#this is not what i articulate externally. yet .

[anonymusbosch]

oh no, i established myself as Capable Of and Willing To Perform some minor annoying administrative tasks at work and now am being tossed additional requests to perform said tasks

i know that in a strict financial view it makes sense to spend 20 minutes of junior engineer time on mundane-annoying-task than 20 minutes of senior staff engineer time but have you considered: I Don't Like It

[tealvenetianmask]

How Blitz and Stolas figure out how they feel: external vs. internal processing

I've been in therapy a ton (feeling like I'm not alone in that in this fandom), and one of the things I've learned from it is that I like to process my thoughts and feelings externally- by talking about them. It turns out not everyone is like that. I'm like Blitz in this way.

I first got on this topic when I was thinking about how Blitz flip flops in Apology Tour. When he goes to see Stolas at the beginning of the episode, he goes in with an idea he's trying out- a narrative he's committed to FOR NOW, insisting that he's there to reinstate the full moon deal with TONS of undue and shaky confidence.

Is this plan something he's actually confident in? Absolutely not. But he's going to commit to it damnit and see how it plays out. Does he believe it? I think he does in the moment. He's convinced himself anyway, and when Stolas wears him down and he understands that he's not doing himself any favors . . .

He starts processing the real shit aloud.

I don't think Blitz has ever admitted this to himself, at least not this articulately and accurately. He needs to say it aloud in order for it to be real. Oops too real.

He's SCARED because he didn't even KNOW he felt this way, but things are becoming very clear and dangerously close to the heart of the matter . . . so he pivots again back into comfortable territory (conflict).

By the end of the conversation, he arrives at a new mission, one that's sort of an equilibrium between his realizations about his honest feelings and his need to have a mission he feels confident in. He's not all confident or all honest- he's still in flux.

There are SO many more examples of Blitz realizing how he feels BY TALKING (later in Apology Tour when he's talking to Stolas, and then when he's talking to Verosika . . . but then also back in Oops, etc.), but I'm going to leave it at one for brevity here. What's important is that we NEVER see Blitz processing alone. Even in his part of the duet (more on songs in a sec), when he's technically singing to himself, he's consoling himself with a narrative rather than really processing the things that need to be processed.

Blitz needs a person to process with.

But Stolas is an internal processor. We know this already because he made the plan to give Blitz the Asmodean crystal and sat on it for literal months, procuring the crystal, ironing out what he would say, trying to initiate conversations with Blitz, but never explaining how he felt to anyone before it was time- and absolutely NEVER in a way that was half baked.

The way Stolas sings his feelings actually gives us a really clear and beautiful picture of how he processes and figures things out. I forget who said it, but someone on the Helluva creative team referenced a broadway truism that in a musical, characters sing what they can't speak. I think for Stolas it's often what he can't YET speak because he's still processing. He has full honest conversations with himself (Stolas Sings, Just Look My Way), and then when he's face to face with Blitz, he knows exactly what he wants to say. His feelings and beliefs actually progress from song to song- he expresses his awareness of a problem in Stolas Sings and gets more precise about how he feels and what he needs to do about it in Just Look My Way.

By The Full Moon, for better or worse (kind of both), Stolas knows exactly what he wants to say to Blitz and how he wants to say it.

Even when he's upset, angry, and then drunk, when Stolas speaks about his feelings, he's consistent. He's decided. He loves Blitz. He wants a real relationship. From his point of view, he doesn't care about social class, so he can't understand why Blitz is so stuck on it.

But he's missing something key (it's the social class thing- it's definitely the social class thing), and internally, he's cooking, and we see that (again) when he sings.

This is the rawest and most in flux stage of his thought process that we've seen. Because this is how he figures out what he thinks and feels- with himself, in song.

Okay- so interesting psychoanalysis- why does this matter to the story?

Well, I think that Stolas doesn't understand that when Blitz speaks in these super emotional, fraught conversations, he doesn't go in knowing what he thinks and feels. He's figuring it out on the fly. He's figuring it out BY talking, and needs to be allowed to do that. Should he do this with a therapist instead of with the person most likely to be hurt by the ideas he flies through on his way to his true feelings? For sure, but this is Blitz.

In turn, Blitz doesn't understand that when Stolas acts absolutely certain and doesn't seem to take in the things Blitz is saying, he's not talking to a brick wall. He's talking to a moveable person who, once he's alone (or singing) is going over and over everything and breaking his thoughts down and reformulating until he arrives at something new.

So . . . it might be a little much to ask these two to understand each other's different processing styles- but they're coming along in their own ways. And I'm looking forward to them understanding each other. Someday. Maybe. Fucking sit down and talk. Slowly. AGH.

[misty-caligula]

Okay this is gonna be long, but I’ve got a lot of ground to cover so please bear with me. In a real way, this is my series thesis.

I’ve said before, many times now (like a cycle) that for me the most important scene is ep 1 act 1 scene 1. There’s something There that I have been struggling to see clearly, struggling to articulate, and s2e9 really finally gave me the last pieces for it.

I think that Pit Girl is the point of the entire story. But not in the way that I thought going in. I feel like I’m rambling, so I’m going to try to structure my thoughts.

Imagine you’re a new viewer. You haven’t watched yj start to finish 30 times, you’ve never even buzzed before. You turn on the tv and the FIRST thing that happens is you see ... brutality. A half dressed girl chased through the freezing woods, murdered without a chance. They drag her through the snow, string her up, pour her blood on the ground. Hack her into unrecognisable chunks. Sit around in scary outfits and rip at her, with a huge focus on the teeth, as horror music plays. Then, Misty takes off her mask, puts on her glasses, and does the worst possible thing. She smiles. Directly at you.

Again, forget everything you know and go on vibes. You’re seeing the teens pre-crash, and you’re seeing them in the third timeline, fully formed, with horror motifs and covered in fur. You’d be mistaken for thinking that you were seeing start and end. Except that... we know, and you know, that Pit Girl is the middle. These monsters somehow came back from this. How? When they’re so so so far gone?

Hence the show. I know I’m not breaking new ground here, but bear with me. I’m going somewhere.

(Edit: Readmore added because honestly, LONG post)

You’d be forgiven, fresh-faced new viewer, for thinking you were watching some kind of gross-out slasher. But what happens in S1? Restraint. Laura Lee, the first non-crash victim dies at the end of episode eight. Jackie end of ep 10. (For the sake of this thesis we’re going to be almost exclusively focused on the teens.)

And yet there’s this tonal shift, It’s like ... inevitability. Like watching a crack in a window that’s very slowly spreading. Everything is steadily Getting Worse. The weather is slowly getting colder, the days are getting darker, food’s getting scarcer, life is getting harder. But so much of this difficulty is coming from external events and pressure. Yes, cracks start to show in the internal relationship dynamics, of course, but if food was plentiful, if shrooms were less so, if the weather were better, then they could probably work out a very long term stable situation. Sadly for them, things are not stable, and the pressure is building.

Then Jackie dies and the glass gets a really big break.

It’s worth mentioning at this moment that Jackie at any time could’ve come the fuck inside. Safety and warmth and even love were available to her. All it would’ve required was for her not to be the centre of the world. To make actual goddamn concessions and join the team. Which is why she couldn’t possibly make that choice, because she had to be invited, she had to be apologised to, she had to be accommodated. She couldn’t see the rest of the ‘jackets as being people who just like her were in a really shitty situation. She saw them as being external, as being in cahoots against her, as being part of some Thing that she wasn’t in on. She couldn’t let go of the society they’d left, and she preferred to die. Which sure is a choice...

Keep all of that in mind though. We’re taught to blame Shauna for Jackie’s choices. Let’s stop with that. Jackie chose not to assimilate, she looked around the cabin at the team eating the bear and praying to the wilderness and instead of just paying lip service to fit in, like Tai, she decided to put her foot down and make a Thing of it. She decided that being Right was more important than being Included.

Seriously, keep that in mind, we’re coming back to it. Cycles, you know...

Season 2, everyone’s hungry and hey we have this spare Jackie lying around. And we joke like “ha, you gonna eat that?” Only...

No. They WEREN’T going to eat her.

Really think about that for a second. They put her in the meat shed. With the bear. Think about what that does, psychologically. Linguistically. The meat shed is made to store food. The bear has a word: carcass. Day after day after week after month they carve progressively more pathetic chunks from it, subsisting on what little it offers. In the EXACT same room, sitting right there is Jackie. Her body has a different name. Corpse. With many different connotations. At NO point does ANY of them raise the fact that they’ve taken their friend and added her to their meat stockpile.

Because they haven’t. Instead, they’ve added a new sub-room. The meat shed is now also a morgue. And nobody ever once had to say it. They got it. We got it. You got it. And while they starved and their bodies BEGGED for food, Jackie’s corpse lay there, frozen and fresh, and stubbornly refused to become a carcass, because they wouldn’t let it. They knew that there were more important things than meat, even when they were starving.

The bacchanal was a mistake. A literal error. It simply wasn’t planned, wasn’t meant to go down that way. Maybe if they HAD considered that route earlier and had a discussion about it they’d have been prepared, psychologically, maybe if they weren’t so starved. Who knows. But in the middle of the night they were offered a way out, and they took it.

But Shauna took it first.

Even in their state, even faced with an ideal roasted feast infront of them, they waited until Shauna said it was okay. Because Jackie was Shauna’s friend, and they knew that she was still a person. That this was still a corpse first. It was Shauna who was able to give them permission to survive. To turn a friend into a meal. It was not their place to take that step. To shoulder that guilt. So Shauna did it for them.

The next day they’re devastated. The heavy reality sets in, now the hunger is settled. And Jackie’s carcass is far too real, they can’t change her back into a corpse. Nat tries, bless her heart. But Tai’s screaming reaction at having eaten Jackie’s face is only an externalisation of the grief and horror and agony they’re all going through.

And after Jackie they starve again. Hope and heat and light dwindles further. Every single day they all take another step towards death. That’s what starvation is, it’s the same thing as dying, you die a little bit every day until you can’t die anymore.

Kristen falls. Misty doesn’t even consider that she might bring her back as meat. If she had’ve, she might think, maybe she’d be considered like ... heroic. It doesn’t even occur to her. She’s not going to LET those bitches eat her one and only friend, and she goes out of her way to protect her.

Shauna has her horror show birth. And, no matter WHAT the context is, she produces.... meat. In the most awful, brutal way. And while the fandom made so many jokes and stuff, the reality is that yes... at least to an extent there was real nutrients there. And it was never once even brought up as an option, by these desperate, starving girls. 

When Coach tries to kill himself, here’s a ready source of willing meat. And Misty uses it as a threat to stop him. But it’s hollow, she’s just putting on fake fangs to try to keep him safe. She’s not actually that vicious thing that she’s pretending to be, just like she’s not actually homophobic.

When Lottie tells Misty to eat her if she dies, Misty fights her on it. Lottie has to insist. Then when she tells the rest of the team, they are so overwhelmed with the selflessness of the gesture that it inspires them to twist it into their first hunt. That’s what it takes. The hunt is an act of self-sacrifice and love.

And so we get to the hunt. The proto-pit-girl, we’ve come full circle and we start to learn all these answers to questions posed in act 1 scene 1. And they’re not the answers that were assumed.

How do they get to the point of eating each other? They sacrifice themselves willingly, for the sake of each other’s survival.

Why do they hunt the way they do? Because Shauna just can’t stand to murder a friend in cold blood, a friend she cares for and has no reason to hate.

Why the spike pit? Because it keeps the blood off their hands. Because it lets them blame It and preserve a tiny fragment of their innocence.

Why the weird symbols? The ritual itself? Because they need SOMETHING to hold onto, to make it all make sense.

Why so brutal? Is it? We THINK it’s brutal. It’s certainly bloody. But Pit Girl dies almost instantly. Her pain is over fast. She doesn’t have a good time going into it, obviously, none of them want to die. But she chose to run, she could’ve taken the knife instead. And the spike trap was efficient. Yes they drag her through the snow and string her up, but it’s mechanical and just part of the process and she’s dead already. Her pain is over fast, it’s not sadistic.

