up trying to untangle my skirt and covers from me, and just pulled the skirt out from under the cloth belt -kicking the whole mass off like a cocoon. I had put my underwear on underneath and I still had the tunic on so I wasn't left totally uncovered. Star light shown in from the window. I had slept through another day. I couldn't remember my dream. Maybe I had finally returned to having my own dreams. The other beds in the room were occupied. My head was still swimming. I felt trapped. I needed something. I heard the waves outside, and felt the waves of Fate washing over me. Their sounds called to me. Back home I had used the sounds of waves to meditate and stim regularly. I had been hearing them all this time, but I wanted to see them. I didn't bother to slip on my flip-flops as I made my way to the door, didn't even think about grabbing my glasses until I was already on deck. It had been so dark below that I couldn't see anyway, and didn't realize I wasn't wearing them. The wave of Fate I had been following lead me farther into the space. When I hit it's end, the adrenaline that had got me that far died out. The night air hit my legs and I shivered. It was colder than it was at night in Balbadd. I thought we were heading south. Did I still have a fever? The cold reminded me that I really should have put on

my shorts or something before coming out here. The tunic just barely covered me. My vision was going grey scale. This was bad. Really bad. I recognized this feeling. I was about to pass out from not being able to breathe right. I used to have fainting spells as a kid because of my weak raspatory system and needed to carry smelling salts for a few years. The last time it happened was about five years ago -I had been really sick. My head was throbbing; my heart was pounding. Guess I was sicker than I thought. I needed to focus on breathing and getting to the ground. I stumbled to the bowsprit (the pole that sticks out the front of the ship) as support. I needed to get to the ground safely before I collapsed. I'd gotten a concussion once because I didn't get down before the black out hit. A wave crashed into me from behind. If I hadn't been putting all my weight on that wooden shaft I would have been pushed over even though it wasn't a physical wave. What in the world was behind me that would cause such a wave? I removed one arm to look back as my knees started to give out. There was definitely someone there. Their color balance didn't match anything I could remember, but they were really familiar. Without my glasses I couldn't really tell anything -especially since everything was becoming different shades of black. And I already had bad night vision. The light was fading. Shapes were getting harder to discern. Even though I was breathing deeper I hadn't managed to counter the fainting spell. I was going down. I definitely fell, but it didn't feel like I fell for long enough to hit the ground. The feeling across my back was really familiar. Someone had caught me.

Sometimes I was able to stay conscious when I fainted. It was kinda like ending up in sleep paralysis but with a -20 to all sensory inputs. Seemed like this was one of those times. I couldn't hear what they were saying or see them. It was like my head was deep under water. There was a pressure on my forehead. Were they checking my temperature? When someone faints you're supposed to lay them on the ground and position them so they can breath easier. This person didn't take first aid classes or forgot or something because I was being lifted upwards instead of laid down. It was really warm and comfy though. I liked this feeling. What was it? Safe? Was that it? I hadn't felt actually safe in a long time. I certainly didn't feel safe in that house back home even after everything was over. Maybe it was the feeling of warmth and safety. Maybe it was the way the waves were moving. Maybe it was the numbness that comes with blacking out. But whatever it was had stopped the pain. With the pain gone I calmed the rest of the way. I felt my spine straighten out onto a soft surface. The warmth faded even though something was now covering my legs. I was in a bed. The cold was back without a source of warmth to leech from. I definitely had a fever if I was this cold. Damnit. I grew up with all sorts of chronic health conditions and have always gotten sick easily. Even though I was now in an anime world, I was still me. Was I going to die in this world from some common illness that was already cured back home? We might not have had a lot of money back home but I was lucky enough to get a job with usable health insurance that let me work from home during a pandemic. I could at least get medicine every time I got a normal illness. I was finally able to afford to get and keep an inhaler. Not that any of that was of use to me now. My motor functions were returning. I rolled to the side and curled into the fetal position. I had lost everything. No home. No friends or family. Who would want to look after a stranger with nothing to give back? I was doing what I could to seem worthy of the main cast, but how long would that last? The story would reach its end in five years. What would I do after that? What was the point of all of the savings I had managed to make back home if I was going to be Isekaied? I had been the main bread winner and now my family couldn't even use my savings because I hadn't left a body behind as proof that I had died. All of the thoughts and feelings I was still running from were flooding through me. I couldn't even distract myself with writing scrolls or anything. This was probably for the best. Pushing things away for much longer would be unhealthy. And if I couldn't let myself feel miserable when I was sick and alone, then when could I? I let the tears fall. I hadn't been a loud crier since I was a kid, so I was caught off guard when I could hear my own sobs. I didn't have it in me to hide any more. The bed I was on creaked but I hadn't moved. There was a new weight on the mattress.

I wasn't alone.

The concept that someone was checking on me hurt harder. I didn't grow up in a healthy environment, so now feel immense guilt when someone shows me genuine kindness. But I am also aware and recovered enough to know I deserve kindness, so the guilt always paired with an equal amount or more of relief. I felt a hand stroke my hair. They wanted to comfort me. And I wanted comfort. The waves washing over me encouraged me seek out more. I used what little strength I had to pull myself against them. Having undeniable proof that I wasn't alone and that someone cares was overwhelming. The relief made me cry harder. I'd have to thank them later. But for the time being I'd pour out as much emotion as they'd let me.

[allsassnoclass]

Are you taking prompts? I’m sending one anyways : “All I wanted was for you to be happy.” with whoever you want but I mean. we both know who we’re thinking of 👀

“we both know who we’re thinking of” as;ldfja fair enough

mashton: “All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

It has been four months since the breakup, and it still feels as fresh as it did when Ashton finally said those fateful words.

Everything feels weird, because they were friends first, and now they're supposed to go back to that, but Michael doesn't know how.  How is he supposed to get over someone who is so intertwined in his life that he sees him nearly every day?  Even their moments apart are filled with reminders of him, from their albums in his phone to the pictures on his wall.  Ashton has always seemed larger than life, but it’s one thing to say that and another to have to figure out how to live with his presence but without him.

He's been doing a pretty good job of pretending that the banter comes naturally again and that he doesn't mind the extra time spent hanging out together as a band, but everything feels stiff and inauthentic when he just wants to wrap Ashton in his arms and never let go.

It's been weird living on his own, too.  Ashton moved out immediately after he ended it, and now the house feels too big by himself.  He's been considering selling it and seeing if one of the others will take him in, but it feels pointless with tour starting again soon.  The band itself has been in a stagnant creative period, but things are finally moving.  Michael just wishes he didn't feel like his feet are glued to the pavement while everyone progresses around him.

Besides, Luke thinks that Michael is the one who broke up with Ashton, and Michael has steadfastly been avoiding talking about this with Calum.  Michael’s been trying so hard to not make either of them feel like they have to choose between them.

That's the issue with all of their friends overlapping, too.  Ashton got to pour his heart out to the others, and Michael gave him the space to do so and mostly internalized his own feelings.

It's funny: typically the roles are reversed.  Michael has been learning how to open up and tell people what's wrong with him.  When he's in a bad headspace, it overflows out of him, unignorable and far too exposing, and he’s been working with his therapist to figure out how to regulate and manage that in a healthier way without bottling things inside.  Ashton is the one who keeps his emotions secret until he explodes.

Ashton seems to be doing fine now, though.  Michael knows what he looks like when he isn’t, and he knows what he looks like when he’s faking.

As such, he’s a little surprised when he hears the doorbell one afternoon and opens the door to find Ashton standing there awkwardly.

Ashton has never rung the bell before.  This used to be his house, so he would just walk right in, and he hasn’t been over since he moved out.

“Ash,” Michael says, then tries not to cringe when he realizes how weird the nickname tastes in his mouth.  Nicknames aren’t reserved for couples by any means, but it still feels too familiar for a situation that Michael doesn’t have any sort of guidebook for.

“Hey,” Ashton says, arms hanging limply at his sides.  “I think we should talk.”

They already broke up.  There can’t be much else to say, but Michael feels a distinct pit of dread forming in his gut while resignation balloons above it.  This must’ve been how Ashton felt when their roles were reversed the last time, except Michael never planned on actually ending things and he has no clue what Ashton could possibly be looking for now.

He steps aside and lets Ashton come in by himself.  Michael watches him toe off his shoes, setting them precisely in his spot by the door.  The entry and the kitchen were always the only places that Ashton ever cared about neatness.  Throughout the rest of the house, Michael would always be the first one to suggest that things had gotten bad enough for them to need to tidy.

“Um, did you want to sit down?”

Ashton nods once, a sharp movement, and Michael leads them to the living room.  Ashton’s armchair still sits next to the couch, even though Michael hasn’t touched it since.  Ashton sinks into it gingerly.  Michael grabs one of the throw pillows from the couch and hugs it to his chest.

Ashton clears his throat.

“We should… talk?” Michael says once the silence has stretched on for too long.  He wonders briefly if this is how Ashton felt when Michael suggested that they talk four months ago, and whether this restless feeling is what prompted him to speak first.

“Yes.  We should.  We need to figure out how we’re going to handle the tour, because this isn’t working.”

“There is no this, Ashton,” Michael says.  “We broke up, remember?”

We should break up, then, echoes in his head.  There was something definitive about the way Ashton had said it, leaving no room for the arguments that Michael was too tired to make.

“I know,” Ashton says, voice tight.  “But we have to figure out how to live in close quarters again.  We can’t keep being off like this.”

“I’m trying,” Michael snaps, then clutches the pillow tighter to his chest.  He takes a deep breath.  “Sorry.  I’m trying.  Just because you’re doing okay doesn’t mean I am, too.”

