#putting STAR on my CV who cares

[saltcherry]

“yeah I guess you could call me a programmer” --me, after a script appears to have worked once

[beevean]

So some recent... discourse put into my mind the concept of "power fantasy", and how people relate to it in different ways. Of course, I'm talking about Hector :P

Is Hector, in the games, a power fantasy? I think the answer is "yes but actually no but actually yes it's complicated".

Let's be honest, first: Hector is a product of his time. He is, in many aspects, Castlevania's response to the wave of edginess that was en vogue in the mid-2000s - I don't compare CoD to ShTH for no reason lol. Hector was always meant to be an anti-hero contrasting the pure heroes the games always starred before him:

—Why did you choose the theme of "revenge" for this game? Iga: Up to now, the Belmonts have been seen as the good guys. I thought it'd be nice to do something other than a moralistic "good triumps over evil" theme sometime. After all, Castlevania has always had an excellent world for telling a "dark hero" story. Alucard would be one such character… though even he is fighting for a just cause: "I've got to stop my Father!" So he's still kind of a good guy. This time, though, I wanted the motivation itself to be impure. So this theme is what I came up with, and then I thought it would be even more interesting if each side was out for revenge on the other.

Hector has "impure" motivations. His quest is completely selfish: while all the other protagonists want to face Dracula (or others in his place) because it's the right thing to do, Hector is just in to kill the man who ruined his life. In fact, he really couldn't care less about the Curse, and multiple times in the game he asks why can't Trevor just deal with the issues he doesn't want to deal with lol. This is in line with other characters of the same caliber, such as Shadow sneering at a city being invaded by aliens until there is something in for him, or Guts who declares that he's willing to let a whole town fall prey to demons, as long as Casca is safe. However, this is not a detriment to Hector's character like it would be nowadays, as he's also very much mean to be "cool": while obviously every protagonist has his cool factor, even going back to Simon in the first games who defeated Dracula all by himself and then had to heroically struggle with the Curse, Hector is cool in that, well, deliciously over-the-top way that was all the rage back then. He can ride wyverns as he slashes them, he can go toe to toe with Trevor himself to the point that even he is impressed, he can forge a gun and an electric guitar, cutscenes show him punching a stone devil with his bare first, he gloats in Dracula's face that he can nullify his Curse... yeah, he's a gigachad lol. The flaws are only meant to make him cooler and not "boring", as paragon heroes were seen at the time.

I, personally, never cared about this part. I'm not the target audience for this kind of power fantasy. Sure, I like that Hector is over-the-top cool and I will always joke about his most outlandish feats, but I'm not so keen on reducing him to those alone. I couldn't even explain why avenging your dead lover counts as part of a power fantasy lol.

This is why I latched on so much on the first half of his story, the one where Hector deals with Dracula, and why I insist that Hector is much more than his admittedly cliché archetype of "angry man on a revenge quest".

Calling Hector "stoic" is not even knowing the meaning of the word. Calling pretty much any CV protagonist "stoic" is factually wrong, as even the more serious ones like Alucard and Shanoa have other depths to them (Alucard is still grieving for his mother and we see it in a nightmare, Shanoa was deliberately made stoic and she subtly longs to feel again), but Hector doesn't even begin to fit the definition of "One who is seemingly indifferent to or unaffected by joy, grief, pleasure, or pain". The whole point of CoD is that Hector was left so emotionally vulnerable by his grief that both Isaac and Zead used him as a puppet. Anger is the complete antithesis of stoicism. "well anger is still a toxically masculine emotion" - memes aside, Hector shows other emotions too, most notably around Julia, the only person with which we see how actually gentle and polite he is when he doesn't have Dracula's influence scrambling his brain. By the way, you cannot ignore the effects of the Curse on both Hector and Isaac when you analyze them, especially the former:

It can't be plainer than this.

And it doesn't come out of nowhere, because not only Julia herself tries to warn Hector that Devil Forgemasters are susceptible to the Curse, he acts vulnerable around her. He apologizes for his unjust outbursts, sympathizes with her plight, is visibly affected by her grief when Isaac dies... sure, it might be all because he's lowkey crushing on her, if you want to see it that way (and I do have my words over the plot point of Julia looking like Rosaly: I would have preferred if the game had more time to show that Hector grew to see Julia as her own person beyond her appearance), but the point is that this behavior highly contrasts with how angry and aggressive he is to everyone else, which the reveal of the Curse recontextualizes.

Also, just saying, while anger can be toxic, the point of these storylines is usually precisely that revenge is bad. Unchecked anger is bad for you, and you shouldn't let yourself fall down that spiral, lest you lose yourself. Isaac got consumed by his own hatred and died as a tool; Hector realized in time that he should snap out of it and survives, also because he was nice to Julia and so she grew to care about him and saved him when he tried to kill himself <- a reaction that is very unmasculine, might I add, as toxic masculinity dictates that men should make other people pay for their pain. bro. bro this is the complete antithesis of "toxic masculinity". Again, this is really not knowing the meaning of the word.

I don't even need to pull examples from the manga, but just for completion's sake:

iunno about you chief, but someone who bursts into tears just because wifey told him that she's happy he was born isn't exactly the portrayal of toxic masculinity to me.

Which makes me segue into the next point!

Hector and Isaac are victims of abuse, and this is another very important angle to understand them. And I'm not just talking about their childhoods, of which we only get hints, although of course it does matter that the two experienced so much hatred and rejection in their youth that Dracula was the better option for them.

We don't see the details, but Dracula affected both of them deeply. He put them in a competitive dynamic, favoring Hector over Isaac: Isaac grew bitter with resentment, which made him double down on his loyalty to Dracula, while Hector only got the appreciation he craved at the price of his very humanity and morals, which weighed on him. The point of this favoritism is not really the core of their rivalry in game, as that one was caused by Hector's betrayal, but it gives a different dimension to the character. It would have been easy to have the mistreated guy the one who decided to turn his back to Dracula, but no, it was the golden child. Isaac was so entrenched in this dynamic that he never broke free, choosing instead to blame Hector and do everything in his power to prove himself to an uncaring Lord, including (in the manga) killing his own underlings so that he would be free to face Hector by himself. From PtR:

"My own body is proof of Your expectations for him" is such a hard-hitting line. Isaac fears that he didn't even disappoint his Lord, because his Lord didn't have expectations for him in the first place. It's Hector the one he's so proud of.

And Hector hates it. By all means, he should be happy to have a home, to be respected and appreciated and free to use his powers. And he used to be!

"Lord Dracula... You once accepted and needed my powers. There was a time when such a thing gave me joy..."

Hector was grateful for his Lord, but he couldn't live anymore in the safety of the castle, if the price was committing indiscriminate murder for the sake of a senseless revenge, going against his morals and being used as a weapon. Hector had to make a choice: keep living under Lord Dracula's protection, but losing his humanity piece by piece, or breaking free and facing the world that hated him, but as a free man?

Hector chose freedom over conditional safety and love. He was ready to die, as long as he died a free man. He put himself first, he turned his back against people who did not truly appreciate him, and despite the mess he left behind it was the right decision. And that's the power fantasy I adore, and that is what makes him a strong character in my opinion. It's the embodiment of achieving self-confidence, the healthy selfishness, the affirmation of the self when everyone else around you only sees you as an object or a prize, the reassurance that even if you fall, you can always get up and try again and become a person you can be proud of.

And Hector, after breaking free, very much acts like a victim of abuse. I spent countless words over how he displays the belief that he needs to do something to earn the right to be loved by Rosaly, unaccepting of the fact that she simply does because, well, he likes him and sees the good in him, and that's it. I wrote a whole analysis on how this belief stems from a sad naiveté on how the world works, because Hector is naive underneath the aloof exterior, and it's not something to make fun of him for, but a tragic result of living under Dracula for so long. I'll also point again to him having breakdowns because he hates himself and sees himself as inherently unlovable.

I could also spend all the words about the parallels about how Hector loves Dracula and how he loves Rosaly:

In both cases, he latches onto the only person who has showed him a modicum of kindness. He wants to give his life for them. The difference being, of course, that Dracula only appreciates Hector for what he does (and I could also go into a whole tangent on how Hector was personally raised by Dracula to be his knight and he has a piece of his essence inside him which parallels how abusive parents see their children as an extension of themselves), while Rosaly for who he is. With Dracula, Hector understands that all the shallow care in the world doesn't matter if he isn't also respected as a person: he still cares about him, in some fashion, but not the point of clinging.

And if Hector is ready to lay down his life for Rosaly because she finally showed him what real love looks like, is it any wonder that seeing her die would spark such a fury in him that it makes him prey to the Curse and to being once again twisted into a tool?

The power fantasy comes from the part where Hector breaks free of the abuse and manipulation - twice over. But he is also relatable, with all of his flaws, weaknesses, and mistakes he makes. The whole point of Hector's journey in the first half of his story is that he feels the need to atone for his sins, and the consequences of his actions all catch up to him in the worst of ways. Ignoring this to reduce Hector to an edgelord who only spends his life angry and then hooks up with a Rosaly replacement (which incidentally also ignores Julia's personality and agency and I might even call as misogynist as the plot point itself) is a huge disservice to the thought and care put into him to make him stand out from his own archetype.

Power fantasies are not inherently bad. Depending on the fantasy, they can be inspirational. Hector is inspirational to me, if that wasn't clear, I see part of me in his circumstances and I admire his arc: it tells you, "you can break free too, you have the strength to do so, and you will find people who will love you without reason". And I just generally speaking find him a very well written character despite stemming from a rather outdated context, because all the details come together to make him fleshed out and tridimensional.

[dudadragneel]

i’m someone who ever since i was little, i’ve gotten really bad car sickness on car rides, especially longer ones. apparently, according to my mom, when i was young, i was really bad at telling them that i wasn’t feeling well, and would literally just throw up on myself 😀😀💀

but imagine a member being car sick like that? (i also don’t like it when they throw up on themselves in most scenarios either so it would be more just like on the ground or something instead) i think that when i was little i never said anything because i was trying not to literally hurl and if i opened my mouth it would not be good— but if that happened with a member…🫨 but i can also see a member getting car sick like i do now. like i said, i get carsick REALLY easily, but am good at understanding what makes me carsick. i can’t look at my phone at all and it’s risky to look out the window as well. i have to just close my eyes, and put music on in my airpods. but every once in the while i get distracted, and end up making myself sick. it’s interesting to think of an “experienced” car sick sickie. last time i got carsick, without a word i just pulled out a cvs bag, threw up, and then was like perfectly fine. a fun scenario could be one where a member, Felix seems like he would get motion sickness so Felix (and he’s my bias 🤫), is usually really good at avoiding his carsickness but slips up and does something that triggers his carsickness, and everyone is so confused and caring of how he threw up and was so chill and fine afterwards. and a gold star dialogue would be, “uh… does anyone have a bag? I think i’m gonna throw up.” or something along those lines.idk. that’s just my thoughts 🤷‍♀️

-💗

Hello again, dear 💗!

I used to get "car sick" as well, but it was more due to my anxiety rather than actual car sickness.

One thing that helped me a lot was trying to always go in the front, that way I had a stable view. But dramin always helped me so after the first hours I'd get better and actually enjoy the ride.

I totally understand how it's like to feel miserable with nausea and then throwing up and being fine as if nothing had happened 😅

I can see that happening to Felix as well!

I LOVE THAT DIALOGUE!!!

💜

[moecartoons]

It's funny how all my OCs start with some sort of vague parentals until I eventually think too deeply on them and suddenly have two new OCs.

Anyway, an idea I've had on the backburner for the longest time [since when I got really into Descendants, if anyone noticed] is CV's father inspired by this song.

He's an former star of R-Fair City. The greatest act anyone had seen, a one-man circus and impossible-to-beat master of games. He's where CV and Talos get their abilities with holograms from. And he's the reason why they started life with such wealth. With the help of his wife, they capitalized on his celebrity status to the point where he no longer needed to preform.

Unfortunately, stardom without an act only lasts for so long. It put a strain financially on the parents and by extension their kids. Talos has a good head on his shoulders, CV had the talent, but neither of them were good enough. Not that it mattered to their father, who was completely disinterested in his kids or the pampered life their mother was trying to create. He had no say nor care on their... relocation to Discardia.

As CV and Talos grew up alone on Discardia, their father's fame quickly extinguished. He spent so long without shapeshifting, that he no longer knew if he was even able to. As the money further dwindled, he cut his losses, divorcing and taking a majority of the finances and the ugly mansion that once was a home of four.

This song gives me the idea of CV later finding her father so that she can get her birth certificate or something to help with some trouble Coop is having with her adoption. She has so little memory of her father and yet they're incredibly alike. She hates it, she's snarky, he's snarky back, she shows up, he shows up right back. He says he grew up alone with nothing but his talent and that abandoning her is probably the best thing that could've happened to her. It made her stronger, the spitting image of her old man.

My entire idea with CV is she's a bitter person who will never become completely "better." I like this idea extending to her and her father's relationship. Of course he's not taking her back in, and she doesn't want that either. But eventually he says he "maybe never felt like a dad, but you're still my kid."

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

[johnemulaney]

John Mulaney: From Scratch in Las Vegas, September 4

Once again, spoilers for the show and what will presumably be in the special. This is about his relapse so tread with caution is that will be an issue for you. However, the tone of his struggle is the same one he used in his past specials so if you didn’t have any issues then, I think you’d be ok with this. Of course, use your own best judgement, friends.

The opener was Seaton Smith. 

He opened with trying to find the rich people in the crowd but acknowledged that they’d go mwrmwmwrw money isn’t everything so then he started talking about golf and went aha I got ya’ll. 

There was a joke about weed being the only Christian drug

He had a bit about when white people are nice, be nervous

He had a bit about there being a black man on the Bachelor and was like America (ABC and Disney+) were not ready for a black man to be fucking a house full of 50 white women. That shit premiered on Tuesday and the Capitol burned on Wednesday.

He also did some crowd work and roasted a couple in the front row for having different answers about kids and she was like I didn’t hear the question and was roasted about how not hearing questions you don’t want to answer is certainly a tactic, often used by drug dealers

He also had a bit about how different child rearing is in Texas versus New York and about how hitting your kids is treated differently, like his dad would have just threatened it whimsically. 

Now on to the Main Event!

The first thing he said was “hiiiiiiiiii” exactly in the tone you think he said it in. he followed that up with a little shrug looking adorable and a little bashful

“It’s him! Mr. Problems. Oh Las Vegas, Oh my god” he then talks about how Vegas is a land of vice and a Choice for him to preform in as a recovering addict. He had a sober buddy and 3 bodyguards with him at all times. 

“And here’s what happened” December 18, 2020, he gets invited to a friends apartment for dinner AND HE’S TWO HOURS LATE because he stopped, coked out of his mind, at SNL for a haircut because he still had his building access badge and he went to the hair department and they were like, he’ll leave faster if we just do this, and then he stopped at his drug dealers. 

He called venmo and cashapp, apps for drug deals and was like what do normal people even use them for. He maxed both out paying for drugs. 

He was the best looking person at his intervention. “Coke skinny, new cut” and the 12 people intervening looked like shit. He looked “tears for fears while they all looked jerry garcia” (I hope you know who those musicians are besties). 

He immediately yelled “Can I go to the bathroom” to you know, dump his drugs because when you walk into that, you know what it is. 

He was not allowed to go (he would be asked if he still needed to pee later and would say “what?”

There were 6 people in NYC and 6 people over zoom in LA because he guesses 6 people couldn’t be bothered to fly in for HIS INTERVENTION

Interventions can go two ways, it can be kind of accusatory and this is how you let us all down, or it can be supportive. Everyone but Nick Kroll got the memo to be supportive.

Nick Kroll went first.

Nick Kroll listed all the ways John was a bad best friend and brother over zoom and John was getting texts during the intervention saying Nick wasn’t supposed to do that and they were all sorry. 

Bill Hader went next. he originally wasn’t going to be able to make it so he had recorded a thing but since he was there, he did it live. (He would eventually send the video to John in rehab, which is not what you want on the way to rehab “awesome, more intervention”)

He tried to derail the intervention, “there’s not enough latinx representation” he said he’d go to any rehab except the one they had picked out for him. This was a star-studded affair and he was mad no one was being funny. 

 Natasha Lyons went next, telling him his life and career is in shambles

So he gets carted off to rehab after this intervention. Don’t let 12 comedians pack your bags for 2 months at rehab. it was bombas socks and iphone chargers. 