Why do they chop her up into chunks like that? Because nobody wants to eat her face. Because nobody wants to struggle with her humanity, they want her to look just like any other meat. So that they might be having deer or bear or ... friend. They’re eating because they are biological machines that need to eat, that NEED death to survive. They didn’t ask to be made the way they are, and they’re doing their best to cope. Shauna, probably blindly, takes on that responsibility, to transform their friend into unrecognisable meat to change a corpse into a carcass. She takes that pain for them, holds that sin for them, out of love. So they can eat, so they can survive.

What’s with the creepy horror masks? During the ritual they can’t handle being themselves. They create alternate versions of themselves to hold what must be done. The masks aren’t there to scare anyone, because there IS NO AUDIENCE. The masks are there to hide behind. That’s why Misty takes hers off at the end of the scene. The ritual is over and they can go back to being people again.

Why is Misty fucking Quigley in charge? Because she CAN be. Because she’s strong enough. If Lott/Nat/The AQ is the goddess/queen, Misty is the priestess/handmaiden, tasked with actually carrying out her orders. She interprets the queens words when she’s too weak, she provides counsel when she needs it, she tells the team what they need to hear in the moment, she gives out the micromanagement. Misty’s the power behind the throne, because when she says she’ll do something she fucking follows through. No matter the cost. And what the team NEEDS, whether they choose to admit it or not, is a backbone.

So...

They bring home Javi. The music uses a reference that’s never been done before. It uses the spiritual powerballad that was playing when Laura Lee tried to fly away. It builds the expectation of Great Things, of big, potent ...

And then it just stops. As the girls are faced with the reality of what’s laying on the table. The cold, blue corpse of a soft child who never hurt anyone. No matter what they do, no matter how hard they try they just cannot make him a carcass. But they have made the choice already, and if they turn back now it’s not like it’ll bring him back. They’ll just be starving and regretful as he rots.

So Shauna, blind and shaking, does the best she can. And when she brings in the meat, she - of all people - understands EXACTLY what Travis is going through. She knows what he needs. Because she’s been here. With Jackie. So she brings him Javi’s heart. His core. His love. His soul.

(She doesn’t bring him Javi’s head. She cuts that off and puts it aside so nobody has to eat his face... Some things are worth more than pure nutritional survival.)

And Travis, god bless him, does the only thing he can do left to respect Javi. He takes his heart, and he bites it, raw and bloody.

It hurts him to do so. It disgusts him so much, but he manages not to throw up. It disgusts the girls too, but they watch on, horrified. And that’s the POINT. Travis makes sure that before they do this, before they do what they have to... that they all remember this is Javi, this is human, this is a person. And he preserves the horror. For all their sakes. And only then, after he’s given his blessing, after he’s done his human acts, do these starving, ravenous girls allow themselves to reach for their food.

S1E1. Act 1, scene 1. We do not know who Pit Girl is. We do not know the exact circumstances that get us there. But we do know where we started now. What the original meaning is behind each of these little things. And it’s not brutality, not barbarism. It’s love. It’s not lord of the flies, a bunch of monstrous human-shaped creatures giving in to their primal nature and predating on each other. It’s a team of terrified people desperately clutching at their own humanity as hard as they can. Trying SO hard not to let that glass break, to not become the thing that the framing of act 1 scene 1 tried so VERY hard to convince us they were. Context changes everything.

And the proof is in the pudding. After they eat Jackie the shock explodes throughout the cabin. The atmosphere is thick, and horrific. Now with Javi, reduced to simple meat, carefully and lovingly seperated from what made him human, so they can grieve him while they sate their natural needs, the mood post-eating is calm and soft and warm and loving. For once they’re all together,  with grateful full stomachs and in a time of peace and plenty. They’ve done the impossible and maintained their humanity and love for each other and their respect for Javi in a nearly impossible situation.

*takes a deep breath*

Which brings us to THIS asshole.

Right from the start, Jackie is only kind of part of the team. She’s the team captain, put up there by Coach Martinez, but not because she’s the best of them but because she can maybe wrangle them into doing better. And they KNOW that she’s not really one of them. They plot around her, and just don’t bring her in on it. They put up with her, more than loving her, she’s just kind of forced upon them. But she does her best, to try to maintain some semblance of order, giving pep talks and the like.

Wait, Jackie? I mean coach. My bad.

Anyway, so Jackie has one friend, Shauna. She SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to her, but Shauna’s the only one who actually likes her. And Shauna’s her connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn as to where her real loyalties lie.

Sorry I’m talking about Jackie again.... weird.

In S1E9/10 Shauna finally chooses the team, for real. And Jackie tries to pull her back away, but Shauna puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, you’re the odd one out. Why don’t YOU leave, Jackie? Jackie looks around at the burgeoning cult, she thinks “Look at these evil monstrous bitches, and now Shauna’s one of them TOO?” And instead of finding a compromise, instead of doing introspection, instead of anything like that, Jackie goes and freezes to death because it turns out that sheer rage won’t keep you warm in sub zero temperatures. Because no matter what happens, Jackie’s Right and it’s more important to her to be Right than Included. If she’s not in charge than why is she even THERE?

Hold on, I see my mistake. Let me backtrack.

Right from the start, Coach is only kind of part of the team. He’s trying to hide from his real life, from Paul and the complexities of being genuine in society by taking on the job of coaching the ‘jackets. And they KNOW that he’s not really one of them. He’s just the guy they have to listen to, because society put him there. But he tries his best, giving pep talks and the like.

So Coach has one friend, Natalie. He SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to him, but Nat’s the only one who actually likes him. (Ignore Misty, a schoolgirl comphet crush is not the same thing). And Nat’s his connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn to where her real loyalties lie. Sometimes she’s on the bench with Coach, complaining about the state of things. Sometimes she’s in the thick of it with them all, and Coach is nowhere to be found.

In S2E9, Nat finally chooses the team, for real. And Coach tries to pull her back, but Nat puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, I’m worse than them, you’re the odd one out. Go, save yourself, you don’t belong in this place. Coach looks at a table covered in blood and gore, at Nat’s face, at the rest of the team pledging fealty to her. And instead of looking for context, or looking for compromise, or even remotely trying to understand what he’s looking at he thinks

Look at these evil monstrous bitches. They’re eating each other. They’ve all gone mad. They’ve even gotten Nat now. There’s no hope for them, there’s no hope for anyone out here.

And he decides that they’re corrupt. That the way you deal with that is fire. And he’s wrong.

(I have a theory that he’s gone and jumped off the cliff, that he set the fire to clear the corruption, and now like Jackie, unable to live in this situation any longer, he’s decided to die himself. I’d not be surprised to find him in s3e1 that way)

Jackie was a frustrating, difficult person. Because no matter how things went she just COULDN’T let go of the fact that she was trying to fit a mold that just didn’t suit her. She was raised with super high expectations, when she was really just kind of mid. And that’s fine, honestly, most people ARE mid, that’s why it’s mid. But she refused to see that those around her were shedding their social pressures, were adapting to the wilderness. They weren’t having a good time, they weren’t hunting and foraging because they were out there, camping for fun. Nobody wanted to be there. They were just trying not to complain about it, because they were all in the same boat.

Coach is similar. He simply won’t adapt. Refuses to. I mean this is a guy who’s STILL trying to live in the closet when there’s open lesbians making out in public around him. Who thinks of others as inherently monstrous when he himself, as a gay man, should know better. Because that’s what trying to fit your society-assigned role does to you.

It’s no accident that he and Jackie both spend a long time in the woods and neither of them can do something as basic as start a fucking campfire. Javi, a little kid, survived for MONTHS on his own in that cave. Coach couldn’t make it a day alone. Jackie couldn’t get through a night. They both rely so heavily on the team without ever once recognising it. Because SOMEONE was keeping the fires going. They both just ... refused to engage.

And just like Jackie can’t see that they’re not having fun out there in the woods, on the knifes edge of survival, Coach can’t see that they’re not having fun when they are so desperate they feel it’s warranted to sacrifice one of their own. He always thought of them as monsters, and he just sees what he expects to: a bunch of stupid useless teenage girls, finally doing what he always expected they would.

At any point... At ANY point he could’ve come in from the cold. He could’ve just accepted reality as they have. He could’ve taken some meat and accepted the price, as they have, joined them in their GRIEF about it, shared their humanity, and survived. Just as Jackie could’ve come in from the cold, and become part of the whole. But instead, they sit in the cold, consumed by their bitter hate, and decide that no, it’s everyone ELSE who’s wrong.

And who emerges from the burning cabin? A bunch of scared kids. Shauna, the FIRST cannibal, who saves Jackie’s prom dress before anything else. Travis, who grabs Javi’s wolf. Nat who grabs the ammunition - that they NEVER use on each other - because if they lost that they’d get SERIOUSLY desperate. And they protect each other, they make sure everyone makes it out. These supposed monsters who are so far gone they don’t even care about eating each other go out of their way to save each other, not just themselves.

Because Coach is wrong. Just like Jackie was wrong. Just like WE were wrong, in s1e1. Which brings me to my actual point.

This question is asked so many times in S1 it’s almost a mantra. And the ‘jackets’ oath of silence really builds up that it must’ve been something REALLY bad, right? But S2E9 has really made me recognise that fundamentally... Act 1 Scene 1 is entirely what everyone who asks this question is expecting.

Imagine they DID know what really happened out there. With that bloodthirsty fucking look in their eyes...

They’re not looking for an answer. They’re looking for a story. For an exciting spooky nightmare they didn’t take part in, so they can get a shiver and a thrill they didn’t earn.

They’re not looking for a love story. They’re not looking to hear how HARD these scared, tragic, broken people fought to hold onto their morals and their humanity and their sanity even against their own survival. They’re not interested in Shauna blinding herself just to try to stop her hands from shaking. They’re not looking to hear about Travis choking down the blood of his brother just to make sure that he can really FEEL it. So he can share the guilt, and never ever pretend like it’s Just Meat. The look in his eye when he can’t think of any good response to Van’s arguments that he needs to let Javi save him. What they want is...

They don’t want the context. And if the ‘jackets ever did try to tell anybody what actually DID happen out there, all they would see is ... Episode 1, Act 1, Scene 1. A bunch of monsters. Eating each other. Just like Jackie. Just like Coach. Just like we did, on first glance.

I’ve been saying this whole time that Yellowjackets is doing something really special. That it’s letting us see behind the curtain, that while everyone’s asking this big question, “what really happened?”, we’re the ones who get to know. Because it can’t be told. It can’t be spoken. It can only be seen. Experienced. I think that S2 has finally finished the first major arc in the teen timeline, that we now have the context to understand what comes next. And I do believe that it will get messy, it will devolve. Into fighting and screaming and battles. It’s tragic, but it looks like that’s the downward spiral, spiraling. As Travis and Nat deal with the guilt of what they did with Javi for each other. As Shauna and Nat butt heads and people pick sides. As Misty Mistys. As resources get even more desperate now their shelter is gone. As potentially new people (hikers? other cabin people?) get brought into conflict with them (I believe the cabin is a smoke signal, personally).

But don’t ever forget that we got here with love. Expect that the downward spiral will be lubricated with toxic, broken, codependant, self-destructive love as well. Watch them love each other to death... they’ve already begun.

[jingerpi]

"ceasefire now" seems progressive but ultimately it demands a return to the status quo. ceasefire implies both aspects of a conflict must stop and accept the current situation. this is unreasonable to put on a colonized people, and yet even it has become out of reach in popular discourse. be brave enough to call for the defunding of Israel. not a ceasefire, a complete severing of ties with the colonialist project.

Removing US financial support from Israel would do more to free Palestine than any externally brokered savior complex "ceasefire" could ever hope to.

I know not everyone who demands a ceasefire sees it as the end but only an immediate step to stop the worst of what's happening, I just can't help but think we need to be more articulate with our demands

defund Israel now

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty (Epilogue)

Synopsis: Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, sucididal thoughts, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

The spirits of the dead flickered before you. Like a macabre parade they presented themselves one after another. Between the waking and dream world you were forced to endure every torturous hour. Had your strength been greater you would have ended it all. But your will was so weak that even the promise of eternal sleep remained alluded. There was nothing left for you in this life except hatred and grief. Some mornings you woke with a burning rage. You would scream till your throat tore. It was worse when grief was your sole companion. On those days you lay staring up at the ceiling, tormented.