There he goes, bleeding his emotions all over the place again.  It was always the worst with Ashton, filters non-existent between them until they suddenly stopped, both of them retreating.  It was like living with a ghost in those weeks before the breakup, both of them haunting the house but not living with each other.  Michael would stay up too late and Ashton would wake up too early, putting them on completely different schedules.  They might as well have been living in two separate places, for how much time they actually spent together.  Even when in the same room, Michael always felt alone, sinking further into his thoughts and farther away from where Ashton was retreating into himself, too.

“I’m not doing okay,” Ashton frowns.  Michael snorts.

“You seem pretty fine to me.”

“You haven’t been able to look at me long enough to tell.”

Michael glances at him.  It’s just a glance, and it proves Ashton’s point entirely.  Michael has spent four months around Ashton without properly looking at him.  When he makes himself look properly, Ashton’s shoulders are slumped.  His eyes are tired, slight rings around them, and they lack the light that is ever-present on his good days.

Michael wants to reach over and touch him, to pull him into his arms and hold him close until their heartbeats line up.  He wants to feel at home again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Michael says eventually.  “You’re the one who said we should break up.  If you have an idea to help me get over you, then by all means, let me hear it.”

Ashton flinches, just slightly.  Michael knew he would, but there’s no satisfaction in the way his words hurt.  He wishes there was, but the only thing worse than how he’s feeling is the thought that Ashton could be feeling something similar.

“That was the right choice,” Ashton says, and it hurts like a knife to the heart.  “I asked if you were happy, and you said no.  All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

“Great job with that,” Michael laughs bitterly.  “I’m ecstatic, can’t you tell?”

“What was I supposed to do?  If we stayed the same, things would’ve gotten worse, not better.”

“So we sit down and reevaluate!  You don’t just drop me.”

“You said you wanted to talk, then you said you weren’t happy.  You didn’t fight me at all when I said we should break up.  It didn’t seem like I was the one dropping you.”

“Ashton, I had bought a ring.”

Michael feels the air leave the room.  He still can’t look at Ashton, tucking his knees against his chest and squishing the pillow more.  He feels completely split open, but no stitches can fix this.  Michael doesn’t know if anything can.

“I still--I still have the ring,” he says softly.  “I thought we were in it for the long run.  I was waiting for the right time, but then we both hit separate ruts.  I said we should talk so we could actually figure out what each of us needed.  If that was space, we could take a break and come back later.  But I couldn’t--neither of us could properly function, let alone help each other.  It was like we weren’t even speaking the same language.  When you asked me if I was happy, I told you the truth.  I wasn’t.  Neither of us were.  I didn’t want to break up, though.”

“Why didn’t you say any of this?” Ashton asks eventually.  Michael shrugs.

“You sounded so sure of yourself, and I’ve never been able to change your mind before.  I was already exhausted.  I didn’t know how to fight you on it.  I should’ve, but…”

Michael shrugs again.  Not a day has gone by where he hasn’t wondered how things could’ve been different if he had said no, I don’t want to break up.  I’m not letting you go just because we both feel crappy right now.

“Michael…”

The rest of the sentence never comes.  Michael blinks back some tears and still refuses to make eye contact.  Whatever emotions may be displayed on Ashton’s face will break him, and he’s trying to maintain any semblance of dignity that he can.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton says eventually.  His voice cracks halfway through, and Michael’s vision blurs at the sound, tears overflowing finally.

“Me neither.”

Ashton’s breath shutters on his next inhale.  Michael wants to go to him and wipe those tears away, but he can’t.  They decided four months ago to not be in love anymore, and he can’t comfort Ashton like that without bleeding love all over the place.

“I’m not doing better,” Ashton admits.  “If we got back together now, I don’t think it would be different, but I’m still so fucking in love with you, Michael, and I’ll--maybe we can--maybe if we each figure out shit out, we can come back together.  Maybe we can do it right.”

Michael swallows.

“I can’t go through this again,” he says.  “I love you too, obviously I do, but if we get back together just to break up again it’ll break me.”

“I know,” Ashton says.  “Me too.  But what if we don’t let it get to that point again?  We’ll go to couples therapy, or something.  We’ll figure out how to help each other and learn how to communicate.  I’ve been miserable, Michael.  While you weren’t looking at me, I could see how much you were hurting, too.  If we can fix this, why don’t we?”

“Do you want to?” Michael asks.  “You won’t flake on me, right?”

“Michael, no,” Ashton says.  “I just want to see you happy.”

Ashton is already reaching for him by the time Michael releases his hold on the pillow, and falling into his arms feels more right than anything since the breakup has.  They’re not back together yet, and they have some work to do to get there, but for the first time in a long time, Michael has hope that they’ll both find their happiness again.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Olfaction”

Intergalactic Journal of Behavior And Biology

All the species that we know of have a generally similar set of senses including, some form of sight, and some form of hearing….. Though these depend heavily on the species and cover a wide range of abilities, for the purpose of this paper. Despite these differences in this area, all species are known to have  a general sensory distinction to, touch including pressure and pain, as well as vestibular and proprioceptive senses, though those vary widely and by degrees from species to species. As far as we understand, humans tend to have the most developed set of senses, and maintain the highest number and the most sensitive set of senses, of which we know. They do, however, lack the ability to see into specie of light ranges, and cannot detect radio frequencies. However, even after this consideration, we find that what they lack in these areas is made up for in other sensory areas.

For instance, there is a sense that humans are known to have, that cannot be found in any other species. Of course we understand that any species, consumer in nature, that requires the intake of food into their body to survive, as having a sense of taste however rudimentary it may be. In fact humans themselves can only taste about five tastes including sour, bitter, sweet, salty and umami however, the human sense of taste is closely intertwined with their olfactory sense which is estimated to be able to detect at least 1 trillion different scents . 

For those of you who are unaware of this sense, humans have receptors inside their nose that allows them to detect chemical particles in the air and identify it. This allows them a multitude of advantages including, the detection of dangerous gasses, locating food, and even smelling out the potential health of a mate. Aside from the humans, only one other sentient species is known to possess a sense of smell half as advanced, and that is the Drev.

For many of the reasons mentioned in the previous excerpt, the Galactic Assembly couldn't have known what was going to happen during the first interspecies PR conference held at GA headquarters on the Rundi homeworld. 

i t was late in the evening when the delegations started to arrive. The Rundi delegation, of course, had been the first to arrive as they were cursed with the inability to be anything other than excessively early. The Vrul delegation and the Tesraki delegation arrived exactly on time one for the reason of logic, if they were supposed to be there at such a time than they would be, and the other for knowing that time was money, and it paid to show up at the correct time and to leave at the correct time.

The Drev The Gibb delegation arrived a single minute late flustered to the point that Vrul medical officers were put on standby to watch the nervous creatures. Of course no one particularly cared that they were a minute late, but with the Gibb’s nervous disposition leaned them towards hysterics.

Slowly, the rest of the delegations began to drift in.

The Drev came in their own time. The Drev had never seen the importance of showing up on time, or even developed a proper way to measure time on their home planet. Of course they knew how long it generally took to go somewhere, but in their culture things began when they began and ended when they ended, you couldn't exactly schedule a battle.

THe newest delegation, members of the Iota sector, arrived shortly after having been delayed by an issue on one of their ships that needed to be taken care of during landing.

Members of the Iota cluster came form a grouping of three planets around one star. All of them were rather snakelike in shape but with thick stumpy legs towards the back which allowed them to scoot across the floor. Their anatomy tended towards heavy, and so they did not move very fast. Their heads were almost catlike in structure, though they had no fur, and their skin was covered in a layer of viscous slime 

Until this journey, they had never bothered to venture out of their own solar system, despite their clear capabilities to do so, but urging form the GA had forced their hands and, now, they were thousands of lightyears away from home among a congregation of strange creatures. They had done their research before coming reading up on all the species, and examining all the proper cultural behaviors.

Proper etiquette was very important to their species, and they worried greatly about offending anyone with the improper greeting.

They were especially worried about the strange creatures called humans. Though the information on them had been relatively extensive, it had been hard to understand and even harder to put into practice. It seemed that it depended very much on the SPECIFIC human as to the proper way to behave, and that made them very uncomfortable. However, after speaking to the rest of the delegation, they found that most humans tended to be quite understanding, and so were not known to be insulted easily…. Accept when they were. 

As far as improper went the human delegation arrived almost forty five minutes late, though to their credit it was for an acceptable reason. Human clothing etiquette required specific standards of grooming and dressing for events like this, and they had underestimated the amount of time that it took to get ready.

They apologized politely on entering, The human’s famous Fleet Commander, and the President of the United Nations standing at the forefront of that apology. Strangely enough, they brought with them a Drev and a Vrul.

The humans stopped in the main hall looking around at all the strange species and colorful decorations. They were told that some of the lanterns were in ultraviolet, but of course they were unable to see it.

Commander Vir was the first to notice the smell.

Lifting his face to the air he sniffed and walked in a slow circle, “Does anyone else smell that”

In curiosity and confusion, the other humans turned their noses to the air catching the attention of a few of the other delegations as they closed their eyes, and seemed to follow their noses. As far as anyone knew, humans needed their eyes to see and did not have any other extra senses to let them move around, but that wasn’t exactly the problem.

“Something smells good.” one of the humans muttered it’s innards echoing with its emptiness loud enough that a few other delegations were able to hear it, and looked over with confusion and worry.