A little secret about rehab, you’re not allowed to bring drugs in. You remember how he was late? In his pocket on the way to rehab included: a huge amount of pills, 3g of coke (which was 2g by the time he got there, courtesy of a koala station in a gas station bathroom), and $2000 in cash. He had other plans for the weekend. He was admitted for xanax, coke, perocet, and adderall addiction. Say what you will, but he does not do anything half way.

It’s 4am when he’s sent to detox, he’s been awake for 3 days. 

He also gives a small lesson on how to get drugs. Find the lowest rated doctors on yelp and webmd reviews and go ask for them, they need all the business they can get. You become like Captain Phillips, I am the doctor now. 

Dr. Michael was his shady doctor. He was a first avenue apartment where he would write prescriptions from his kitchenette where his girl Minerva was always asleep. “I didn’t kill my wife Minerva.” But John would ask for his drugs, Dr. Michael would write the script and then ask what he needed it for. Dr. Michael would also make John take his shirt off, always offering a flu shot and going no, shirt all the way off (in case you were wondering how bad this addiction actually was)

The first moral is now you know. The second moral is get vaccinated.

He’s sent to the regular ward the next afternoon and they finally get him to sleep. 

He’s sketched out that doctors have last names at this establishment

He asks for drugs such as klonopin and is taken aback a bit when he doesn’t get them. The doctor is like PA state law says no, and so John suggests they go to a CVS in Jersey to get some. 

His bestie Pete Davidson starts calling that night. Except Pete changes his number every month and a half so John has him send a selfie and saves the new number under some other random name, at this point in time, Pete is saved as Al Pacino. (We get an Al Pacino impression) John is asleep and his nurse sees Al Pacino trying to call him 5 times and so she wakes him up. 

Pete Davidson and John Mulaney did not do drugs together. (The author is lowkey surprised and sad about that, like if Pete was my bestie, we’d make so many poor choices) But Pete was always very supportive of his sobriety. 

John needs recognition so badly, in group when they introduced themselves he said “I’m John M.” and no one cared. So he left a tabloid out with the news of his admittance and his face on it in the rec room on the table. The not being someone was “driving him bananas.” When they talked about what they do for a living and he said I’m a a stand up comedian, someone asked if he made a living that way. He said “yeah ask your daughter” (or your son)

One of the things you do at rehab is break up with your drug dealer.

One of his drug dealers only bought drugs to keep John from buying worse off the streets and only got into the game because John kept asking him for drugs and was his only buyer. That guy was originally a painter and John has no idea how they met. John is the only person to turn an innocent man into a drug dealer. 

Here he did the Baby J is back baby joke. the Park Theater is one of the biggest stages in the world so he did that joke in one pace across the stage and said the stage is that joke long. 

“I am no longer on drugs. It’s very good but also ah---” He’s in a 12 step anonymous group. 

“I need attention, clearly.” After a show you think he would be sated, but no. 

He wants that attention that the kid who’s grandparent died and showed up to school dressed for the funeral and got to sit in the beanbag chair for reading despite it not being his turn, gets. He went on about being willing to let one of the lesser important grandparents die so he could get attention, for quite a while. 

He feels left behind in science, like his C’s and D’s in those classes. All those classes were was putting things on a windowsill for the janitor to throw away. He had a bit about how the fuck people put dinosaurs back together, it’s like getting wayfair furniture without the instructions. 

He also things the moon belongs to America. Like we got there first and when other countries say stuff about the moon he’s like mmmmmmm.

He also had a joke about paying to get into college and like, for white people that’s always how it’s been. 

The show ended with him going over the highlights of that GQ interview that he was so coked out for that he forgot he did it entirely. He has no memory of it at all. He was just called up that day and asked for an interview and you know how coke is the best drug to receive attention on? He just did whatever he wanted with that attention. 

And that was the show.

[discotreque]

Disco 4.07: ...But to Connect

Well, that was a terrible episode... JUST KIDDING LOL, I LOVED THIS ONE TOO.

Look, there’s plenty of bad-faith criticism of Discovery out there, and sadly too many good-faith bad takes, and way too much boring pissbaby whining—but there are also plenty of valid complaints to make about this show, and I’ve been making plenty of them myself, on this very blog, for three-and-a-half seasons.

The—let’s say “uneven”—quality to date isn’t exactly a surprise, given its clusterfuck of a production history; the well-documented turmoil and turnover in the writer’s room has had an obvious and undeniable impact on the quality of the narrative. (You could even say they’ve had a long road, getting from there to here.)

Everything about this show—the direction, production design, performances, editing, VFX, music—has always been better than the scripts, but it’s not like the scripts were entirely without potential. In fact, the sheer amount of unrealized potential has always been the most frustrating thing to me about Star Trek: Discovery.

Well, I guess I have to find a new most-frustrating thing (and experto credite, I will), because holy fucking shit, y’all… this is what I’ve been saying Disco could be. It’s still not flawless—and they’ve apparently ditched subtlety as thoroughly as they ditched the 23rd century—but I do. not. care. I’m getting one thousand percent more of what I want from this season than I got from the last three seasons combined, and don’t get me wrong—I liked Season 2, and I really liked Season 3—but Season 4 feels like a completely different show. A much, much, much better show.

Buckle up for mid-season spoilers:

Sorry Michael, but my cat Nora wouldn’t fuck with that little holo-toy either—based on her reaction to laser pointers, she needs something she can sink her teeth into—literally—once she catches it. If she can’t pretend to sever its spinal cord, my picky little princess is not interested.

I guess “The Measure of a Woman” would have been too on-the-nose as a title for this episode? Jokes aside, I like how they seem to be positioning Zora as a Data-esque character: the AI who’s a sweet, well-meaning nerd, who’s also still learning organic social graces. Also, the problem with her attaining sentience isn’t that she’ll turn malicious, or pursue her own inscrutable cyber-agenda, but that she loves the crew so much she’s making irrational choices to protect them? AAAAAAAAA 😭😭😭

It figures that Dr. Kovich—who wears glasses and a tie in the 32nd century like a full-time Ren Faire weirdo—also uses a QWERTY-ass-looking keyboard on his holo-computer.

And then he dropped his whole CV in that scene like Michelle Paradise is literally reading this blog? (Ha ha, but also… 🥺👉👈)

Cleveland Booker, I love you like only a lesbian can love a fictional man created by another lesbian, but could you please at least skim The Art of War like, once? If Species 10-C can harness the power of hypergiant stars to—I’m guessing here, based on the themes of this season—accidentally slap entire planets to pieces, there probably isn’t much you can accomplish against them with sheer brute force, my guy. I’m also thinking about the wasp nest on my garage 15 years ago that I was going to ignore until winter (out of laziness), and then one of them stung me on the ear while I was putting my bike away and those fuckers were gone by the weekend. If it’s really a five-minute solution, what’s to lose by asking “Why did you blow up my planet” real quick before trying to kick them in the nuts through subspace?

A real delight to have Phumzile Sitole back as Adira’s old boss, General Ndoye, and in a nifty little hat too! Jonathan Frakes, who directed her previous episode, said in an interview that she’d been planning to quit acting when she booked the gig, but she had such a great time on Disco that she decided to stick with it. So it’s extra wholesome to see her again! I especially loved every time someone proposed violence at the forum and the camera just cut to Ndoye silently nodding like “fuck yeah, blow stuff up.” 😂

President Rillak evaded my expectations once again when Michael suggested she had a personal stake in Earth rejoining the Federation, and instead of hiding behind a bland talking point, Rillak said quite candidly that she was both personally and politically invested. (And it turns out she’s got mommy issues too—take a drink!)

I frickin’ loved how Kovich insisted on… uh-oh, here it comes again… absolute candor when sorting out the issues between Zora and the crew. Emotional honesty: it’s not just a good idea, it’s an overarching narrative theme! (Plus: “We always mean well to ourselves, Captain. The problem is what that means for others.” Ooooof.)

I’m pretty sure that they mentioned Control more times in this episode than in the entirety of Season 3.

Gray and Adira standing up for Zora made me cry happy tears. Say what you will, but I think we’re in good hands with Gen ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha here.

The writers are lucky I don’t mind a little massive amount of didactic speechifying in my science fiction, because for real, I’ve read Peter Watts books that were less transparent about giving every single character an entire TED Talk about every relevant philosophical viewpoint on the table. (Blindsight is still my favourite vampire novel, btw.)

I’m glad nobody except Stamets in full Writer’s Devil’s Advocate mode really entertained Zora’s failsafe solution. “If you stop trusting me, just go ahead and summarily execute me” is uhhhh not really how we treat each other around here, Zora!

Just as I was starting to get sick of Tarka’s shit, he dropped his motive for attacking the DMA—stealing its power source to leave this universe entirely and find his “““friend”””—and Jesus did I ever pivot fast from “this chaotic-neutral mad scientist isn’t quite as endearing as he thinks he is” to just, like, sobbing in my kitchen. I’d say it hit me out of nowhere, but (a) the score reminded me of Jerry Goldsmith’s Star Trek: First Contact theme, one of my favourite pieces of Star Trek music, and (b) I’ve been 1,000 miles from the love of my life for 18 months now because of this fucking pandemic. Tarka might be the most relatable character on this show for me right now. If he’s telling the truth, I hope he gets what he wants—and if he was lying to manipulate Book, I hope Grudge eats his eyeballs.

Speaking of music, I’m pretty sure the theme that played during Paul and Michael’s overlapping speeches has appeared in this season already—I remember finding it unusual to hear so much non-diagetic piano in Star Trek—and maybe even where it changes into the main Disco theme and the woodwinds come in—but combined with the dialogue (or double monologue or whatever) this time around, it really, really hit me.

I did feel like Michael (and/or Rillak?) could have leaned harder on the point that, if first contact with Species 10-C did go awry, they could immediately deploy Tarka’s destructive solution anyway. I’m sure a lot of the pro-violence faction would have agreed that approaching 10-C with a carrot and a stick that big in their back pocket would be a logical move, right? (I know, I know, that’s not what this episode is about, but it was nagging at me the entire time.)

I guess the conflict over leaving Felix at the prison the other week was foreshadowing for Michael and Book being on opposite sides of the vote here. And once again, I’m pretty firmly on one of the sides—Michael’s, this time—but I also feel like I understand the other side, and how they got to their position both intellectually and emotionally, and even though I don’t agree with those conclusions, even though they make my heart feel heavy and sad… I can’t not respect it.

Also, shoutout to the realism of finding yourself on the other side of that kind of ideological gulf from someone you love. There are no good solutions there; the best you can do, I think, is be completely honest with each other and yourselves. And the worst part about Michael and Book’s situation is that they’re already doing that, and I think it’s already done everything it can. 💔 Additional shoutout to the face journeys of both Sonequa Martin-Green and David Ajala for making me feel like my heart got kicked in the stomach.

Anyway. It cracked me up when they established Zora’s personhood by locating her inner clip show device—so we know she’s at least as sentient as Riker, that’s a start. AND SHE’S JOINING STARFLEET??? THIS IS LIT-ER-AL-LY EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED, OMFGGGG 😭😭😭😭😭😭

…though I guess that means Zora doesn’t need Gray as a permanent therapist, awwww. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, and it’s a storyline that makes sense for him and Adira, but ohhhhh, that goodbye scene was bittersweet. (I’m glad they’ve figured out a way to write queer characters off this show without killing them, lmao.) And Adira knowing, before Gray even had to break it to them, what he wanted to do, and being whole-heartedly supportive and encouraging, was just unspeakably sweet. I’m like twice Adira’s age; how are they such a role model for me?

Another thing I wanted, never thought I’d get, and appear to be actually getting in spades? A genuine romance storyline with T’Rina and Saru! And according to his Ready Room interview, it was Doug Jones’s own idea? He picked up on some Sa’Rina ~vibes~ when he read the script—vibes that the writers apparently hadn’t put there on purpose—and mentioned them to Tara Rosling, who saw them too, and they played a little bit of tension in their Season 3 scenes… and then the writers picked it up for Season 4! I love that so, so much.

I seriously can’t stop laughing at the parallels between Book’s decision to go off with Tarka to destroy the DMA and—spoilers for the Netflix reboot of She-Ra, I guess?—Glimmer choosing to activate the Heart of Etheria at the end of that show’s Season 4. In both cases you have a good-hearted but impulsive character who’s suffered a profound loss and feels a responsibility to stop that from happening again… and tries to do so by unleashing a horrific and destructive power that they don’t understand and can’t control, endangering everyone’s lives and alienating their loved ones. (Also, in both cases, you have me yelling at my TV at 6:30 in the morning.)

Honestly, continuing to parallel Glimmer might be the best outcome for Book: spending the first half of Season 5 in a redemption arc apologizing to Michael (and Grudge) would be better than what feels much more likely for him right now: getting swatted out of space by Species 10-C like—well, like a wasp.

Sparkly princess feelings aside, the “installation” of the spore drive into Book’s programmable-matter interface was by far one of the coolest “oh shit, we’re in the future-future” moments that Disco 2.0 has done yet. More of that too, please. (Finally, my last @ for Book: if you don’t want people calling your ship a “floating bachelor pad,” the very least you could do is give it a NAME they could use instead.)

I wrote this about last year’s finale:

A lot of people were worried Vance was going to turn out to be evil, but I was more worried he was going to end up making a heroic sacrifice for (and/or inspired by) the Disco crew—and he sort of does, but it’s not his life he sacrifices, it’s peace with the Emerald Chain. If the only path to “survival” is as the fraudulently legitimizing façade of benevolence over a corrupt, capitalistic criminal empire, well… that’s the destruction of everything the Federation has ever stood for anyway.

And that’s, by my count, Star Trek: Discovery’s third consecutive season-ending reminder that our principles and ideals, our better natures, must inform every decision we make—every single one, in war and in peace—because a victory that costs you the ability to look at yourself in the mirror isn’t going to feel like a victory at all.

Well. Not only do they seem to be going 4-for-4 on this (profoundly important and perennially relevant) theme, this year they didn’t even wait for the season finale to have Michael Burnham make a big speech about it.

Does that put the back half of this season in uncharted thematic territory? I guess we have to wait five weeks (ughhhhh) to find out. But according to the trailer I saw after the credits, we’ll at least get to see Michael Burnham in some kind of civilian setting tossing around gambling chips like a total fucking badass… so who knows, it might even be worth the wait.

[luxe-pauvre]

Hello Holly....

I was wondering if you could have any suggestions for me about this - i have this exam that i so need to get a good rank and qualify so that i can do p.hd. But i think i am not working as hard as i should be. I see other exam aspirants and i lose my sh** because the level of questions they are trying to solve. I know i haven't been too studious in the past yet i studied as best as i could (i have adhd and grew up in a dysfunctional family and it took me a lot of time to unlearn and relearn a lot of stuff). I do try and study good and sometimes i drift so easily away. The thoughts i specifically label as "unnecessary" some how creep up and before i know I'd have spent hours with it. Sometimes i really think i remember my past or some people or create scenarios just to not keep studying. I really want to study. I really am interested. I just slip away into not studying so easily. Honestly those Students in the top,being eligible for various fellowship scare me and make me think that i am never gonna be one among them and i should give up and find something else to do. Sometimes i can't bear the thought of failing to score the cutoff mark again and seeing the disappointment on my parents face. I think that pressure is there and i don't know how to handle. Please.. Do you have any advice for me? Any insights? I could really use your help. I totally understand if you couldn't answer me.

Take care🌻. Love your posts always. It is so attractive to see how much you read.

Okay, there is a lot to unpack here so I am going to try and organise my answer as best as possible.

‘I think I am not working as hard as I should be.’ The key words in that sentence are ‘I think’. Thinking/feeling like you’re not studying as much as you should is not evidence that that is true. Studying is not about quantity, but quality. Getting in an hour a day of difficult active recall is better than spending ten hours highlighting and re-reading notes. Look into evidence-based study practices (I highly recommend the book Make It Stick: The Science of Successful Learning), and, given how dedicated you seem, work out a way to get comfortable with the feeling that you’re not doing enough. I, too, never feel like I’m doing enough. Earlier in the year I had to have some time off sick and felt so behind when I returned, despite there being no objective evidence that I was behind. I stuck a post-it note in my eye line on the wall above my desk that had ‘you are not behind’ written on it. It reached the point after a few days of constantly glancing at it that even having the thought that I was behind became ridiculous and laughable, and eventually I just got on with what I needed to do unhindered by the thought.