Grey dresses, grey cell, grey sky. Your world had shrunk to this small cell. No one ever visited, you were forgotten by the world. If anyone stood guard by your door you did not know. Highgarden was an impregnatable fortress. While Harrenhal and the Red Keep were famous for their strength this old castle would keep you locked away forever. Forgotten you would whither away.

"Hey Owen." The specter of your little boy appeared with blue lips. Reaching out you touched only thin air. "Little Owen, my baby." In your imagination his hair moved ever so slightly. Quietly you sang in some vein attempt to comfort the boy already gone. It wasn't always Owen's image that appeared before you. Sometimes it was Jaecerion and you would wail. "Yes! Yes I will marry you!" He was not there to hug you and a hard fall was the only result of your efforts. When it was Aemond you could only stair at them. Instead of screams there were only silent tears. When Elinor appeared you could only apologize. Even now you failed her. When Ellyn appeared it was a different story. You would slowly walk around in a circle, like a predator circling its pray. Nothing was said, nothing needed to be said. The truth was that nothing you did could truly articulate what you felt. "It all started with her."

Well, that was not necessarily true. Truth was that Jenna was where it started and ended. From the beginning Jenna had planned everything. Your family was dead and Gods willing you would soon join them.

Pacing around the stone room reminded you of dancing. Long ago in the halls of the Red Keep you had danced the nights away. Your childhood friends glided in and out of focus. Shadows on the wall almost made you think they were real. It was not always the girls, sometimes Aemond and Jaecerion showed up. As children you three had practiced dancing. You remembered how Aemond’s eyebrows would furrow and Jaecerion would step on your toes. Now they danced as ghosts around you. The little bugs scampering too and fro reminded you of Helaena. While having no love of the various critters Helaena brought you sometimes humored her by watching. You imagined her picking up these bugs, and then squashed them underfoot. 'The weak are crushed.' You thought. It was only in this cell that you were mighty.

Your parents had been long dead. During your life their memories resurfaced in the dark. They would surface only to submerge themselves in the pools of your memories. Sometimes it was only their lips. Tinged blue with the stink of death upon them. High Garden was famous for its plants and yet all you smelt was the Strangers breath. Sickeningly strong you were sent into a haze. She lay there dead on the steps. He lay dead with the remnants of an afternoon tea scattered. Sometimes you imagined Jenna’s thin hand on a bottle, blue liquid dripping into goblets. You imagined a great vine representing you family, and Jenna strangling it.

Your dreams these days were simply that, dreams. You no longer endured the haunted forest and apparitions during the night. Specters were for the day. At night came the only relief, when your mind drifted away for earthly torments. For once the Gods were kind. The girls from your childhood played, you amongst them. And oh it was sweet. The kindness that had not been shown to you in life was ever present when asleep.

Other times, when the sun was setting and golden light spilled upon the land, they sat in judgment. Or at least that was how it felt. It was that time of day when darkness begun its journey to envelope the sky in its dark cloak. A somber feeling would come over the castle. You imagined them sitting there. Elinor, Mari, Alana and Clarissa all sat in a morbid row. Sometimes the five of you (or just yourself in reality) simply sat there. Others you would dissolve into tears and beg their pardon. All of them had perished in your service, weak as you were. Elinor was likely dead, you had given up hope. With war, fire, famine and disease you knew her cause was hopelessly lost.

You were not always walleyed by sadness. Sometimes that grief molded into rage. It was a miserable impotent thing. They were your screams alone, no others could hear them. So high up in a tower and perhaps with no guards you remained solitary. Alone and helpless, friends dead or deserted. You yourself were helpless and could only be angry. And you were so angry. You feasted on it like a starving person gorged on food. Blood running down their bodies in great rivers seeping into Maegor's Holdfast. Their pale bodies crumbling with the weight of death. All this time you had held that anger in. The worst of your hatred, the desire to lay waste to your enemies. Propriety had always demanded you be demure and sweet. Never had you been able to fully indulge, and now here you were.

And slowly in the darkness you dissolved into darkness. The green of your dress frayed and tattered. The bits and pieces that were you crumbled away into dust.

"Wake up!" With a cry of pain you were thrust awake. Someone was shaking you and everything was dark. Panicked, you thrashed around crying "get off me!". Green eyes covered above you, black hair cascading around. Her thin finger was raised in a "shhh" motion. "A...Alys?" Strong arms hauled you up. A cloak was forced around your weak body. Without a word she took your arm and soon it was out of the cell. For the first time in months you were out. It was hard to register, or even if all of this was real. Everything was so dark and confusing.

Bodies lay on the ground illuminated by moonlight. That was when you noticed the bloody dagger. "We must make haste." Hauled down the hallway all you could do was follow Alys. This felt like a dream, though it was far from the worst one. "Mayhaps I am dead." To be sure this was a strange way to ascend to the afterlife. Alys was a mystery, perhaps not even human. So you allowed her to lead on.

Alys flung open a door leading to the courtyard. If one looked out they would see a pair of hooded figures racing. Alys's breath was panicked. She urged you to run, which proved to be difficult. Since your pregnancy there had not been much in the way of exercise. Gods know being a prisoner did nothing good for you. Each step became painfully as your body protested. She took you through a passage were every step echoed. "Where are we going?" "You will see." Your wrists burned.

A side door leading out to the forest was flung open. Dead bodies lay on the ground, their blood seeping into soil. You could smell the blood as if it was spilled all over. Your stomach boiled painfully. There was pain emanating from your wrists, throbbing, aching. Alys continued her trek into the deep woods. Like a black tempest it reared up before you. Small whispers were carried on the wind. Tree branches looked eerily like bones and leaves rattled harshly. It felt like the forest was breathing, alive.

A bell tolled just above the castle. Cries went up, angry ones. "Hurry!" Then both you and Alys ran. She hauled you down a narrow pathway. Several times you nearly slipped but she always continued. This all felt like some morbid dream. In truth this was just like your dreams in Harrenhal. Branches hanging like dead bodies, a forest, going to who knows where. Your dreams had all been real. For some times you had come to that conclusion, but to have it playing out in front of you was surel. And truth be told your thoughts had been focused on other matters. A full moon hung in the sky as the two you raced. The ground seemed to fall away at your feet. Every breath was an tremendous effort.

Shouts going the rustling of leaves. Nighttime was broken by the calls of men and cries of horses. Looking back you saw only darkness, but just behind the cover of trees were men baying for blood. Stumbling down a hill Alys fell hard. She waisted no time in getting back up. Looking at her arm you noticed a deep red gushing. "Your hurt!" Clearly this mattered more to you than Alys. The soles of your feet stung.

"Find her!" Your blood turned to ice. Jenna's voice pierced the air like a bloodthirsty cry. The ground vibrated with the sound of hooves thundering. By now Alys had you by the waist and was practically flying. All you could do was hand on and try to keep up. By now you could practically feel her breathing down your neck. Jenna would hunt you to the ends of the earth if need be. Horrified, you realized it would be impossible to get out of the situation. "Almost there."

Suddenly it went all quiet. The two of you practically fell into a clearing. The moonlight bathed the scene before your very eyes. Three Weirwood trees stood proudly in the center. Large and old they were greater than the one in Kings Landing. A great throb pulled in your heart. It was like breathing for the first time in years. A sense of calm you had not felt in ages descended. Faces in the wood that once scared you now felt like home. Without Alys leading you walked forward under the shadows. Cold fingertips brushed rough bloodstained wood. Drawing a hand back you realized the blood was fresh. Like a thin river it ran down your palm. On impulse you brought it to your lips. A bizarre combination of blood and sap rested on your tongue. Bitter and salty, your teeth sank into skin.

"Y/n, come here." Alys's voice was eerily calm. No trace of panic was left, which had been so prevalent a moment ago. Turning back you realized there were some things overlooked. You were wrong to assume the only light came from above. Candles lay lit on the ground. In a circular form they surrounded lines of blood on the ground. Upon closer inspection you realized a symbol had been splattered onto the ground. You had no time to fully internalize it before Alys took you by the hand.

Into the center she lead you. "There is one way you can escape this fate." You looked around, expecting horses. But when none were seen you looked back. Alys drew a knife. "Aemond gave me this knife before battling Daemon Targaryen." You recognized it as once belonging to King Aegon. The ruby imbedded into the hilt glimmered, its sharp blade glinting dangerously. "Did you know this was made of Valyrian stele?" Looking back you were vigilante for any signs of Jenna. Whatever stele was used to forge this dagger did not matter one bit. "You thought me a witch." Alys took your hand, green eyes glowing in the moonlight. That was right. Alys had been forced to flee Harrenhal because of you. While fleeing you had not considered that. And here the two of you were, Alys holding a knife.

"Will you kill me?" Warily you eyes the knife. "I met your mother once." That took you off guard. "Amelia Tarley?" "Yes. She was younger than you, but so, so powerful." Alys's hand touched your cheek. Caressing skin her eyes looked wistful. "Powerful?" You had no idea where this conversation was going, but very aware of Jenna getting closer and closer. Alys's hands grasped your harshly. Inches from your face she pulled you in close. "The Song of Ice and Fire, the dead will walk and plunge the world into darkness. You must stop it! Remember this when you go back." Stunned, you could only look at Alys as if she were a madwoman. "Do you understand." Automatically you nodded. "Good." Then Alys pulled you towards the tree. "Alys? Alys!" Both confused and afraid, there was nothing you could do as Alys forced you to the tree. Months in captivity had weakened you.

The cut against your wrists burned. In two quick motions Alys had sliced your wrists right open. It was only when you saw blood on the tree that you registered the pain. And all those brief glimpses of pain were revealed in this once moment. "Ahhh!" Jerking back you clutched at the wounds, only for them to hurt more. Calmly Alys pulled you away from the tree. She forced you, bleeding out, into the light. Falling into the middle of the circle you could only hunch over in pain. Watching the blood drool down you cried. You were damned and everyone had betrayed you. You knew this was the end. Your death had come and all those who hurt you got away. A cold body would lie here, forgotten by the world. A name lost to time, a chest pawn during life.

"Stand back!" From the looming darkness a black horses came into the clearing. Astride it was Jenna, a victorious smile upon her face. "An interesting method of rescue. Although I have no problem with Y/n being plunged into the Seven Hells." Above you Alys stood, tall and proud. "In a manner of speaking she will die. Though in a very different sense I think. And not in a way beneficial to you." Jenna laughed. "And just who are you?" Alys laughed as well. However hers was different. Unlike Jenna's, Alys sounded wild, almost otherworldly. Wind picked up scattering dirt. Jenna's horse reared, you heard a thud and shriek. Jenna laid sprawled out on the ground. In terror her horse cantered away. "A pity your ahead of the party." Jenna was no longer smirking. Rising to her feet it took Jenna some effort to get upright. "How dare you! I am Lady Jenna of House Tyrell-"

"Silence!"

Alys's voice cracked like a whip. Both you and Jenna flinched. "Do not throw your titles in my face, woman." Alys spat. Walking past you she stormed towards Jenna. "You are in the presence of greater forces than fleeting titles. I have walked this earth since before the time of dragonlords in Westeros! I have seen houses rises and fall. This ground cares not for you and yours. Your blood shall shed the ground and when the taste of blood dries in your mouth you will know then. And at that moment you will beg for death. Then we will shove you through the gates of hell."

Guards were coming nearer. Baying of hounds echoed across the forest grounds. Cold. You felt so cold. Not even the oncoming rush of death could move you. Wind whipped around the clearing, separating this very spot from everything else. Like something over worldly leaking in. Leaking like the hot blood dripping from a cold body. Every breath became terribly consciousness, and the clod spread through you like a disease.

Jerked back, you were forced to your feet. With alarming strength Alys hauled you up. With one arm she held you close, the other on a bloody dagger. "Little woman. Little......creature. What are you to stand in my way? I have roamed these woods since well before your birth. And I shall be here long after. She will endure on these lands, and remember what you can not! Steps will be retread but you shall fumble in the dark. And when you too bleed the debt shall be paid." Jenna lay there, entranced. And then Alys held the dagger high in the air.

They say before ones death their life flashes before their eyes. For you it was dreams. The ones that were not really dreams. Weirwood trees, endless forests, blood, your mothers face, butterflies, blue. And two words were murmured in your ear.