The president of the Un glanced over, “Try to keep that quiet, General as far as I know no other species has that problem.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

Commander Vir licked his lips, “I mean, he's not wrong….. It smells like…. Bacon or…. Breakfast…. Or or…. Well buttered potatoes….. I can’t really tell.” His stomach gave an involuntary grumble, and he cleared his throat awkwardly glancing over at the UN president, “Sorry.” 

Although, to be fair to him, the others were struggling just as much to fight down their hunger. Though they would never admit it, when they went in to mingle with the crowd, they were really just searching for a buffet table, which had to be here, but was annoyingly absent.

As the evening went on the smell only grew stronger.

At first no one noticed the human’s strange behavior, but after a while it became almost impossible to ignore the internal growling of the hungry humans. Not only that, but as things went on the humans only seemed to grow more feral. The humans thought they were hiding it well, but humans have never been very good at hiding their emotions when hungry, and just like a dog faced with a steak, a human becomes more primal around food….. Not only that, but they also tend to become increasingly aggressive and cranky the longer they are exposed to the idea of food without the ability to eat it.

The humans were becoming increasingly more frustrated that they could not find the source of the smell.

Commander Vir and the UN President were eventually called over by the GA chairwoman, “I would like the two of you to meet the head of the Iota council, they will be joining us in the GA as allies, as we would have hoped.

The humans gave a respectful nod towards the Iota, who in turn reached out one of its hands to the humans in respect having heard that humans generally greeted each other with a handshake. 

Everything was fine up to that point, up until the smell hit them.

You see The strange slime coating the bodies of the Iota was a compound filled with specific types of proteins that, when heated, especially in a large room with many people had a similar smell to the proteins and sugars that humans liked to consume.

All at once the pupils in the human’s eyes dilated wide and their stomachs rumbled loudly enough to be heard by most everyone within a ten foot radius.

The Iota, having been given a good sense of danger, knew something was wrong immediately. They stared, wide eyed, into the humans wide pupils locked onto them like the hunting predators they were. The commander licked his lips quickly wiping saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The other humans had figured it out as well, and the entire room had gone quiet watching the way the humans eyed the newcomers with glints of hunger in their eyes. Another human wiped a trail of drool that had made it onto his chin looking around sheepishly.

“IS everything alright. The chairwoman wondered, worried. She was under the impression that humans were generally good at controlling their predatory urges, but the look in their eyes made them seem like starving animals. The way their bodies leaned in, their shoulders hunched, and their lips parted past their teeth was enough to make the entire congregation nervous.

The two humans quickly composed themselves, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The human’s glittering teeth flashed, and tongues ran across exposed bone. The commander had to wipe his mouth again.

growling about the room had only grown in intensity. A few of the humans had sidled up to members of the iota delegation, nostrils flaring as they sniffed the air. 

One of the humans whined pitifully hand on it’s stomach.

“Damn…. I am so hungry.” The commander muttered under his breath eyes turning towards the nearest member of the iota delegation eyeing him sidelong like a lion eyes a steak. Of course he tried to force his gaze away for reasons of proper etiquette, but his attention was soon drawn again.

One of the humans put a hand to her forehead and swayed.

“Are you alright.” “Yeah, I get dizzy when I'm hungry.” Her eyes dropped to the iota standing next to her, her wide dark eyes glimmering with intense desire.

Another human leaned against the wall hand to his back  overcome by a hunger so painful it made his back ache. 

Stomach growled, and the Commander Vaguely wondered what would happen to their public relations if his delegation was to violently rip one of the creatures apart and consume it for breakfast…. He eventually decided it would probably be a bad idea and barked to call his humans back to him. They came reluctantly looking dejected.

One of the humans looked up at him eyes welling with tears, “So hungry.” She muttered 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll get you something to eat, I promise.”

The human delegation left early and in a rush. No one but the humans and their companions were quite sure what had happened, but it was soon advised in the assembly notes that.

In the event that humans interact with species from the Iota cluster, a meal must be provided before or during the proceedings, two meals being preferred both before and after. This rule should be established for the comfort of the human and for the safety of everyone else.

it took almost two cycles longer than expected to establish a peace treaty with the iota clusters, seeing as they wanted a clause in here that protected them from human consumption. 

Humans are especially dangerous when hungry.

[the-blue-fairie]

Why Elsa’s arc in F2 doesn’t work for me (and why it does.)

Yesterday, I got into a conversation with a friend where I tried to articulate why I disagreed with certain writing decisions made in Frozen 2 pertaining to Elsa’s arc. It was tricky for me to articulate because, on paper, Elsa’s arc is pretty solid. There are many good ideas and compelling aspects to Elsa’s arc and I can see why a portion of the fandom likes it so much. Elsa coming into a better understanding of herself is a great concept. Elsa being able to broaden her horizons and create a larger support network is a great concept. Elsa and Anna both coming to terms with Arendelle’s colonialist past is a really great concept. While I might personally have issues with the ending and Elsa staying in the Forest based on the material we were presented in the film, I can’t deny that conceptually, that is compelling.

Conceptually, Elsa’s arc works. My issue is in the finished film’s execution.

Personally, I feel that the plot device of the Voice unnecessarily distances us from Elsa’s emotions. By making the catalyst for Elsa’s emotional journey the Voice, the film distracts audiences from Elsa’s internal journey. Instead of having a song that fully explores Elsa’s conflicting feelings and own personal sense of denial and yearning, we focus on an argument between Elsa and an External Force. 

Yes, the film tries to make connection between the Voice and “a little voice in the back of your own mind,” but it isn’t from Elsa’s own mind. The writers could have written a less convoluted conflict for Elsa by making “the Voice” Elsa’s own personal internal conflict, but they didn’t. Instead of seeing Elsa simply making a decision for herself, we have to watch her be acted upon by an outside force first.

Now, defenders of the Voice plotline will likely say to me, “But, Liza, Elsa wants to follow the Voice. The Voice gives comfort to Elsa, allows her to realize that it’s okay to express feelings that she has already been having!”

And that’s where my frustration with the film’s execution comes into play again. Because the film never gives us a time of self-reflection for Elsa before she starts hearing the Voice. We are told in Into the Unknown that she wants to come into a better understanding of herself independently of the Voice, but we are not shown it. 

What makes this even more frustrating is the deleted moment from the prologue where Elsa asks Iduna about her powers. This little moment (which was already fully animated apparently?) does show that Elsa has this yearning even from childhood, long before the Voice. It actually sets up that Elsa wants to know the source of her powers, which is a major motivation for her actions as the film proceeds. BUT IT’S NOT IN THE MOVIE. THEY CUT IT. It’s like the filmmakers just assumed, well, audiences want to know where Elsa’s powers come from, so obviously audiences will accept that Elsa wants to know too, even though that was never a plot element of the first film, so we don’t have to clearly establish that motivation until Show Yourself an hour into the film.  

The finished film, intentionally or not, distances us from Elsa’s emotional journey. It has an amazing conceptual arc for Elsa that could provide great insight into Elsa’s internality, but, in my opinion, it fails to live up to the potential of that concept. 

Moreover, there are lyrics from Elsa’s songs in F2 that I feel put the focus on Elsa’s “destiny” and her abilities rather than on Elsa herself and her inner feelings: 

“Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? / Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

“Every day's a little harder as I feel my power grow...”

Now, partly, I acknowledge that I am speaking from personal preference. I don’t like destiny narratives. I don’t like narratives that hinge on “the reason I was born,” as Elsa puts it in Show Yourself. I don’t like narratives that focus on a character’s birth and make so much about them rooted in their birth instead of who they are as a person - and I feel like Frozen 2 ind of falls victim to that. The film handles itself better than, say, Star Wars - but the awkwardness of certain implications leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And the funny thing is, I think those implications could have been cleared up with just a little bit more time.

I think the film wants to establish that Elsa’s powers were a “gift” from the spirits because it counters Elsa’s desperate line in the first film about them being a “curse.” The film wants to validate Elsa emotionally and I value that.

But at the same time, by going beyond that and stressing the whole “fifth spirit destiny angle” (and again, I love than Jen Lee has gone on record to say that Elsa and Anna are both the fifth spirit, but considering the amount of people I’ve seen who didn’t pick up on that, I’m kinda holding it against the film that it wasn’t made clearer), it takes the focus away from Elsa’s own agency.

Again, I’m not saying that Elsa doesn’t have agency in the film, but that the film’s choices obscure and distract from that agency.

Making Elsa a gift of the spirits as a reward for her mother’s action and as a peace offering for her grandfather’s action takes the focus away from Elsa as a person, as an individual, as a human being. It puts her on a path in life before she is even born, before she even has the capacity to choose.

Now, you might say, “But it all works out in the end! Elsa chooses to take up her destiny.” But that’s the thing. It just happens to work out in the end because the narrative was written that way. What if Elsa wanted to reject her destiny? She had no choice in the matter while she was still in the womb.

But I’m supposed to think it’s all okay because Elsa makes the choice to follow her destiny and the film doesn’t even take the time to explore the ramifications of the destiny angle it establishes.

And that’s frustrating because, as a concept, that might be a really cool and unique take on destiny. We’ve seen heroes and protagonists who have felt burdened by their destiny before, but exploring Elsa’s feelings of validation that come from learning about her destiny after Elsa spending years feeling inferior could be an amazingly fresh take!

But instead, the destiny angle is just sort of... there... Brought up in a couple lines and a couple song lyrics, seeming to have some positive implications and some really negative implications I don’t think the filmmakers were really aware they were imparting... and we don’t get that exploration - even when further exploration of that angle would only enhance the depth of Elsa’s personal journey.

