#urgh ill figure it out eventually

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

sometimes you try really hard and finally get all the stuff you need and are actually half a step from figuring it out. and then. the fucking picture text thingy (i forget words) explaining how it works are different from the actual thing, it's not really translateable to the actual thing, nothing makes sense and somehow the fucking metal needle Broke

[pigswithwings]

dinner is not over!

[the-knife-consumer]

Cassiiiieeeeeeee

[harri-etvane]

Am I wrong or has the beautiful rewrite disappeared? ;; "Do not let me fall, or fail." Before I forget, I need to tell you how amazing that line is. How true, and heartbreaking.

urgh I had one of those, oh no I don't like what I've written moments with it / panicked about it having the exact same narrative beats etc etc. I've faffed about with it again, it's just below - has a slightly different ending than before.

do not let me fall or fail, is so much them I feel, both literal and figurative.

Thank you for reading, darling xx

“Maks?” That one hoarse syllable is enough to draw his attention, away from where it had drifted and back to the quiet gentleness of Volodymyr, his wide dark eyes on Maksym's face. The lighting is uncomfortably harsh, picking out the creases of grief that will not go from him, his face for now full of hollows. He's been tired for so long now, that they seem a part of him, in the same way the dark rings below his eyes are his now too.

“Sir?” His own voice is quiet, patient as he studies the other man's face carefully. Pale and drawn, he doesn't seem quite himself; not yet, half shadowed by illness. There is something absent from his face; that flickering, insistent flame has wavered too much this time, the embers dormant.

“I need–”

Maksym's gaze softens, and he moves a little closer - briefly trying to pre-empt him, filling the empty glass on the bedside cabinet, carefully shifting the pillow at the small of his back, fussing at the blanket. He stops abruptly, surprised by Volodymyr’s small, cold hand on his. In the quiet, he can hear the loose, uncomfortable rattle that is attached to Vova's every inhale, his lungs straining despite the cannula in his nose.

“Painkillers? Water? Wh-”

“No. I- I need-” briefly, his eyes slide shut, a familiar scowl of irritation on his face and for a few seconds, he is himself again. Maksym waits, a hand still softly gripped by Vova's shaking fingers, his heart squeezing inside his chest.

“Need t’ -,” he pushes the words out on a wheezing exhale, stopping again to force his breathing into a more natural rhythm, his chest protesting audibly with a grim rattle. Another layer of quiet surrounds them both and eventually, Vova waves his free hand vaguely in the direction of the door as his breath stutters into a coughing fit, leaving him too tired to speak.

Oh.

Of course.

Maks could have kicked himself for not thinking of it; such a simple, quiet desire - a way back to oneself, however long the road.

“Shower. Yes. Of course. I- one minute?” He squeezes Vova's hand gently, the smallest pressure before he turns away and slips into the tiny bathroom. Maks leans forward and turns the shower on, letting the water heat up, the room filling with thick steam. He can remember, years ago - someone doing the same for him; had it been his mother?  Someone else? The memory flickers, fades. Some hideous winter flu had squeezed the air from his lungs, every breath a long, drawn-out ache; then the blissful ease that had come with the too-warm heat of steam, condensation pooling on the mirror, the tiles damp. 

He returns, the rushing water from the shower in the background - loud in a strangely silent room. Leaning forward, he gently unhooks the cannula from Vova's nose and puts it to one side, a thumb tracing lightly over his cheekbone. There's a sore patch of skin just below his eye, red and angry looking against the wan pallor. Vova doesn't react, his gaze loosely pinned to some undefined point on the wall. Maks clears his throat, one hand gently cupping his cheek and watches as Vova seems to return to himself, back from wherever his mind had taken him. The present rears up before him, and Vova presses a hand against his chest, his eyes flickering shut, his features twisted by pain. 

Maksym lets his hand drop and swallows hard, yearning to reach out, to wipe it all away.

He cannot.

Instead, he reaches out in a different way, because he knows Volodymyr would never ask -  would never allow himself to.

“Here. Lean on me.”

He feels Vova’s tentative hand on his arm, and then the sharp curve of his ribcage as he wraps an arm around Vova's waist and pulls him closer, taking the other man’s weight. Something shudders inside him, a dull grief of his own for the way Vova seems so much smaller all of a sudden; his whole self pressed against Maksym, one hand clutching  at the back of his shirt. He can feel the grip, tight; insistent, dragging sharply at the material, the strength there at odds with the fragility of his body.

Do not let go.

Do not let me go.

Don’t let me fall, or fail.

But of course, he wouldn’t say. He won’t say.

Maks knows him; he knows this. 

Instead, he lets Vova set their pace. The room is no more than twenty steps across; but it becomes itself a herculean effort, everything in Maks straining not to just- have done with it, this bitter, quiet pride of his, his determination never to falter - the man he would go to the ends of the earth for. Maks longs to just lift him up - the desperate wish that he would let himself be carried, held; helped, even. Just this once.

Maybe he will. Even if, silently.

“I’m sorry-” the words are hoarse, ground out between a shattering cough that leaves the both of them shaking, Maks holding onto Vova; his other hand rubbing circles against his back, trying not to think too hard about the knots of his spine, the expanse of his ribs beneath thin skin, the desperate fragility that he longs to shield from anything that would seek to harm, that he would do anything to protect. Vova’s eyes are somewhere away from him again, as though this time, he daren’t meet Maksym’s; a connection lost.

There is a lump in his throat.

“You've-” He clears his throat roughly. “You've nothing to apologise for. Nothing.”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, just that - an apology for not letting yourself stop. Please, let yourself rest, give yourself the same grace you'd give anyone else.

The words remain unsaid and Vova doesn't respond to the easy offer of unneeded absolution, too shy, too concentrated on each step, painfully slow. Eventually, Maksym reaches out and pushes open the bathroom door, enveloping the two of them in warmth. He watches silently as Vova's eyes slide shut, a quivering exhale leaving his sore, scratched lungs; his face suddenly eased as his breath comes easier again. Maksym is quiet for a long time, letting Volodymyr hold onto him with all his might until finally, he has the strength to let go.

Maksym feels oddly bereft. It feels, suddenly - like a gift - however strange, something to be treasured, to be held so reverently amongst all this pain. But alongside it, the urge to say, oh just let me hold you - carry you - take the burden when you cannot. And when you can, I'll still take it. The words won't come, feel too heavy for these pained minutes that pass by like a slow, persistent ache.

“There. You'll be okay?”

“Yes.”

Maksym nods, quietly closing the door to. He finds fresh clothes; a thick, grey sweatshirt that he could swear was once his, soft jogging bottoms, socks, Volodymyr's round glasses. He leaves them quietly on the side, one ear on the rushing noise of the shower as he crosses the room and opens a window - letting the gentle breeze in. It teases at the vase of sunflowers on the side, the blooms bright and blousy. He flips through his phone, answering a few messages, sending updates, replying to questions. Eventually, the shower stops running. A while passes, the door opens and Maks looks up.

Vova's hair is damp, curling gently around his ears, the nape of his neck and his glasses are pushed up onto his nose. Huddled in the sweatshirt, it hangs awkwardly on his shoulders, several sizes too large, the sleeves pulled down over his hands. A great rush of affection drags the ability of speech away from Maks for a short while before he clears his throat.