"Turn back."

You had lost everything. It was over now.

Alys's hand came down in a flash of silver. A gasp of agony ripped through you as red stained green. Words fluttered around you in a haze. The forest seemed to stretch, every tree elongating. Bleary, exhausted, your eyes finally closed. The pain and betrayal slowly faded away. As your mind shut down there was an image Owen, sleeping serenely.

Everything slipped away. Now blind you could only hear, every sound merging into one great symphony. Your last thoughts trickled away. This was your death, it ended here. And all you could feel was an incredible loneliness. For a brief moment you pictured a young girl running through the gardens. And it was all light and joy. Your friends ran around you in circles, flowers going up in the air. Yearning swallowed you whole, and aching heart with nothing left.

Owen was you last image, sleeping as if he were still alive. And you walked towards him, surrounded by light. "Owen." Stretching's out a hand. Walking over closer. Pain drained away lige a river lulling you to sleep. As the sweet embrace of death came you surrendered.

And then it was all gone and into the darkness you plunged.

"You have to go back."

You were conscious of the surrounding darkness. A deep ache resonated within your chest. Floating there you attempted to find a bearing. Alys had stabbed you, saying only you two would know the truth. The darkness would have been suffocating if not for the fact you lacked a body. Or did you? Attempting you move you realized there were arms and legs. Breathing echoed in the black. Maybe you blinked and moved. It was hard to tell. And suddenly you saw light. Blinding, you attempted to block it out. Images raced before you. Life, every cruel and sweet moment. Going backward you saw images that disappeared before you could truly process them. You in green dresses, others long dead. Then they slowed and you saw yourself walking through court, alone.

This must be the Gods punishment, it had to be. Alone you watched them mock you. Even two years on you remembered every word. Now the images were in focus, long, drawn out. And on and on it went. Were you crying? Could you cry? 'Oh Gods...please stop." Whether you said it or not could not be known. And you wept, or your soul ached, or both. You could not even close your eyes. This truly was hell. The deepest circle where not even the Gods could help. Loneliness was heavy. Oh so heavy. To feel so it so potently with no escape was worse than the most vile torture.

And on and on it went.

Until suddenly it stopped.

Then there was cold. Your physical aches came into sharper focus. A great gasp of air ripped through your lungs. Doubling over you shook violently. Trying to breathe normally you became aware of your surroundings.

You sat there in the cold dark, mud clinging to your skin. Resting against the Weirwood you were only faintly aware of it digging into your skin. The only physical sensation of importance was a stinging pain in your wrists and heavy painful breaths. Images of Alys and her green eyes were still imbedded onto your eyes. Light emanating from wherever was scarce. Shrouded in darkness you were hard to spot. Faintly you were aware of music playing near by.

Where were you? The archaic energy pulsing out of the tree made you realized it was a Weirwood. That was the only thing you were certain of. Was this the afterlife? Had the Seven sent you here to pay for heresy? A sickening panic brought you to life. Suddenly you could sit no more. The idea you were stuck in hell frightened you, and like a child you staggered up in terror. A great pain erupted in your heart as the situation set in. Owen, your son, was dead. Your dear little boy whom you had failed to protect. A wail of pain was wrenched from you. His little face floated in your mind. He was surrounded by blood with blue lips. The questions that had haunted you chanted like a morbid chorus. Collapsing to the ground you shuttered. You were stuck in this hell, forever to be tormented by the death of your son.

"To Prince Aemond and Princess Ellyn!" Jerking up you looked to see it was not just you and the tree. The light was coming from windows above. With trembling legs you stumbled a few paces and looked up. Above loomed the Weirwood. Through the branches you realized this was a garden, enclosed by a castle. Stepping further back you realized this was not just some castle.

It was the Red Keep.

Tapestries hung from the windows with the Stag and Dragon intertwined. The music now registered in your head. On the upper floors people were running to and fro, laughter on their lips. The sent of a feast permeated your senses. You looked back at the Weirwood and its many face. Twisted face forcing the bark to mold into grotesque mockeries of faces. Silently you stared down at those other faces. Were you in hell after all? For why would the Seven have the Old Gods were they could reign over man in hell? Unless this was not hell at all. Maybe this was some strange dream, perhaps that was all death was. One long endless dream.

You walked forward to those faces. Once they may have frightened you. But you were dead so they could do no harm, right? Closer you drew and one cold, bloody hand touched a face. Flesh contacted flesh. Your eyes met hollow but very much alive ones. "Hello?" For the first time you spoke to them, not out of fear. That was when you heard a voice.

"Have you seen Y/n?" Cerilla's hatefully familiar voice floated, pleasing as the stench of dragon dung. Walking into the garden was Cerilla and a friend. You faded into the shadows. Looking down for the first time you realized this dress was not one recently one. In fact, you had not worn it since Prince Aemond married Ellyn.

Cerilla and one of her friends came into the garden. A thrill of hatred passed through you. If only there was a knife you might kill her then and there. A pity your body was not quite one with your brain. Your body felt like it had just been violently ill and only now just recovered. "I do not think she is here." Said Cerilla's friend, a girl you only knew by sight. Her dress was blue with flowers. This girl was a Florent. The same as that evil bitch Jenna. Jenna Florent. She had sent you to your death and taken everything for herself. If the Seven Hells's existed you hoped hers was a deepest, darkest part where no light ventured. "I suppose not. Think she has blubbered off into the forest?" Both girls laughed and departed. What they did not know was that Y/n had heard. And you emerged from out of the shadows, covered in blood and a look of hatred upon your face.

You were alive, the reality came crashing down. This was no hell, you were alive! Everything was real ,you knew it in your bones. And for the first time in months you heard the whispering of the trees.

If vengeance was a chalice you would drink long from it. You were back and they all lived. All who you could wreck wretched vengeance upon. When you walked back towards the Weirwood tree it was not with fear. Placing your hands on its bark you suddenly felt a surge of rage you had never felt before. A rage that spilled out of you. This was not hell, it was paradise!

Many faces stared down at you. No longer unfamiliar but real as your own body. Old wood scraped against your skin, tearing the dress as you sagged down. All at one it dawned on you what this meant. The thrill was so intense you collapsed. Once, two years ago, you had collapsed against this very tree. In your despair you had spilt blood against the tree. And how you had wept in grief. Just like last time your wrists cut into the bark and small rivers of blood ran down its ancient surface.

Only this time you were laughing.

The Preview for Book 2 is here: Disloyalty (teaser of chapter one)

Notes: Part one is done! I can't believe we have made it! I hope you guys enjoyed my story. I want to thank everyone who has given me support through part one. Back in September I did not realize how much this story would mean to me. This is the first fanfic book I completed and that is very exciting for me. You guys made this experience a true joy and it motivated me to improve my writing. If anyone has questions about the story then I am happy to answer! There will be some editing to improve consistency and spelling which I will complete now that part one is out.

Part two will be released at a later date. I am not sure when. I intend to finish a few chapters and get a better idea about how to go about part two before publishing chapter one. I will also put up a preview.

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[scrumptiousstuffs]

Hii~ I'll say firstly I'm keeping things strictly speculative and I'm NOT diagnosing anyone since I'm not a doctor.

I've noticed this for so long and just wanted to out this in the world asgdjdjfkf but khaotung gives me MAJOR adult with undiagnosed adhd vibes. The messy car (bottles in the front seat?!), always messy room, extremely creative hobbies and passions (song writing/ composing/singing/ acting), impulsive purchases !!!, frequently getting lost even with maps, engineering major but cant math, has a hard time rmring past events even though he's in the same location (timeblindness). I have ADHD too and I can see such a striking resemblance in me and him it’s crazy. (Ofc everybody presents with stuff like this but when it's excessive that's when you know)

I've watched and rewatched interviews and content enough to see how he tends to be a little spacey and needs to ask things twice to make sense. (People with ADHD struggle usually with too many thoughts, attention going everywhere instead of just the task at hand) And oh when I saw that gifset where he's like he asks first's help to organise his tasks for him my heart just died cz yes!!! (That's troubles with sequencing and work ordering that we folks struggle with and there's his bestie just calmly helping him out oh it made me heart hurt sm but anyway-)

He's my little aloof baby girl with 26739 facial expressions cz he cannot for the life of him calm tf down. He's so reactive and expressive and in the moment, yet he falls over his words (not all the time, yes, but A LOT). My boy is doing his fckin best and has grown so so much and I adore him for that.

His sleep habits??? Classic adhd. Can't fall asleep cz his brain wouldn't stfu. (He said that himself in one radio interview)

His shopping addiction is just him boosting his dopamine every chance he gets. And I get him. So much.

Somewhere he also talked about how he got burnt out and couldn't get out of bed and I just. I just wanted to hug this boy bcz- oh. Oh it all makes sense. (ADHD folks are notorious for burning out cz they already run on little to no fuel. They have to work extra hard for things others do without effort and that gets so goddamn hard)

Manager can’t reach him. Hyper aware of his surroundings (hence attuned and caring to everyone around him). He frequently gets distracted by fans screaming while he's talking (cz of the external stimulus) - and first has spoken on his behalf to not misunderstand him 🥹 (Again bcz ADHD makes your attention go everywhere and you can't regulate that shit)

But why am I even going on about this? There's plenty of people out there who don't have/require a diagnosis bcz they're doing just fine.

YES. YES.

This makes me all the more emotional bcz yes, people, community, friends, family when all of them pick up on your lost pieces life just gets so much bearable.

First is that person for Khaotung 100%.

He literally called First his second manager, he asks First to organise his work for him, answer for him. He looks for him everywhere because he needs him like genuinely, genuinely needs him to be there. (Like that one time he won't let him go off stage bcz he was taking pictures and didn’t want to be alone aahdhajsk)

Like we call First as the one who clings to Khaotung, let's be honest the whole company says it. But when I see Khaotung with First it's like he turns towards him like he's the sun. Pre-FK, in interviews he used to be so shy and struggle at articulating things, but with First taking the reigns he got the space to become better at his own pace and that's what I love about them sm :(

Okay I'm done. I'm just saying he might (again, keyword MIGHT) have ADHD. It's a whole spectrum and having friends around who aren’t judgemental and willing to share the load for you makes life easier and bearable and First is that person for him which just makes me admire and love this pairing even more aaagsfhjdk :((((

So, finally, what do you think about this? Sorry if this is in any way unsettling you don't have to answer it I just wanted to get it out haha

Wow anon, this is certainly a long post😅. You must have thought about it hard.

I have no training to diagnose ADHD. However, I'm glad you identify with Khaotung and sees yourself in him.

That's why most of us love the boys, yeah? In some ways or another, they are relatable and we connect with them. (On top of their kind, sweet nature, amazing acting skills plus beautiful faces of course!!!🥰🥰🥰)

Either way, some of the habits you listed above can easily be considered annoying to a lot of people. Clearly, First just finds everything Khaotung does adorable (but can you blame him? 🥺🥺🥺…look at this pookie!)

They balance each other superbly well. Yin and Yang if you want to call it ☯️

So, I agree with you when you say First is the person for Khaotung (just as Khaotung is for First)

(Khaotung towards First during an interview) ☝️

And you are absolutely right when you say that it's very easy (from the outside) to see First appears to be the "clingier" of the 2, but I suspect privately, Khaotung is just as sticky (he is just not as open about it like First, and I'll be addressing this on a different ask I got).

There is a quote by Walt Whitman (American poet) - "Keep your face towards the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you."

And so, your statement of Khaotung looking at First like he is the sun, oh yes... he does it all the time!! (be it in official photoshoot, concerts or events)

[savagewildnerness]

There’s really an awful lot of pondering on death & suicide & what it takes to endure existence in The Vampire Lestat… for all it’s viewed as a lighter book than Interview with the Vampire! Like, to the degree that every single main character is at some point either suicidal or wishes to die… or that actually happens. Even though the majority of them are immortal!

It’s making me wonder on this re-read, where I try to think about it more deeply, rather than just reading it - is an innate understanding of how difficult it is to endure/how easy it could be to just slip from existence a reason many of us initially loved this book? Is that Anne can articulate so well that desire to escape oneself & how it feels when that’s impossible one of the most important themes of the books?