Now, on a conceptual level, there are two distinct and really rewarding questions that emerge from the adventure Elsa goes on in F2. Those questions are, “What can you do for others?” and, “What can you do for yourself?” The film wants to interrogate Arendelle’s colonialist history AND give Elsa a fulfilling arc of self-affirmation - and that’s great! Both of those concepts are great! But, in execution, I feel like the finished film falters by trying to intertwine those two concepts in Elsa’s arc.

I bring this up because what if someone says to me, “But Liza, if Elsa were to hypothetically reject her destiny then the Northuldra and Arendellians would be still be trapped in the Enchanted Forest and then Runeard’s wrong would not be righted, are you arguing for extreme individualism and selfishness?” Which... No. I’m not. Elsa absolutely needs to right the wrongs perpetrated by her grandfather. Elsa absolutely needs to reflect on the ways her grandfather’s actions reverberate into the present day. That’s an amazing message for young audiences. 

But Elsa’s taking responsibility for her grandfather’s actions and finding personal fulfillment are two completely different aspects of her character arc.  

And I feel both concepts are done a disservice by the interpolation of the “destiny” elements and the “focus on magical abilities at the expense of character” elements into the greater plot.

If the film wants to be about coming to terms with the colonialist past and about Elsa finding a greater sense of fulfillment in a new place, why not give the Northuldra more screentime? Why not show more scenes of Elsa bonding more with her mother’s people? Again, there are a few such scenes - but after Elsa and Anna and Olaf head out, the Northuldra barely appear until the end of the film. Why not have them actively take part in their own deliverance? Maybe have Honeymaren and Ryder join the quest, which would allow them to develop further as characters and give Elsa characters to play off of as she makes important decisions about her life. That would make everything more personal - and on top of that, it is ALWAYS a good thing to allow characters of color more screentime and depth. 

Instead, the film focuses more on Elsa’s connection to the spirits - her friendship with Bruni (which is the most developed bond), her fascination with the giants (with whom she also barely interacts) and her respect for the nokk (which is illustrated really well by her graceful bow.) All that is decent, but it ties more into the “mythic” aspects of Elsa’s character than her humanity... and, to be honest, Elsa’s relationship with the spirits comes off as pretty underdeveloped too.

I’ve harped on this before, but what does Elsa have in common with the giants beyond the fact they are both magical? Why does Elsa say, “I feel like I am home,” when arriving at Ahtohallan? Yes, Ahtohallan has a connection to her mother and the Northuldra, but again, I’m frustrated that the film doesn’t explore Elsa’s connection to the Northuldra more through her interactions with the Northuldra.

The filmmakers had the outline of a  deeply personal, internal story for Elsa - but I feel like they didn’t capitalize on the most personal and compelling aspects of their story.

And it just doesn’t work for me. 

But at the same time, I respect and value the ambition of Frozen 2. I respect its thought-provoking concepts. And I can understand why so many people do connect to Elsa’s arc in F2 - because again, Elsa still has agency, it’s just agency that’s obfuscated by the unnecessary convolutedness of the plot and a destiny angle that isn’t really needed for the story the writers are trying to tell and (I would argue) actively hampers it. I don’t want to take anything away from those friends of mine that love Elsa’s arc in F2. Your perspective is beautiful and valid and wonderful. 

But at the same time, I also feel that people who argue something is “off” about Elsa’s arc in F2 come from a valid place as well (at least, the arguments of people who are arguing in good faith - not the people arguing in bad faith).

Everyone’s perspectives on a piece of media are valid. Everyone’s perspectives emerge from their own experiences in life. I’m simply trying to give voice to mine - based on my particular emotional connection to Elsa as a character, my interpretation of Elsa, and my personal distrust of destiny narratives. 

[morganaseren]

8, 13, 19 c:

8) favorite genre to write

Romance, especially of the slow burn variety. :P I enjoy the idea of two people just slowly falling in love, finding all the right ways they fit together, of how they’re able to work through things even on those occasions when they might disagree because they’re that invested in one another. I love when they both realize they’ve become so intertwined with each other that they can’t even consider letting the other person go.

Whether it’s mental or verbal, it’s that italicized “oh” moment that gets me each and every time. Lol.

13) your strengths as an author

Does having a very active imagination count because I think that might be the most valid one for me. Lol.

In all seriousness, I would probably say my attention to detail. I greatly enjoy character-building, and for Niamh, it’s completely necessary because I’m not just finding ways in which she interacts with the world, I’m also writing about how it reacts to her. See, Inquisition is full of canon characters that people either love or hate, but there’s already a sense of familiarity built in with them from player experience. In a sense, there’s already an innate trust there from readers of how those particular characters see the world, so how they slowly get to know a character like Niamh is likely how the audience would come to eventually see her as well.

It’s why I don’t necessarily bother to write every chapter strictly from her point of view. It’s one thing to write Niamh completely losing herself to her power or those creeping self-doubts, but it’s another thing entirely to have another character witness it and see just how fragile those calm facade of hers can be. I find that it’s more impactful that way.

Other than that, I think I’m great with tinkering with things just outside the box when it comes to canon material. Niamh’s already a bit of an oddball because she’s a mage Cousland who was never The Warden but was still later made the Herald/Inquisitor. She has that experience as a veteran of the Fifth Blight, and she even has old connections as a Cousland and to people like Leliana or King Alistair, but it still starts on this journey of having to find herself as a leader, much like with a default Inquisitor.

For me, it’s this constant puzzle game of, “Can I have it make sense without completely breaking everything in canon just to make it work?” The journey in continually solving that question is probably my greatest enjoyment in writing OtSttCA.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.? 

I honestly just have the most chaotic way of outlining. Everything I have for OtSttCA starts on a giant Word document, which I’m continually adding scenes to in no particular order. It could be something I foresee happening in the following chapter, or it might be an event that won’t even take place until the last quarter of the story. I go wherever my creativity just happens to take me to that day. Lol.

When I think of putting together the latest chapter, I’m still writing from that huge outline, but I’m basically just picking and choosing what scenes I feel fit best in terms of pacing and just go from there with properly developing them. That sometimes leads to situations where I find I need to add a scene or two in between in order to help deal with potential timeline issues.

As for keeping track of characters, I admit that I play with multiple perspectives a great deal in OtSttCA (often within the same chapter), but I’m always committed to ensuring that they all sound distinct from one another. Cassandra’s POV should never be mistaken for Sera’s POV for instance, and a lot of that distinction comes from me studying their respective cutscenes. I have a lot of those saved up from Niamh’s canon Inquisition run, so it’s not a huge deal for me to just pull up a video whenever I need them. I study a character’s diction, their personalities, their actions, and pretty much anything else I need in order to help set that scene’s perspective properly, and for the most part, I believe I’m succeeding in having them come across as believable. Lol.

[razberryyum]

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 10, Part 2 of 2

(spoilers for everything MDZS/Untamed)

[covers MDZS chapters 29, 30 and 48…kinda]

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰+ 🐰+ 🐰🐰+🐰🐰🐰🐰+🐰

Continued from Part 1:

I love this scene from the episode so much because for me it was absolute proof that Lan Zhan had totally fallen for Wei Ying: he actually SMILES because of him...not once, but TWICE...  

...and then the way he says good-bye to Wei Ying just about murdered me with sweetness. Even though he did smile once before, during the lantern raising moment at Cloud Recesses, one can argue that he was just reacting to the picture of the bunny because he loves bunnies; but here, there is no question whatsoever that he is smiling because of Wei Ying. I think it shows that despite maintaining a generally stoic façade in front of Wei Ying, his heart was already captured by him. Personally, I still don’t think he was actually in love Wei Wuxian yet but definitely crushing hard on him.

When I first time watched this scene, I remember being a downright distressed that Wei Ying was missing all of Lan Zhan’s little signals here because he was too busy getting drunk. At the time it felt like an opportunity lost for another lovely WangXian moment, but now I understand that the purpose of this scene really was to give us a glimpse at Lan Zhan’s feelings. That’s another aspect about The Untamed that I appreciate a lot: the fact that we are getting to see Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s love story from Lan Zhan’s point of view. In the novel, the focus was mostly on Wei Ying‘s point of view, which makes sense of course since Wei Wuxian is the main protagonist of the story, but I think by giving us Lan Zhan’s side of the story and allowing us to see in real time what he was experiencing emotionally actually adds to the poignancy of their story because for me it basically reinforces how helpless Lan Zhan was: in terms of falling in love and then eventually in not being able to do anything to save the person he fell in love with. I felt the tragedy of his situation so much more as a result.  

Odds and Ends

My first impression of Nie Mingjue: damn, he looks like a hardass. I immediately felt bad for Nie Huaisang, it’s no wonder he was so afraid of his older brother. Compared to his novel and donghua counterpart, I think he was pretty well-casted. Even though Wang Yizhou had a relatively limited number of scenes, he had a pretty strong presence so that I couldn’t help but pay attention to him whenever he was on-screen. Word is the second online movie might actually be centered on the Nie brothers, which means we might get to see much more of him and Ji Li’s NHS. Although at first I was just a teeny bit disappointed that we might not be getting more of the Yi City boys’ story instead, the more I think about it, the more I actually like the idea of getting more of the Nie brothers’ story because I actually don’t remember if much was said about them in the novel other than just their basic introduction, so I would love to see more of their past and their relationship. I think it’s fascinating that even though on the surface NHS is utterly afraid of his brother, he obviously intensely loves and respects NMJ at the same time considering the lengths he went through to avenge his death. I hope we get to see NHS’s side of the events in the live action, especially during the 16 years between Wei Ying’s death and resurrection when he realized Jin Guangyao’s true nature and guilt, and then started to put his grand revenge plan into motion. I hope this also means we might get to meet the real Mo Xuanyu before he gave up his body and soul to bring Wei Ying back. It would be so damn cool if Xiao Zhan played him as well! If they are indeed constructing these two specials on scenes they’ve already shot but couldn’t fit into the series due to pacing issues, there might very well be a chance of XZ playing Mo Xuanyu. Holy crap, that means we might get to see Xiao Zhan play a FOURTH personification in the show, since young Wei Ying, his Yiling Patriarch and Wei Ying-Mo Xuanyu are already three distinct personalities! Oh my God, I’m getting excited, but I really shouldn’t yet since it’s all just rumors and my own wishful thinking now. Guess all I can do is keep my fingers crossed that that’s the direction they’re heading for the second special.  