“Better?”

“Mm. Tired..” Vova rubs at his eyes behind his glasses, pressing a knuckle there as though to ease a persistent ache. He shuffles forward a little and without ever really thinking about it, Maks is at his elbow, an arm around his waist. The tension in Volodymyr flickers and then seeps away.

“Here.”

They make the journey in reverse, ever slower, until they grind to a halt near the open window. Maksym can feel Vova sag against him, his poor, weary body too exhausted to go further, his hand quivering as he grips onto the other man's shirt. Maks says nothing, just taking the slight weight as Vova leans against him, just always implicitly knowing without question that Maksym will not, will never, would never - let him fall or fail. They stand there together for a long time, Vova leaning against him. Neither of them speak, until-

“You opened the window.”

His voice is quiet, strained. He looks up at Maksym, wan and tired and sick; but still, always - so full of determination, of love in all its forms.

“Of course.”

The silence stretches out again, just Vova's slow harsh breathing, the faint sound of birds - a world away. He sways slightly and as though it's the most natural thing in the world, Maksym gently lifts him up. He's now too tired to protest, too ill to walk any further, even the ten steps that are left. Maksym feels Volodymyr nestle into his chest coughing fitfully, his eyes flickering, a last defence against the fatigue that runs through him like a faultline now, dazed and weary. 

“Mmnh– sorry..” it's a quiet, slurred apology as consciousness fades from him again. Maks blinks rapidly, his own voice scraped raw. There is a lump in his throat that he can hardly swallow.

“It's okay. It's okay. I've got you. You can rest. It's alright.” 

He doesn't reply, lost to whatever dream stalks him in fevered sleep. Maksym takes the last ten steps, the weight of Vova pressed to his chest. He can feel the stuttering progress of breath through Vova's tired lungs, the strain etched in the lines of his face and his heart aches in sympathy. He moves carefully, tucking him back in, gently removing his glasses and replacing the thin plastic tubing of the cannula - feeling his own chest ease somehow as the slow, pained breathing suddenly seems to come easier, slowly evening out into the deeper channels of sleep.

He is struck suddenly, all over again - how small Volodymyr seems here, and how quiet.

Briefly, he reaches out, linking his fingers with Vova's limp, cold hand; just holding on, grasping at the reassurance from such a gesture. 

“Thank you.”

It comes without him thinking about it; the gratitude - for being able to be there, to hold him; to help. He stands quietly for a moment or two, the grief prickling at the corner of his eyes threatening to turn into something more. In the end, he lets go, pads softly to the door - only to be stopped in his tracks, by a quiet, slurred little;

“Don't go-”

He turns back.

(He'll always turn back)

“Never.”

Later, Andriy finds Maksym slumped, somehow asleep in an uncomfortable plastic chair that can hardly contain his limbs, one hand still carefully linked with Volodymyr’s on the blankets. Vova’s face is turned towards Maks, his cheek pressed into the pillow, the low hum of the monitors not enough to drown out the soft huff of his breath - steadier somehow than all the days before.

[luetta]

i'm going back to what 16 year old me used to do in full swing i think. type to myself on dead forums. wanna know a story about me? i used to post on that nazi reddit alternative website voat. for years. not anything political, i just made a subreddit that was my username and made posts everyday about how obsessed i was about a girl called rebekah in the grade above me. i never talked to her a single time in my life. she was just pretty. hundreds of posts. eventually randoms on the website found my posts through the new section and started commenting how creepy i was. and then i guess i referred to myself as a waitress and they started thinking i was a girl who had a lesbian crush. of course i did nothing to disavow that notion. and then when i was with my friend finlay in class, i was on a school provided laptop, seeing what the suggested autocomplete web searches for a, b, c, etc were. and when i looked up 'v' it came up with 'voat [my username]. i guess on this laptop sometime before i had searched it up. i begged him not to look it up and deleted it all the moment i got home but he just went on internet archive and essentially held this blackmail over my head for about 3 months. at the end of high school finlay wasnt popualr in our group (there was always someone who was the cyberbullied person of the day in our group.) and i honestly did a fucking asshole thing. i always say that i was nice and just a victim of this mean group but i did this thing, which completely undoes all that. there was a barbeque for the entire grade on a saturday, school organised but essentually our own thing. in the discord finlay was wondering whether to come, lots of us were there already. i said that there was barely anyone here lol. and that was a complete lie. i lied and made him miss this event for no reason other than to dogpile on him. that night everyone was fighting and i chimed in and he told everyone about my voat account and also about how we had accidentally discovered each other in a league of legends erotic roleplay discord server. so yeah that was fun. i refused to talk to him for like 2 years lol. anyways. the point of this is to say. that im gonna start doing that again i think. post a bunch of stream of consciousness text posts of angst and self loathing and envy and hatred. cus i feel like shit and that's my self harm. im too much of a pussy to do anything else when i feel like shit. i just sit on the computer and make myself feel worse. this can be my self therapy. getting my thoughts out instead of letting them fester inside my brain forever. i can't be fucked going to therapy properly. it doesnt help cus idk how to articulate anything properly. ill get asked whats wrong and ill be like. i dont know. and honestly thats barely a lie. i dont fucking know whats wrong with me. i know that there is something wrong with me, but i dont know the reason why ive turned out like this. im just a fucking weirdo i think. i literally thought that i wasnt a creep anymore after transitioning, that i figured it out. but nope. im still a fucking creep, thinking about girls that i know, obsessing about them. urgh. i feel like. i've fucked my transition up. i fucked up the choices that i didn't know were choices and now im someone i don't want to be. i just want to be someone else but thats not possible because the person that i am, currently, isn't someone that can be someone else. i know that you can just change who you are ! you can do new things and stop doing old things. you can be someone else. but i just cant. i try but i just always circle back to this. uninteresting blob of a person. who does nothing except sit in their room and wish they were someone else. an uninteresting blob of envy. that's all i am and will ever be, i feel. and that sucks. i dont want to be that, but there's nothing else i can do about that. im too uninteresting and unadventurous and afraid to reach out and form connections to people that i wanna. cus thats how you change as a person. by being with other people. you slowly give each other parts of yourself

[kithtaehyung]

so its one in the morning here in brazil, and i finally just read "you're next" and... yeah. so that's what wamrth feel like? cuz i feel so, so, so... hugged? there's this portuguese word im thinking of, and its acolhimento, but i just couldn't think of a way to translate it properly, so i figured id describe it to you.

saturday i felt happy. i was bubbly, giggling the whole day remembering the show, the documentaries that i was able to see completely and overall just really happy i got to spend a whole morning with bts. of course, i had to go to work soon after, but fuck it, i was so calm.

then monday came and yeah, we know how we all felt.

today, i came to your blog, and saw the post that you said you have plans to post 3tan9 around this week so i decided to make time to read the drabble before. i come across a bunch of things im used to from you: good writing, amazing control and crescendo of tension and expectation, taehyung being the best possible friend, funny and realistic dialogue, that even without the text i could just hear and know who's speaking. but then there's something else here. there's the teasing that leads to nothing but domesticity, the natural banter that leads to two people enjoying and sharing their foods in a public place, so comfortable with each other that dialogue, the exchange, is the mere company. not that it didn’t happen before, but for it to be at fall, in public and them acting so harmoniously... idk, it reminded me of the chapter they go for a walk and he kisses her in the swing, but here's just so much more intimate, so much more comfortable and maybe its cuz of the moment but idk??????