Obviously, I’ve spoken about it often: I always associated with Nicolas a lot. Primarily due to how he perceives his own ability/experience of violin playing (I was 12. I definitely wasn’t then, nor am I now anywhere near as cynical as Nicolas….) but I don’t say it is *only* the violin & Nicolas’ music & how he feels to play and about his music that I associate with. Not least because in my opinion, how Nicolas perceives his own music is a reflection of how he perceives himself & how he perceives the world.

In any case, after my last night pondering on Armand’s internal desolation & the way he is actually most emptied of feeling when filled with some external source… yet that’s what he desires/needs because it is the only way he can feel safe… and he’d welcome death it feels if it came to him rather than him having to seek it, and going against God.

Well anyway, I haven’t read on yet, but I listened to the next bit on audiobook as I drive today. And it really struck me how delicate everyone’s mind & heart is.

Nicolas is actually like a fragile genius as a vampire - creating wildly creative, dark plays, articulating the horrors he feels are true (& thus creating Good Art Actually Lestat!) yet he cannot cope. But is it really *madness* that Nicolas screams of horrors in the streets to mortals; that he wants to create a league of vampires; that he wants humans to destroy them all; that he cannot bear it? It seems quite natural to me. Not mad really at all!

And Lestat too, gives himself over to death in despair. For all he talks of enduring, he would not have been able to rise this first time he went into The Earth, but for Marius saving him. And no wonder. He has lost everything. Lestat, talking on fate & how if we escape it, perhaps it waits for us.

It’s hard for me, as a friend died last week at a similar mortal age to Nicolas’ 30 years & this whole part is death & inability to cope with the simple Horror of existence. (Albeit; monstrous existence… but existence *is* monstrous as it is, right? Vampires are a fantastical representation of the very real & way more horrific in my opinion (as it can’t be contained in beautiful, sensual, philosophical vampires in reality…) truth of the actual horror of existence for us all.)

And Lestat speaking on fate reminds me too of Debbie. A girl I went to secondary school with. When she was 11 she got Lupus & her secondary school years were awful, but she endured. I didn’t keep in touch with her after school & her Uncle worked in aircraft engineering & got her a good job. But she survived Lupus in her teenage years, only for death to claim her at 23 in a totally unrelated way… as if it had always just lain in wait. She had escaped it, but then fate waited for her.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I kind of want to create a poll, but I’ve just made myself laugh out loud at what that poll would be - like something like *Did your wee tween self relate to the self-immolatory desires of vampires?* Nice cheery question for a Monday!

I don’t mean it in a depressing way though. We can talk about The Horrors, while allowing joy & fun & play & amusement & silliness & innocence & childlikeness, right? Can we? I am not sure what I’m getting at…?

But this part is hard for me to read right now. And yet cathartic always too. Because… we all feel it, right? Anne is expressing what we humans feel in our tiny existences too.

How to bear it? The overwhelmingness of that.

Right?

[wisteria-lodge]

*slightly* exploded bird primary (badger-flavored system) (unhealthy badger primary model) + rapid-fire/actor bird secondary

Hi Wisteria! I’ve been loving your thoughtful and in-depth analyses and no one else in my life is familiar with the SHC system, so it’s been hard to get some outside perspective. English is not my first language, so please forgive my grammar/awkward phrasing at times. For my sorting, I am thinking Bird primary, though I’ve considered Lion and Badger primaries. I think I am not a snake primary. I have never felt there was an intrinsic moral hierarchy when it comes to people I care about. I still care for them, but at the end of the day, I think we are all living conscious beings who deserve equal treatment, rights, and consideration.

Definitely getting Idealist primary here (Bird or Lion, and I see why you're thinking Bird. Your whole position is well-thought out and well articulated.) I will say that 'all living conscious beings deserve equal treatment' is kind of the Badger mission statement,' but when we're in generalities that big, that thought could just as easily be coming from a Bird with some Badger in their System, a Paragon Lion, or even a really expansive Snake.

I also think prioritizing your own group is often dangerous.

This bit here could describe a Snake or a Badger equally well, depending on how we're defining the "group" we're talking about here.

A Loyalist would probably say that protecting the group is the only thing you know for sure you can do well, and when things get too big and Idealistic, they become unreal, hypothetical, and unsafe. But you seem perfectly fine with that level of big-picture stuff, so I'm happy to say Idealist for you. Also, there's an undercurrent of... suspicion, directed at Loyalists.

I guess I could be a snake that only includes themselves, as I do act in self-preservation a lot of the times

That's a human thing. If someone is *struggling* with turning on the self-preservation, that's a problem, and probably a sign of Burning, or a very immature Badger.

and struggle to trust people.

That can also come from a lot of different places.

I sometimes have an attitude of turning people bad in my head as soon as they act against me, or in a way that reveals their “true character”

Honestly, this kind of sounds like it could be a *Badger* thing?

Because Badgers have opt-out morality, they will often do this thing where you're one of their people, until you break the rules (or the social contract) badly enough. And then you're out, because you're a threat to the rest of the group.

(this is often a projection) and then tend to self-isolate.

Hmmm. And now you're back to being philosophical. Distancing yourself from the emotion of cutting people off. Much more Bird.

I thought bird primary because I do change my ideas about the world and morality quite often and refine my worldview as I discover new ideas. I am also very receptive to scientific ideas and do put logic and reasoned morality above intuition.

You also seem very chill about this whole process, which makes me say Bird again. (Not Lion. The process just tends to be a lot messier and a lot more emotional with Lions.)

However, my tendency to prioritize the perceptions of the group, my need to serve a larger purpose and my desire to be useful to society do feel quite badger-y.

They do. "Prioritize the perceptions of the group," especially is a very Badger thing to say. Badgers also like being useful to the group. But 'need to serve a larger purpose' is a big enough statement that it could work for almost anyone.

What Badger and Bird have in common is that they're both External primaries. What the world thinks is important, and you care about that in a way that Lions and Snakes just kind of don't.

As for lion, I do often act based on heuristics, especially if I haven’t thought out a specific issue yet.

Yeah, this isn't lion. For one thing - you used the word "heuristics." For another, you're stressing about the way you only rely on these "well xyz worked in past" mental shortcuts when you haven't "thought a thought out a specific issue yet." Implication being that, in a perfect world, you would have time to think it out completely every time. (Birds hate having to make snap decisions.)

I can also pretend to be more rational than I am, and tend to live life in automatic mode, by relying on assumptions and facts that sound good. I think I do this less than other people, but that is still a flaw I’ve noticed.

You rely on these "automatic" shortcuts less than other people, but think that you should use them less, and feel bad that you use them at all.

I wonder if you're a Bird primary living in a very Badger community. Or the flip, a Badger living with a bunch of Birds.

As for my secondary, I am a little bit lost. I am very much in my own head and not very action-oriented, so I feel like I lack the data to identify my secondary, or I am burned and just using whatever works. I usually just use stress to motivate action and procrastinate until the last minute.

Oh, the neurodivergent special. Save the non-preferred task for the last minute, and then use the adrenaline that generates to hack your brain into getting it done really fast. Definitely not the only person here doing that.

Childhood: As a kid, I was extremely quiet, sensitive, and introverted. From early on, I remember being very artistic and curious. I would dress up and improvise plays in front of my family. I also loved to draw, write poems, walk in nature, and learn about the world (I was especially fascinated with animals). I also loved to get lost in imaginary worlds, and I remember writing fantasy stories, and believing I had magical powers or was an alien/magical creature.

When I was in school, I remember not connecting very well with my peers. I think people could feel I was different. I was soft spoken, sensitive, and I excelled at school.

I mean so far, *I*could have written this. And I'll take it all into account, but this isn't a system for describing personality, so much as it is one for describing method/motivation.

I didn’t like sports like other boys, and it wasn’t acceptable to hang out with girls, so I just kept to myself. I was already doing good in school, so I just kind of developed that aspect of my identity. I didn’t get along with many other kids and ate lunch with my teachers a lot. I still had friends, but few of them were close.

You're describing constructing your identity in a very deliberate, conscious way, which is more Bird than Badger. It's honestly Bird secondary - like this how you get Actor Bird, deliberately developing one 'version' of yourself because it's useful in certain situation. I'm hearing you enjoyed acting and costumes, and (flash forward to present day) you "pretended" to be more rational than you are. I think you might be an Actor Bird.

It was validating to be so good at academics, and to get teachers’ and parents’ approval. Even if some other kids resented it, I didn’t care because it gave me worth.

This hits every child to some degree, but it hits External primaries very hard. This could describe a young Bird or a young Badger equally well, and now I'm wondering if any of these authority figures especially Birdy or especially Badgery?

Getting good grades, being the perfect child, being “mature for my age” were a big part of my personality.

"Perfect Child" is often an Actor Bird construction. "Mature for your age" is something I usually hear said about young Badgers. Are you maybe a Bird primary, with a very Badger-flavored System? It would fit everything I've read so far.

I also knew deep down I was queer

oh thats brutal

but I eventually became really good at self-editing, and I began to embody a version of me that was acceptable. I was the successful, responsible, smart kid, and I eventually started playing football in high school so that of course meant I was straight. I fully made myself believe the mask I was putting on at that time (badger-like?). In high school, I was tired of being an outsider, so I tried fitting in. I became much more agreeable, sociable, and started becoming more popular. Honestly, it felt good to be appreciated by my peers, and I did play into the character I was projecting. I was still hyper-focused on academics, but for the first time, people actually liked me.

Okay, so I do see why you're saying Badger. Badgers (especially young badgers) can just adopt the group's identity, and lose sight of their own individuality in the process. But I don't think that's what's going on here.

To me, this sounds like it could only be Actor Bird. I know English isn't your first language, so I'm not reading too too much into the word choice... but you do refer to this "Acceptable Self" as a "character," that you "embody." Building this "mask" was a deliberate, conscious process, and it sound like you lived in this persona for a while. Also, not ignoring the fact that... it worked. Wanting to be more popular, and then building a persona that is more popular... that's not something everyone can do.

This actually makes me think of a sorting I wrote for Blackbeard of Our Flag Means Death, and the Actor Bird-specific angst of building a character, spending a little too long in that skin and then feeling that people only like you/you only have worth because of a role you play... and then becoming trapped, because your character is too simple, and it's stifling.

I eventually came to accept my sexuality and had a friendship that made me confront the lack of authenticity of the mask I was putting on. After that, I explored my authentic self while still enjoying my newfound social skills and ability to attract people.

I love that. You built a "popular" persona, and then realized that you din't have to wear it all the time.

I also started getting interested in social justice, philosophy, and politics, which made me question a lot of preconceived notions and ideas I held true about the world.

Oh that's a very Bird primary list of interests right there.

As I became more informed, ethics and morality became a big corner stone of my interactions with the world. I was always interested in finding the “right” way to be, even as a child,

This almost seems like a version of the "book fantasy," which is something I've heard from several Bird primaries at this point: "When I was younger, I wished that there was a magic book that would tell me the 'right' way to act in every situation."

but this meant I could figure out what that meant in more objective terms, and for myself instead of what adults thought. Paradigm shifts were exciting (and still are).

I absolutely love that for you. Bravo.

Family dynamics:

In terms of family dynamics, I always went along to get along. I was checked out emotionally, especially since a lot of family members would say homophobic things, and I never felt completely comfortable with them. I stuck with easy topics and didn’t go into my personal life, and I was content with the image of the golden child they had of me. Even with my parents, whom I love, I never felt I could completely be myself. This led to a lot of secrets and lies to conceal my real self. I was never that rebellious or troublesome to begin with, and I kind of acted like a little adult.

Okay. That makes sense. Sounds like you built a pretty robust Badger primary model that was useful for keeping the peace with your family. (It also sounds just, incredibly necessary.) This explains why a lot of your descriptions of your younger self read as super Badger primary to me: "little adult" "mature for your age" "farming the approval of authority figure."

I also thought a lot of their views were outdated, although I rarely argued with them. My dad had the idea he had to be strict, which was just not the best fit for me. I learned to be extremely secretive, sneaky, and find ways around the rules. I was not very wild to begin with, but I did value my freedom. I just kind of passively agreed, and then did it behind their backs.

Sounds possible you might have a little bit of a snake secondary model?