By the way, I just have to mention something about the captions on the show: whoever inserted those captions with the characters’ names was clearly on speed or something because they would appear and disappear so damn quickly there was hardly a chance to even read them. I’m surprised I even got Nie Mingjue’s so clearly in the screenshot because usually half the name would be gone before the rest of it had even finished appearing. It’s a minor technical issue but it did bug me at the beginning because I was trying to read the damn names.

Seeing the Twin Prides of Yunmeng actually acting like twins who are completely in sync (giggling at how NHS is reacting to his big bro) just makes my heart feel so heavy now. They will never be like this again.  Makes me want to cry.  

Lan Zhan’s look was interesting though. Whenever I see him watching Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng, I sometimes wonder if he’s slightly jealous of the bond they share or of the fun they’re having. Or maybe it’s neither and he just enjoys watching him laugh and smile. Honestly with Lan Zhan, it might be a combination of all three.

These three gossiping dorks. I love them. They’re just so adorable when they get together; I love their interactions and I wish this wasn’t the beginning of the end for all the fun between them cuz there’s really not much more time left for any shenanigans after this.

I also love that Xue Yang is like cracking up in the foreground there but it’s not even certain if it’s because he can hear what they’re saying (about Meng Yao/JGY) or if he’s just being his usual psycho self. I really like that even when Xue Yang is not the focus of the scene, Wang Haoxuan (who portrays Xue Yang of course) is still constantly acting and reacting. I’ve seen folks criticize him for doing that, but I think that’s a little unfair since that had to have been the direction given to him. Not to mention, I think it’s entirely reasonable for Xue Yang to be extra like that, all the time.  

I don’t hate Jin Guangyao, similar to how I feel about Xue Yang, I simply can’t hate him, but I do absolutely hate what he did to Wei Ying, especially when I see this scene again and am reminded of how Wei Ying had also treated him with sincerity and respect, just like Big Bro Xichen did. And yet, while JGY was only protective and caring toward LXC, he basically chose to fuck Wei Ying over. I know the difference is in whom he loved, but still, damn him for that. Wei Ying deserved better from him.   

This was an interesting scene because of how great a risk Jin Guangyao was putting himself in. Wen Zhuliu could have totally accidentally killed him. Even though his aim originally was probably just to injure Nie Mingjue, JGY is not as strong as NMJ so a strike that may only injure the other man could have easily been fatal to JGY. So I guess in this instance, JGY’s intent on saving his master was sincere? But that’s still such a HUGE gamble. He is really so fascinating as a character. And his relationship with NMJ is fascinating as well because there were obviously genuine feelings between them as well—NMJ was freaking crying when he was banishing JGY—and yet the way JGY ultimately ended NMJ’s life was so damn brutal. I know there’s a fine line between love and hate but because their lives continued to be intertwined afterwards, I wonder when exactly it was the two of them crossed over to hate completely. I mean, I have an idea, which I will eventually give voice to, but I still feel a little uncertainty because of certain events that happen immediately afterwards.  

I wish we got to see just how Jin Guangyao found and rescued Big Bro Xichen and oh my God would I LOVE to see the time they spent together, presumably alone, in hiding while Lan Xichen was recovering from his wounds. I feel like we were royally deprived of some serious XiYao time by the live drama. Considering the fact that they seem to thoroughly support this ship, I’m honestly surprised that they didn’t use this opportunity to creatively fill in that big blank. I mean, instead of giving us all those unnecessary scenes of Wen Ruohan and his stupid zombies, they should have given us some XiYao-in-hiding scenes instead dammit.  

Questions I Still Have

Why didn’t Wen Zhuliu go for NMJ’s golden core? Especially since he clearly had an opening when NMJ was busy with the injured JGY? Also, how strong is Wen Chao supposed to be that he could even injure NMJ that seriously? I now he was already weakened and Wen Chao did attack from the back like a coward, but still, his cultivation level can’t be higher than NMJ so I’m just a little surprise his hit made any impact at all, especially since he seems mostly weaksauce in all other instances. This whole fight scene was just a little weird to me. And also, damn is JGY a shitty liar at that point. I actually laughed out loud when he full on denied that he was the one who killed that dude (who I thought was a total dick tbh so I kinda don’t blame JGY for killing his ass) even though he was still holding on to the murder weapon which was dripping with the guy’s blood. Guess he still hadn’t perfected his lying skills. 

Overall Episode Rating: 9 Lil Apples out of 10

[icanthelpbut-love-you]

in your warmth I forget how cold it can be

Sappy 3x22 reunion feels for @supercalime, who prompted “malec after the reunion in Edom and before the golden sheet scene” 

read on ao3 [Explicit]

There’s a brief moment, when it’s all over, when Magnus’ portal has closed in a shower of blue sparks, when the scorching heat of Edom is replaced by the familiar slightly-too-cool of the Institute, that they all just stand there. None of them make a sound, save for the occasional gasp and rustle of fabric as their chests still heave from exertion, unwilling to break the silence in case this all turns out to be a cruel dream.

If it is a dream, Alec decides, he’s more than content to never wake up.

He can’t take his eyes off Magnus. It starts out as relief, surging through him in waves as he drinks in the sight of his fiancé (his fiancé!) standing only a few feet away, potent enough that the small part of him that’s been whispering defeatedly in the back of his mind the past few days is finally, blissfully silent. But underneath there’s a something else stirring, something warm that’s been burning from the moment he’d held Magnus in his arms down in Edom. Since he’d got to touch him, even if only for a few moments before reality came crashing ever so inconveniently back in.

And after that… well. Magnus, standing proud against the mother of all demons with more power wrapped in the palm of his hands than Alec has ever seen in his life: that’s an image that is seared right into Alec’s retinas. Lit by Edom’s ever-present fiery glow Magnus had looked striking and dangerous and every bit the king he was born to be. Alec’s pretty sure he’s never going to catch his breath again.

It had sent the flames simmering deep in his gut into a full-blown inferno. Standing here now, close enough to see the tongues of residual magic licking at Magnus’ fingers but too far to touch, is almost unbearable.

His thoughts drift, and he wonders if there’s a way he and Magnus can make a subtle exit in the next few minutes. Then, he catches the way Jace is sneaking looks at Clary and the covert eye contact between Izzy and Simon. It’d be enough to make him laugh, the way all their minds have predictably wandered in the same direction, if he wasn’t incapable of thinking about anything beyond how much he wants. Given the amused expressions on both Lorenzo and Meliorn’s faces none of them are doing a very good job of concealing it – Alec knows he isn’t, with the way he’s abandoned all pretence of not staring at Magnus – but it’s not like anyone can really blame them given the near-death experiences of the past few hours. It’s only a matter of who snaps first.

The distinctive whoosh of a new portal opening shatters the quiet and makes Alec jump.

“As much as I’m enjoying standing silently in the middle of the Institute – and really I am,” Magnus’ voice rings through the space between them, sardonic and leaving no doubt about exactly how far that is from the truth, “I’ve just been reunited with my fiancé and, quite frankly, I can think of a lot of things I’d rather be doing.”

The smile Magnus sends the group is lofty and dismissive. But as his eyes land on Alec there’s a flash of near-imperceptible tightness, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it shadow gone so quickly that Alec’s not completely sure it’s not just a trick of the light. Instinct tells him to close the distance between them, regardless of their company. To cradle Magnus’ face in his hands so he can scrutinise every expression there and remind him that he doesn’t have to hide anything around Alec.

“So you’ll have to forgive me if we… make ourselves scarce.”

Whatever Alec was planning on doing, Magnus’ words – which take on a frankly indecent tone for all that they’re relatively innocent – successfully scatter it along with any other semblance of coherent thought. Without permission his eyes drop to Magnus’ lips, drawn there by the smirk that overtakes Magnus’ face as he turns his attention fully to Alec. A flush creeps up Alec’s neck that has nothing to do with embarrassment.

“Shall we?” Magnus asks, offering his elbow expectantly and closing that frustrating distance between them while Alec’s brain is still coming back online.

It’s an over the top gesture, quaint in its old-fashionedness, and Alec snorts as he intertwines their arms. He feels so light, giddy with it. With the relief sitting bright inside him, with the fact that he can finally afford to laugh, so easily, when he hasn’t so much as cracked a smile the entire time Magnus has been gone.

Alec has only a moment to catch sight of the suggestive eyebrow wiggle from Izzy – which is hardly fair, considering the blatant bedroom eyes she was giving Simon seconds ago – before he’s being practically dragged through the portal.

“I believe we have some lost time to make up for, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs over the rush of magic as they tumble through, and Alec shivers at the promise evident in the way Magnus’ voice drops to a purr.