‘I see other exam aspirants and I lose my sh** because the level of questions they are trying to solve [...] those students in the top … scare me and make me think that I am never gonna be one among them and I should give up’ You have to run your own race. What other people are doing should have no bearing on what you are doing. You’re not seeing what is really going on for them, you’re seeing what they want you to see. During my MSc year I was surrounded by students who were pulling ten hour study days and seemingly had an impossible amount of extracurriculars going on, and appeared to have everything together, but they didn’t get in to the programs they wanted to. They were either putting in the hours, but not using them effectively, or were just unlucky. It’s horrible to acknowledge but there are far far more students capable of doing PhDs than there are places, so a certain amount of luck is involved. You can do everything right, you can be the gold star student with the top scores and the twenty extracurriculars and several summer’s of work experience, but still not get a place. Focus on what you can control, on what you are doing, and forget about everyone around you.

‘I studied as best I could’ Great. That’s all you can do and all you can expect from yourself. I don’t have ADHD nor do I have close friends/colleagues who do, and so I cannot offer you advice on this specifically. If you’re at a college/university with a student wellbeing/health/disability service do reach out to them for advice. My usual self-help resource that my university recommends has nothing ADHD-specific. If anyone reading this has any resources to help Anon, please share them in the notes.

‘Sometimes I can’t bear the thought of failing to score the cutoff mark again’ Failure is part of getting into a PhD program. There’s a student in my lab group who has just submitted her thesis, and I’ve read it, and it’s amazing, and she’s amazing, and her CV is amazing, and she’s going on to a fantastic post-doc position, and it all seems so glorious. But I was talking to her at her leaving party last week and discovered she didn’t get the first TWENTY TWO PhD programs/projects she applied for. It’s ridiculous that this the system we’re all desperately trying to work in, but you’ve got to get comfortable with failure. I highly recommend you look up academic CVs of failures that some professors publish to get a true grasp of the scale of failure the ‘superstars’ around you have faced. Persistence and perseverance and being comfortable with rejection are the most valuable skills you can carry into a PhD program, just keep going.

[polkadotpatterson]

Reminder that if CV gets into the Hall of Fame, I will post a preview of my CV fic! Otherwise you'll have to wait until I'm done to see any of it, and who knows when that will be! If this does nothing to motivate you, as you don't care about my fic, consider: vote for 2-time ILB champion, Coffee Cup champion, hitter of the home run that put the Rising Stars in the lead, and blaseball's best sentient Tlwitch-streaming cloud CV anyway, he deserves it

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

The Courage of Letting Go

My project had crashed yet again. My laptop is telling me in all the possible languages that my hard drive is dying, and that I need to replace it soon. Yet I still ask +10 hours out of it daily. All I have left to do is reboot, see all of my data get wiped out, reinstall, reconfigure, wait and hope for the best. Again, again, again, until the green lines in my console numb my already half-asleep brain.

5:45AM. Early morning breeze is refreshing, birds are chirping annoyingly, I try to remember the last time I was able to really breath-in a morning, when I had a proper sleep schedule. I carefully navigate the labyrinths of what they might think or say, and plan accordingly. I realize that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, and that silence is indeed a divine language that I gladly speak.

25 imaginary conversations, one rant to my mom and 2 of my other friends, 3 weeks of self-inflicted isolation, and yet it still does feel right, in every possible aspect. I feel as if a burden had been cast from my back. I feel very light, and kind of excited for the unknown that would fill the void of what has been there. That huge chunk I orbited around for so long had finally pushed me a little bit too hard, into an open space suspension. In fact, it has been pushing me away for quite some time, but only equal to my desire to stay. Those forces eventually negated each other, and I stayed in inertia, comfortably numb, orbiting around a ruined star I thought was one of my riches.

We are creatures of habit. We are always afraid of change, and we prefer it would be inevitable and outside of our control. If change was inevitable, we would let it come to us rather than seeking it, even when we desperately need it. The human brain always sides with the known, within the confines of the familiar. We cling into relationships, belongings, countries, jobs, that are hurting us more than we could ever imagine. And yet we fail to realize that we are suffering directly because of those. And so letting go seems like a funny, extremely dark thought that one should never act upon it. Letting go does not even cross our minds for most of the time.

But some things do not require change. We value longevity, we identify with rituals and we appreciate sanctuaries. Places or people we go to regularly, and come running back towards when the world is unfair. Friends, family, romantic relationships, motherland, hometown. In fact these should not change at all costs, naturally and ideally, as they join to form our identity.

However, these deeply rooted landmarks should be questioned regularly. It's not because that one cannot change or disregard their family that we should put up with their toxicity for example. One should be brave enough to seek change in the forbidden "longevity" department I was talking about earlier, if change is required. One should take the leap of faith, and have the courage to break their own heart. One should listen to the deep voice within when it tells them to leave.

In my case, I had been among this gang of friends for 8 years or so now. We have been through a lot, and I thought I had a safe haven in which I could be simply me, and still feel loved and cared for. Being with my gang always meant recharge and safety, for quite some time.

As I went abroad for education, our relationships suffered heavily from the stress-test of distance. It was very clear to me that I mean nothing to them, and that they see nothing past the things I could offer: rides, professional advice, help with writing a CV, help with a university course, and so on. I soon discovered that they go out without me, systematically and on so many occasions, that I am kept away from their lives and that my struggles mean nothing but something to make fun of, collectively (yes, they mocked me openly once for falling in love with someone who later decided to marry someone else).

The thing that kept me going back to them is them being part of home, being part of something I achingly longed for when I was expatriated, and so I never thought twice before running back to them. My expectations surely lowered to rock-bottom, but I still invested my time and energy unto the gang.

Being back home once again has cast a very big light unto everything in my life. Now I can see very clearly that I am a mere decor, and that people call me only for my car or just to fill the space and not be completely alone. When they ask about some detail in my life, their questions hit me as mixed with a little bit of spite and envy. Maybe I am wrong on this last point, but I would not be surprised. It's no longer a serene sanctuary, it is a toxic tar pit.

The courage of letting go is a mystical force that descends, and suddenly everything is clear. Being honest with yourself is crucial for you to feel this. Once you open your gates, the voice of your gut that has been muffled for years is now a limpid, comforting sound. The courage of letting go is a force that once armed, should not be disregarded. The courage of letting go is another form of acceptance, a blessing.

You should not put up with a toxic friend or relative. You should not do something that does not make you feel good just because you're afraid what else is there for you. What if I cut loose my friends ? what will happen then ? No one knows, and quite frankly, it is exciting to get that space filled up by literally anything else.

This is not a piece of writing that would end with "maybe I am wrong after all". I have given every benefit; of doubt, of love, of affection, of temporary loss of interest, of casual indifference, of good intention. Not once, not twice. It has been years. And maybe it was not like this all the time. Maybe we changed. But I know for sure that I am better off without all of them. I know now that I had been exploited for the past years, and I know I represent nothing for all of them. I am not dumb to not realize when I am shoved away and made fun off systematically by people who are not necessarily better than me in any aspect. This feels like an echo of my early teenage years when I was bullied. That period also ended when I decided to stand up for myself because no one else did. I wrote a big-ass message and I cut all my ties with them. How ironically and sometimes stupidly history repeats itself.

I am glad I now have a wider perspective, and that now I accept the sight of you in my rear-view mirror getting further and further until you're an infinitesimal, irrelevant dot. A sight that has been silently hurting me for years. I always put that under the tab of my over-sensitivity as you would say, you being the expert know-it-all-even-psychoanalysis. I lowered my expectations, I doubted myself, I made myself believe what you thought of me, I asked less and less of you, while you took more and more. Time, effort, attention, consideration, ...

Now you're yesterday news, and I wish for you all the best on your journey, and for our paths to untangle and never ever cross again. Thanks for the memories, and thanks for the pain.

"Joy might visit us unexpectedly, set up the candles it might pass by us spray the way with tears Oh, my heart, where is your sorrow? I hid it away from the joy's path you keep whining you wail with tears of a distressed But this is a mere illusion, too high in heavens Take care not not shout sorrowfully, as sorrow can be heard." - Aziz Al-Samawi (sung by Ilham Al-Madfai : Khuttar)

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 7

Bit of a longer section this time... Don't forget to catch up by reading Place Your Bets and Parts 1-6 of this story, linked in the Master List. (Please forgive me for not posting every link separately just this once.) I'm basically writing this one around whatever is happening on Impact/ New Japan every week, so I know some of the timing is screwed up but I didn't expect that this was going to be picked up as a plotline while I was writing the damn story.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,206

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing, vaguely stalker-ish behavior that some might find troubling

Impact is a weird place. At least, it seems weird compared to New Japan, where everything is scheduled and organized and planned. Impact seems like it’s always on the brink of disaster but the people who’ve been here a long time seem to enjoy it a little, the happy chaos that makes things unpredictable. Everyone can and does screw up occasionally, so the one thing that’s intolerable here is acting like you’re infallible.

Since you arrived to fill the newly created position of talent liaison between the two companies, you’ve realized how insanely hard you’ve been working for the last few years. You always knew you were doing too much but being at a place that runs so differently, you find yourself worrying that you’re not doing enough. A couple of times, you’ve started helping to move equipment to demonstrate that you’re working hard.

The more low-key atmosphere seems to make everyone friendlier, which means that it hasn’t been difficult for you to get along with people. You’ll join in when everyone goes to a bar, or out for dinner. But the whole time, you’re keeping an eye on him.

You’re not exactly clear on why David and Juice got sent back to Impact when there’s clearly no plan to use them immediately. On the other hand, it’s not like either of them is going to be part of a huge program back in Japan, so it’s probably just a nice gesture so that the guys can see their families and friends before they get featured on TV every week. The nice part for you is that Fin Juice are always brought in for rehearsals, tapings, meetings, all the things that you’re part of, even if they aren’t used on screen. Impact want to use them as much as they can.

You keep your distance. When he’d first seen you, he’d gotten in your face almost immediately, although he waited until there weren’t any witnesses.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I’m working for Impact now,” you’d answered coolly. “I guess you’re going to have to get used to having me around.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Maybe I just want to show a wider range of experience on my CV.” It was obvious that he didn’t believe a word you said, so you decided to drop all pretense. “I’m here because you’re here. Because I want to be close to you.”

“Well you’re shit out of luck there, sweetheart,” he snarled, “because I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“I’m not going to get in your way or anything. If you don’t want to be around me, you don’t have to.”

“What sort of weird little game is it the two of you have going? Is he pissed because I haven’t told him that I’ll face him for his stupid title? Or is he just worried that I’ll beat him, again, and he thinks that sending you here is going to throw me off my game? Because I promise, I’m not falling into that trap again.”

“He has nothing to do with me being here,” you explained. “He didn’t even know I was moving. I came here for you.”

He sized you up, obviously still furious at having to be around you.

“Whatever he’s sent you here to do,” he growled, “I don’t care. Whatever we might have been before, we’re not friends, we’re not on good terms. I have no interest in being anywhere near you.”

“That’s fine,” you responded, voice weak with shame. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m just happy to be around you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious. I know you don’t want anything to do with me. So just keep ignoring me. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Immediately, you could see that he was frustrated. He’d wanted to fight, maybe to tell you that you were wrong or that nothing could ever happen between you again. He hadn’t been prepared for you to just admit defeat and admit that you were so sad that you’d followed a man who couldn’t have cared less about your existence all this way.

Or perhaps he’d been angry because he sensed that you’d followed him here because you felt like he did care about you, that all the vitriol he’d spewed in your direction seemed like a cover for the fact that he had deep feelings for you, feelings that hadn’t been obliterated by seeing you back with Jay.

When you’re occupied, this feels like the exact job you wanted. When you went to Gedo and told him that you were going to quit, you’d made a calculated gamble. New Japan didn’t like to lose people and their fragile status because of the pandemic and the hiring of a new president made them all the more eager to hold on to the people they had.

At first, Gedo had just thought that there was a problem with you and Jay and had encouraged you to let it blow over. He hadn’t asked, although he was clearly curious. Everyone knew the man had an appetite for gossip. But as he’d listened to your reasoned case about your job and how you weren’t ever going to move on to something bigger and better, he’d come to agree, which was amazing since you hadn’t even given it much thought yourself until you’d sat down.

You’d been prepared to just quit and go back to the United States, to stake out Impact tapings and live dates if you had to, but Gedo had come up with a better solution. You would be the point person for New Japan with Impact and other American promotions. No one in Japan wanted to manage these things from a distance and the few American employees they had were occupied with the Los Angeles dojo.

You’d asked that you be the one to tell Jay that you were leaving, since you’d worked exclusively with him for so long. In the end, that had taken the form of a note you’d left him when you took off for the airport. You’d blocked him from your phone, from social media, everything. There was nothing wrong between you. There was nothing at all between you. Because if there was anything connecting you, Jay could find a way to get you to do what he wanted, to keep you captive the way you had been for years.

True to his word, David will have nothing to do with you. The other New Japan talents can work with you. If he needs anything, he sends his partner to work things out. You don’t push it because what you’re doing is already bordering on creepy. If you’re wrong and he really doesn’t feel anything for you, it’s well beyond creepy.

When you aren’t thinking about what kind of monster you are, though, the job is fun. It’s great meeting all the new people and, as bawdy and gross as they are, you get along especially well with Karl Anderson and Doc Gallows. They’re legends in Japan, so there’s a bit of a “rock star” aura about them for you. But they’re also just juvenile and dumb and sometimes, at the end of a long day, that can be very welcome.

Karl has been jokingly trying to grab your clipboard with all your notes from you throughout the day, and you’ve been telling him that he’s getting fined every time he does it. He walks by as if he’s not going to say anything at first but as he passes, he reaches back and grabs the clipboard. Your grip tightens immediately and you hug the board to your body. He isn’t even trying and you still need most of your strength to hold on.

The two of you struggle theatrically for a few moments, until he decides to surprise you by letting go. It unfortunately catches you a little too much by surprise and you accidentally smack yourself in the face, the metal clamp nailing you right underneath the eye.

“Oh my god!” Karl puts his hands on either side of your face, trying to get a look. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

He sounds legitimately mortified at the accident, which makes you laugh a little. You’re about to crack a joke at him when another voice cuts in.

“What the fuck? What happened?”

Out of nowhere, David Finlay is standing next to you like a chaperone, his eyes demanding an explanation.

“It’s fine,” you mumble, rubbing at your face a little. “Just an accident.”

David’s face flushes when he sees that everything is amiable. You pat Karl on the cheek and give a tough little smile.

“Good.” David grows visibly tense as he says that final word and quickly turns on his heel.

“Think someone has a crush on you,” Karl chuckles once he’s out of earshot.

You laugh but make a mental note. It’s not just you that thinks there’s something there.

This incident pushes you to be just a little bolder and so, when you realize that the both of you are going to be staying a bit later than others, you sneak out to the parking lot and move your car so that it’s close to David’s. It’s because you truly believe that there’s still some kind of unresolved tension between you. As you’re heading back to the building, though, you can’t help but think about how you’d feel if someone acted this way towards you.

The rest of the day, you make sure to stay well clear of Finlay. It isn’t that difficult but you still notice him a few times, popping up near where you are. Is he doing this on purpose? Is he watching you? Although you’re always aware of him in your peripheral vision, you don’t ever look directly to see if he’s got his eyes on you. Somehow, though, you can feel his gaze lingering.

You putter around after you’ve completed your work for the day so that you can accidentally run into him in the parking lot. You exit a few paces behind him and try to figure a way to get him to at least say a few words.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” you call as you turn towards your car.

He looks up, glaring, like he wants to start a fight. It’s possible that he does, but that would involve having to talk to you and he definitely doesn’t want to do that. So he just gives you a poisoned look.

“Can you give me something just this once? I’ve stayed away from you, I’ve given you all the space I possibly can. I make it easy for you to pretend like I don’t even exist. Would it absolutely kill you to acknowledge that you were worried about me for three-quarters of a second earlier?”

“Don’t know what difference it makes.”

“Maybe I’d just like the little ego boost?”

“Fine, then,” he grunts, refusing to meet your eyes. “I rushed over because I saw what I thought was someone getting hurt. Karl can be kind of hard to take sometimes and I was worried he was acting stupid.”

You smile just a little at the admission. The second he notices this, he continues.

“If I’d realized it was you, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

‘Could you please stop it?” You can feel tears gathering in your throat and you suspect he can hear it too. He turns to go without another word and for the first time since you’ve arrived here, you can’t just let him go.

“Wait!” You run up to him, grabbing hold of his arms. “I know that you hate me and that I probably deserve that. I know I deserve it. But can you just try being human with me for a second?”

He gives an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes.

“What do you want?”