thing is, it just made me feel like there's always this place where, regardless of where bts is, we can always find them and connect with them. and idk, just to picture the reader and yoongi sitting down together in silence, eating like they're in some long term relationship brought such comfort to my chest, a reassurance that 3 tangerines will always be here, and so will our stories that they help us tell, and the inspiration they spark in us, how their message goes beyong themselves and idk 😭

urgh IM SO CHEESY, im really really sorry, i know i drag this stuff way too much, but your writing provokes me to such degree you have no idea??? id love for 3tan to be a physical book so i could put it up my shelf

enough.

just wanna add that your smut is always super sexy and jimin and taehyung make me wanna scream into my pillow all the time???!!

also, love to picture jimin and yoongi's interaction before jimin left to leave them be lol

again, ill eventually learn to be concise 😭 hope you’re doing well!!

just realized i forgot my train of thought, so point is: i felt acolhida, in the sense that this drabble hugged me and let me breath, made me smile and tighten my chest in a good way. and i feel like i can revisit it at any time and find that comfortable again and again. that's acolhimento thanks for coming to my long ass ted talk

LUAAAA oh my gosh here i am finally responding to stuff that you sent in months ago :'))) i can't fall this far behind on feedback again my goodness, i am so so sorry!

so its one in the morning here in brazil, and i finally just read "you're next" and... yeah. so that's what wamrth feel like? cuz i feel so, so, so... hugged? there's this portuguese word im thinking of, and its acolhimento, but i just couldn't think of a way to translate it properly, so i figured id describe it to you.

already off to an emotional start!! i'm glad you got that feeling from these drabbles.. they gave me that same feeling, and i'm happy that i now have the word to describe it<3 thank you so much for that! these were meant to be lighthearted, feel good pieces so i'm glad they turned out that way.

saturday i felt happy. i was bubbly, giggling the whole day remembering the show, the documentaries that i was able to see completely and overall just really happy i got to spend a whole morning with bts. of course, i had to go to work soon after, but fuck it, i was so calm. then monday came and yeah, we know how we all felt.

ah, yes. i do remember that this was around the time we were all feeling calm before the big storm. :(

today, i came to your blog, and saw the post that you said you have plans to post 3tan9 around this week so i decided to make time to read the drabble before. i come across a bunch of things im used to from you: good writing, amazing control and crescendo of tension and expectation, taehyung being the best possible friend, funny and realistic dialogue, that even without the text i could just hear and know who's speaking.

first, this all put a smile on my face. if you're used to all of that, that means consistency and all of those are things i strive for! especially the writing and dialogue comments. wow, thank you again :'))

but then there's something else here. there's the teasing that leads to nothing but domesticity, the natural banter that leads to two people enjoying and sharing their foods in a public place, so comfortable with each other that dialogue, the exchange, is the mere company. not that it didn’t happen before, but for it to be at fall, in public and them acting so harmoniously... idk, it reminded me of the chapter they go for a walk and he kisses her in the swing, but here's just so much more intimate, so much more comfortable and maybe its cuz of the moment but idk??????

oh my gosh, sidewalk talk!! one of the chapters that will stay with me just from the atmosphere alone.. i think that one and fireworks have their own feeling that i dunno if i can truly replicate. it's the nostalgia, the suspension of time, everything that makes those chapters separate from the rest. idk. but yeah.

it's definitely intimate without trying to be! like they're just hanging out in public. but that's what makes this special. it's far from what they've been given and used to<3

thing is, it just made me feel like there's always this place where, regardless of where bts is, we can always find them and connect with them. and idk, just to picture the reader and yoongi sitting down together in silence, eating like they're in some long term relationship brought such comfort to my chest, a reassurance that 3 tangerines will always be here, and so will our stories that they help us tell, and the inspiration they spark in us, how their message goes beyong themselves and idk 😭

okay now i'm just emotional because you're putting bts and 3tan in the same type of commentary and i'm just SDFKSD i'm tearing up?? like what an honor to even be compared to them. in any capacity. because bangtan is my comfort place and people, so for something i'm writing to be the same to someone else? that's a responsibility i will always be aware of and will hold close.

and you're right. 3tan will always be here. yoongi, reader, the friends, and even me through asks like these and responses to lovely reviews that y'all send in. we'll be here even when things are said and done. at least, that's exactly what i plan on.

urgh IM SO CHEESY, im really really sorry, i know i drag this stuff way too much, but your writing provokes me to such degree you have no idea??? id love for 3tan to be a physical book so i could put it up my shelf

i love it all, lua. trust me, even if you think it's cheesy i adore it endlessly, and no need to apologize for sending stuff like this at all. i think i will look into making 3tan a physical book, along with all the extras that i can possibly add!

just wanna add that your smut is always super sexy and jimin and taehyung make me wanna scream into my pillow all the time???!! also, love to picture jimin and yoongi's interaction before jimin left to leave them be lol

YAAAY glad you liked the smut despite it being short! and vmin.. god i love them. so, so much lol. yoongi's and jimin's interaction before he left? ahhh, it was definitely a short convo lmfao

again, ill eventually learn to be concise 😭 hope you’re doing well!!

I LOVE NOT CONCISE THINGS LOLOL i promise!! thank you so much again for everything you say. it makes my days brighter, for sure. i'm doing well and i hope the same for you!

[radiovisual]

(( WOOF got myself a little bummed out over smthn--not the baby stuff dw that shit was hilarious i loved it--but yeah i might be a bit spacey actually tonight, sry kings 💔

[extravalgant]

the seven main schools (+ astral & shadow) as flowers

NOTE: i did not dive too deep into researching for this and most of the information i got for this post i got from this site . please dont come after me if i get a meaning wrong IM TRYING MY BEST!!! moving on

this is going to be a LONG POST so sit tight

myth - clematis (also known as traveller’s joy, old man’s beard)

i chose clematis mainly for its meaning: representing artifice, ingenuity and mental beauty. i think part of being a conjurer means that the world is only as big as you make it, and part of it is utilizing your imagination to its fullest extent. mental beauty and ingenuity go hand in hand with being creative, but artifice, in this flower symbolism, means to be cunning or be deceitful. i also think this comes from cyrus drake also being your teacher, which means he would teach in a style that would want you to exploit the weaknesses of the creatures that you summon (that being, calling their true name) in order for them to do your bidding. 