Barely making it out of the portal, Alec sees just enough of their surroundings to realise Magnus has deposited them directly into their bedroom in the loft before Magnus is seizing the collar of his jacket and crowding him backwards. His back hits the wall. Alec is about to tease Magnus for being so eager he can’t even make it to the bed, but Magnus is already claiming his lips in a searing kiss. They’re pressed together from chest to toe, so when Magnus slots a knee between Alec’s legs to bring them even closer Alec can’t hold back the whine that’s torn from his throat and quickly muffled by Magnus’ lips. Knees buckling slightly at the onslaught of sensation, Alec grips Magnus’ arms – an action that only serves to make him even more unsteady as Magnus’ muscles shift under his fingers.

Back in the real world, outside the sanctuary of the loft, the world is still spinning. Izzy still needs a full health check in the aftermath of the heavenly fire, Alec still needs to ask Magnus what actually happened with Asmodeus to make Magnus so certain he’s a non-issue, and Jonathan is still out there doing Raziel-knows-what (wreaking havoc most likely). The chaos that is their lives hasn’t conveniently decided to take a breather just because he and Magnus have been reunited.

But right now? Alec can’t bring himself to care. The world could be crumbling and he wouldn’t spare it a thought. Right now, all he can think about is Magnus, consuming his senses with fierce kisses and fervent touches until Alec’s world is reduced to nothing but the two of them.

Admittedly, there is something to be said about the role reversal evident in Magnus being the impatient one. Normally it’s Alec rushing headfirst into everything and Magnus drawing things out with maddening self-restraint – although Alec’s getting increasingly good at wearing him down.

It makes Alec chuckle lowly as Magnus fights to remove Alec’s shirt, breaking their kiss long enough to wrench it up Alec’s torso and practically growling as it catches on the way over his shoulders. Any other day, Magnus would snap his fingers and the offending material would be instantly gone. But Alec can relate all too well to the bone-deep need to touch, to confirm in every possible way that this isn’t just a grief-driven fantasy.

Finally managing to wrestle Alec’s shirt into submission, Magnus tears it over Alec’s head and tosses it somewhere to the side. The motion sparks hint of concern in Alec’s subconscious, triggered by the way that Magnus seems to be teetering on the edge between passion and something else. Something frantic and desperate. It’s gone before Alec can fully process it though, scattered once more by the burning pressure of Magnus’ hands on his bare skin, gliding over the planes of Alec’s chest. Magnus circles his thumb around a nipple, brushing over the hard nub and pressing down. Alec shudders and he can feel Magnus grinning triumphantly into his mouth.

Then Magnus pulls back, reaching between them to join Alec in undoing his shirt, and he’s shaking.

Magnus’ hands tremble, fumbling over the buttons uncontrollably, and it’s something Alec has never seen before. Not from Magnus, who’s always so carefully in control, so composed. Until he’s not.

Alec halts his own efforts and brings a hand to cup Magnus’ cheek.

“Hey,” he whispers, tilting Magnus’ face to coax his gaze upwards, “Look at me.”

He’s not sure how he could have missed the tension when it’s now so obvious in every line of Magnus’ body as his eyes snap up. And there’s that undercurrent of restlessness, something wild in the warlock’s expression just underneath the blazing desire.

It’s fear, Alec realises abruptly, a lingering terror that hasn’t quite had time to be tempered by the relief of the past few hours. Terror that if he stops to breathe this will all be ripped out from beneath him. Terror borne of complete disbelief that it can possibly be over.

It’s the same expression that Alec caught a glimpse of earlier in the Institute, the same fear that’s bleeding into Magnus’ uncharacteristic forwardness. But now it’s stripped bare and Magnus isn’t even trying to hide it. Or – more likely – he is, but is losing the battle against his rapidly-crumbling façade.

It occurs to Alec that a significant part of Magnus, with his penchant for underestimating how much he is loved and how much he is a vital part of the lives of those who love him, might not have believed that anyone was coming for him.

Alec’s heart breaks a little with the raw unguarded desperation in Magnus eyes where they’re locked with his. It’s like Magnus is hanging on by a thread, the agony of the past few days catching up with him and Alec can see him on the precipice of losing what pretence of composure he has left.

“I’m here, Magnus,” he says, aiming for reassuring but missing the mark and ending up closer to pleading (and alright, maybe he isn’t as ok as he’s been trying to pretend), “We’re here.”  

“I know,” Magnus breathes back, but there’s still something frayed in his tone. He sounds exhausted. Defeated. And it might be Alec’s borderline unhealthy need to fix everything talking, but that’s not something he can just let go.

“No, Magnus, listen to me. There is nothing – not in this world, not in Edom, not in any of the countless other dimensions out there – that could keep me away from you.”

“We always find our way back to each other?” Magnus queries, voice light but expression intense as he repeats Alec’s words from so long ago back to him.

Alec pauses for a second, fingers caressing Magnus’ jaw as he makes sure he has his fiancé’s full attention before he speaks, trying to force all the intensity and adoration and fierce certainty swirling inside him into a single word.

“Always.”

He must get at least some of it across. Something deep inside Alec aches at the awe that flits across Magnus’ face, the shock in the subtle parting of Magnus’ lips that – incomprehensibly – surfaces every time Magnus is faced with how much Alec loves him. As though somehow he doesn’t know that a trip to hell doesn’t even scratch the surface of the lengths Alec would go to for him.

Turning his face in Alec’s hand, Magnus presses a kiss to his palm. His eyes slip closed as the tension visibly bleeds from him, and he sags a little where he’s pressed against Alec. The ache intensifies, Alec’s heart clenching at the complete trust Magnus is showing him in allowing himself to be vulnerable like this.

When Magnus’ eyes open again Alec is met with brilliant gold. He leans in and brushes his lips gently against Magnus’, the frantic edge from before mostly dissipated. Their hands touch as they both work on Magnus’ shirt buttons once more and, this time, they’re steady.

The last button slips free and Alec slides his hands up to Magnus’ shoulders to push the shirt down his arms onto the floor. He keeps pushing, gently urging Magnus backwards.

“C’mon,” he pulls back just enough to whisper breathlessly against Magnus mouth, “Bed.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Magnus murmurs, distracted, gaze dropping back to Alec’s lips.

Rolling his eyes, there’s nothing Alec can do but kiss him again properly, swallowing Magnus’ bright laugh, tasting the tentative joy sweet on his lips.

Magnus’ knees hit the foot of the bed and they both tumble onto the golden sheets, trading playful kisses. Magnus looks from their still-clothed lower halves back to Alec, the question obvious. Before he can even fully process, Alec’s nodding. There’s a time for carefully undressing each other, for revelling in the fumble of battling with uncooperative belts and too tight jeans (mainly on Magnus’ part), but Alec’s pretty sure he’ll die if he has to pull away from Magnus for even a second.

Magnus wastes no time obliging, the crackle of electricity and faint scent of ozone intoxicating where it lingers in the air between them – by the angel, Alec hadn’t fully realised how much he’s missed the tell-tale prickle of Magnus’ magic against his skin and that specific shade of blue – and then they’re pressed against each other skin to skin. Alec is struck momentarily dumb, taking in the sight of Magnus splayed across the shimmering bedsheets. The impish gleam in Magnus’ eyes is all the warning he gets before Magnus takes advantage of his brief distraction, flipping them so that he’s straddling Alec.

If Magnus is expecting him to put up a fight he’ll be sorely disappointed, Alec thinks dazedly. Magnus above him, pressing him into the bed, never fails to make Alec practically melt. He’s always craved physical contact from Magnus – a gentle touch to his waist as they manoeuvre around each other in the kitchen, a kiss the second he comes home, a hand carding through his hair when they curl up on the couch – and if he stopped to contemplate it that probably has something to do with the way he so completely denied himself affection of any kind before they met. But this he adores on a whole new level. With Magnus’ weight on him he feels grounded. Safe.

Magnus leans back where he’s perched on top of Alec and raises his hand. In truly predictable form, he waits until the combination of the abrupt lack contact and deliberate motion draw Alec’s focus to exactly where he wants it for maximum impact, and only then does he move to vanish his rings. It’s a familiar, practiced gesture, full of intent that has Alec shivering. Magnus is well aware of that, far too smug in the knowledge of what seeing him use magic in any context (but especially this one) does to Alec and shamelessly taking advantage of that knowledge whenever the opportunity arises. So it visibly catches Magnus by surprise when Alec stops him with a gentle hand before he can complete the movement, propping himself on an elbow to shift so he’s sitting up.

The change of position sends Magnus grinding down into his lap and they both groan.

It derails from there, Alec completely distracted from his original purpose as Magnus surges forwards again to kiss him. Alec bucks up into the tantalising friction as Magnus trails his lips down Alec’s neck, unerringly finding the deflect rune there. He nips lightly at it before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Helpless under Magnus’ ministrations, Alec bares his neck in unselfconscious invitation. An invitation that Magnus is all too happy to take, worrying at the skin until there’s no doubt that Alec will find a mark there later. The careful attention his fiancé is paying to the junction between skin and rune, where dormant electricity lies tightly coiled under the surface, leaves Alec unable to contain the breathy noises escaping him. Magnus hums in response, smug but clearly breathless too, and the vibration makes Alec’s already bruising grip on Magnus’ hips tighten.

It’s not until one of Magnus’ hands – the one not still intertwined with Alec’s – comes up to cup Alec’s neck, the press of rings cool against his feverish skin, that Alec abruptly refocuses.