He sounds so fed up that you lose your nerve and are reduced to a stammering mess as you try to figure out what you need to tell him.

“I think you did see that it was me who was with Anderson. I think that you came rushing over because you saw me get hit and despite everything, you were worried about me. I think that even though you hate me, there’s a part of you that… that doesn’t. And I want to know if I’m right.”

If he’s affected by what you’re saying, he’s giving you no sign.

“Think what you want. It doesn’t matter.”

He tries to pivot but you hold on to him, grabbing his wrists.

“Are you not even a little bit flattered to know a girl moved from another continent just so that she could be close enough to admire you from a distance?”

“Yeah, you’re not at much of a distance right now.”

“Am I that repugnant?”

His face grows darker and he grabs both your wrists, pushing you back against your own car. His lips flutter like he’s trying to decide which bits of bile to hit you with first. You wonder if the sensation of your bodies being close for the first time in months is having the same effect on him that it is on you. He’s certainly breathing heavily, his chest swelling against yours.

He appears ready to speak but the only word that tumbles from his lips is “Fuck.”

He pins your wrists against the car and presses his lips to yours. It’s not the wild, angry kiss you might have expected, either. It’s hesitant and soft but insistent. After a few moments of this, you loosens his hold on your wrists and you immediately run your hands up his biceps and grab hold of his shoulders. He tenses under your touch, so you can feel the bulge of the muscle there. He’s not carved like Jay, not close, but all that power and strength is still there, hidden just beneath the surface. Although it’s never occurred to you before, it feels intimate and intensely sexy.

The kisses continue, increasing in intensity with your lips opening a little, your tongues dipping into each other’s mouths, until you’re both practically tearing into each other, grinding your bodies against the side of your car. Clumsily, he reaches for the door handle and, realizing what he’s trying to do, you slide your hand over to complete the job. You have to separate momentarily so that you can open the door, but he doesn’t even give you the chance to utter a word, pushing you down on the back seat and climbing on top of you before picking up very much where you’d left off.

He mutters curses when he breaks for air, clamping his hands around your face, as if he had to hold you there, as if this wasn’t exactly what you want to be doing. You can feel the rigid outline of his erection against your thigh and you ease one hand over it, rubbing the palm of your hand along the length until he pushes back a little.

He continues to plant wet, angry kisses over your chest as he works to open the buttons of your shirt with remarkable dexterity. He frees your breasts from the cups of your bra, roughly rubbing them and sucking one nipple and then the other hard between his lips and teeth.

“Play with your tits,” he rasps, pushing himself up and grabbing his belt.

You’re happy to oblige, making a show of running your fingers around the aureole and over the nipple, making each one prick up even more, then licking your fingers before returning them to the tender little peaks.

He’s worked his cock free and strokes slowly, his eyes fixed on your chest as you do as you’re told. You try to get his attention on your face, at least momentarily, but he’s consciously avoiding eye contact. After a few minutes, he pushes your skirt up and pulls your panties down a little, increasing the speed of his hand as he stares at your wet pussy. He brings his tip close to your entrance, only to grimace and move back.

Worried that he’s about to run away despite the condition he’s in, you lean forward as much as you can, gently pushing his hand out of the way and replacing it with your own, guiding his engorged prick into your mouth. God, the sounds he makes, half-words and cries tumbling out of him in blind lust. Surreptitiously, you slide the rest of the way out of your underwear and run your hand over his thick thigh, tucking the panties carefully into the back pocket of his jeans. Let him find those a little later, when he’s questioning whether this was a good idea.

He begins to shudder a little but rather than finish in your mouth, he grabs a handful of your hair and shoves you back down on the seat. Once again, he pumps his cock, now shiny with saliva and precum, and once again, he’s taking pains not to look you in the eye.

“Touch yourself.” He nods at you and watches as you let one hand glide down your body, over your aching pussy.

The two of you continue like that, moaning as you both grow more excited. You hold yourself back a little, not wanting things to be over this quickly and also hoping that he’ll push inside you, the way you want so much.

“No,” he grunts, "Make yourself come.”

And so, a little begrudgingly, you increase the pressure on your clit, trying to keep your hand steady despite how slippery it is, watching as his movements grow faster as well. Just as you can feel yourself about to burst, you’re able to find his hand with yours, lacing your fingers through his. He doesn't resist. That contact is enough to pull you over the edge, and at the same moment, you feel the hot streams of his come hitting your chest as he gives a sort of ecstatic, pained cry.

You run your fingers through the mess on your skin, laughing softly. You have to use your shirt to wipe yourself off and as you do, you notice how ashamed he looks, turning his face as far away from you as he can.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I should have asked.”

“It’s fine.”

He doesn’t look reassured by this at all. He looks a little mortified, so you wrap your arm around his neck and pull him into a kiss. For a few seconds, he responds, eagerly even. But then he pulls back, shaking his head.

“No, I have to go, I can’t do this.”

“Can we at least talk?”

He shakes his head again and scrambles backward out of the car, refastening his pants as he does. He doesn’t even bother with the belt, just turns and walks away.

You crawl out of the car, clutching your shirt closed rather than lose the time it would take to do it up again.

“David, come on, we aren’t just going to pretend that didn’t happen.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for… I got a bit carried away. I’ll talk to you tomorrow or whatever.” He never even glances back.

[not-a-space-alien]

[Best attempt at] A summary of The Magnus Archives. Contains major spoilers up through the most recent episode (168: Roots).

A kind soul wrote this out for me and put it in my submissions box to help me understand the Magnus Archives.  THANK YOU SO MUCH and SORRY it took me so long to publish this Dx 

Major spoilers ahead for anyone else who wants to read!!  But this helped me a lot and I feel like I could keep listening now!  Thanks again!!!

Basic worldbuilding details: There are 14 extra-dimensional Entities that feed on fear (Eye, Web, Corruption, Stranger, Spiral, Hunt, Slaughter, End, Vast, Buried, Desolation, Lonely, Dark, Flesh). Various people serve them, and are trying to bring about apocalypses by bringing them into our dimension.

A Victorian guy named Jonah Magnus thought serving the Eye and bringing about its apocalypse would make him immortal. Through trial and error he learned that an Entity cannot be brought through alone, and he needs to bring through all 14 at once. To accomplish this, he needs to take someone (The Archivist) and have them experience EVERY entity - "experience" in this case means "be afraid it's about to kill them."

Until he manages that, he's been possessing various people over the years by means of sticking his own eyeballs in their heads. When the show starts he's possessing Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute.

SEASON ONE: Jonathan Sims becomes the Head Archivist after Gertrude Robinson dies. He's set out to make audio copies of all the statements in the Archives, and he uses a tape recorder for the ones we hear because they won't record digitally. He has three assistants, Tim, Sasha, and Martin. He trusts Tim and Sasha but thinks Martin is incompetent.

Martin gets attacked by Jane Prentiss, who is infested by parasitic worms. Jon lets him live in the Archives because it's safer than going home. The worms start showing up around the Institute, but don't attack anyone (yet).

Sasha meets a man(?) named Michael and learns that the worms can be killed with CO2 gas. They start stocking up on fire extinguishers.

Two deliverymen named Breekon and Hope deliver a spooky table and a cigarette lighter with a spiderweb design on it to the Archives.

Jon smashes a hole in the wall of his office trying to kill a spider, and finds a network of tunnels under the Institute. The tunnels are filled with worms, which attack. Over the course of the attack, Jon and Martin bond a bit, Jon and Tim get partially eaten by worms (mark 1: Corruption), Martin finds Gertrude Robinson's corpse in the tunnels (she was murdered), Sasha gets killed and replaced by a monster that was bound to the spooky table (Not!Sasha), and Elias triggers the Institute's CO2 fire represent system, killing Prentiss. Jon swears to find out who murdered Gertrude if it kills him.

SEASON TWO: Paranoia time. The whole season is basically one long "who killed Gertrude" murder mystery, in which Jon suspects literally all of his coworkers. He works with Basira and Daisy, the two police officers assigned to solve the case, and starts to realize that Gertrude was deeply embedded in the supernatural world (and had access to explosives).

Major events include: Jon investigates the tunnels and doesn't find much. Martin frets a LOT, Jon thinks it's suspicious, but it's pretty clear that he just cares about Jon. It's also revealed that he lied on his CV, and isn't actually qualified for this job, hence his incompetence. Tim becomes very bitter about Jon suspecting him of murder and basically stalking him. Michael shows up again, traps a woman named Helen in a maze of unending corridors, and stabs Jon (mark 2: Spiral). Basira quits the police near the end of the season.

In the season finale, Jon realizes Sasha has been replaced and smashes the spooky table with an axe. This does not kill the monster, instead setting it free to try and kill HIM (mark 3: Stranger). Michael appears and offers him a door into his corridor maze to escape the Not!Sasha, and drops him in the tunnels to fend for himself. Martin and Tim try to find out what Jon's doing, and end up trapped in Michael's corridors themselves.

Jon is saved from the Not!Sasha by a man named Jurgen Leitner, who has a book that can move the walls of the tunnels around (he basically traps it in a wall Cask of Amontillado style). Leitner collected tons of these supernatural books, which are now called Leitners, and has been living in the tunnels for decades. Jon is convinced he's evil, but he reveals that he was working with Gertrude before she died and that Elias killed her. He begins to explain about the Entities, and the fact that Jon works for one (mark 4: Eye), but Jon leaves the room because he needs a cigarette. Elias appears and murders Leitner. Jon returns, finds the body, and flees.

Tim and Martin find their way out of the corridors, find the body, and call the police.

SEASON THREE: Jon is on the run from the police because they think he killed Leitner. He gives a statement about why he always hated Leitner. When he was a child, he found one of Leitner's books, which nearly got him eaten by a giant spider (mark 5: Web). His childhood bully got eaten in his place. Jon is living with his ex-girlfriend, Georgie, while he's in hiding.

Back at the Archives, Daisy (police detective) is convinced Jon is guilty of killing Leitner and Sasha. She's not looking for evidence, she just wants to catch him. Tim is also pretty sure he did it. Martin thinks he's innocent. Elias shows his first hint of supernatural powers by giving a statement about Daisy's first murder, which he just knows without her telling him.

Melanie takes a job at the Archives. She previously appeared to give a few statements. She's the former star of a ghost hunting YouTube show, and now has lost everything due to the circumstances of a few genuine encounters. She recently came back from a trip to India, where (as is revealed later) she was shot by a ghost soldier. She is friends with Georgie.

Basira visits the Archives to try to find Daisy, and runs off again looking for her when she realizes Daisy wants to kill Jon. Martin starts recording statements to "pick up the slack" while Jon's away.

Elias sends Jon statements while he's staying with Georgie, and in a bid to learn more about the supernatural he seeks out various servants of the Entities. Jude Perry nearly burns his hand off (mark 6: Desolation), Mike Crew nearly suffocates him by simulating the feeling of falling off a building (mark 7: Vast), and then Daisy catches him. Daisy kills Crew, and threatens to kill Jon (mark 8: Hunt), but Basira shows up and stops her. They drag Jon back to the Archives.

Everyone confronts Elias. We get confirmation that Jon can "compel" people (force them to answer his questions) but it doesn't work on Elias. Elias confesses to killing both Gertrude and Leitner. Everyone finds out Sasha was replaced during the Prentiss attack. Elias blackmails Basira into joining the Archives under threat of getting Daisy arrested; then turns around and blackmails Daisy into doing his dirty work in exchange for Basira's safety. He reveals that if he dies, or if the Archives are destroyed, anyone who works for the Institute dies too. Elias tells Jon he needs to stop the "Unknowing," which is a ritual the Stranger's servants are trying to complete to bring about the apocalypse.

Jon goes back to Georgie's; we find out she had an encounter with the supernatural when she was in university and now she literally cannot feel fear. Jon is confronted by Orsinov, a living mannequin that works for the Stranger. Orsinov tells him to find a taxidermied gorilla skin she needs for the Unknowing otherwise she'll kill him. He decides to go back to the Archives to get help, but on the way is kidnapped by Orsinov's goons. Orsinov says she's decided to use HIS skin in place of the gorilla one.

He's trapped for a month, and is eventually rescued by Michael, who reveals that he was one of Gertrudes's assistants before she sacrificed him to stop the Spiral's ritual. He wants to kill Jon, but as they are going into his corridors he is replaced by Helen (the woman he trapped in season two) who decides to drop Jon at the Archives instead.

Jon decides to follow in Gertrudes's footsteps to try and find the gorilla skin (to destroy it). He visits an Archive in China, and several locations in America. He is kidnapped by Julia and Trevor (Hunters) and gets on their good side. They let him talk to Gerry Keay (goth ghost that the fandom goes wild over). Gerry gives Jon the rundown on all of the fears, and explains a bit more about Gertrude. Jon agrees to release him from this world by burning a page of the book he's trapped in (this angers Julia and Trevor, which is important later). Jon goes back to England.

They find the gorilla skin in Gertrudes's old storage unit (and explosives), but it has been destroyed. Orsinov exhumes the bodies of Gertrude and Leitner to use their skin instead. There's a stretch of waiting where not much happens.

Jon, Tim, Basira, and Daisy go to a wax museum with Gertrudes's explosives to blow it up in the middle of the Unknowing. Martin and Melanie stay in the Archives to steal the tape with Elias's confession on it and get him arrested for murder.

At the Unknowing, Basira makes it out alive. Daisy kills Hope (one of the deliverymen from season one) but Breekon traps her in The Coffin (this has shown up in several statements before; it's an artifact of the Buried and traps people underground forever). Tim sets off the explosives and dies, while Jon ALMOST does in the same explosion. He ends up in a coma instead.

At the Institute, Martin distracts Elias while Melanie steals the tape. Elias taunts him about his feelings for Jon, then forces knowledge on him about how much his mother hates him (his mother's in a nursing home: caring for her is why he couldn't go to university and had to lie on his CV). Melanie succeeds in stealing the tapes and Martin barely restrains her from killing Elias.

Elias reveals that Jon is trapped in a nightmare realm where he constantly relives the statements of the people who have told them to him directly (not the ones that are written down). He is arrested, and Peter Lukas (servant of the Lonely) becomes the Interim Head of the Institute.

SEASON BREAK: Six months pass. Three major events occur: Martin's mother dies, Jared Hopworth (servant of the Flesh) attacks the Institute and is trapped in Helen's (Micheal's replacement) corridors, and Peter tells Martin that he'll protect the Institute from further threats if Martin works for him and isolates himself from everyone else. Martin, more than a little suicidal due to his mother's death and the man he loves being in a coma, agrees.

SEASON FOUR: Martin's plotline is revealed in drips and drabs throughout the season, and is easier to tell all at once. Basically, Peter convinces him that there's a 15th Entity, Extinction, that is about to emerge into the world and kill everything. This is based on research done by Adelard Dekker, one of Gertrudes's allies. Peter says that Martin is the only one who can stop it, because he has been marked by the Beholding and he is getting closer and closer to the Lonely as he isolates himself. This is enough of a threat that Martin sticks with his plan despite several opportunities to leave.

Jon's plot starts with Oliver Banks giving a statement in his hospital room and telling him he's too human to live, too much of a monster to die (mark 9: End). If Jon decides to stay human he will die; if he gives into the Beholding he will live. Oliver leaves; Jon wakes up. Georgie is disappointed that he gave into the Beholding, and walks away. Basira is cold and practical, following in Gertrudes's 'ends justify the means' logic. She is watching Jon closely, and prepared to kill him if he becomes dangerous. Melanie is boiling with anger and tries to attack Jon whenever they're in a room together.

Jon reads a Slaughter statement and knows (by supernatural means) that Melanie is becoming a servant of the Slaughter because the bullet that the ghost shot her with is still in her leg. He and Basira perform amateur surgery to get it out. Melanie stabs him in the shoulder (mark 10: Slaughter). She is, understandably, furious, but she becomes calmer as she heals and she starts going to therapy.

Breekon (the surviving deliveryman) drops off the coffin. Jon displays a new power by extracting a statement from him. He learns that Daisy is still alive, but trapped in the coffin. Basira leaves the Archives based on information from a "source" (Elias, though Jon does not know this yet). Jon learns that he can go into the coffin and get out again if he has an anchor to the real world. He tries to cut off his own finger, fails, and under Melanie's advisement finds Jared Hopworth (Flesh servant who attacked when he was in a coma) in Helen's corridors. Jared removes two of Jon's ribs (one to keep and one for Jon) and gives a statement (mark 11: Flesh).