“Myth dwells between Fire and Ice, for that is where the shadows lie, and Myths are the shadowy forms of thought made real.”

storm - gladiolus (also known as a sword lily)

urgh.... storm was such a hard school to choose a flower for @_@ according to the wizard101 site storm is also based on creativity, but since we already had that sort of meaning attached to myth, i decided to go with the next best thing which is that gladiolus represents strength, strong character, honor and moral integrity. i feel like it’s pretty well known fact that storm is a hitting school, and a pretty well known one at that - their reputation as a power school is pervasive through all wizarding circles. i feel like this is also where a diviner’s sense of pride comes from - being able to one-hit ko enemies and brandish your power proudly. 

amazingly enough, the wizard101 site also addresses this, saying that, “the Storm School will train its student wizards to do a lot of damage. Storm Wizards have the ability to unleash high amounts of damage from an early level, which is good, but they place too much emphasis on power, and therefore suffer in terms of accuracy.”

placing too much emphasis on power... very interesting indeed

death - papaver (poppy)

death was ALSO a super hard school to pick a flower for. i debated between the dracula, the poppy, and the spider lily before deciding to settle with the poppy. I chose poppies in particular because “Poppies have long been used as a symbol of sleep, peace, and death: Sleep because the opium extracted from them is a sedative, and death because of the common blood-red color of the red poppy in particular.” source 

I FEEL AS IF THE SPIDER LILY WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO EASY OF A CHOICE but i wanted to encompass all the meanings that death has and has been associated with. some people associate death with peace (at being in a “”better place””), and some people sometimes to describe it as “sleeping” to a younger audience with no death awareness. also heres a nice little excerpt from the w101 site: “Death is about ending and closure. All things pass eventually, and time cannot be held back forever. Wizards devoted to Death Magic, known as Necromancers, understand this fact about everything around them and strive to face it without fear.”

ice - magnolia 

as soon as i saw this flower and its description it was PERFECT for ice. magnolias represent longevity and perseverance, due to the fact that magnolias are believed to have existed even at the beginning of time. the ice schools main theme is about persistance - which is to say, that if you’re patient and determined, you will collect the fruits of your labor in the end. 

the school page even says this, noting that “The Ice School will train its student wizards to take high amounts of damage and survive.” To thaumaturges, it is simply about surviving to see the end of the battle, and that’s what their play style involves. both magnolias and thaumaturges have that in common : persist and survive.

fire - ixora (also known as jungle flame, flame of the woods)

it was also hard choosing a plant for fire, seeing as so many plants can be described as “passionate” in a symbolic sense. it was between this and orange tulips, but i felt that both the names “jungle flame” and “flame of the woods” both fit fire’s theme. that being said, ixora’s represent passion - the core of fire’s development and description. it is the “bright, burning flame of raw emotion sweeping over everything.” (w101)

fire wizards mainly utilize damage over time spells, which reminds me that a frog boiling in a pot will leap immediately out of the water if its too hot, but will stay until it dies if the water’s temperature reaches steadily. while fire’s general message are that it may consume everything it touches, and how pyromancers are quick to anger and tempestuous, fire plays the longer game by slow roasting their enemies until it is too late for them.

balance - cosmos

when i saw this flower and its meanings there was literally no chance any other flower could compare omg

balance is described as finding the equality of everything and harmony. they are described as broad-minded, taught to be considerate of all things, as well as their own place in the world they live in. cosmos, in this case, represent order, peace, modesty and harmony -- all things which are important to a balance wizard. balance thrives in the company of others, simply because it was made in mind to help others in the heat of battle. “The Balance School will train its student wizards to be effective in group play.” (w101)

however as a result, they may appear as stand-offish and impassive, unable to choose a side or make a choice. such is life when you’re raised to consider all factors of every choice you make - every decision feels heavy.

life - achillea (also known as yarrow)

named after the greek hero achilles, legends would say that his soldiers would treat their wounds with this. source 

i chose achillea for life simply for the fact that it represents healing and protection, as well as it being used it being a versatile plant used to treat a variety of maladies or sicknesses - it’s been used as a medicinal plant for a long time across the world. 

life embodies “the spirit, the force of awareness and existence. It is about constant growth and movement.” (w101). theurgists are described as having simple pleasures in life, in revelling in the idea of the living, breathing, planet around you. it utilizes the song of creation, using it to weave life where there was none previously. it definitely has powerful roots in the canon storyline - i just wish it was utilized more through its play style. 

(astral) star - aster (also known as starwort, frost flower)

ok i dont have a deep meaning for this im sorry . i mainly chose aster simply because “aster” is derived from the Greek word “astron”, which means “star”, and because of the shape of its flowers. pretty simple reason but ill try my best to do it justice

however, aster is represented by patience and elegance -- star magic may be a lesser form of sun magic, simply because it is meant to power yourself rather than your spells. i think theres something inherently elegant about an aura wrapping itself around your figure, bending to the whim of your spells, as it both enhances your health or your spells. 

(astral) sun - datura (also known as devil’s trumpet)

Datura symbolizes power and caution. It is a powerful and deadly plant, but also a major religious and cultural symbol.

i chose datura’s for sun because sun is all about power -- datura is highly poisonous and very dangerous to be around. the main deal of the sun school is that they use spells to make their own stronger - it has the “power to endure, power to persevere, and power to change”. we don’t get much of a canon explanation for how sun magic works outside of battles, but i imagine that you have to be careful with sun magic, because as we know - absolute power corrupts absolutely. aint that neat

(astral) moon - protea

protea’s represent ingenuity, diversity, transformation and courage. a big part of moon magic is that it is all about change. changing your spells, your body, your thoughts -- it is symbolized by the moon because it goes through many changes (the tides, the phases of the moon, etc).

i feel as if moon magic might be one of the harder magics to master out of all the astral schools - the transformation into something else may not come as easy as star auras, or that it simply may be too hard on the caster in question, having to change their physical appearances and battle tactics to fit into a new one.

shadow - rhododendron

rhododendron’s represent temptation, caution and danger. 

despite how pretty it looks, the stems, leaves, and flowers can be poisonous to humans and pets if ingested. i feel as if that describes shadow perfectly -- the pleasant sight of these pretty flowers is enough to entice a person (wizard) forward, but you must be careful with how you handle this plant, or else you will end up facing dire consequences. (backlash)

shadow magic as a whole can be very tempting to those who seek it -- offering power that scales above others. but it is an advanced magic, and those who seek to play with it often end up paying the price with their lives (in this case, morganthe was crushed underneath the weight of power that shadow gave her). shadow can give you an upper hand, however, if used right -- and the wizard, for the most part, is using it right. 

shadow is mainly a cautionary tale of not playing with higher, advanced, magics with the wrong intentions.

[recommendedbyrani]

I’ve Walked Where You’ve Been by Marina Vivancos

Summary: Matty always knew he would meet his soulmate. Everyone did. One day you locked eyes with someone and you just knew that you could never be without them. What he didn't expect was for it to happen when he was 9. And especially not with Ethan, who's shy and quiet and never wants to play outside like Matty. As they grow up, the inevitable bond sickness that arises if they're apart for more than a few days forces them to go to boarding school and eventually college together. Matty resents having to always follow Ethan around and never getting to decide on anything for himself, but as the emotional distance causes their bond to weaken, they must decide if they're willing to try to understand each other or lose each other forever.