Although my dad was very sensitive and affectionate, a thing that hurt me a lot was his inability to deal with others’ emotions. I was not allowed to express negative emotions or cry, and he justified this as him being “old school”.

Ah yes. As we know, boys should only have Cool emotions, like Anger and Science. Wondering if your *Dad* might be a Badger primary, with this focus on Tradition and Rules.

This was extremely frustrating to me, as I never understood how tradition could be a valuable reason for anything, or how sticking with old values and refusing to adapt was acceptable.

A little bit of that Bird primary 'make it make sense' thing.

My mom, though more accepting of my sensitivity, was also very critical. She used the status quo to judge what I did, which was also very frustrating. If something I did was weird or impolite, she would use a kind of circular reasoning (this is bad because it’s not socially acceptable, and it’s not socially acceptable because it’s bad), which was also confusing to me.

I love that you can now identify that as classic circular reasoning.

I just wasn’t super interested in developing a strong connection with anyone in my family. I just felt that it was all too arbitrary,

Definitely don't think you're a Loyalist, because I don't think a Loyalist could do a break this clean. There'd be some sense of something... some guilt, some emotion, some residual thing.

and I was more interested in exploring my friendships with people who understood me more deeply. I felt my parents’ (especially dad’s) rules didn’t make any sense, and I wanted my freedom as soon as possible. Since I moved out, our relationship has been a lot better, though I still hide aspects of my life from them.

Very true that just not needing to be around your family 24/27 makes things so much better and easier to deal with.

Problem solving: In terms of problem solving, I like to think I am strategic, and a good contingency planner. I generally understand things well, and how they work together, and am quick to find a solution. When thinking about solving a small problem, I will usually think of the “goal state” first (i.e., what is the ideal I am trying to achieve in this situation). Then I can break down what I need to do. This usually starts with evaluating resources at my disposal (i.e., time, space, material, or mental resources), and what is in the environment. Then, I can come to a solution implicitly by connecting the dots. Finally, I will mentally play out the situation and see if it works, or if there are any roadblocks. This all happens quickly though. Planning is fun, but so is throwing away the plan or finding a clever way to get out of the situation.

What a fantastic breakdown of how to solve a problem. It's also extremely Bird secondary. If it happens fast enough, and you're comfortable enough with it, it looks like it even gets into Rapid-Fire Bird territory (probably why I was getting a little Snake secondary energy up there, Rapid-fire birds can look extremely Snake.)

Am a little bit side-eyeing your decision to call yourself "not very action-oriented" up there. You seem perfectly comfortable with problem-solving to me.

Whenever the unexpected happen, the path becomes really obvious to me. Priorities become salient, and things that are useless fall to the side. It’s more in situations where I’m forced to make a controlled decision that I’m a nervous and indecisive wreck.

Bird primaries HATE making snap decisions.

I can get stressed out if there is missing information, or if the expectations aren’t clear. Travel is especially stressful because of the number of unexpected events that can affect the rest of the trip.

I mean, no one likes missing information or unclear expectations. But it really gets to Birds. (Both primary and secondary honestly. and I'm really thinking that you're a Double Bird.)

With all the information, even if it’s bad news, I can manage and find a solution. But my brain will keep spinning scenarios if I don’t know for sure. Even at school, uncertainty was always worse than bad news.

I hear this. It really goes back to that classic Bird primary fantasy: "but I want to know EVERYTHING"

Not knowing where I stand with someone, with a group, or with a supervisor also makes me nervous. I like knowing what they think of me and what people need from me so I can provide it (or not bother if they dislike me for no reason).

I do think that you have a Badger model, or a Badger flavor to your system. Honestly, you very likely have bOTH. You took in the parts of your parents worldview that made sense to you: it IS useful to know what people want from you, and to know that you aren't making any social faux pas (that way, if someone is acting weird at you, you know it doesn't have to do with you.) But you also have this much more performative Badger model: this is who my parents expect me to be, I don't agree with it, but I can put it on and let it run.

In terms of interpersonal problems, this is where I am most terrible. I am often an absolute doormat and will not vocalize problems and internalize everything. My issue is that I don’t feel confident that I am right and doubt my ability to argue my point and stand up for myself without absolutely ruining the relationship.

Unfortunately, I can't say I'm *surprised,* since you grew up in an environment where arguing was very frowned upon, and it's not like you can win an argument with someone depending on circular arguments and logical fallacies.

You also built a large part of your *identity* around this Perfect Child, Invisible Badger who just does not cause problems. In the language of this system, you built a very intense Badger primary model as a coping mechanism, and now it's run out it's usefulness... but is still hard to punch through, because old models get sticky.

If something bothers me, I will mull over it and eventually let it go because it becomes too late.

Okay, *this* is why you thought there might be some Burning going on. There's this aspect of the way you relate to people that just feels very unsafe, and so you... shut it down.

I think the problems here are uncertainty, and lack of control. When I am in a situation where I know all the elements, have resources, and plenty of time, I am good.

That is absolutely Textbook Double Bird. But (as I'm sure I don't have to tell you)... it's also a fantasy. Very often, you will be lacking in either resources, info, or time. This is why a lot of Double Birds build models, or look like Lion secondaries whenever they don't have time to prep.

If there is an unknown, I can’t do anything.

In the language of this system, that's a Bird primary that's Exploded a little bit, this idea that you can't possibly act if you don't have all the information. It's very Chidi from The Good Place.

In social situations, I can’t control the volatility of relationships or other people, so I just control my reaction.

Pretty much all you can control, so good.

Often, instead of doing something when something is bothering me, I will basically force a paradigm shift to see the situation in a better light, and then move on.

Bird primaries are known for the superpower of just being able to *decide* to like something, or *decide* to be interested in something. That is absolutely what you're doing here. It's *a* way to solve that problem, I guess. But it doesn't seem to make you feel free/powerful.

I kind of have an addiction with the process of solving, and an intolerance for doubt. When I was questioning my career choices, I would reflect on all aspects of my personality, of my goals for the future, I would take endless career quizzes, read the descriptions of jobs over and over, would ask my friends what they thought I should do, etc. I would run in circles, never deciding. I even started deconstructing the philosophy of work, to determine if it was even possible to make a good decision.

Very Bird. Very *exploded* Bird. Of course you went from "what job do I want" to "is the concept of work philosophically moral."

Other questions: My future plans is to live a relatively quiet life out of the public eye, surrounded by books, and having plenty of free time to research or practice my hobbies. I want a stable job, with money so I don’t have to think about those things, and I want to be intellectually stimulated and to be able to add value to the world in the best way I can. I want two dogs, a partner who is fine with my need for space. I also want to live in a walkable city that has an interest in art and culture, and access to nature.

That sounds lovely.

Mostly, I want to be satisfied that I am a good person and be able to do what I want with relative freedom. Now, to be honest, I am very unsatisfied about the real world. It seems so monotonous, and I have always had the secret desire to escape into a fantasy realm. Unfortunately for myself, I don’t believe in the supernatural.

It gets better. There are a lot of cool things out there, and it all gets much less linear once you leave school. I would probably say though - knowing you and your tendencies - maybe a little less focus on being a good person (because that's a can of worms) and maybe a little more on doing things that are a net positive to the world around you.

I feel most powerful when I surprise myself. I once prepared for a grad school interview by reading hundreds of questions and preparing answers for them. When I practiced with a friend, it just came out forced and clunky, and I found myself trying to repeat exactly what I had written. I had accepted I just wasn’t going to get in. When I went to the actual interview though, I just went off script and took risks. I told personal anecdotes while maintaining the image I wanted to project to them, which got me an offer.

You are absolutely a Rapid-Fire bird, which is very cool.

When I speak up in class, when I stand up for myself, when I make impulsive decisions, and especially when I do something scary, I also feel this way.

I like it. Lean into that Lion secondary energy. I know a lot of Birds, especially Double Birds, find it extremely helpful.

I also feel powerful when I feel competent. For instance, when I fix issues at work, when I get good grades, when I manage to problem solve in a clever way.

All of this is very Bird secondary. And honestly, a very effective-sounding Bird secondary.

In high school and during the pandemic, I also was obsessed with personality systems and would read and introspect for hours trying to determine my type. But there was never an answer satisfying enough because the process of introspection was the addictive part of it, and even a sliver of doubt would send me into another rabbit hole. There is a kind of poking at it until it becomes mush effect. I literally made excel sheets with my results on different quizzes, over multiple weeks, to see if there was a pattern. By focusing so much on figuring out who I am, and the intricacies of my own psyche, I just end up losing the big picture and not being able to contextualize the information I’ve gathered. Sometimes it even becomes hard to identify anything since I’m focusing on such a tiny part of myself, and the human mind is so kaleidoscopic and changing, so it stops making sense and just becomes a big blob of behaviors and thoughts. I’ve had a hard time figuring out my MBTI and enneagram because of this as well.

I have been there before, trying to navigate the difference between what is useful introspection and what is navel-gazing indulgence. I accept that people are incredibly complicated, and any categorization system is inherently imperfect. I also accept that words to describe your inner workings are extremely helpful, and honestly, necessary. One thing I like about the system is the cleanness of it. So much of it has to do with cutting through the noise and the *presentation* we are presented, and just going - okay, how do we work, why do we work?

Thank you to Lorangutan for such an excellent submission. If you'd like a Sorting of your very own, commissions are open on my ko-fi. :D

If you'd like to read more about the system I'm using, my explanation is right here.

[thegoldenhoof]

Izzy dies, not as Izzy but as Blackbeard and that is not fair

(Not just to Izzy but to the writing jn Ep 4-7)

I wasn't able to articulate it properly until I was writing a longer meta about the death of the mentor trope but another reason why Izzy's death felt jarring (other than the lack of plot common sense) was that Izzy died as Blackbeard.

Izzy did not create Blackbeard. Inspite of the misinterpretations of Jenkins last moment inspiration, Izzy did not train Blackbeard. Inspite of the extremely ridiculous dialogues shoved into Ricky's mouth we *know* Izzy was not the bains behind Blackbeard.

Izzy says he fed Blackbeard's darkness, not created, not forced, but fed. However we may interpret this the Burden of Blackbeard has been on both of them. One of them wanted to shed it because it was boring (and he was depressed) the other wanted to keep it because it was security, their way of life and his life's work.

And yet Izzy alone has to die as Blackbeard. Izzy gets to take all the burden of Blackbeard on himself and die for the symbolic release of Ed.

And in so far as you consider everything till Episode 2 or even Episode 3 this is perhaps fine. But Izzy who was the half of Blackbeard is already dead after that. He'd shot him in the head. By Episode 4 Izzy broken and purposeless asks himself who he was anymore.

Izzy lets go of Blackbeard in what Jenkins has called his moment of divorce from Blackbeard. Izzy gets to grow and learn about kindness and community. He learns to give back. He gives his approval for Ed letting go of his leathers and he does that from the experience of having let go of Blackbeard himself. (If Ed was indeed seeking such approval we are not shown that)

And yet...

Izzy dies as Blackbeard. All of this, all of his journey is rendered meaningless not because he dies, but because his role in Blackbeard was elevated narratively to serve as a vessel externalizing Ed's self-loathing. Izzy as a person recedes to the background.

Izzy had found healing and family over the season but he doesn't get to die as Izzy, he gets to die as Blackbeard. He dies with only Ed by his side and all the people he formed bonds with this season away, audience to the tragic spectacle because in that moment he is only Blackbeard, not Izzy.

Izzy never had a single hope of redemption because no matter what he did *he* could never shed his past. Stede's love is enough to save Ed from Blackbeard but apparently the crew's love was never going to be enough to save Izzy because Ed needed him to *be* the Blackbeard who died so he could be the Ed who lived.

Perhaps the lesson here is you have to get ahead in that redemption race because if you straggle behind you are fucked even if you try.

[artful-aries]

Genshin Headcanons: How They Apologize (Itto, Albedo, Jean)

​​

​​Itto:

​​Depending on what you fought about, at first, he would be too proud to apologize

​​The One and Oni Arataki Itto, being wrong? Fat chance

​​Yet as you give him the cold shoulder, he grows increasingly pouty. Why aren’t you talking to him and giving him kisses? Don’t you love him anymore? He begins to grow almost insecure the longer you draw out the punishment

​​It doesn’t take long of being ignored till his resolve is crumbling to dust. Depending on how mad you are, Itto might be extra and even get down on his knees as he apologizes to you

​​“(Y/N), my babe, my doll, my honey, my numero two, please don’t be mad at me anymore! I won’t do it again, Oni’s honor! Just please, please stop ignoring me babe. I miss being in your arms, and kissing you.”