Jon goes into the coffin (mark 12: Buried) and finds Daisy. She is much more clear-headed than before, because she has been separated from the Hunt for so long. Jon cannot feel his anchor (rib) at first, but the signal is amplified when Martin places a bunch of tape recorders on top of the coffin. Jon leads Daisy out, and both are extremely confused by all the tape recorders.

Jon and Basira find out that the servants of the Dark might be trying a ritual in Norway, and head off to stop them. On the way, Jon forces a sailor on the boat they're on to give a statement. Basira is disturbed, but doesn't try to stop him. (Back in the Archives, Martin hears from another person who Jon took a statement from, and is rightfully horrified.) In Norway, Jon and Basira learn that the Dark's ritual failed the same week Gertrude died, though there's still an artifact - the Dark Star - left from it. Jon destroys the Dark Star by literally just looking at it, though it nearly kills him (mark 13: Dark). Helen gives them a shortcut home through her corridors.

Martin leaves a tape of his conversation with the person Jon took a statement from on Basira's desk. Jon confesses that he's done this to five people. He promises not to do it again (from this point on, both he and Daisy grow weaker as they try to resist the Beholding and Hunt, respectively).

Jon, Basira, Daisy, and Melanie visit Hill Top Road (I cannot even begin to explain Hill Top Road, there's so much going on and there's no answers yet. Best I can say is it's been strongly affected by both the Web and the Desolation, and there seems to be some warping of reality in the basement.) They find a statement from Annabelle Cain (main servant of the Web) that's basically one long taunt to Jon about how the Web may or may not be orchestrating everything. Main takeaway from this is that once he starts reading a statement, he cannot stop.

Jon finds out how to quit the Institute, via an old tape from Gertrude. Her assistant, Eric Delano (Gerry Keay's father) escaped the Institute by gouging out his own eyes. Jon runs to Martin with this information and begs him to run away together, but Martin refuses. Jon tells Melanie, Daisy, and Basira. Melanie decides to act on this information, and puts her eyes out with an awl. She goes to live with Georgie, who she is dating by this point. Daisy and Basira stay in the Archives.

Season finale, Peter launches his plan. He and Martin head into the tunnels under the Institute. While down there, Peter frees the Not!Sasha and sends it to attack the Institute. He brings Martin to the Panopticon of Milbank Prison, and explains that Jonah Magnus's original body is still in the center of the Panopticon watching EVERYTHING. Elias shows up (he escaped from jail) and reveals that he IS Jonah Magnus. Peter says that Martin needs to kill Jonah's original body and take his place. From the Panopticon, he will be able to learn how to stop the Extinction (it will also trap him there forever). Martin realizes he's been manipulated and refuses, because even though the Extinction is a threat he doesn't want to sacrifice himself just so Peter can win against Elias. It is revealed that Peter and Elias formed a bet: if Peter could get one of the Institute staff to willingly join the Lonely, he would be allowed to kill Elias and take over the Institute forever. Since he failed (Martin is close to the Lonely but doesn't entirely serve it) he instead traps Martin in the Lonely, and then goes in himself.

Meanwhile, Jon finds out that the Extinction isn't as immediate a threat as he thought, and that Martin has gone with Peter to complete his plan. Jon tries to get help from Georgie, Melanie, and Helen, but all refuse. Basira and Daisy inform him that Elias escaped from prison, and they find a tape revealing that he is Jonah Magnus. All hell breaks loose at this point. Julia and Trevor (the Hunters from season three who he stole Gerry's page from) show up to try to kill Jon, and they run into Not!Sasha, which has escaped from the tunnels. Basira and Daisy tell Jon to run and help Martin. He does. Daisy makes the decision to lean into the Hunt again, and makes Basira promise to find her and kill her once it's all over. Basira agrees (unwillingly) and runs. Daisy attacks the Hunters and Not!Sasha.

Jon finds Elias at the Panopticon. Elias explains where Martin has gone, and Jon dives into the Lonely after him (mark 14: Lonely). Jon meets Peter in the Lonely, takes his statement, and kills him. He finds Martin and manages to save him.

Jon and Martin flee to one of Daisy's old safehouses in Scotland. Twenty-two days after they arrive, they receive a package that they think is from Basira containing a bunch of statements and tapes for Jon. Martin leaves to take a walk, and Jon reads a statement. It turns out to be from Elias (Jonah) explaining his whole plan with marking Jon with the Entities and various ways he manipulated events so that that would happen. Jon is unable to stop reading, and at the end of the statement is an invocation that brings all fourteen Entities through into the world. Martin makes it back to the safehouse, and they watch the world end together.

SEASON FIVE: Jon and Martin are still in the safehouse. Martin wants to leave and kill Elias, Jon wants to stay at least a bit longer to grieve the world. They could stay forever: they no longer need food, water, or sleep to survive. Jon's been constantly relistening to the tapes from the package that was delivered, and there's some backstory revealed in them: Gertrude had planned on Sasha being her replacement once she died, and had made a tape with all the information she would have needed to stay alive. She suspected that if the Entities came through into the world, they would be here to stay, and that things like space, time, and the laws of physics would stop working. There's also some nostalgic stuff with Tim and Sasha.

Jon gets hit with the knowledge that the safehouse is not actually safe, and is feeding on Jon and Martin's fear of losing each other. He and Martin agree to leave, setting out on a quest to kill Elias and try to save the world.

The structure of this new world is revealed: each fear has taken up a domain in which it is the primary source of fear for the people trapped in it, and Jon and Martin need to pass through all of them before they can get to the Panopticon and Elias. So far they've been through the Slaughter, the Corruption, the Stranger, the Buried, and the End. People are only dying in the End; in the others, there is no escape from the horror. Any time Jon gets too close to one of these domains he is overwhelmed by the fear and needs to give a statement about it. The first time, Martin just stuck his fingers in his ears, but since then he's been going on walks so he doesn't have to hear.

Annabelle Cain (Web) tries to call Martin via a payphone; he doesn't pick up.

Jon realizes he can know basically anything he wants to, and Martin asks him a series of questions, learning that: Daisy is Hunting between the domains; Basira is chasing her, planning to kill her but starting to doubt that; Melanie and Georgie are in London but he can't see them clearly; Elias is in the Panopticon; Jon and Martin are safe, traveling like they are; Jon can't see Annabelle AT ALL; and the world can be turned back if the fears are removed, but the fears can't be destroyed as long as there are people left to fear them.

Helen shows up to "check up on the happy couple" and try to make friends. Martin asks if her corridors can give them a shortcut to London, but Jon's powerful enough that he would hurt her if he tried to do that. She leaves.

They run into the Not!Sasha in the Stranger's domain. It threatens them, but cannot actually hurt them. It taunts them about Sasha, and Jon kills it. Martin is very impressed.

Helen shows up again, and explains that there are two roles people can take in this new world: afraid or feared. Jon has the ability to make something that is feared afraid, and doing so destroys the feared things utterly (this is how he killed Not!Sasha). Martin wants to go on a murder spree killing any monsters they come across; Jon does not. Helen leaves again.

While Jon is giving a statement Annabelle calls Martin on a cellphone. He answers, and she offers him help. He refuses and hangs up.

Jon reads Martin's mind and learns about the conversation with Annabelle. Martin is annoyed, and Jon promises not to do it again. They stop for a rest. Martin starts wondering about Gertrudes's past, and Jon launches into a statement about it: one of her assistants fell to the Web and killed a bunch of her other assistants, and Gertrude never trusted anyone after that. It is also revealed that if an Archivist dies, their assistants are free to leave the Institute without gouging out their eyes.

Jon and Martin are both disturbed by the statement and by the fact that neither of them could stop it. Jon explains that Gertrude would have lost purpose in the apocalypse without anyone to trust, and that Martin is giving HIM purpose. He also explains that all servants of the Entities have a domain in this new world. His is the Panopticon, and Martin DOES NOT want to know what his own is.

The most recent episode was the End's domain, run by Oliver Banks (the guy who woke Jon from his coma). This statement explained that the End is still killing people permanently, and there is no new life coming into this world; therefore, the End will eventually start stealing victims from other fears. This will ultimately deplete all human and animal life which will kill the Entities themselves and leave an empty universe.

UNADDRESSED TOPICS:

What do the Spiders want? It's surprisingly easy to leave out any traces of the Web's influence from this summary, but Jon is still carrying the cigarette lighter with the web design from season one and he doesn't seem to notice it, several important tapes he's found have been covered in cobwebs, and Annabelle is clearly targeting Martin.

Random plots that have less impact on the main story! This completely skips over characters like Mikale Salesa and Maxwell Rayner, and other oft-appearing but easily missed background people. If there are any in particular you're curious about let me know, but I don't THINK any of them are going to show up again.

Random plots that I don't know if they're going to have an impact on the main story! Agnes Montague, Gertrudes's assistants, everything with Hill Top Road - I have no idea what about their stories is going to be important from this point forward. Maybe everything, maybe nothing.

My askbox is always open if you've got any questions (@cirrus-grey). This is a broad summary that misses out a LOT of details!

[aal-archaeology]

Ph.D. Applications for Anthropology/ Humanities/ Social Sciences (with examples from a success story)

Doing a Ph.D. is a really scary thought. Especially in humanities and social sciences. Especially in today’s job market.

Here I’m going to speak a little about my approach to Ph.D. applications, why I chose to do what I did, and how I put it all together including examples.

1. The Doubt

After coming out of my Master's degree, I already had a year of research set up, so I didn’t have to think about jobs like all of my friends I had made during that degree. I watched many of them struggle to find a job offer. Some were successful in attaining a job in Cultural Resource Management, a couple got smaller jobs in local museums, but for the most part it induced a lot of stress to have come out of a Master’s degree with no prospects.

How I imagined my future at that time: I knew I didn’t want to work in a museum, I knew I didn’t like Cultural Resource Management, I knew that after all this hard work I didn’t want to end up underpaid somewhere doing data entry.

A Ph.D. has always been something that I wanted. Ever since entering the Anthropology discipline, I imagined myself working towards becoming a Professor.

Here’s what I was told when I started to consider a Ph.D. Program:

“Don’t do it” (said by someone who already had her Ph.D.)

“I wish I had gone into something with more money, even after my Ph.D. its been difficult to find stable work”

“If you’re doing a Ph.D. in social sciences, ONLY go if you are fully funded, otherwise it is not worth the financial debt”

“Most people don’t get in their first try, that's why people apply to 10+ schools”

Coming up with a plan: After hearing this, I came up with a couple different options. Plan A: Apply to Ph.D. programs, if I get into one my first try and it's fully funded then I’ll do it. Plan B: Find a job in Environmental consulting, I could put my GIS experience to use, make some money, and then try again for a Ph.D. later down the road if I wanted. Plan C: Move to Japan and live out my weeb dreams (I’m part Japanese and have a lot of family there so this wasn’t as crazy as it sounds).

I was genuinely okay with any of these options. They all involve things that I enjoy, none of them are bad options, none of them would feel like “failure” if I ended up not getting into a program. I think this step is very important because it forces you to figure out what you care about, and allows you to be open to change if plan A doesn’t work out.

2. Choosing a Program to Apply to

I knew that I didn’t just want to apply anywhere. Getting a job outside of a PhD is already hard enough, and I wanted the school that I chose to reflect the work that I would put into it. As much as we want to think that name brands don’t matter when it comes to education, it sure as heck does help when it comes to opportunity and being selected amongst 100′s to 1000′s of applicants. Therefore, why not shoot for the stars? What’s the harm in trying. For this reason, I decided to only apply to schools that:

Had a prestigious name

Had a program that supported what I wanted to study and allowed for cross-disciplinary research (Digital Archaeology focused on SE Asia)

Had an advisor that had done research paralleled to mine (whether that included SE Asia or just Digital Archaeology in general).

I started research into programs with the Ivies and went down from there, also cross-comparing programs that had been ranked as best schools for studying Anthropology.

At the time of researching, the programs that stood out the most to me were:

Stanford (ideal because it was close-ish to home, fully funds their Phd students for 5 years, has opportunity for additional funding, had professor working with digital archaeology in Asia)

Harvard (had professor working in Digital Archaeology though it wasn’t in my preferred region, also has good funding, and its Harvard)

U Chicago (traditionally one of the top schools for Anthropology, however I had heard that a lot of this is because of “legacy” professors, and not much has come out of the department in recent years. Did not have someone specifically in my region of focus)

ASU (Also considered one of the top Anthropology schools, but funding is often fought for between students)

UC Berkeley (Had professors studying Asia, but it is a public school and also has limited guaranteed funding)

I sent e-mails to advisors that I thought I could support my research (this was probably around May, when applications are due Sep-Dec).

Hello Professor______,

My name is _______ and I am interested in applying to ________’s Doctoral program in Archaeology beginning in the fall of 2020. I would like to inquire whether you are accepting graduate students for this period, as my research interests align well with your research. I received my B.A. in __________ from _________ in 2017 and am currently _______. [Enter what you’re doing now, and any relevant experience that shows what you’re interested in researching]. [Enter something about their research, and why you’re interested in working with them/why you think you would work well with them]. I am eager to continue along this path and I feel as though your experience with _______could provide an interesting opportunity for future research. I would also be interested in working with [enter any other faculty that have similar interests, this shows that you’ve done some research into the program and the school in general] For your convenience, I have attached my CV here. If you have the time, I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you further about the program and future research.

Best,

Full name

I also researched the financial aid provided to incoming Ph.D. students. After doing this, the only schools that sounded good to me were Stanford and Harvard.

Yeah, I know, only applying to Stanford and Harvard was a “big risk,” but this is how I thought about it:

I don’t want to commit to a Phd program for 5+ years if it's not fully funded, doesn’t have a big name, and isn’t going to guarantee opportunity after graduating.

I wanted an environment where I knew I could be happy under immense amounts of pressure  (California by family, Boston by friends).

If I didn’t get in, I had back up options that honestly sounded really fun to me, so I was okay with pursuing those instead.

I didn’t want a Ph.D. just to have a Ph.D., I wanted a degree that would set me apart from others so that I could give myself the best chance for success afterward. I wanted one that, if pursued, could lead me to become a professor.

So I applied to 2 Schools.

I got scolded for this by many people... but whatever...I got in, so ha. Why spend money and time on an application for a school that you don’t really want to go to? :P

3. Applying to a Program

What an application looks like:

1. At least 3 recommendation letters:

Mine were:

Undergraduate Anthropology Advisor who has been helping me throughout the years with grant applications, etc. She knows me well, can speak well to my accomplishments. She is also a very well decorated anthropologist.

Undergraduate Professor of Geography who can speak to my GIS coursework. I’ve been updating him with my whereabouts and successes since graduating, so we have kept in touch regularly since taking his course.

My Master's dissertation advisor (he stressed me out submitting his letter 3 hours before the deadline >:| )

It’s good to have your recommendation letters come from people within the academic world. These people can write on your ability to achieve your research goals, your drive, etc. It’s okay to have maybe one letter from a workplace environment, however, it’s best to get as much street cred as you can from these letters, and this comes from Professors that know what they’re doing.

2. Curriculum Vitae (C.V.): This is important because it shows everything you’ve accomplished up to this point. This is how mine was set up:

Full Name, Current Position, Email, Phone Number

Education: University Name, City, Degree in ____

Publications: In Edited Volumes, Journal Articles, Manuscripts in Preparation

Conference and Workshop Participation: Papers, Presentations

Grants, Awards, and Fellowships:

Research Experience: Project Roles, Fieldwork

Teaching Experience

Additional Employment History

Leadership and Extracurriculars

Skills/Languages

A C.V. is a list of EVERYTHING you’ve done in your career, unlike a resume which is tailored to the specific job that you’re applying to. If you’d like a specific example, send me a DM. 

3. Personal Statement: This is where you tell them why you want to be there and what makes you qualified. Why should they consider you?

Personal Statement Example

      1st paragraph, introduce the program and your research interests: I am applying to _____ for admission to the Ph.D. program in Anthropology with a focus in Archaeology. My research interests are to explore [the consequences of ..... on the environment and human responses to environmental change] in [region of the world], and how these actions of the past can be visualized through the use of remote sensing and GIS applications to archaeology.

      2nd paragraph, why you’re interested in what you’re doing: I learned the value of digital applications in archaeology through my undergraduate and master’s degree. [Digital archaeology] is appealing to me because [.........]. I first became interested in [example of why you’re interested in the topic/what inspires you].  After witnessing this, I began to seek out opportunities to partake in similar research.