Thoughts: This was a very interesting take on a soulmates story. Usually stories that use this premise have to do with two people discovering that they're soulmates and then settling into it as it grows into love. In this instance, Matty and Ethan's bond occur within the first few pages and as a reader, you get to see through the eyes of a child growing up with a soulmate bond what happens when it isn't necessarily all roses and butterflies. There is a genuine attempt to get along at first and Matty even kind of likes the idea of having a best friend and partner in crime that's always around. But as he discovers that Ethan is his polar opposite in almost every way, they move from reluctant friends to almost indifferent acquaintances. The story spans about a decade, from when Matty and Ethan first bond at age 9 through their first year of college where they actually figure out why fate made them soulmates to begin with. Considering the entire story is only 6 chapters long, the author does do a good job of shifting the voice used in each chapter to reflect the stage of Matty's life being depicted. The story is told entirely from Matty's point of voice, but the tone used shifts from an immature somewhat bratty child to a frustrated, emotional teenager pretty seamlessly. That being said, I do wish the story was longer, so we got to spend more time with Matty and Ethan and understand what makes them tick. Especially for Ethan, as we're not really given the time to understand why he is the way he is or his feelings towards Matty. Still, overall, their interaction is adorable and I was smiling widely the whole time.

Meet Cute: Matty and Ethan meet at age 9 when they lock eyes while crossing the street to school. It's definitely life changing as they both essentially collapse and have to crawl towards each other and hug in order for the bond to fully settle.

Circumstances That Throw Them Together:  They're soulmates. The universe in which the story is set dictates that soulmates must physically touch every so often in order to avoid getting physically ill or 'bond sickness'. When they're younger, that means they have to be near each other for a few hours every day, but the older they get, the less often the touching is necessary. Still, they can't be apart for more than a few days at a time, so when Ethan gets into an elite boarding school, Matty has to tag along and when Ethan gets into an Ivy League college, Matty has to go there too. As a result, they're constantly forced to be around each other.

The Sizzle: Matty's thoughts about Ethan start shifting when they're seniors in high school and Ethan gets a boyfriend. It's not so much depicted as jealousy, which is a refreshing change, but more so like Matty suddenly realizes how much he misses the background noise of feeling Ethan through their bond when Ethan starts to actively block him out. As a result, Matty decides it's time to start trying to be friends with Ethan and invites him to actually hang out, including playing board games, going to a hockey game, and going to the aquarium.

Matty steadfastly ignored how fucking adorable it was that Ethan had a favorite type of jellyfish.

The First Kiss: After Matty takes Ethan to the aquarium, Ethan reciprocates by taking Matty to a hockey game. When they get home, Matty very suddenly realizes that they just went on a date.

 The urge to kiss Ethan hit him so strong that Matty wasn't even surprised when Ethan stopped mid-sentence, trailing off as his cheeks turned bright red.

 Conflict: There isn't really one that serves as an ultimate climax. The story is set up more to be like 6 separate short stories with internal conflicts. After Ethan and Matty kiss for the first time, there's a short conflict in which Ethan avoids Matty for a while as a result of some insecurities, but it's resolved with a conversation within a few pages.

Love Confession: Because of the nature of the bond, Matty and Ethan can feel each other's emotions, so the confession doesn't come as much of a surprise.

 "I take it back," Ethan grumbled, even though Matty could still feel him smiling against his neck. "I don't like you at all."

"Well, I still love you, so."

"Urgh, stop."

"I refuse to do any such thing, actually."

"You're the worst," Ethan said happily.

 Happily Ever After: It's more of a happy for now, as the story ends after the confession, but it is implied throughout that Matty and Ethan would stay together forever. As I mentioned before, it would be nice if the entire story was longer and maybe included an epilogue that provided insight into Matty and Ethan's lives some years into the future, but that didn't stop me from being gleefully happy at the sugar sweetness of the ending.

[katefiction]

Cora, Chapter 5: Revelations

by katefiction (Maria) / 2013

Westminster Hall, London

The coffin lies still, elevated on a platform in the middle of the hall. Surrounded by six long candles, it is draped in the royal standard, the crown glistening on top. The stone walls and ornate wooden beamed roof make the vast space more chilling than it already is and I shiver slightly on the balcony where I’m standing.

Granddad has been lying in state for two days at Westminster Hall, but soon, like monarchs before him, he will be taken to Windsor Castle for the funeral ceremony and to be buried. Three hundred thousand people have passed through these doors to pay their respects to the King that was undeniably the loved by the country, but now, as the guards prepare to take his coffin to the gun carriage, it is time for the capital to say goodbye.

Behind the balcony, out of the view of prying eyes, I take Dad’s cold hand and squeeze it tightly. He keeps his eyes forward stoically, but I feel him squeeze back briefly.  When I had got back to London, Dad had been in a state of shock. As well as grieving for his beloved father, he had decisions to make – when to release the information, what to write in the statement- and I could see him flinch every time someone called him ‘your majesty’.

As the coffin is prepared to be taken down, we are ushered away to join the procession.

I have never seen London so quiet. The roads are closed and along them stand thousands of people, their heads bowed as the gun carriage drives past. You can almost hear the flutter of the occasional flag in the bitter February wind. But other than that, it is silence, and sorrow.

I sit behind the gun carriage in a carriage holding my grandmother and other ladies of the family. I bow my head, trying to ignore the masses of people and cameras that surround my family. Behind us, Dad stands tall, processing on foot, showing no sign of breaking down.

I resent the fact that this moment has to be shared with the world. When I want to curl into a ball and cry, I know that I will have to be talking to dignitaries from around the world. And when I want to hug Dad tightly, I know the camera flashes will put a stop to it.

The eighty one bell tolls from Big Ben become more distant as we approach Marble Arch and I struggle to keep it together, glad of the black veil covering my face. I know that the next time we have a procession, my face covered in a veil; it will likely be for my wedding. A wedding that Granddad won’t be there for.

*

St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle

Staring into space, I pretend to listen to one of Granddad’s old university friends tell me old stories about him.

‘And then James filled the shower head with tea bags so she was drenched in tea!…’, he laughs.

I laugh along politely, wondering when I’ll be allowed to be alone for a while.

The funeral service had been filled with sadness and plenty of tears. From the massive show that was the procession through the streets of London, the funeral was in stark contrast, an intimate family event. But as soon as we’d thrown the dirt into his grave, it was back to duties, with the family playing host to the Granddad’s closest friends and many a dignitary at the wake.

I feel a buzzing in my bag as the friend continues his story.

‘Please excuse me’, I interrupt, ‘I must go speak to my father briefly’

‘Yes yes’, he waves me away and continues speaking to someone else.

I scuttle away into a neighbouring room and pull my phone out of my bag.

‘How are you doing?’, the text says.

I tap my reply in quickly, ‘Ok, I wish you were here though’

He replies almost immediately, ‘So do I, but I’ll see you in a couple of days’

‘I miss you’

I had only seen Ben once since Granddad had died. He had texted and called me constantly, acting as a pillar of support. I wish I could’ve seen him more often, but the attention our family was getting meant that I wanted to protect our relationship more than ever.

‘Well who wouldn’t?’, he replies.

I giggle out loud, grateful for the distraction.

‘Something funny?’, a voice from behind me makes me jump.

I turn around to find a tall, handsome figure, hid hair flicked perfectly to one side.

‘Nicholas…’, I kiss him on each cheek. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be here’

Our grandfathers were close friends. Of course he was going to be here.

‘Would you rather I wasn’t?’, he says seriously.