Reluctantly urging Magnus to sit back, laughing at the warlock’s protesting whine and immediately missing the contact, Alec draws Magnus’ right hand towards him. His fingers find one of the signet rings there, running over the grooves of the engraved B as he considers.

He can feel Magnus gather power, blue sparks dancing over their joined hands as he once again prepares to banish the rings. Alec shakes his head before Magnus gets a chance, and Magnus sends him a quizzical look.

“Let me,” Alec murmurs, voice coming out low and husky.

Alec hears Magnus’ breath catch, briefly mesmerised by the bob of Magnus’ throat as he swallows thickly and nods. His normally slitted pupils are dilated, black swallowing the irises until there’s barely a thin ring of gold peeking out at the edges.

Slipping the ring off Magnus’ finger, Alec places it on the bed next to them and narrows his eyes as it immediately vanishes. Shaking his head as he looks up at Magnus, a picture of innocence, Alec moves on to the next ring – engraved with a swirling M to match the previous one – and removes it too. When he reaches for Magnus’ other hand, he finds Magnus already extending it towards him in offering. Evidently Alec’s not the only one affected by this. An undoubtedly sappy grin overtakes his face and Alec takes the proffered hand as he places the ring on the golden sheets next to him. He huffs a laugh as it too disappears.

If he were to look in Magnus’ jewellery box, Alec suspects that he’d find both rings nestled in their rightful places. With that in mind this should feel ridiculous, a pointless gesture. But it’s intimate in a way that Alec hadn’t quite anticipated, in a way that’s making it difficult to properly draw breath.  

He hesitates, brushing a thumb reverently over the last remaining ring – the only ring on Magnus’ left hand. It’s far less opulent than the others, a simple silver band glinting in the low light. Taking in the way it sits innocuously on Magnus’ finger simultaneously makes a lump form in his throat and happiness rush liquid through his veins. He’s hyperaware of the ring’s twin where its comforting weight rests on his own hand.

The awareness brings forth memories of thousands of wings against unnaturally dark skies, the crash of falling demon towers, the chilling realisation of fighting a losing battle, and – in the midst of all that – Magnus pulling him aside to steal a moment of pure joy. Memories of the weight of a ring on his finger and a promise in his heart, and the feeling of completeness. Completeness that contrasted so wholly with the cold emptiness as Magnus disappeared through the portal moments later, as above the deafening sounds of battle Alec could hear something inside himself shatter beyond repair.

In the days that followed – terrifying, seemingly-endless days filled with nothing but uncertainty and longing – the ring became his anchor. Other than the few minutes spent trying to track Magnus in Edom, Alec hasn’t taken it off for a second since Magnus slid it onto his finger in Alicante. Sometimes it’s been the only thing stopping him from screaming or collapsing out of pure exhaustion. Or both.

But more than that it’s been a tangible reminder while Magnus was gone, a promise not just of love and commitment but that he would get Magnus back, no matter the way everyone else appeared distressingly resigned. A promise that Alec would do quite literally anything if it meant he could hold Magnus in his arms again.

And now he can. He is. And Alec never wants to let him go.

After a moment of consideration, he raises Magnus hand to his lips and gently places a kiss on the cool metal. Gazing up through his lashes (he’s learnt to play coy from the best, after all), the way Magnus softens – eyes crinkling and lips turning up as he watches Alec with utter adoration – makes warmth seep into Alec’s skin and heat him to the core.

The moment lingers, hanging in the air between them as Alec reverently lowers Magnus’ hand from his lips. He leaves the engagement ring where it is; Magnus is predominantly right handed and, even if he wasn’t, the ring wouldn’t really get in the way there.

Confusion touches Magnus’ face for a second before he realises Alec’s intentions, fondness and hunger warring blatantly in his eyes.

Hunger apparently wins, because then Magnus is pouncing and pressing Alec back against the sheets. A startled laugh is punched out of Alec at the eagerness of Magnus’ hands on him, skimming down his ribs. It gets choked off into a groan though, as Magnus trails his fingers over the inside of his thighs before pressing one against his rim, already slick (though whether by magic or just while Alec was otherwise distracted he can’t say for sure). For a few moments Magnus just rubs the tip of his finger there, almost teasing but not quite. Savouring.

It’s only when Alec reaches back to brace a hand on the headboard so he can push back against Magnus’ hand that Magnus finally presses in, one finger then another, never wavering from that unbearably languid pace. Then on the next inward thrust, Magnus presses feather-light against the spot that has Alec crying out.

Scratch that. Magnus is definitely teasing.

Twisting his fingers, Magnus alternates between deliberately avoiding Alec’s prostate and just brushing it, the anticipation and unpredictability of it as much as the sparks of pleasure making Alec jolt and gasp until he’s rocking on Magnus’ fingers with open desperation.

A stifled noise from Magnus prompts Alec to lift his head so he can see his fiancé properly. Magnus meets his gaze, the thin ring of gold still visible around his dilated pupils glinting a smouldering amber. His lips are red, like he’s been biting down hard as he tends to do when he wants to hear Alec but can’t contain his own sounds of pleasure. He looks awestruck. As if he can’t bring himself to look away – as if he can barely believe what’s in front of him.`

“You’re beautiful, my Alexander,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a curl of his fingers that makes Alec’s vision blur at the edges, “Gorgeous. Stunning. A work of art –”

He breaks off with a low groan, free hand shifting, and Alec realises that Magnus is touching himself, the heel of his palm pressing reflexively against his cock.

It’s too much. Alec’s already wound far too tight without Magnus looking at him like that, getting off just at the sight of Alec spread out in front of him. Alec’s head drops back against the pillows, eyes falling closed and breath stuttering.

Magnus stills his fingers then, a playful admonishment. Alec’s eyes flutter back open, hips thrusting back harder as he looks at Magnus plaintively. Magnus only follows the movement, drawing his fingers out in a torturous slide and smiling wickedly at the whine it pulls from Alec. The effect is dampened somewhat by how thoroughly wrecked Magnus looks, eyes hooded and the tension in his muscles belying the self-control it’s taking for him to hold back.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, repeating Alec’s words from earlier back at him, and Alec is powerless to do anything but obey, gaze locked with Magnus’ as the head of his cock presses against him.

“If that’s all you’ve – ah – got, I may as well get myself off,” Alec snarks when Magnus doesn’t immediately move, instead remaining pressed against his sensitive rim until the urge to flip them both over and just take his pleasure is near-impossible for Alec to resist.

Magnus’ eyes flash with delight. “We have all night, Alexander. Forgive me for wanting to savour the moment.”

Then he’s pushing in, and any further retorts die on Alec’s lips.

He can feel every inch of Magnus inside him, every shift as he slides in magnified by the rush of overwhelming elation. Alec arches, choking on a moan as Magnus slides forwards until he’s fully seated. He flexes his arm where he’s clutching the headboard, partially an uncontrollable response to the exquisite stretch but also because he knows all too well the effect it will have on Magnus. Sure enough, Magnus’ grip on Alec’s thigh goes momentarily slack, eyes glazing over where they trace the line of Alec’s bicep.

Then Magnus seems to gather himself, fingers tightening enough that Alec can feel the bite of Magnus’ ring where it presses into his skin. The sensation sends a thrill of anticipation through him. Deliberately, Magnus pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in one smooth slide, wrenching a groan from deep in his own throat to answer Alec’s sharp gasp at the friction it creates, pace building as Alec rocks back to meet him.

Adjusting his grip, Magnus hikes Alec’s legs up where they’re wrapped around his waist. The movement tilts Alec’s hips, changing the angle just enough that on his next thrust Magnus hits his prostate dead on. Alec tosses his head back in a silent shout as sudden white-hot pleasure steals the breath from his lungs, feeling Magnus’ rhythm falter as Alec clenches around him. Desperate for an anchor, his hands come up to scrabble against Magnus’ back, drawing him close.

“Magnus, there – oh, right there, fuck,” he manages, voice so raw he barely recognises it as his own.

Legs tightening, he digs his heels insistently into Magnus’ lower back, rocking up to chase the feeling and keep Magnus pressed flush against him. Magnus obliges with a breathless moan as Alec’s movements force him deeper, slowing their pace until they’re grinding together, not willing to even separate enough to thrust properly. The constant pressure against Alec’s prostate lights up every nerve in his body until all he can do is clutch at Magnus’ shoulders and let the pleasure overtake him.

He leans up, the distance between them still far too much. Magnus responds by bringing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss and the movement, combined with their slow rocking, traps Alec’s cock against Magnus’ abs. It only takes a few thrusts like that, the perfect angle combined with that friction and the taste of Magnus on his tongue, to bring Alec off with a cry that breaks into a sob as Magnus’ slides a hand between them to stroke him through it.

Balancing on the exquisite edge of overstimulation, Alec murmurs praise as he grinds up to encourage Magnus’ increasingly erratic movements and trembles as each shift only intensifies the aftershocks. By now Magnus is more gasping against Alec’s lips than actually kissing him and if he could go again so quickly Alec would be hard just from the noises Magnus is making. As it is, his cock twitches at the dull pulse of pleasure that shoots through him when Magnus tucks his face into Alec’s neck and tips over the edge with a choked-off moan of Alec’s name. Blue sparks spill from Magnus’ fingers as he comes deep inside Alec, turning the feeling sharp, skittering over his skin and overloading him with the ecstasy of Magnus’ release until he’s writhing against the sheets.  