    3rd and 4th paragraph, what makes you qualified to pursue this degree?: I have many research experiences that qualify my pursuit of a Ph.D. dedicated to using digital methods in Anthropological research. [Talk about your undergrad experience, do some name-dropping of professors you’ve worked with], [why did these experiences inspire you to take the next step?], [how are you where you are now because of them?]

   5th paragraph, what are you doing now?

   6th paragraph, why this school in particular?: This is where you name drop the professor you are interested in working with, talk about how their research aligns well with yours by mentioning specific things that they’ve done such as theoretical approaches. What are you interested in doing that would fit well within this program? Are there any facilities on campus that you are particularly eager to work with? Show that you’ve done your research.

   7th paragraph, what do you plan to do after you get your Ph.D. from this institution?: With goals of continuing archaeological research in ________ and expanding off the networks that I have established in _______, ________’s doctoral program in Anthropology is the ideal match to further my career as a Digital/Landscape Archaeologist. The Ph.D. in Anthropology at _______ allows for _________[reasons why you like the program]. Ultimately, my postgraduate goals are to remain in academia by continuing research and gaining a university faculty position. My foundation in archaeology gained in my undergraduate, graduate, and ______experiences have equipped me with a unique set of abilities to offer to ______’s Anthropology graduate program, and I look forward to the opportunity to exchange ideas with faculty and students alike.

Have your resume and statement looked over by as many eyes as you possibly can. It took me a good 6-10 revisions before settling on something that I liked.

4. Let the professors that you’ve been in contact with know

This puts you at the front of their minds when application review comes around. They’ll be like “oh yeah, this person messaged me about this.” I hadn’t spoken to the professors that I reached out to since those first few exchanges back in May, so sending this message was very valuable to remind them of my existence.

This email can be as simple as: Hi Professor ____, I hope you have been well since we last spoke. I am writing to inform you that I have submitted my application to _______. Since our last chat I’ve been [whatever you’re up to now that's relevant]. I look forward to hearing from _____ soon. Best, Me.

5. Productive Waiting

Yay, you’ve submitted! That was hard, but you made it through. Time to start diving into those other plans you’ve been thinking about. What will you do if you get into your top school? What will you do if you don’t get into your top, but you do get into your 2nd or 3rd choice? What if you don't get into any of them?

Remember that none of these options are bad, and in this world, you have to be open to change and welcome it. A Ph.D. is a really long commitment, and it doesn’t have to happen right away.

If you get in, accept only if:

It has the research you’re looking for

It has an advisor that’s supportive of what you’re doing

It’s transparent about what it offers its students

The current students are happy with the culture of the program and quality of life

The location is something you're comfortable with (for me having family nearby was a very important factor)

The money you are offered is enough to live the lifestyle you need to maintain good mental health

There is an opportunity for networking and expansion of your research outside of the university

As always, feel free to reach out with any questions at @aal.archaeology on Instagram or DM here! I’m happy to share my documents with you.

Happy writing!

-Lyss

[thejudgingtrash]

[ID: A dark camping side with a fire pit in the foreground. A white frame highlights the logs and the fire. Orange sparks ascend into the sky. Underneath the white frame stands the title ‘A Warm Place at the Fire’. End of ID.]

As promised, @goldendaysareahead​ a little fanfic about my Camp Hestia AU!

I hope you enjoy it and thank you for @the-real-annabeth-chase​ for being yet again an amazing beta!

A Warm Place at the Fire (3,8k) 

“There! We’ve almost made it!” yelled Bode. His hooves would have brought him much faster near his goal if it weren’t for the mortal legs next to him that trampled to keep up with his speed. Thunder crackled in the distance which made Bode’s brown skin glow in an unusual pale blue.

The satyr looked over his shoulder. His enhanced hearing made him filter out the noise much better. It also helped him focus on the danger behind him. The growls, the hissing and the mass that the animal carried as it surged ahead to kill its prey. “Don’t look behind you!” panted Bode as his friend was about to turn his head.

“Are you kidding me?” coughed the young boy. His legs were burning, and his lungs felt like they were set on fire. “Look who’s talking!”

“Parker, now’s not the time!”

Thunder.

Everything today fell apart. Everything today was nothing but a major disaster. Everything… was simply strange. Parker was used to strange things. He had a vivid fantasy as a kid and always talked about the plants singing for him before he started elementary school. But today really took the cake.

It started with Parker failing three reports at school and slowly peaked to Parker’s father getting robbed in his shop, to said father calling Bode to tell him to put Parker far away in a summer camp for gifted kids out of all places and now after running through the busy streets of New York City, a hell of a ride in a taxi cab that three blind ladies who fought over one single eyeball drove, some weird animal hybrid had sensed them and decided to hunt them the minute they arrived in Long Island.

Oh, and Bode Underwood, Parker’s newfound best friend and neighbor who had just transferred to his middle school, was apparently a satyr with the hairiest goat legs Parker had ever seen and he even had tiny horns hidden in his tight black curls.

The earth shook. It was an earthquake. It had to be an earthquake. But the way the ruptures of the earth had shifted it was clear that it could not be an earthquake. The massive body of an animal still wanted its prey. Tearing two children apart was what he desired.

“There! We’ve almost made it, hold on, Parker!” hissed Bode.

Parker was trying to not land on his face as the path became muddier. It had rained the previous days in New York. “Look! The sign!”

Parker’s eyes followed Bode’s arm. It was true. Deep into the forest there was an archway. It was made out of marble and a wooden sign said New Athens. Behind the archway were… buildings? Houses? Didn’t Parker’s dad tell him that he would be brought into a summer camp? As the two boys came closer Parker could even read the small insignia underneath: formerly known as Camp Half-Blood.

A roar made both nearly jump. The animal. The monster. It also hissed?

Parker jumped over a fallen tree branch and Bode bleated. Oh, he’s really a goat, Parker thought.

A roar. Parker felt the heat in his back. Was he imagining acid tearing his jeans jacket apart or was it truly happening? He had no time to care about it.

The two boys nearly reached the archway. “JUMP!” yelled Bode and Parker did. The both of them slid through the archway and were greeted with silence. Parker vowed to himself to never slide on mud again. The taste of grass and dirt was truly displeasing. No wind was howling and only the echoing songs of the cicadas kept them company.

This so-called camp looked strange. It was a clash of cultures. It was a fight between new and old. To Parkers right it did look like the old grounds of a camp. They looked like they had sporting events, a dinner area and a large area for all kinds of other activities. It would have been fairly normal if it weren’t for deadly ancient weapons lying around in front of a cabin and the dozens of cabins themselves. Each cabin had a different character to it as if they were dedicated to someone. They radiated a strange force. Parker instinctively knew that it was old and ancient, that it was powerful.

The left of the campgrounds were the polar opposite. It wasn’t just buildings and houses. It was an entire city. It was a huge construction side with many finished and unfinished buildings. A city so big yet so hidden deep in the woods of Long Island. The architecture was astounding, and the design was precise and heavily inspired by the world of Ancient Greece.

Was that a CVS out of all things placed into something that looked like the pantheon? And it had a Trader Joe’s next to it in something that looked like another temple? An entire Ancient Greek Taco Bell with a crunch wrap supreme advertisement that had a lightning bolt pressed into its side?! And in the middle of the city was an old market place like in Hollywood movies?

What’s going on? asked Parker himself.

A big blue house seemed to draw the line between old and new. The old ways and the new life. The yesterday and the new beginning at dawn. The old life that Parker had and the new one that rose like a phoenix from its ashes.

Yes, Bode and he made it. The boys had truly made it. They were alive and safe! For now. They gave each other a high five as they rested on the ground and thanked the shining stars above them for their guidance.

A clash disrupted their celebratory mood. The beast. Parker finally saw it in its entire glory. The head of a lion. The back of a reptile? Was that a dragon? And its tale was a snake out of all things?

Fearsome snarls and growls were drowned out behind the invisible layer that prevented the beast from entering campgrounds. The piercing yellow eyes shifted and tried to find the mortal flesh it desired only to be disappointed. The barrier was too strong to be penetrated. The massive beast turned around and was lost from Parker’s sight as it became one with the forest’s darkness. Parker’s adrenaline rush slowly faded away and his heart rate returned to normal.

What he felt rushing over him was a wave of fatigue. He felt the aching pain of his burning lungs that demanded more oxygen, the pain in his bones and muscles that wanted some rest. The young boy sank into the soft grass and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Bode only patted his shoulder as he sat down next to him. The satyr was tired but not as exhausted as the camp’s newest family member.

“You’ve made it,” Bode whispered.

“You’ve made it here, safely! Everything will be alright once the moon chariot sets and the one of the sun rises, we’ll take the entire day to truly process what happens and make a plan about what your father had said, alright?” Parker was too tired to realize the true meanings behind Bode’s words. He only mumbled a “yeah,” and tried to breathe with a steady rhythm.

“Hey Parker,” Bode started, “You just survived the chimera which is something I’m incredibly thankful as that beast has killed other kids prior.”

Chimera? For some odd reason that weird Hercules movie from Disney came to Parker’s mind. “It did what now?”

Bode raised his hands in defense. “Woah hold your horses! No one was seriously injured – this time.” he said.

“What’s important is that you’ll catch your breath and meet the new camp director. Right there at the fireplace.” Bode pointed into the distance and Parker’s gaze followed. “I know all of this is new and weird to you, especially since this place isn’t the most organized, but trust me.”

It was true what Bode said. The juxtaposition between the two worlds that clashed at Camp Half-Blood were simply weird to Parker’s unaccustomed eyes. But there! At the old camp site, right at the edge of old and new, there she was. A woman poking a log with what looked like a golden hook. She wore a brown gown and held a hand to the flames. The flames rose and Parker was worried that the strange lady might have singed her eyebrows accidentally. But no. It was the opposite. It was as if the fire were dancing for her. As if it’s flaring was a beautiful melody for her eyes and only her eyes.

The orange and yellow and golden streaks of the flames were hypnotizing. Parker didn’t even realize how he was already standing up on his two feet and walking towards the pit. Bode followed him. The pit looked small in the distance but only enlarged close up. Parker didn’t feel fear – it was the polar opposite. He felt as calm as he had never been before. The young boy stopped.

“Parker Mbata,” the woman smiled and turned her head to him. The reflection of the flames danced in her eyes and Parker knew that the orange highlighted his beautiful black skin. Beautiful dark skin that she had as well.

“How do you know my name?” he asked her and raised an eyebrow. His voice cracked; he didn’t want to appear impolite as that was what most people thought wrongfully about him. The woman only smiled and pointed to a seat next to her. She was middle-aged and her black braids would probably reach her knees if she had been standing upright. She was pretty. A round face that loved to smile. It wasn’t the movie star look, but she had the calm and grace of someone who had seen much of the world and was able to see the wonderful side of things.

For Parker, she had the aura of a friendly aunt that would help out with homework, try to play on a console with you and would bake here and there from time to time with you. Rib crushing hugs, hands that drove through hair, a pat on the shoulder that said: “No matter how far you’ll go, remember that I’ll always be proud of you.”

If it hadn’t been merely the surface level of her being. She was no ordinary woman like his math teacher – of that Parker was certain. Her eyes. The gleam of the orange nourished her skin and highlighted her beauty. The warmth in her eyes radiated the power of a thousand hugs.

She reeked of power that should never be underestimated.

“I know the names of all new campers,” she simply answered with an honest smile on her face.

“Thank you, Bode.” The woman said and shifted her gaze to the young satyr next to him. Parker could have sworn that he saw his best friend blush at the compliment. That or it was a simple illusion from the fire. “You may now go to your parents’ house. I’m sure Juniper is still waiting on the porch, and Grover will be over the moon with your first search that was a successful one at that.”

The corner of Bode’s mouth threatened to tear his face apart from grinning so big. “See you tomorrow, Parker!” he said before he bowed to the weird lady.

Parker waved goodbye and saw how lights of lanterns turned on in the modern part of the camp as Bode crossed the streets. They turned off again automatically as he turned to the left.

“You may call me Hestia. I’m the new camp director of Camp Half-Blood.”

“Hestia,” Parker repeated, and he saw how she nodded.

“This is a camp for very special people,” Hestia continued and poked the fire. A flame erupted and rose to the sky. “You are safe in here. No monsters or other meddlers will interfere within camp boarders or in the wider city of New Athens. You will train like other half-bloods, find your strength and weaknesses so that you may survive into adulthood and now how to protect yourself and those that you love.”

Half-blood? Monsters? Survive into adulthood? The questions stood bright on Parker’s face as his dark brown eyes widened.

Hestia laughed and patted his back. The warm feeling of being comforted flooded Parker’s body.

“You look an awful lot like my sister,” Hestia said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“People just say that I look like my dad only with a better fade on the sides of my head,” Parker denied. “Also, how can I look like your sister?”

Hestia grinned yet again and shook her head. The golden jewelry on her braids clanged. “That is not what I mean, Parker,” Hestia stated.

“Her personality. Her abilities. Her capabilities. All of that and more I see in you. After all, she is your mother.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. Hestia was actually his aunt? She knew his mother? How?! His father had always told him that his mother was a busy person and big in the botanic scene, chasing new discovery after new discovery and that that was the reason why she was never around. Also, Parker had the suspicion that she had fled the country so that she didn’t have to pay child support.

“But I see more in you. Further down your line.” Hestia placed her index finger underneath his chin and lifted it up slightly.

“I can see Morpheus as your great-grandfather. I can see Hermes even further down there.”

“Hermes like the Greek god?”

“Yes, my nephew is a funny albeit sometimes exhausting one.”

“So you want to say that I’m a descendant of Greek gods?”

Hestia nodded. “That I do.”

Parker coughed. Hestia was worried. She waved her hand in the air and Parker had to suppress the scream that was bubbling inside of him as a bottle with a clear liquid appeared. Now he definitely believed her. It wasn’t for the fact that a terrible monster had hunted him for nearly two hours earlier.

“Here drink this slowly. Do not haste, I’d rather not clean up the burnt remains of my newest nephew,” she winked. Parker took the bottle and a first sip.

“Nectar. The drink of the gods. It heals you demigods but too much and it’ll set you on fire.”

The drink tasted like good times. Like the fondest memories that had been deeply buried inside of Parker. The fudgy chocolate brownies with a hint of peanut butter that his father used to make for him whenever he had a good mood. And now his father had sent him away.

The disappointment hit Parker harder than the strenuous activity that had been fleeing the chimera earlier. Hestia sensed his mood and decided to distract him.

“Normally I start camp tours and initiations in the mornings, but I see that I should start out early. You aren’t the only new camper but who would mind a little head start?”, she winked again. “Let me do it differently as well. We used to show a terrible introduction movie around to introduce you into the new world but the reception has been mostly negative.”

Okay thought Parker and nodded slowly.

“How do you feel about your classmates? The Jackson twins?”

Parker narrowed his eyebrows. The twins were weird in a way that most twins were. They were definitely the sort of twins that could read each other’s minds and answer for one another if it weren’t for the fact that they seemed to annoy each other. Apart from that, they were also very friendly and sat down at lunch with him at school despite their constant bickering going on Parker’s nerves.

Ari was the more out-going and bold one and her twin Theo was quieter and more reserved. And he wore glasses that he always readjusted. Parker was definitely not fond of him. No, he was absolutely not. And the swoon in the pit of his stomach that he felt was something he would ignore for the time being.

The more important question: what did the twins have to do with all of this? Hestia grinned as if she had read all of his thoughts and emotions. “As much as I adore Ariadne and Theodoros, we need to begin a generation earlier with their parents. I have much to thank them for.”

Hestia’s immortal memory brought her pictures back that happened decades ago. As her brother threatened to smite Perseus Jackson for daring to stand up to him and ask him for another wish instead of the gift of immortality.

“From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods. All the children . . . of all the gods,” young Perseus Jackson wished. “I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right and survive.”

Oh, how her youngest brother had been furious. “And the minor gods,” Perseus exclaimed. “Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades as well. As for Hestia and him, I have another wish for them. Give them their seats in the Olympian council back.”

That demand made the eyebrows of Poseidon and Athena rise as Zeus’ mouth grew into an even thinner line.

And then Perseus Jackson had turned around to her and had given her the biggest gift she had ever received in her immortal life. “And aunt Hestia, you are the heart and soul of Mount Olympus. You are the guidance and comfort we seek, the hope that remains in our very core. With your permission—the permission from all gods—I’d ask Hestia if she would like to lead Camp Half-Blood as a new co-camp director alongside Chiron and Dionysus until he is done with his punishment?”