I laugh awkwardly, ‘of course not, it’s been too long’

I hadn’t seen Nicholas since the Highland Fling. Call me a coward, but I was too chicken to face up to him after ending things with him that night.

He nods in agreement. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Cora’

‘Thank you, it was a big shock’, I cast my eyes downwards. I never know how to respond to sympathy.

‘It must be a big change for you, becoming Princess of Wales’, he leans against the mantelpiece.

‘Oh no, that’s not happening yet!’, I protest.

‘So you’ll still be working up in Scotland for a while?’

‘For as long as I can’

‘I guess all the focus needs to be on your dad right now anyway?’, he says kindly.

‘Exactly, the less I stay out of the papers, the better’

We make small talk for the next ten minutes, until, inevitably, the conversation dries up and we’re left standing awkwardly in silence.

‘Look Cora, can we just forget about what happened between us last summer and be friends’

Thank God.

I breathe a sigh of relief, ‘I would love that, I really would’

‘I’m having a dinner in a couple of days, would you like to come?’, he asks hopefully.

‘Oh Nick, I’d love to, but I’m busy’, I don’t quite meet his eye.

Because I’ll be with Ben.

He shrugs it off. ‘Another time then’

‘Definitely’. And I mean it.

* * *

Curled up on the couch a couple of days later, Ben hands me a cup of peppermint tea. I’d suddenly developed a cold the day after the funeral.

He pushes the hair back from my face, ‘your face is pretty hot’, he says, resting the back of his hand on my cheek.

‘Why thank you’, I snigger.

He rolls his eyes, ‘that was a crap joke’

‘No better than yours’.

I had been in his London flat since the afternoon. Now that that the funeral was over, all the attention was tuned onto Dad. Despite asking him if he needed me to stick around, he insisted that I get back to life as normal.

‘Normal’ now included spending lazy afternoons with my boyfriend.

Ben props my legs up onto his lap and begins massaging my feet. I notice him smile at the sight of my birthday socks.

‘I’m not surprised you’re ill with the week you’ve had. All that adrenalin keeping you going and then your body just crashes’, he mimics a plane crashing with his hand.

I blow my nose into a bedraggled tissue, ‘urgh I feel like hell’

‘You need a break’. He looks at me conspiratorially, ‘I’ve been thinking…’

‘Yes…’

‘Maybe this summer, I could take you on holiday, give you a proper birthday present’

‘You gave me a proper birthday present’, I wriggle my toes in his hands.

‘I mean it’

‘I would love that, you know I would, it’s just how would we do it without people finding out?’, I nibble at my bottom lip.

‘We could just tell people’. He looks me dead in the eye, forcing me to face the conversation. ‘By the summer, we’ll have been together a year, don’t you think it’s time?’

I shuffle closer to him, leaning my chin on his shoulder, ‘I just want our relationship to be ours and when we tell people, it won’t be anymore’

I think back to my discovery a couple of years back. The lengths William and Catherine went to, to keep their relationship to themselves.

His jaw tenses and his voice deepens, ‘the world will find out eventually, I’m sick of sneaking around’

I pull back, sensing his tension, ‘so am I’, I say quietly.

Just when I think he’s going to start an argument, his dark eyes soften, ‘I know’, he sighs. ‘It’s frustrating, that’s all’

I test the waters and lean towards him again. He plants a quick kiss on my lips.

‘You’ll catch a cold’, I grin.

‘I’ll risk it’, he says, pulling me into the warmth of his body.

*

The next morning, I’m woken by my phone going off non-stop. After ignoring Dad’s call on the day Granddad died, I now always pick up my phone first time.

I reach over to it, my eyes half open. To my surprise, Ben is doing the same, his phone going off at the same rate as mine.

‘Hello’, I say croakily.

‘Good morning Your Royal Highness’, Maggie’s voice says; her voice much too bright for 6am.

6am. Something’s wrong.

I bolt upright, ‘what is it? Is it Dad? Or Grandma, or Mum?’, I say, panicked.

Next to me, Ben in growling into his phone; all the while looking at me.

‘Everyone is fine, Ma’am. But it seems the press have caught wind of your relationship’

I feel bile rise to my throat.

Maggie continues when I don’t respond, ‘I’ve sent you a link of the article, you’ll have to decide if you want to make a statement, please get back to me ASAP’

Maggie has a way of making the biggest problems seem manageable, but even as I put the phone down, I feel my face paling.

‘Shit’, I say.

‘Let’s just see what it says’. Ben is already finding the article on his phone. That was presumably his agent calling to tell him.

I sit staring at the wall as he reads the story aloud.

‘Exclusive: Princess Cora dating tennis ace.

Princess Cora is in a secret relationship with Britain’s number one tennis player Ben Evans, the Mail on Sunday can exclusively reveal.

Sources reveal to us that the pair began dating last year after Cora began working with Evans’ charitable trust, the Marion and James Evans Tennis Trust.

The couple are said to be ‘serious’, with friends stating a royal wedding could come as early as next year.’

At that point, Ben throws the phone onto the bed, ‘what a load of bollocks’

‘Only a few people know, who’s leaked this?’, I jump out of bed and begin pulling on my clothes.

‘God knows’, Ben runs his hands through his hair and rubs his head. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Where do you think, I need to get out of here before the paparazzi turn up’, I say, struggling to button up my jeans.

Ben comes over to me, stroking my arms, ‘everyone knows now, what’s the point of running away?’

Why isn’t he more upset about this?

My phone rings again as I’m about to retort. I grab it. Dad.

‘Don’t say it Daddy’, I say before he has a chance to speak.

‘Were you planning to tell me Cora?’, he says it like he’s speaking to a small child.

‘Of course’, I button up my jeans with my free hand.

‘How long has it been going on, or shall I wait for tomorrow’s story to find that out?’

I’m embarrassed to tell him how long it’s been now that I have to say it out loud. ‘Since last July’

I hear him breathe in sharply, ‘we’ll talk about this when you get home, you’re with him, I assume?’

‘Yes’

God this is horrible.

‘I’ll see you later then’. He hangs up before I can try to back out. I don’t have a choice but to go and face him.

‘I need to send for a car’, I say, more to myself than Ben as I text Maggie quickly.

Ben sits at the end of the bed in just his boxers, watching me rush around the room. ‘Can we talk about this?’

‘About what?’ I say distractedly.

‘You can’t just run off, anyone would think you’re ashamed’

I stop in my tracks, ‘don’t be stupid’

He grabs my waist and pulls me on to his lap, ‘we can go places together now; go on that holiday without having to worry’

I clench my teeth at the thought of a hundred photographers following us around some sunny island as we attempt to have a romantic holiday.

‘It’s not the right time’, I say pushing off his lap.

‘Then when will be?’, his voice begins to rise in annoyance.

Why does he have to be so stubborn?  Why can’t he just accept that I know what I’m talking about?

‘Granddad has just died’, I snap. ‘My dad needs my support, not for me to be on the cover of the fucking Mail on Sunday!’

‘Calm down’, he says slowly.

‘I sorry, but it’s like Nicholas said, the focus needs to be on Dad’

‘When did you see Nicholas?’, I can tell he’s trying to sound casual.

‘At the wake’, I don’t have time for this. ‘He was being a friend’

‘I bet he was’, he sneers.