​​If you don’t have the patience to ignore him for a while, or his groveling for your affection isn’t enough, you can always talk to Shinobu

​​Within the hour, she will have him whipped into shape with a written apology that he will read out in front of you

​​It would be a nice apology that addresses the issue nicely thanks to Shinobu’s advice. It’s just hard to ignore the giant whelp that Itto seems to have on the back of his head after spending an hour under Shinobu’s strict gaze

​​He will be super grateful that you’ve forgiven him, vowing to never make the same mistake again

​​Itto does surprisingly well about not repeating past offenses, the problem is that he seems to always come up with new ones

​​

​​Albedo:

​​Arguments with him are rare and mostly one sided. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that he’s usually confused about why you are mad

​​It takes him a while to get around to apologizing to you

​​Albedo not only wants to make sure you have had plenty of time to cool off, but he also wants to make sure that he prepares an articulate apology for you

​​Given that he tries to plan out his apology, it comes out as a bit stiff and script like, but the small furrow of his brows and the concern in his eyes shows that he really does care about your feelings

​​He’s more than happy to talk about your feelings; why you got mad, where things went wrong, and how to not make the same mistakes in the future

Albedo will handle the situation in a very mature way, and make sure that you don’t confuse his stoicism for lack of feeling. He cares very much about what you think, he just has a hard time showing it

​​He’s very keen on making sure there is healthy communication between you two. Albedo isn’t dumb, he knows he can be a bit cold and aloof externally, and communication is the tool he uses to try and combat potential misunderstandings

​​When you have forgiven him, he will give you a tender kiss to your forehead, a wordless promise that he will try to do better for you in the future.

​​

​​Jean:

​​She usually feels a lot of guilt before the argument is even over

​​When it’s possible, she will find a way to interrupt your ranting to apologize, and ask you to calmly talk about the issue with her

​​If you storm out before she gets to apologize, she’s actually very internally distraught, barely able to concentrate on her work with the Knights

​​As soon as the opportunity arises, she’s giving you a bouquet of dandelions to apologize

​​Jean will explain that she knows what upset you and why, and that she feels terrible about it

​​She doesn’t want you to think that just because she’s busy that she doesn’t think about the best way to resolve problems with you

​​Her job is super stressful and she isn’t perfect, but she appreciates your understanding

​​With her apology, you almost completely forget what you were even mad about to begin with; her apology is just that sincere and heartfelt. How could you stay mad at her?

​​Even after she’s forgiven, she will still feel a little awkward and guilty about the argument until you give her a kiss for reassurance; whether it’s on her forehead, cheek, lips, or hands, you’ll have her blushing like a schoolgirl and forgetting what she was torn up about

[transmutationisms]

pleaaase share any and all thoughts you might have on as i lay dying by william faulkner if you're willing, i'd appreciate your analysis on any topic dealing with it. I recently had to read it for class and kept thinking "tumblr user transmutationisms would probably find this very interesting" and when I search your blog i see its one of your fav novels! personally am interested with the treatment of darl and what is considered "sane" vs. "insane" as well as addie and how her death is handled.

yeah this book made me so insane when i first encountered it lmao. i was always surprised by people who read it and thought that darl had genuinely or intrinsically 'gone insane' or even that he was in some kind of decline throughout the book. i thought what faulkner was doing with him was very different.

i'd posit there are basically 2 main mechanisms by which darl comes to be regarded as insane. one is the construal of criminal action as prima facie pathological. in darl's case it's specifically criminal action against his mother's body (so, the violation of a blood tie that is so important it has guided the entire novel) and ofc the barn burning has a more general sort of antisocial effect as well. so, the designation of insanity follows not because darl's action shows some kind of intrinsic breakdown or loss of lucidity, but because it puts him outside the bounds of accepted familial and social behaviours. so, in that sense there's a very straightforward connection between the social mores, the criminal code based on them, and the invocation of insanity to preserve the dichotomy between 'sane' and 'criminal', ofc with the asylum then appearing as another arm of the carceral / criminal apparatus.

in addition, though, faulkner's work is generally marked by an interest in the sort of social breakdown and decline that articulates along family lines. which is to say: although i wouldn't attribute to him the same degree of evolutionary-hereditarian degeneracy theory as, like, zola, there is certainly a repeated interest throughout faulkner's work in the family as a site of inherited social and economic decline. i don't think the point here is to write anse as insane, per se, or as passing on a discrete malady to darl, but parentage matters (cf. jewel's illegitimacy) and in the same way that anse is antisocial, illogical, and frequently illegible to the surrounding characters, darl by the end of the book has come to occupy a similar socially marginal position. darl is ofc punished more violently for his transgression; anse's chapters convey pretty clearly his outsider position and complete inability to make sense of the world on linguistic-logical terms, but darl escalates this when he burns the barn because he's breaking a rule that has more external social ramifications than, say, anse's biblical exegesis about snakes and trees and whatever.

broadly and kind of annoyingly you could say the novel is investigating the relationship between consciousness and language, or at least feeling and language. the words are "a shape to fill a lack", vardaman's fish chapter sort of sums up the failings therein, &c. so, anse and darl are interesting to counterpose in this respect because the disconnect between their inner worlds and linguistic abilities are very different. darl is the most linguistically adept narrator in the book, yet by the end he's committed an act so illegible to the state and to his community that he's declared insane for it. anse, on the other hand, is motivated by what is in certain ways a very clear and simple moral code (he is driven primarily throughout the novel by the desire to bury addie and then take care of his own material needs re: teeth and a new wife), but he's not really able to communicate this directly in narration, which makes his chapters some of my favs to re-read. with anse the stream-of-consciousness is continually hinting at and around what he's trying to convey; with darl there are certainly things he's capable of expressing clearly and directly in language, and so the effect (for me) is to surprise you when it's revealed that darl, too, is on a kind of margin of social logic.

[evilsoup]

zone of interest: good film, deserves all the awards it's getting. the film-maker's video art installation background really shines through, lots of long static shots, repetition, creative manipulation of the type of recording used. The praise the sound design got is also very well deserved.

an interesting aspect is the depiction of Mrs Hoss' mother. She is of course an anti-semite and nazi, but i think uniquely within the film she feels the need to articulate her anti-semitism with reference to the jewish woman who used to hire her as a cleaner, how she took part in the "street auction" for this woman's personal possessions and is only disappointed that she got outbid for her curtains. It's like she has to prove her legitimacy to her daughter. On the other hand, for the Hosses the holocaust is simply the thing that they are doing -- they don't need to find a way to morally justify it. They are not bothered by the sounds of industrial slaughter, unlike this pathetic old woman; she approaches antisemitism as something external to her, which she has entered into; for them it is something that they are the bearers of, the theory which structures the world and which they are putting into practice. There is an important point about how ideologies operate and can evolve, and not only racist ideologies.

i don't think it's exactly saying anything new, but it's an accesable depiction of the concept of the banality of evil. Of course the commandant of auschwitz is both a monster and a normal person, with his monstrousness grounded in his normalcy, and the same is true of his wife. The actress playing Mrs Hoss is especially good at depicting this. An early scene is her trying on clothes taken from the new arrivals at the camp -- this isn't the story about repression which i was basically expecting. She knows what's going on, the kids know what's going on, but for all of them it's just a part of life -- part of the process of building their new life in the east, ugly because it's not yet complete, like the vines she's planted to grow over one part of the garden. And of course we have the high-level management meeting discussing the extermination of the jews of hugary, the form of which will be familiar to anyone who's attended a management meeting.

These peop|e did not shock me exactly, but they did disgust me. What it actually put me in mind of was the mindset of a terrorist: such people, carrying out this industrial slaughter with a smug self-confidence, should be made to die. If that would mean hurting their kids in the process, so be it. The disguting nature of their existence in the world is such that some innocent deaths would be a price worth paying to remove them from it. Given the affect of the film -- it's clearly meant to induce a sense of brechtian alienation, drawing deliberate attention to its status as a film -- acheiving this emotional outcome is a remarkable acheivement.

[faejilly]

i absolutely love your sh meta so i was wondering what are your thoughts on Alec’d relationship with his sexuality bc i always sort of read it as him knowing that he was gay but absolutely not saying it out loud

absofuckinglutely nonny

There's an excellent post by amorverus that I cannot find the original of so have my reblog HERE that articulates it really well

I even wrote a fic about it! #shameless self promotion [tumblr / ao3] (That is, in fact, one of my favorite things I've ever written.)

I do strongly believe that Alec knew that he was gay, and felt no shame about that in and of itself. He is not offended by Magnus flirting with him, would not, I think, be offended by anyone else flirting with him, regardless of gender. (Tho prior to Magnus I also think he just... wasn't interested, but that's a separate conversation.) He knew, however, that it was not allowed in his culture and it would hurt his family and not just him if it came out.

(This is why Izzy makes me so uncomfortable in s1 regarding Alec, tbqh, because she lives there too, but refuses to see the danger to herself and, more egregiously in Alec's mind, because obviously she can chose to risk herself for him if she wants, for all he doesn't like it, but she's causing risk for their little brother if Alec is outed, and that's unacceptable. Even if I'm quite sure Max would agree with her priorities.)

I do, however, think Alec felt a lot of shame regarding his attraction to Jace. Jace was hurting and was supposed to be his brother and yet... Alec felt an attraction that he knew Jace wouldn't return. So he's got all the societal pressure on him not to be gay, and all this personal pressure not to manipulate or abuse someone in a vulnerable situation (because Jace was, even if he wouldn't admit it), PLUS all the normal human issues with feeling attraction for someone who is important enough to you that you can't lose them, and you can legitimately be terrified that if you can't get it under control you MIGHT... (Even more so for him than a mundane romantic vs platonic situation, obviously, because there's questions of command and exile and punishment, not just ruining an interpersonal dynamic in a way it never quite recovers from.)

Plus Alec's kind of also Jace's commanding officer which is yet ANOTHER unequal power dynamic, and he's supposed to be protecting an entire Institute, not just this one person, but he can't stop thinking about it because it's fucked up and he knows he should stop and he can't.

(Because, he realizes with the benefit of hindsight after he meets Magnus, by fixating on Jace he was safe, he was never going to fall in love for real with someone he might have a chance with, would never have to actually choose between his culture and his personal desires, while still telling himself that he already had, that he'd chosen his family and it was fine, he was FINE.

(He was so not fine.))

And so, even though he truly believes there's nothing wrong with being gay in general, he does believes there is something Very Wrong with him specifically being gay.

But he still never has any doubt about it. He never tries to project heterosexual interest in anyone, is very up front with Lydia about the terms of their engagement. (It seems clear, even if we never see that conversation, that they're both aware that their marriage would never be romantic or sexual unless they mutually decided to go the so-called traditional route for children.) And she agreed to it! She, unlike Jace & Izzy, had zero illusions about her relationship with Alec, and I ADORE HER FOR THAT.

And I've totally lost the thread of this rambling, I'm not sure I have a conclusion for you? 😅😅😅

Alec is, imo, refreshingly self-aware about most things, and many of his issues are legitimately external stupidity punishing him into a life of self-recrimination rather than him having internal bigotry or biases against his own sexuality in and of itself.

[doqteqs]

The Monkey Trap

From "Xenosystems" by Nick Land

How did we get into this mess? When neoreaction slips into contemplative mode, it soon arrives at a question roughly like this. Something evidently went very wrong, and most probably a considerable number of things.

The preferred focus of concern decides the particular species of doomsterism, within an already luxuriant taxonomy of social criticism. What common ground exists on the new ultra-right is cast like a shadow by the Cathedral — which no neoreactionary can interpret as anything other than a radical historical calamity. This recognition (or ‘Dark Enlightenment’) is a coalescence, and for that very reason a fissile agglomeration, as even the most perfunctory tour across the ‘reactosphere’ makes clear. (The Outside in blogroll already represents a specific distribution of attention, but within three clicks it will take you everywhere from disillusioned libertarians to throne-and altar traditionalists, or from hedonistic gender biorealists to neo-nazi conspiracies.)