Then Hestia did only two things. Hug the savior of Olympus and accept his gracious gift to her as Zeus was legally bound to make his nephews wishes come true.

“Mr. Jackson did all of these things when he was a teenager? With his—uhhh—future wife? And Bode’s dad?” The tales of him having that much influence seemed too great and big and so… unrealistic? Parker couldn’t believe that Percy Jackson was that sort of man. He was a pastry baker and started crying whenever his wife butchered the name of one of his fancy creations according to Ari. That and he was supposedly very busy with his bakery Blue Jackson’s in Downtown Manhattan and another subsidiary in Los Angeles. And that person persuaded Olympian gods as a teenager? Saved the world as a child?

“I mean Mr. Jackson is just a baker,” Parker shrugged. “And Mrs. Chase is this crazy busy architect that also plays mom taxi somehow and drives her kids around while she’s running from meeting to meeting?” At least that was what Theo had texted him ages ago.

Hestia pointed to the beautiful city of New Athens. Not the majestic buildings that stood proudly there surrounding the market place but beyond that where the façade began to crack as the largest construction side he had ever seen. “Yes, Annabeth is incredibly busy with her occupation. As it was she that bore the grounds of New Athens as a safe haven for your kind. Do you see that house on the hill?”

It was pompous, enormous and combined the modern and ancient style beautifully. A light on the second floor was on. “The residence of the Jackson-Chase’s.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. These people must have been filthy rich. No wonder that Mr. Jackson ordered flower arrangements on the regular from his dad. Those pieces were expensive. Parker’s eyes shifted slightly to the left. A few feet away was a Blue Jackson’s bakery right next to the house. Easy commute for Mr. Jackson.

“The illuminated room is Annabeth’s office. It seems like she is still working on her designs.”

The light was suddenly switched off. “Oh!” Hestia sounded surprised. “It looks like Perseus was for once successful in telling his wife she ought to sleep. Oh well.”

Parker snickered.

“After all it is way past two in the morning. You should also rest so soon.”

But Parker didn’t want to. He was wrapped up in the tales that Hestia told him. The middle schooler reassured Hestia that he was yet not entirely worn out. The goddess sighed like a tired mother.

“And it was she, Annabeth, that restored the honor of the gods and built a cabin for every one of us gods—even the ones without half-bloods—so that we have places for our children, visitors and prayers. Until you are claimed, you will stay at Cabin Zero—my cabin,” Hestia smiled.

“We all start at Zero. We all start from nothing only to learn and to grow into something. You will find new friends, a new life, a new home. Just like your parents intended and. I am sure that Mr. Mbata will arrive soon safely at camp. I have given him instructions to hide in a secret place due to the monsters starting to sense you.”

That made Parker smile and relief spread throughout him. He would be reunited with his father very soon.

“You remind me very much of Perseus Jackson, Parker Mbata. Since the introduction movie left a sour taste in many campers and inhabitants of New Athens and you do not appear to be so sleepy, let me retell the tale of Perseus Jackson from the beginning. The most famous demigod of them all. Greater than any other hero the Greek pantheon had ever seen.”

The flames seemed to dance around goddess and demigod. “He was just like you. Small, a little bit on the scrawny side…”

Parker frowned a little bit, but Hestia giggled at her backhanded compliment.

“A half-blood. A child of man and god… Perseus gets quite frequently asked to retell his story. At first, he did so begrudgingly. He wrote his memories down. For his and anyone else’s sake. Had an entire folder with papers in his hand as he sat down. But now he grew confident and into an incredible speaker. He speaks from his heart and not from paper.”

Hestia inhaled sharply. The eldest child of Kronos turned her face to the red of the flames to recount the events that happened nearly twenty years ago.

“Perseus always starts his stories with ‘look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood’…”

The End

I’m not really an OC person but I hope you enjoyed this little thought experiment regardless ;>

If anyone is interested in my other fanfics, I can offer you How Could You (Percabeth, sad, finished) and The Fool (Percabeth, mystery, on-going) :3

[harrystyleswatermelon-sugar]

Driving into the sunset

The sun is beaming and if it wasn’t for my sunglasses, I wouldn’t see anything. It is such a nice warm and sunny day, that I decided to go only with a tight fitted denim, a tank top and my leather jacket. Sure, normally that would be a normal outfit but for me it isn’t. As I sit on my Harley-Davidson Power-Cruiser I smile happily, this is what I dreamt of my whole life. A motorbike road trip through America. I love it so far, the people are incredibly nice and I have the time of my life.

 Today I finally arrive in Los Angeles and as I drive around this massive city with those 4 or 6 lane roads, I can feel the warm breeze in my face. Suddenly a see another biker in my rear mirrors and he starts to speed up. He waves at me and I laugh. Challenge accepted. I turn the gas and speed up, to overtake him. At least I think the driver is a male. He definitely looks male, broad shoulders, slim hips and no long hair under the helmet. He wears sunglasses and I literally can´t see anything of his face. I push my bike but he has no problems to stay behind me. As we near a crossroads, I break lightly and put my feet to the ground. He stops right next to me and I see him smiling.

“Where´re you going?” he asks and I stretch my arms.

“Thought about going to the beach, any recommendations?” I answer and shift my bike because the lights switch to green. He falls back behind me and stops next to me once again at the next red lights.

“Sure, what `bout Santa Monica? Have you been there?” he asks and I shake my head.

“No, I just arrived here, never have been here before”

“Then follow me, love” he suggests and shifts, to drive off. I follow him and slide behind him in the spaces of the cars. It´s fun, I miss driving with someone else. It is so much better.

When we arrive at the beach, he pulls over to a parking space and shuts his engine down.

“Here we are” he says and I park behind him, get off my bike and stretch. I´ve been driving for the last four hours and I have to say, my ass hurts and my legs have had better days, too.

“Thanks for the company, looks nice. Is that the famous Santa Monica Pier?” I point to our left and unclip my helmet. I take off my sunglasses and put everything on my handlebar.

My Y/H/C hair flows down my back and I look at him. He is still not recognizable and I wonder, why he doesn’t take off his helmet and glasses. Maybe he is shy.

“Yeah, it is. It was nice meeting you. See you around” he says and starts his engine. Wait, what? He just leaves me here?

“Won´t you come and join me? Would love some company…have been travelling alone for weeks now” I suggest but he shakes his head.

“I´m sorry, that is not possible. I enjoyed driving with you. Have a good one and taste Bubba Gump, it´s great” he suggests and takes off. Thanks. I can´t say I am not sad, that he leaves without telling me his name or showing me his face. I am sad. I would have loved to get to know a fellow biker here, especially because I am planning to stay for a few days.

I enjoy my evening at the beach, I eat one of those recommended Bubba Gump soups and watch the sunset. It is beautiful, the sand under my feet, the waves crashing and touching me, the warm sun and the light and warm breeze in my hair.

I stay in a simple motel, but it´s kinda nice. It isn’t as bad, as I expected. 

 The next day I decide to go to the boulevard and later I want to see the Hollywood Hills. I walk over the stars, check out the Chinese theatre and grab a snack at the CVS. I like the vibe of LA, the feeling this city gives me and as I drive through the fancy streets in Beverly Hills, to get to the hills, I see a familiar biker in my rear mirror. I smile, as he comes closer and flashes me with his light. I hold out my foot, which is a common greeting amongst biker.

I stop in front of a red light and look at him. I still can´t see anything of his face.

“Hey, biker lady. How was your day at the pier?” he asks and looks at me through his tinted glasses.

“I loved it, thanks for the idea” I answer and shift my bike.

“Where´re you headin´?” he replies and I nod my head in my direction.

“Wanted to take a little hike up in the hills. Wanna join?” I ask hopefully, I would really like to see, who is behind this helmet. I notice his big, slim hands, some beautiful rings and manicured fingers. When he answers I hear his deep, soothing voice and look up from his hands, pulling the break.

“Well, I don’t have anything to do, I will accompany you to the best place. We´ll see, if I join your hike” he answers and I notice the first time, that he talks really slow and sound intelligent, expresses himself well selected. I think, he´s a very interesting man and I die to see his face. He wears dark denims, Chelsea boots and a Hoodie. I can see, that his hair is dark, because some of those seemingly curly strands hang into his face. We drive calmly to the place he knows and park next to each other.

“So? You gonna join or head off again?” I ask him smiling. My helmet is on my handlebar once again and I look at him. He takes off his glasses, wow. One step after the other. His eyes are piercing green and very beautiful. He looks around us and shrugs his shoulders. 

“Don’t even know your name, maybe you want to murder me” he laughs and clips his helmet open. My heart is racing, what if he is ugly as fuck and destroys my daydream? No, he can´t be.

“I´m Y/N so, now you know your murderers' name” I reply and get off my bike. I lock the handlebar and open my leather jacket. Without the wind, it is really hot. I decide to leave my jacket in my bike case and as I turn around, I see him hanging his helmet on the handlebar. He indeed has dark brown curls, a bit longer than I thought and now he ruffles his hand through them, finally turning around.

“Wow” I whisper and look at him, smirking.

“Yeah, I know” he laughs a bit uncomfortable. He knows what? That he is absolutely beautiful? Stunning? Handsome? He has perfect features, plump lips, a light stubble going on on his cheeks. He smiles now and shows deep dimples, which make him even more beautiful. But most mesmerizing is his green eyes. He is so gorgeous.

“You are by far the most handsome guy, I have ever seen. You should never wear a helmet” I say and slap me at the same time mentally. Why can´t I just shut up and keep my mouth shut? Why?

“Uh…thank you. You are very attractive yourself” he laughs nervously and I raise an eyebrow. He looks oddly familiar, but that can´t be. I have never been to Los Angeles before and I definitely would have remembered his face and his voice.

“I know the way to the top, if you want? We are lucky, there are only a few people here” he says and I walk next to him over to a dusty path up the hills.

“I still don´t know your name,” I say after a few minutes and he looks at me.

“Really?” he laughs and I look very confused into his direction.

“Yeah” I reply and shake my head. This is a bit odd.

“My name´s Harry” and as he takes off his jacket, because of the warmth and show his tattooed arms, I remember where I saw his face. Literally everywhere. Advertising, news, papers, online. He is everywhere.

“Oh my god, now I understand what you meant when you said Yeah, I know. You are this boyband guy, right? That´s crazy” I say and he scrunches his nose.

“Took you longer, than most people take…but honestly, I don´t like to be referred to as this boy band guy. I´m literally just Harry” he replies and his eyes wander over the landscape, which is, to be honest very boring. Dry and dusty.

“Sorry, Harry. I am not even into this kind of music, so I don´t care, really. I think you are pretty nice, but you are no local either, or?” I ask curiously and he smiles.

“You really don’t know much about me, do you? I´m British and you? As you are on vacation here, I don´t think you are a native, are you?” he asks and he sounds so British, as he said it. I shake my head and name him my birth country. He nods impressed.

“I like it there, the people are so nice,” he says and of course, he has been there already. He probably has travelled the whole world and I worked my ass off for a month to afford three weeks in the US, sleeping in Motels whilst he most likely has slept in luxurious hotels.

“Tell me something about you, because you are right, I literally know nothing about you. Some songs from the radio, your name and that you like riding a motorbike, that’s practically all” I ask him and look down the hill. The city is enlightened by a warm goldish-orange tone. The sun is about to set and I smile. This is beautiful.

“Well, I´m 28, I love music, I do my own stuff since the band went on hiatus and I like having nice people around me. Sometimes I just sit and read a book, on other days I like to party and go out. I am very private, I hate paparazzi, but they usually follow me everywhere. And I love to tour” he fulfils my request and I nod.

“Let´s sit here for a moment, Harry. I want to watch the sunset” I say and sit down on a bench. He plops himself right next to me and relaxes. It must be really stressful, to be always in everybody’s focus.

“And what are you planning for your next days? I could show you my favourite café and some nice places if you like” he suggests but I already have other plans, to be honest.

“I´d love spending more time with you, really. But I have to go on with my trip. I want to go to the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas” I explain and yes, I am a bit sad that I can´t stay.

“Oh, that´s alright. Don’t want to ruin your trip by keeping you here” he laughs and I smile. He wouldn´t ruin it.

The sun sets finally and everything looks like it has been painted red, orange and yellow. It is mesmerizing especially because the city lights start to twinkle now.

“Have never been to the Canyon” he sighs and I look at him.

“Really? Then come join me, I´d love some company” I propose and he looks really surprised.

“You serious? You would like me to come with you? I mean, I can´t, I have obligations here and some appointments, but that is so nice of you. It means a lot, really” he assures and beams at me.

“I am on the road for nearly two weeks now and I am all alone, so yes I would really appreciate some company. But I totally understand, that you have obligations and maybe it isn’t such a good idea to go on the road with a stranger. It was just what I thought at the moment…maybe we should head back, it´s starting to get dark” he nods in agreement and gets up on his feet. We walk back to our bikes, not really talking. I am enjoying the last time I have company for the next two days.

We head off and cruise around the city, having fun and laughing, as we pass each other over. I love it.

Finally, I stop in front of my motel and turn the engine off. I smile at him, putting my helmet on my hip and holding it with my arm.

“This is goodbye then, I guess. I´m heading to Arizona early” I say and he takes his helmet off. He grabs me and hugs me tight. I was not prepared for that and gasp for air. Involuntarily I grab his shoulders and hug him back. This is a damn good hug. We stand like this for a few minutes, until he releases me and smiles.

“Be careful, it was very refreshing meeting you, Y/N.” he says and I nod a bit sad. I really like him, it´s a shame to know, that we won´t see each other again.

“Thanks for the show-around” I really mean it and he knows it, then he puts on his helmet, takes his sunglasses and starts the engine.  I wave as he drives away.

 When I finish my packing on the next morning, I check out. It is quite early, around 7, so I hope the streets in LA are free. As I put my helmet on, I hear another bike and turn around. I don’t believe my eyes, as I take my helmet back off. What is he doing here? Harry stops and gets off his bike and takes off his helmet.

“Hey, love. Slept well?” he asks and I nod in awe. He wears a leather jacket, some denim and biker boots, gloves as well. His bike is packed with some cases and I can´t stop staring at his green eyes, which are so striking.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” I ask and he grins, pointing to his bike.

“Got rid of my obligations and ready to join you” he simply says and I laugh.

“What? Did you change everything to join me? Why?”

“You looked so sad, when I told you, I couldn´t come with you and I decided that a small adventure wouldn´t be so bad either” he explains and I can´t believe it. He is really coming with me.

“Happy?” he asks and I nod.

“Yes, oh my god” I jump into his arms and hug him. Our leather jackets are tacky against one another, but I don´t care at this point. I just want to cuddle him and kiss his cheek. He shaved and I have to say, I like him better when he has no stubble.

He puts me down to my feet and he looks so happy. We get ready to leave and speed off shortly after.

The trip is great, we take breaks at the most beautiful spots and as the day starts to fade, we stop at a motel.

“I know, this is below your standards, but honestly I can´t afford your standards at all. Also, I don´t think there is a luxurious hotel nearby” I say and look around us. There is literally nothing, just nature and dust.

“No, it´s fine. As long, as there is a shower and a bed. My ass hurts and I am sweaty as fuck. It´s so hot here in the desert” he says and wipes the sweat off of his forehead.

“Sorry, we are fully booked, I can only offer you a night in a single room” the receptionist shutters our dreams of having a big bed and room to be free. Fuck. I look at Harry, ready to sit back on my bike and go further into Arizona to get the next motel. He looks with furrowed brows and sighs.

“I´m sorry, I can´t go anymore, I need to rest. Like really, I have never ever been so long on the bike. I take the couch, you can have the bed. Just let us stay here…please” he begs and I laugh. Ne looks sore and worn out, tired as I am. I nod.

“Okay, let´s stay here for the night, we´ll figure it out” I take the offer of the lady behind the desk and she nods, not really caring about anything. She didn´t even look at us, as we came in.

“Name?” she asks and I answer quickly, before Harry does.

“Y/N Y/L/N” he looks at me and smiles, knowing I did that on purpose, that he doesn´t need to say his name and maybe get mobbed.

He mouths a thank you and I smile at him, while taking the key. Our room is small, but it is clean and will do for the night.

“What would you say, if I tell you, there´s a whirlpool to soothe your ass pain?” I say as I read the motel flyer.

“Really? A whirlpool? I´d love to go there, oh boy” he sighs as he sits down on the couch. I laugh at him, already used to the pain.

“Then change and let´s go” I command and he flinches.