A text from Maggie comes through; telling me a car should be outside. I pull on my coat and grab my bag. I can’t stay here and argue with him.

‘I’ll call you’, I say, as he follows me down the hall.

‘Fine’.

I turn around and attempt to peck him on the mouth as a small peace offering. He turns his head a fraction so I catch his bristly cheek.

‘Right, see you then’

‘See you’, he says. 

I open the door and jump into my waiting car just as two photographers pull into Ben’s road. My car speeds away, the feel of Ben’s missing kiss hollow on my lips. 

[invertedeidolon]

The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

[lostinthelightss]

literal chaos fire (ch.5)

amazing banner by @downn-in-flames​ / down-in-flames@FFT

find it elsewhere: fft | ao3 | ff.net | hpff learn more: chaos universe link to other chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 link to missing moments: 5.5, 7.5, 8.5, 15.5

pairing: Lily Luna Potter / OC genre: AU, Humor, Romance rating: mature audiences

summary:

Victoire Weasley is a masters student in infectious diseases handling a devastating break up with her girlfriend of two years. Lily Potter is a first year law student navigating a figurative minefield that is the star quarterback’s unrequited affection. Molly Weasley is pursuing her bachelors in engineering while pining over her best friend - who doesn’t seem to realize it.

Three women, three vastly different lives, all coming together with group chats, family dinners, and a whole lot of chaos.

chapter summary:

micky: ugh, where's my knight in shining armor

vicky: more like football player in a minivan

micky: im not picky

SEPTEMBER 25TH, 2021

‘the dopest house' (foxyroxy, freddieboy, jamesanator, moollywoobbles, rose) 12:24am

rose: we found them rose: vic finally answered her phone rose: they were at a children's playground eating ice cream

foxyroxy: why?

rose: i dont know, these three are fucking chaotic when they're together around alcohol rose: yet somehow they managed to each buy a single tub of halo top and spoons???

foxyroxy: spoons?

rose: yeah, we're gonna have some new cutlery

foxyroxy: @jamesanator is doing a keg stand, but ill let him and fred know foxyroxy: will you be home soon?

rose: dropping vic off first since she was closest to the park, but after that we're coming straight there

foxyroxy: cool, because i just went upstairs and there are people in your room foxyroxy: and judging by the sounds they're making, they're not sleeping

rose: WHAT!??!

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

(Scorpius Malfoy, William Flynn) 1:09am

Scorpius: hey, thanks so much for tonight Scorpius: i would say that they aren't usually like this but that would be a lie

1:28am

William: no worries man William: always happy to help a friend or three :)

Scorpius: sorry ur date didn't pan out

William: nah, it wasn't a date William: besides, i probably spent more time with her driving her home than if she'd stayed at the party

Scorpius: alright well rose is death staring at me so i gotta go Scorpius: thanks again Scorpius: and don't worry, she'll come around eventually

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

‘literal chaos fire' (psychiclilz, mollydramatic, VickyBaby) 7:10am

mollydramatic: remind me to move out asap mollydramatic: rose is so annoying in the mornings mollydramatic: *rise and shine, we have to clean* mollydramatic: i feel like im gonna vom

8:34am

psychiclilz: urgh i did vom psychiclilz: and it was blue

mollydramatic: wtf why?

psychiclilz: i had blueberry ice cream last night psychiclilz: remember? psychiclilz: you were so upset you demanded ice cream and since james locked up ur fridge we had to go to the store psychiclilz: and then we got lost psychiclilz: and then rose found us

mollydramatic: oooof mollydramatic: how'd we get home?

psychiclilz: urgh x 2 psychiclilz: flynn psychiclilz: and now scorp won't stop messaging me telling me that i have to at least take him on a date to say thank you

mollydramatic: just my two cents, but that sounds like a fair trade

psychiclilz: not you too

10:52am

VickyBaby: i mean if you're gonna take him on a date at least let us pay for it

mollydramatic: hey, i am not a part of this

psychiclilz: fine, deal

mollydramatic: wow, it's that easy to get you to date this guy? mollydramatic: but just to be clear, why am i paying for any of this?

VickyBaby: because her date was ruined when you coerced us into getting ice cream VickyBaby: and flynn drove us all home instead of having a good time VickyBaby: although @psychiclilz you were real quick to answer that with a yes... VickyBaby: did something happen last night?

psychiclilz: no, i just need scorp off my back psychiclilz: and this way i dont even have to pay

mollydramatic: evil woman

psychiclilz: *lawyer

mollydramatic: *witch

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

(micky, vicky) 11:04am

micky: are you buying any of this?

vicky: not a chance vicky: something happened last night, we just have to figure out what

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

(Lily Potter, William Flynn) 12:39pm

Lily: hey, sorry about last night Lily: and thank you Lily: again

William: no worries :) William: glad to see ur still alive this morning

Lily: aha, yeah, thanks to you Lily: if you hadn't found us we probably never would've found our way back

William: again, no worries

Lily: i do want to say thank you though Lily: are you free thursday?

William: sorry, i've got practice 6am every weekday William: cant do weekday parties

Lily: oh, uh Lily: i was thinking more low key Lily: we could go to the Three Broomsticks, just hang out? Lily: but like if not i get it, ur busy

William: no, i would love that!

Lily: oh, cool! Lily: my class gets out at 5:20, i can meet you there at 6?

William: great! see u then!

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

(Lily Potter, Scorpius Malfoy) 12:56pm

Lily: omg stop spamming me Lily: i asked him to dinner thursday, happy?

Scorpius: :)

Lily: ur a pain Lily: how does rose stand you?

Scorpius: i just asked Scorpius: "he's got a great tongue"

Lily: blech, wtf rose Lily: brb just gonna go bleach my eyeballs Lily: what is wrong with you two?

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

(Scorpius Malfoy, William Flynn) 1:12pm

Scorpius: told u she'd come around

William: what?

Scorpius: ur date Scorpius: on thursday Scorpius: i told you she'd come around to the idea

William: thursday isn't a date William: we're just grabbing dinner

Scorpius: ... Scorpius: that's literally what a date is Scorpius: rose agrees - it's a date

William: unless she says that it's a date, im not going into it thinking its a date

Scorpius: where are you guys going?

William: the three broomsticks

Scorpius: its a date

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

(micky, vicky) 6:37pm

micky: 1. i hate you for volunteering my money to send her on a date micky: 2. its gonna be so expensive because she's taking him to the three broomsticks micky: 3. omg shes taking him to the three broomsticks!!!! (scorp just told me)

vicky: something totally happened between them

micky: right?!?!?!? micky: ugh, where's my knight in shining armor

vicky: more like football player in a minivan

micky: im not picky

vicky: lol im aware vicky: also evan's pissed at me for ditching him last night vicky: apparently kayleigh ended things with him right before the party

micky: wow, not cool micky: but also, that means he's single right?

vicky: no, i am not setting you up with him vicky: that would be a disaster

micky: wow, rude

vicky: he just got out of a long term thing vicky: he's def not looking to settle down

micky: hey, ill be his rebound micky: hes so hot

vicky: no vicky: and anyways, dating family friends is not a good idea vicky: re: dom still talks to teddy and is trying to get me to unblock her from my phone

micky: dont you dare

vicky: im not going to, but it still sucks vicky: so no, ur not getting his number

micky: buzzkill...  micky: rose and malfoy are making it work

vicky: rose and scorpius are also insanely perfect for each other

micky: valid micky: fine, but if he asks about me you cant say no

vicky: *rolls eyes*

[worldsandwonders]

I glanced down at my phone, staggering down the dark, lonely street away from joes, and smiled. Noah. He was offering to pick me up, an offer of which I gratefully accepted and decided that it'd be best to find a dry spot to wait as the heavens opened. I stood in the start of an alley under a metal staircase to keep out of the rain, pulling Noah's scarf tighter round my neck, covering my ears and wishing I'd remembered a hat this morning.