Running his hands fervently over Magnus’ back and shoulders as they both come down, Alec can feel Magnus shudder just before his arms give out. He all but collapses over Alec with an exaggerated huff that has Alec dissolving into muffled giggles, high on endorphins and the familiar weight of Magnus’ body on his. Magnus glares half-heartedly for a moment, trying and thoroughly failing to contain the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and then they’re both laughing breathlessly while Magnus musters the energy to shift off Alec so they can manoeuvre themselves into a more comfortable position.

They lie there, an offhanded spell from Magnus cleaning them enough for now, tangled together and catching their breath. Gazing up at Magnus, once he’s regained the presence of mind and coordination to do so, Alec drinks in the way the light reflects off the golden sheets and illuminates Magnus’ face in a soft glow.

His head is resting on Magnus’ chest, jostled by the slight up and down of Magnus’ ragged breathing. Magnus’ heart beats against his cheek, strong and – Alec notes with a hint of smugness – more than a little erratic, but evening out with every passing second. It’s far more comforting than it has any right to be.

Magnus’ arm tightens around him as their eyes meet, and Alec notices that Magnus’ hand has gravitated to rest over his heart. Fingers splayed and hand pressing gently down, it’s like Magnus is subconsciously trying to feel Alec’s heartbeat too, as reassuring to him as his is to Alec. He snuggles further into Magnus’ embrace, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ chest just to feel the brief flutter against his lips.

“I missed you,” he whispers against Magnus’ skin, “More than words can say. You were only gone a few days but every second was agony.”

Alec’s voice breaks a little on ‘gone’ but he pushes past it. Even though he’s said as much earlier, even though bringing it up again risks rupturing the blissful bubble they’ve found themselves in, with his defences completely down he can’t fight the need to make sure Magnus knows in no uncertain terms that Alec would have sooner died than stopped searching for a way to get him back.

Magnus, thankfully, just hums pensively in response, remaining lax next to him.

“I missed you too. There I was stuck in Edom for the foreseeable future, Lilith on my doorstep, but all I could think about was you.”

He chuckles self-deprecatingly but it does nothing to offset the vulnerability in his tone. His free hand shifts, searching.

Alec meets him halfway, intertwining their fingers.  

“The world could have been falling out from underneath us and finding you would have still been my first priority. You know that, right?”

It’s only because he’s pressed as close as he is that he’s privy to Magnus’ sharp intake of breath – feeling more than hearing it in the abrupt rise of Magnus’ chest beneath him. But Magnus’ speechlessness is obvious anyway in the resounding silence that follows. Alec toys with Magnus’ fingers, twisting his ring absentmindedly.

“I love you so much, Alexander,” Magnus finally breathes, voice rough, and Alec squeezes his hand.

“Love you more.”

The quip startles a splutter of laughter from Magnus.

“Not possible,” he shoots back, teasing and heartfelt all at once. Alec buries his grin in Magnus’ chest.

Basking in each other’s presence, they lapse into contented silence and before long Alec catches himself dozing. Wrapped in Magnus’ arms, finally home, he lets himself be lulled by the rhythm of Magnus’ gradually-deepening breaths until he drifts off. And, for the first time in days, he sleeps peacefully, his fiancé’s heartbeat steady in his ear.

[postdoc-help-desk]

Expert Note-Taking

Last post was about how to manage any references you gather during your research, so this time I’m going to focus on another important related factor: keeping track of important information obtained from references. Even though you can do this in multiple ways and preferences will determine what you go for, there is one factor you’ll definitely want to consider before choosing an option.

It all comes down to the question of how long your project will last and how many references you’ll need to collect in order to complete it. For me, these fall into three categories that boil down to the terms small, medium, and large.

◆ Consider small projects as those that are fairly short or not requiring many references. If the project only lasts a few weeks or you need under 10 references, you can probably get away with printing articles before highlighting relevant information and scribbling notes in the margins. If you prefer to keep things digital, these options are also available in most PDF reader applications.

◆ For medium-sized projects with up to 20 references or ones that last up to a semester’s worth of time, you may want to consider transferring that information to a notebook or onto note cards that you can flip through or putting it all into a single word processing document. At the very least, this will reduce each reference to its relevant information instead of having to skip past extraneous information. Since you should have a PDF copy of all your references saved for easy access, you will always have the option to return to the full piece for details you may have missed previously.

◆ And then there’s the large projects. For any projects that require more than 20 references, you will likely want to be able to search and sort information more easily, and this is where software options can be immensely beneficial. Similarly, any projects that last longer than one semester’s worth of time is likely best suited for digital notes so you don’t misplace work and have to do a close rereading of any references. As graduate students, this is where your main research project will definitely end up, though other projects may as well.

Of course, your cutoff point might be different than mine, so don’t feel like you have to stick to these values. If you have a better memory or fewer things to juggle, you may get away with stretching to longer time periods or larger quantities of references. If you’re liable to forget things easily or have a lot of responsibilities, make sure you account for this! You know your own limits better than I do, but do try to err on the cautious side. And by no means should you push yourself to keep everything in your head, because you will definitely forget information or mix up sources and details if you do!

So let me spend the rest of this post talking about what some of the best options are out there for digital academic note-taking. Just like you did in choosing a reference manager, spend a little time testing out your choice to make sure it’s a good fit for you and your style. If you thought the idea of transferring your references from one manager to another halfway through a project was daunting, consider how much worse it would be without the automatic export and import options they offer and you’ll have a sense for what transferring your notes to another platform halfway through a project would be like.

Digital note-taking options have two distinct advantages over paper and print options, which are intertwined. They are the copy and paste function and the search function. ◇ Whether you’re copying a specific quotation into your notes or grabbing a screenshot of a figure or table, this is invaluable next to having to hand-write or draw out anything. Even if you were to underline, highlight, or physically cut out the relevant part of a paper, each of these options are more time-consuming in the long run. Cutting up a physical copy to paste pieces into a notebook is completely absurd and does you no benefit when it comes time to use that information, and neither does underlining or highlighting because you’ll still have to go back to the whole reference. Finding highlighted or underlined phrases after the fact is hugely annoying, if for no other reason than having to flip through countless pages to find the right sentence. But any images you put into your digital notebook will be accessible to copy and paste out of it later on, just as any quotations will be. Searching for information will also take significantly less time and effort, because you won’t have to flip through physical notes to manually identify relevant phrases. Instead, all text in your digital notebook can be searched using the search function in the program if it has one, or CTRL+F if it doesn’t.

Now, I’m a little biased in note-taking options and I’m sure that will come across, so do keep that in mind. For me, there are really only three viable digital options at this time that are well-designed for academic note-taking.

A word processing document: ◇ It’s important to start by recognizing the tried-and-true, long-standing option of a massive document. This can of course be a browser-based document like a Google Doc that you can access anywhere with Internet or it could be application-based like a Microsoft Word document that is saved locally to a hard drive. But no matter how you design and format it, a giant document is the most basic of the digital choices and therefore has the fewest benefits. This means that as long as you include something to identify where any information comes from, it can work but it has distinct limits. However, the more references and information you add to the file, the harder it will become to pick out specifics or draw connections between several references. Consider for a moment the limitation of your monitor screen size. While it may sound silly, remember that if you copy several figures or take a lot of notes on one reference, the space taken up could easily take up more than what you are able to reasonably read on the screen. If you then want to find a key phrase or concept that appears in multiple references, there’s no way to find both that key information and the reference it comes from at the same time, even with a search function. Taking notes for small or medium projects may be feasible with a word processing document, but should definitely not be used with large projects.

Evernote or Microsoft OneNote: ◇ So what if you don’t want to use a word-processing document, or you have a large project to do? Both Evernote and OneNote are great options for you to keep all your notes together. They’re fairly similar, so in large part your decision will come down to personal preference. Evernote is distinctly business-like in its design with a relatively drab color scheme. In contrast, OneNote is a bit more colorful and creative in its design. This may not matter to you, but then again, it may be depressing or distracting for you if you choose the wrong application. The most significant difference between them, however, is the cost. Evernote has several levels to it, including the individual use options of basic and premium. Basic Evernote is free, but comes with the limitation of only being accessible on a computer rather than having the mobile access option that comes with a premium account. It also restricts your account in terms of the number of devices that can be linked to it, which may be problematic if you’re likely to work on multiple computers.For $8 a month, however, you’ll have Premium Evernote and be able to get rid of both of these issues while bumping up your abilities in some other areas, too. It’s also worth noting that a school email address can grant you a full year with a Premium account for free. OneNote, on the other hand, is completely free. No pay levels and no differences between account abilities, just full access. So, what can you do with these softwares? Since both of them are designed specifically to be note-taking software, there are some distinct benefits that mostly appear through organizational features. - While the terminology is different between them, both Evernote and OneNote let you organize your notes very well. Remember back in middle school when you had a different binder for each class, dividers within each binder for different sections of material, and many different pages within those dividers that contained your notes? That’s pretty much what you’ll have again through these applications, but with the added benefit of being digital. Each project can be the binder, while subsections within it will become folders, like the dividers, and all of your notes for each reference will go onto a different page. You can even create subfolders if needed. - Another key organizational feature here is one that I pointed out as a weakness with a word processing document, which is keeping more information on one screen. To continue the metaphor, unlike your middle school binders, you can see the name of each page in a folder without having to flip through them so you can identify and find information more easily. You’ll still have to click through the pages to see the notes, but if you use a search function to find a key word or phrase, you’ll much more easily identify which references have that information in them.

No matter what route you choose, regardless of the project size or duration, keeping track of which source any information comes from is easily the most important thing. By doing this, you will save significant amounts of time in not having to look back through multitudes of documents to find a specific statement or figure in one of them again.