“You joining me? Even better. Ah” he gets up and grabs a pair of bright yellow swim shorts out of his bag. He takes off his shirt and I can´t help it, but stare. There is a huge butterfly on his torso and some fern leaves on his hips, his whole upper body seems to be tattooed with the most different things. And he is trained, I can see his abs and as he now turns around and shows me his back, I see the muscles stretch under his smooth and tan skin. He is even more perfect than I thought. Shit, I need to keep my shit together.

I grab my bikini and go to the bathroom, to get changed. A few minutes later, we are at the swimming area and look disappointed at the empty whirlpool.

“At least, we can swim there” he points to the pool and I nod.

“Yeah, but would have been nice” he puts his arm around my shoulder and I am so relieved, that we both wear clothes over our swim clothes and he is not touching me nearly naked.

We get into the water and I see him staring at me. What? I raise an eyebrow and splash some water on him. He snorts and dips his head underwater.

I follow him and start swimming a bit, but really, I just want an air mattress to float onto. Harry, on the other hand, floats without a mattress. How? I try and go down, he giggles as I get back to the surface.

“How do you do that?” I ask him and he gets to his feet.

“Just take as much air in, as you can and try again,” he says and I do as requested. I fail and cause him to giggle even more.

“Again” he laughs and I roll my eyes at him, but I try again. I feel his hands under my back, pushing me back to the surface. He holds me steady, his face near mine and I smile at him.

“Guess, you are now my rack” he looks me in the eyes and the heat of his hands warms my whole body.

“But when I take my hands away, you will go down” he prophesies and I try to look at him with warning eyes.

“Don´t you dare” I say and he grins, taking his hands away, so I get down. But beforehand I put my arms around his neck and hold me up. He is so close. His eyes scan my face and I bite my bottom lip. His hands snake around me and he holds me right to his naked body. 

“You wanted to drown me” I whine and he laughs, as I let finally go of him. We get out of the water, dry off and head back to our room. We get some food to take away in the small restaurant next to us. It isn´t bad but it could definitely be better. We sit on the bed, eating and chatting until he asks:

“So you really know nothing about me? I mean, I love it, it´s like being totally normal but I´m not”

“I really don´t. I saw you once or twice somewhere but honestly, I don´t care about such things and I couldn´t even name one song from you, sorry” I say and I mean it.

“You want to see?” he asks shyly and I nod slowly.

“Yeah, why not” he takes his phone and shows me some videos of concerts when he was younger. There were so many people. He continues with a video of his last solo tour and after that one of his music videos. I am very impressed. He seems to be really famous.

“So you are way more than Harry on a motorcycle,” I say and lean back in the pillows.

“I guess, yeah. But I like being Harry on a motorcycle, I like not being a celebrity for once” he whispers and I don’t know why, but he looks hurt. I put my hand on his knee and he looks up.

“Sorry, I am usually not a teary boy” he smiles and I see his eyes glistening with tears. Oh god, how do I react?

“It´s okay. Sometimes, we just need to cry. I do it and even Harry Styles, does it” I assure him, that it is okay. He wipes his tear stains on his cheeks away and coughs.

“I´m fine. No need to cry. It is hard sometimes, to be in the spotlight. People aren’t very nice” he explains his sudden outburst of emotions and I nod in agreement. He is right. People are cruel.

“Let´s get some sleep. Tomorrow we will see the most amazing place on earth” I am so excited and he swings his legs out of the bed.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask and grab his hand. He looks over his shoulder and entwines our fingers for a split second, until he moves.

“I said, I´ll sleep on the couch,” he says, but I shake my head.

“Absolutely not, you moron. Come here and I warn you, if you start snoring I will kick you out” I warn him and he smiles, as he leans back into the pillows.

“You sure? Couch is no problem, really” he suggests once more. I roll my eyes at him and close them afterwards, pretending to be asleep.

 The next morning, we have a small breakfast at a gas station and then head further north to the canyon. It isn´t as warm as before, and I feel it gets colder as we get nearer. At our next stop, I pull out a hoodie and put it on, under my leather jacket.

Finally, we pull over at a parking space and turn our engines down.

“Ready to see the Grand Canyon? Because I am” he says and I follow him. The view is amazing, I take in the clear and fresh air and look over the formations of stone. It is absolutely breathtaking, I can´t describe it, you can´t even see the end of the canyon.

“It´s amazing, thank you for letting me join,” Harry says and I look at him.

“Of course, this is unbelievable. I am here, finally” I start to tear up and before he notices, I walk away. I knew this would be hard, but I need to be here. The tears are now pouring down my cheeks and I take the time to cry, sit alone far away from the others and remember why I am here.

“Y/n what´s the matter? Why are you crying? Are you ok, love?” he asks very concerned and gets down next to me. My hands are shaking and I nod, trying to keep a bit of my face.

“My dad and I always wanted to do this trip together, we were inseparable. This was our dream. Two bikes, two people and this country. He was diagnosed with leukaemia a year back and we knew, our dream will never happen. He was too far and he died six months later. I was with him and he took the promise from me, to do this trip and remember him. In his honour, I am here today. For you, dad” I whisper my last sentence and look up in the sky. For you, daddy.

“I never knew this. I am so sorry of your loss, but it is a beautiful gesture to do this in his honour. And I am honoured, to be a part of it, even I am a small part” he laughs quietly and puts an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me close to his chest and I hug him, inhale his heavenly scent. He smells so good and he feels good as well. 

“You aren’t a small part. You are important, without you it wouldn’t be the same” I whisper in his ear and he pulls me even closer to him. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Cry as much as you want, I´m here” he replies and I sob into his shoulder, letting all the tears flow. He soothes me, whispering calming words in my ear and stroking my back. Maybe I enjoy it a little bit too much. 

I move backwards and let him go. His eyes look concerned and I smile at him. It´s better now, as I cried a bit. 

“You okay?” he asks and I nod. I see him coming into my direction and he caresses my cheek, wiping away my tear stains. My skin tingles a bit, where he touched me and he smiles. 

“Ready to witness a beautiful sunset? I think we have a great spot, literally fucking nobody is here, except for us. Wait here, okay?” he asks excited and leaves me alone. I have a few minutes to calm down and think about him and I. I think, I am dangerously close to falling for him. He joins me back at the abyss and hands me a blanket. I feel how it gets colder and we sit down on the blanket. Behind us is a wall of stones, so we can lean on it with our backs and for comfort, Harry even brought some hoodies. 

“Come here, I want to hold you,” he says and I look at him confused and surprised. That is normally not something someone would say if you don’t like the other one very much. 

I lean closer and he pulls me into his lap, so I can rest my back against his chest. It is extremely comfortable and I don’t mind him putting his arms around me. Here I am, in the sunset, cuddling with Harry Styles. What the fuck. 

The sun sets slowly and we get yet again dipped into beautiful red light. 

“This is our second sunset together,” I say very quietly and feel him holding me closer to his chest. I look up and smile at him, which he returns. 

“It´s breath-taking. Just look at all those colours. It´s so fucking beautiful” he answers and I look at the beauty he just described. He hums a song and I ask myself, if it is one of his songs or someone else´s. 

We sit there in silence, his hands softly caressing my arms and I can´t help it, but I shiver lightly because of his touch.

“Cold?” Harry asks and I nod. He doesn’t need to know; it is because of his touch. Especially because it is a bit colder since the sun went down. He tugs me closer into his arms and nuzzles his face on my shoulder. Oh, dear god. 

“Maybe we should look for a place to stay the night?” I suggest because I can feel my heart pounding like crazy in my chest. I get scared, that he will hear or feel it. 

“Mh, don´t wanna leave” he sighs and I smile, biting my bottom lip.

“Harry, come on. We can cuddle at the motel” I bloat out, rolling my eyes at myself.

“Are we staying in one room again? I thought that was an exception” he whispers and I can feel his hot breath tickle my neck. 

“I honestly don’t care, you are not snoring so, would be fine with me. But it´s your decision if you want to be my personal heater tonight” I laugh to reduce the pressure on him. I get out of his arms and get up. It darkened fast after the sun has set and now, I am freezing. 

“Let´s just leave, for now” he answers and I bite my lip because of his rejection. We drive to a nearby motel, but it is fully booked, so we end at a campground. We rent a small wooden cabin and enter it. It is super cute, there is even a fireplace and a kitchen. Luckily I have some spaghetti in my case, so we can cook something. The campground has no lights outside, so you can see the stars and I am eager to go and watch them as soon as I am in some warmer clothes.

“You really want to leave again? Let´s just get this cabin warm and sit by the fire” he begs me but I shake my head. Not gonna happen, I want to see the stars. 

“You don’t have to come with me, but I am going,” I say and tie my shoelace. Harry sighs and follows me.

“I am not letting you go outside in the dark with no lights around, when it is bear season. You heard the woman at the reception” he says and I laugh.

“And what are you gonna do, if a bear attacks?” I ask him and he smirks, winks at me and answers:

“I will protect you, of course. Like the hero I am” he laughs and we leave the cabin, to walk a bit down the dirt road. We find a bench and sit down as we look mesmerized into the sky. The milky way is so prominent, I can´t look away. I am sure, my dad is here at this very moment. I can feel him. Harry's hand rests on my knee and I look at him, sparkling eyes, happy smile.

“You know…I haven’t been myself in awhile…the pressure is so immense and after some time, you just become someone else, so you can keep something to yourself instead of giving everything to the public. But with you…here at this moment, I think I can be myself and not be afraid of you seeing it. That’s a special and wonderful feeling, to trust someone” he says and his eyes scan my face, my every feature and then he just smiles at me. 

“You trust me? You don’t even know me, Harry. Trust is a very serious thing, you should be careful with it” I suggest, but I smile. I am flattered, that he trusts me. 

“I know, but it just feels so good, being here with you. I like you a lot and you make me feel safe, so why on earth shouldn’t I trust you? I TRUST Y/N!” he yells and I jump surprised. What was that?

“That´s nice of you to say. Do you want to stay some more? Because I am getting cold” I hint and he gets up, taking my hand in his and warming my fingers, while we walk back to our cabin. It is nice holding hands with him, just so effortless, as it is meant to be like this. 

Back inside we get rid of our coats and change into some comfy clothes before we begin cooking our pasta. 

It is like being on vacation with a good friend and the more often I look at him, as he runs his fingers through his hair, smiling at me with his cute dimples, the long shadows his lashes put on his cheeks, his piercing green eyes…I know it is too late for me. My heart jumps as I admit it to myself. I have fallen for Harry during our two-day trip. Or even before, I don’t know. I am in love with a Popstar. Great choice, Y/N. Not hopeless at all. 

After dinner, we sit down in front of the warm fire and talk. We talk about literally everything, previous relationships, favourite things, our families and most important people in our lives and so much more, until I can barely sit straight and concentrate. 

“Maybe it´s time to go to sleep” he suggests with a low voice and I nod. He is right, but I don’t want this to end. I get up not willing to go to bed. I stumble tired and Harry helps me, catching myself. I look up at him and that’s when the unbelievable thing happens. He kisses me. His soft, plump lips press against mine and I sigh happily, being fully awake now. He lifts me up, like I weigh nothing and carries me to our bedroom. His lips are not leaving mine for one second, even as he puts me down and starts kissing his way down my collarbone, he is touching me everywhere and my skin burns. I laugh breathless as I remember how I was afraid to be cold tonight. I will most definitely not be cold. This is more than I expected and everything I ever wished for. This is perfect, I stop thinking about how hard it will be to leave the US, when it is time and start relaxing and enjoying. 

I hope you enjoyed it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am a biker myself (ok I´m currently on my license but I am going to be one very soon!

If you have requests, send them to me. I am always open for new ideas. I would love to write a part 2 of this maybe, just tell me what you think about it. 

Love, xx

@galacticsmoon​

[weskerfied]

I know you did this recently but what’s your opinion on all the mainline games and why :3

I’ve done this from favourite to least favourite. I also didn’t include the original 3 as I either haven’t played them in a long time or because I gave up halfway through *cough* 2 *cough*

5

I know it’s such an unpopular game but it’s one of the only ones I can play over and over again without getting bored. Story-wise, chapter 5-2 to 6-3 is the only interesting part. If I want to play a game without putting in too much effort, or take last night for example; I got really sick of trying to defeat Miranda on village of shadows and I was getting so mad over it. I turned on 5 and chilled for a couple hours. I really don’t know what it is about this game Wesker but I’m so drawn to it.

4

I love 4 for so many reasons but nostalgia is the reason why it places higher than CV. I remember watching my dad play it when it was first released. I thought it was the creepiest thing😂 This was when they first introduced the action element into the games, unlike 6, it had just the right amount of action paired with creepy ganados and eerie music to make it still feel like a resident evil game. OH AND THE WHOLE COLLECTING TREASURE/SELLING IT IS MY FAVOURITE THING.

Code Veronica

Solid game. 10/10. I felt so accomplished after beating it for the first time (it took me like 20 hours 😂) It was so frustrating but in a good way, apart from the part where I got to Alexia and realised I didn’t have the magnum and had to restart. I looooved the cheesy voice acting aswell. Capcom please remake this game I will love you forever. I want remake cv Wesker.

1 remastered

Game remake done right. This one was👌🏻👌🏻 All I’m gonna say is Wesker in his stars uniform is what does it for me 😌

2 remake

I enjoyed this a lot. Slightly different from what I played of the original but I’m not complaining. Mr X was terrifying, birkin was sexy terrifying, the ivys were HORRIFYING. Can we please talk about how good the RPD looked and the stars office like wow 🤩

3 remake

It was so rushed and I’m able to complete it in under an hour so that’s a huge disappointment, but I guess it’s good if I want to do a speed run. Resistance was probably the best thing to come out of this game tbh. It wasn’t terrible it just didn’t live up to the hype. Also Nicholai? I hated what they did with him, and Brad. Nemmy was a letdown too. He has nothing on Mr X.

Village

This game was so beautiful, the scenery was amazing. Horror wise I’d give it a 4/10. The Benviento house was the only part of the game where I felt slightly on edge and I loved every second of it. It felt a lot more like resident evil than 7 did, it had 4 vibes and that’s what did it for me. I didn’t care for Ethan whatsoever until I finished this. I’m not gonna lie to you but I sobbed so hard at the end. Not quite sure why they felt the need to try and incorporate umbrella in it somehow because it didn’t seem right; umbrella died years ago, we don’t need anymore origin stories. (Although the Spencer letter at the end was cool I have to admit.) Dimitrescu is overhyped in my opinion but that’s okay, if she makes you happy then you do you. Heisenberg was cool but his boss fight was really dumb (I’m not just saying that because it took me 2 days to defeat him on village of shadows.)

Revelations 2

Creepy af. I feel like it’s underrated and I’m not even sure if you’d class it as one of the main games, but I loved Alex (prefer her newer design though) and I adore Franz Kafka which made it that much more enjoyable for me. I wasn’t a fan of the whole switching between two characters and the timeline really confused me at first. It would’ve been so much easier to understand if they’d done Claire and Moira’s campaign first, then Barry and Natalia. The ending opens up a huge amount of possibilities for a future game and I’d really love to see “Natalia” again.

0

You’d think this would be higher on the list as Rebecca is my favourite character, but no. Absolutely not. It was nice to have a prequel and see my baby get her own game, I just found it so boring, I hated Billy, I hated the switching between characters. I hated dropping items on the floor and having to trek back to retrieve them again. ITEM BOXES ARE A THING!! I played it once, then played Wesker mode (which was terribly done but Rebecca looked super cute) then I gave it to a friend who got the platinum trophy for me 😂

7

I liked the Bakers. Was an incredibly creepy game but lacked the resident evil vibe. I despised pretty much all of it, especially when Chris comes in with that stupid face. Capcom!! What were you thinking?!?! Lore wise, it’s good. Everything else just sucked in my opinion.

6

Too long. Too many characters. Too many different places. Not enough horror. Brain malfunction. 50+ hours it took me to platinum this. Simmons was a shite villain, Carla seemed pointless, Wesker suddenly has a kid? It’s almost comical.

Revelations

Speaking of comical, we’re onto my least favourite title in the series: revelations. I don’t really think it’s fair for me to give my opinion on this one as I only got halfway through the game before throwing it somewhere in my room for it to never be seen again. It was almost painful for me to play. It was nice to have Chris and Jill but the other two (Parker and whatever her name was) were so annoying. Then there was the two dudes who were just added for comic relief for absolutely no reason. I played Rev 2 before playing this one as I couldn’t get hold of it and I was super excited when I managed to get hold of a copy. Honestly it was such a waste of £25.

I didn’t realise how long this post was but thanks for asking!!