Really though, how did we get into this mess? A dizzying variety of more-or-less convincing, more-or-less distant historical way-stations can be proposed, and have been. Explanatory regression carries the discussion ever further out — at least in principle — until eventually the buck stops with Gnon, who dropped us in it somewhere murkily remote. It’s a situation highly conducive to story-telling, so here’s a story. It’s a mid-scale tale, intermediate between — say — the inauguration of the Federal Reserve and structural personality disorder of the Godhead.

As a preliminary warning, this is an account that only works — insofar as it does at all — for those who find negative intelligence crisis at the root of the problem. Those neoreactionaries, doubtlessly existing among us, who tend to see intelligence augmentation as a fast-track to hell, might nevertheless find this narrative suggestive, in other ways.

Short version: the monkeys did it.

Longer version: there’s a tempting cosmic formula for the biological basis of technological civilizations, which cetaceans undermine. I encountered the exception before the formula (roughly 40 years ago), in a short story by Larry Niven called The Handicapped. This story — dredged now from distant memory — is about dolphins, and their role in a future trans-species and inter-planetary civilization. The central point is that (unlike monkeys), such animals require the external donation of prostheses before they can become technological, and thus apply their intelligence within the Oecumenon. Their ‘handicap’ is a remarkable evolution of cognitive capability beyond manipulative competence. Those natural trends that generated intelligence continue to work through them, uninterrupted by techno-historical interference.

The (flawed) thesis that the cetaceans disrupt has yet to be settled into an entirely satisfactory formula, but it goes something like this: every species entering into the process of techno-historical development is as unintelligent as it can possibly be. In other words, as soon as intelligence barely suffices to ‘make’ history, history begins, so that the inhabitants of (pre-singularity) historical societies — wherever they may be found — will be no more than minimally intelligent. This level of threshold intelligence is a cosmic constant, rather than a peculiarity of terrestrial conditions. Man was smart enough to ignite recorded history, but — necessarily — no smarter. This thesis strikes me as important, and substantially informative, even though it is wrong. (I am not pretending that it is new.)

The idea of threshold intelligence is designed for monkeys, or other — ‘non-handicapped’ — species, which introduces another ingredient to this discussion. It explains why articulate neoreaction can never be popular, because it recalls the Old Law of Gnon, whose harshness is such that the human mind recoils from it in horrified revulsion. Only odd people can even tentatively entertain it. The penalty for stupidity is death.

Gregory Clark is among those few to have grasped it clearly. Any eugenic trend within history is expressed by continuous downward mobility. For any given level of intelligence, a steady deterioration in life-prospects lies ahead, culling the least able, and replacing them with the more able, who inherit their wretched socio-economic situation, until they too are pushed off the Malthusian cliff. Relative comfort belongs only to the sports and freaks of cognitive advance. For everyone else, history slopes downwards into impoverishment, hopelessness, and eventual genetic extinction. That is how intelligence is made. Short of Technological Singularity, it is the only way. Who wants a piece of that?

No one does, or almost no one. The ‘handicapped’ would no doubt revolt against it if they could, but they are unable to do so, so their cognitive advance continues. Monkeys, on the other hand, are able to revolt, once they finesse their nasty little opposable thumbs. They don’t like the Old Law, which has crafted them through countless aeons of ruthless culling, so they make history instead. If they get everything ‘right’, they even sleaze their way into epochs of upward social mobility, and with this great innovation, semi-sustainable dysgenics gets started. In its fundamentals it is hideously simple: social progress destroys the brain.

Cyclic stability, or negative feedback, structures history to hold intelligence down to the dim limit (as the intelligence threshold is seen — or more typically missed — from the other side). The deviation into technological performance chokes off the trend to bio-cognitive improvement, and reverses it, hunting homeostasis with a minimal-intelligence target. Progress and degenerate, or regress and improve. That’s the yet-to-be-eradicated Old Law, generating cyclical history as a side-effect.

The monkeys became able to pursue happiness, and the deep ruin began.

If the terrestrial biosphere had held back for a few million years, let the primates get annihilated by a comet, and found a way to provide the cetaceans with prehensile organs somewhere up the road — after socio-linguistic sex-selection and relentless Malthusian butchery had fine-tuned their brains — then techno-history might have had another 50 points of average IQ to play with in its host population. It didn’t, and here we are. (Never bet against the ugly.)

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Attention on Absence

One of six pieces I wrote for the One Last Wish Ahamkara zine.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

You asked me once what I would do if I could get my fireteam back.

I never told you how much I have been, and still am, haunted by your question. As haunted as I am now, with the phantoms of that very fireteam floating around me as I write to you.

Omar hovers near my left shoulder. He was the one among us most afraid to die. The echoes of his screams are the worst of all of them, by far. His death was so anguished and torturous because of how fiercely he clung to life. Now, out of all of us, he lingers in a way most compatible with his desires. Wielded in vengeance, he perforates our enemies’ defenses in acts of clean, effective brutality, one potent round at a time.

Would I have done anything to spare him his agony? Yes. But, would I wish to deny him the retribution he metes out still? No. I would not. I can sense he is satisfied. When I hold Xenophage in my hands, I no longer feel sorrow, only determination, focus, and a desire to continue doing what he always did best.

Vell floats beside Omar. He would ask if his death served purpose. If even one person survived as a result, he would have found meaning in it. He fought to spare himself the pain of losing any more of those he kept around him. As reluctant and resistant as I am to articulate the thought, I know he would insist that my survival made his death acceptable to him. To wish to undo his sacrifice would be anathema to him. So deep was his love for every person he saved, if there was an option to wish his death undone, he would refuse. I must respect his choice, no matter how deeply I regret it.

Eriana is behind me. She did not want to live. She simply needed Crota to die. That promise has been fulfilled. Out of all of us, she is the most at peace, now. To wish her back would be selfish and cruel. Without Wei Ning, she was already dead.

Toland’s shade is next to me, but his presence is elsewhere on the Moon, calling to stray guardians from the Ascendent plane, demanding they listen to his pontifications on sword logic.

Toland would call you stupid. Not just for suggesting he might wish to return, but in general, he would call you stupid… and many other names. I’m sure if you seek him out, he will provide you with a litany of his low opinion of your intelligence. In fact, if he were forced to have corporeal form again and exist in your presence I cannot help but wonder if he would become so frustrated he might… combust. He is content with his fate, miserable though it may be to us. Feel free to ask him yourself, if you can get him to manifest long enough for you to do so. It may be amusing to see you try.

Sai is to the right of me. Her faded hand rests at my elbow as I write to you. She was the first one the pyramids sent to haunt me. In many ways, the worst. Of all of them, you remind me most of her.

Her wit was as sharp as her knives. You would have loved her, I am certain, as much as I. She would want to know that you had been able to make me laugh again. That would mean the world to her. She understood, as you do, the inexorable absurdity of our existence. I miss her terribly. And when I do, what I am missing is all the experiences she and I would have shared.

She died laughing. Did I tell you?

It was not the doomed laughter of a tragic clown. It was not the bitter cynicism of broken dreams. It was the laughter of one who knows something you don’t know. The laughter of someone who has won, and their opponents just haven’t realized it yet. Triumphant. Glorious, even.

Every time I laugh now, I am reminded of her soon after. She would be… no. She is… proud of me. When I wish for Sai, I wish for companionship… mirth… joy. These are things I must re-learn how to feel now. And that learning cannot be solely obtained from external sources. It must be built from within. I carry her with me, and when I laugh, she and I laugh together. So, in a way, that wish is already in the process of being granted.

It has been too long since you said something profoundly irritating and made me want to strangle you.

Send me a message when you have returned.

What I wish most in this moment now is to talk with you again soon.

Take care, Rat.

The full zine is full of beautiful art and more writing from both myself and others within it. I wish you would go read it.

[dragon-appreciator-fray]

Hey.

Willow here.

I'm about to take up a lot of space.

For those of you that don't know us well, hiyas~! 'm the one who picked the name Static Chorus to represent us as a plurality.

Irene and Ire would frame me as the thoughtful one.

I love the big comfy sweaters and crave the unfeeling robot gender. I wouldn't frame myself as the least expressive. But I am definitely the least emotive.

I'm the one responsible for the character Nadir in Weight of Broken Promises: The shadowy mom with neopronouns.

Verity from Ruinous Hearts is... probably also mine.

Of the three of us, I am the one that identified with the nonbinary character in the game that cracked our egg.

I crave being... ill-defined or outright antagonistic.

The moment something starts to feel like a confining box, I want us out of it.

It's taken forever for us to settle on some idealized self perceptions.

But we feel like we're there. It's just I am only really starting to communicate with my headmates and loved ones about what some of that means.

I see myself as a Hell Hound. More scaled than furred. (Can be smooth to the touch if you stroke them one way. I somewhat fondly recall touching snakes to have the best point of comparison.) Dark sclera. Bright eyes. Sharp teeth and claws.

We have always described Ire as the one who keeps us safe. But Ire doesn't see herself as the violent one despite being the only one we trust with violence as a topic. She keeps us functioning in social situations. Ire is who we trust to turn the rest of us off and guide us with a steady head.

I'm the one we really don't trust with external violence. (Irene can speak for herself about the internal stuff.) Anyway... I conceive of myself as an absolutely damned monster.

Not going into the Catholic trauma here.

But I'm someone who took that and learned about my religion out of spite. I made being Christian miserable for everyone around me. My family stopped going to church for literally 80% of my childhood.

I was... unpleasant. Still can be.

To me, Verity was a howling storm of a character who would only ever be able to find peace if she isolated herself from anyone she could hurt.

That is genuinely how I saw myself.

Eventually I realized that the little parts of her that didn't suit her just... weren't me.

If you've had us be sweet and bright and cheery in your DMs, you know how much of a delight Irene can be.

The moment we realized we were trans, I wanted to just... back off. To let her be the one who signs the legal name and be the bright identity we face the world with.

It is an endless relief to know that the part of us that most wants to live could explode into being as wonderful as she is the moment we realized Irene has always been a girl.

But I've kinda gotten bitter about it. I'm the one who kept us going in the depression hoodie forever. I got us this far, but I still kinda delight in existing in context to negative emotions. It's what I know best and most want to explore creatively.

Unfortunately it has become me who, in my most guilty of moments, wants to give up on existing.

We know how much that sucks to hear. We've never wanted to feel smaller or hide more than putting these thoughts into words and share them.

I... genuinely regret telling just one of the people I love this.

And now here I am doing it for everyone.

But I'm the best and most articulated self we have. Gardenia was a cute lil name. Irene can keep it if she wants.

But I want to put Irene Verity Fray down as our full legal name. I wanna live too. As my whole truth.

The Hell Hound has gotta go. But I think I could get used to as being thought of as a Dragon. Means I get to keep the features of my self image I like best.

Anyway. Hi.

For now I'm still Willow.

Nice to meet you.

Maybe one day I'll go by Verity proper.

But I'm just not there yet.

I've got a lot of unpleasant things to work through first.

I think Depths of Promises Sworn is going to become the place for that. But that will mean guiding that story into far more traumatizing and upsetting content than we ever wanted for it.

It means introducing an unpleasant and ungrateful character who still receives the love and affection most of the cast will not think they deserve.

But I got it.

And I'm turning out to be a bright spot in the lives of an alarming amount of ppeople.

So you're stuck with me.

Just know that if you ever want to put down Depths of Promises Sworn, I don't blame you. I certainly wish I didn't have to live through so much of what I have.

But I just can't envision ourselves writing froofy and safe trans content.

We want it slow and messy. Full of backsliding and doubt. I want to trans the monsters or the girls into monsters.

I'm not gonna pull my punches on account of Irene anymore unless she asks me to.

I'm gonna strive to push this system to live its unapologetic truth. All of the good and all of the bad. For whatever that framing is worth.

Probably gonna start by pushing out out of bed when we wake up to go clothes shopping.

It's too hot for us to be running around in pants at work.

There is nothing redeeming about suffering. I will fucking cut that Catholic nonsense out of you if you disagree with me.