The scarf I wore was the same one I always wore when it was cold out, grey and covered in these cute little owls and foxes pulling funny faces, which may be childish but at that time of year there were constant storms and it was freezing most of the time, and that was the warmest scarf my boyfriend owned

clouds swirled above the empty streets, they looked dark enough without a storm brewing above them. Most of the street lights around this part of town were either smashed or pretty much dead, providing little to no comfort in the dying light. With the little light they did give off, they only unveiled the piles of rubbish and empty beer bottles nestled at their base.

Neon lights from the strip club across the street were the only other source of light. They flickered every now and then, as the door opened and slammed to girls in red high heels and tiny dresses skipping out with drunken married men in tow, back to empty cars or back alleys, if I didn't know any better I'd say the girls were just happy for an excuse to do something even vaguely warm. I watched for a while, one of the girls I saw- I think she lived in the same building as me, helped me with my shopping once- looked barely over 16, petite with pale skin and short brown frizzy hair. I could've been certain she'd had a nice smile last time I saw her but this one looked wide, scared almost, too many teeth... Bile rose in my throat, I diverted my attention. That man looked about 70.

Rain splashed into the gutter in front of my feet, as I lazily traced patterns into the grime on the floor with my boot, watching the occasional car pass at the end of the road. Hoping every time that it was Noah coming to get me. I could've sworn by that point that my lips were blue, as I felt a drop of water from my drenched hair hit my face. I just needed to get home. Off of this damn street.

That's when a familiar car pulled up next to my little hiding spot, it wasn't big or expensive, a bit battered but it was warm and smelt like home somehow, and had the only thing I really cared about right now in it. I shuffled round to the other side and pulled on the stiff handle, my boyfriend throwing me a gentle smile and a blanket as I sank into the seat next to him.

"I brought you some clothes to get into" His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Thanks" my voice trembled as I reached for the warm pair of black joggers and one of his many Queen t-shirts he brought for me.

It took a bit of shuffling but I was, eventually, in suitably warm clothes, wrapped up in a thick blanket that Noah brought from home. It was the one we usually curled up under when someone had a bad day and needed to be able to attempt to subtly cry into something whilst pretending that the other person couldn't see them. It had come in handy a few times since the attacks had started, for both me and Noah

"You look like a Pokémon" my boyfriend commented fondly as he started the engine,

"Swadloon?" I couldn't help but laugh a little at that, I guess I kinda did. Noah nodded, a grin spreading over his face

"Nerd"

"Says the guy with a degree in both chemistry and biology. But sure, IM the nerd here"

The rest of the drive home went by in mostly comfortable silence with him occasionally glancing nervously in my direction and asking if I was feeling okay. I would simply nod, staring out at the buildings we past, the raindrops on the window contorting the shops and houses.

When we pulled up outside the block of flats we live in, Noah was quick to get out and scurry round to my side of the car. Opening the door he picked me up bridal style, despite all of my protests, announcing that we would come back for my clothes left in the car tomorrow morning and carried me inside.

The building was old, with creaky floorboards that you had to avoid to make sure you didn't wake up that crazy drunk guy next door, and there was always atleast one grumpy looking cat sat waiting on a chair sat by the front door. That damn chair must've been dumped there at some point, though I couldn't for the life of me tell you when, and was left so long that the cats claimed it as their own. Tonight it was an old tabby cat with patches of grey fur and half an ear missing. It was of my assumption that we had both a drunk guy and a crazy cat lady living in our building, because fuck knows where all of those damn cats come from if not.

After the treck up four flights of stairs (the elevators been out of order for ages, I'm pretty sure some teenagers did something to it, though I can't prove anything) we arrive outside our door. Reaching out I grabbed the keys, of which Noah had stuffed in his back pocket in favour of carrying me, and turned to unlock the door.

He only let me down once we were safely inside the flat, with the lights on and with me on the bed. I watched intently as he changed his clothes and wandered over to me, clambering under the covers. Shifting my position, I layed my head on his chest and looked up at him. He grabbed his book off of the nightstand and busied himself with that, as I admired the way his lip curled up slightly, and his adorable freckles, scattered across his his cheeks and how his intelligent, gentle, dark eyes reflected the light on the bedside table. How his brow creased slightly when he focused, and his head tilted slightly.

I hadn't realised I had been staring, but apparently he had, as he smiled down at me, one eyebrow raised. I felt heat creeping up my neck, despite us having been together for so long now, I never got over the embarrassment of being caught admiring him.

"You should get some rest babe, I don't want you getting ill" he trailed his fingers in patterns on my lower back, just underneath my shirt. Placing his book on the side, he ran his hand through my still damp hair and pulled me closer. I wanted to argue and tell him I wasn't tired, but I felt my eyelids start to droop, before I could even get my words out, and relaxed against him. Maybe I did need some rest....

I awoke to the smell of waffles wafting in from the kitchen, the corners of my mouth twitching up into a smile, waffles were a privilege we didn't often get now, it was mostly toast and rice. As I moved, I became very aware of the way my limbs ached, my head throbbing, and my throat burning. Shit.

"Babe" I called for Noah, my voice coming out as an awful croak. I pulled my legs up to my chest, already too warm, as I heard him come shuffling into the room, bringing the smell of waffles with him. Managing to open my eyes, I looked up at him placing the plate of waffles onto my bedside table, his other hand was occupied with a cold rag, kinda like he had predicted this.

"Urgh, how is it even possible to even get ill this fast" Noah simply smiled and pecked my pouting lips gently, pressing the cold cloth to my forehead.

He fussed around me for another hour, taking my temperature 4 times for accuracy (despite my protests) and made stupid jokes about taking my temperature from "other places" which I politely ignored. Whilst my boyfriend went through every possible illness I could have and then requested that he be allowed to have a bit of blood to look at through a microscope (which I, again, protested against, joke or not). Coming to the conclusion that I had the flu and that I wasn't going to die, he shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving me alone in our shared, and slightly messy, bedroom. It had been a while since I had resigned myself to domestic life, something I would've scoffed at a few years ago. The flat was filled with pictures of us, all of his favourite science books neatly stacked on a shelf in the corner, blankets piled up by my side of the bed, an overflowing washing basket that could be "sorted later" next to my record and comic book collections piled high; they were most likely going to topple and make a mess at some point.

At the time, me and Noah had been discussing getting a dog, for purposes of completing our tiny happy family, however we never seemed to get around to it.

He entered the room again about a half hour later, all dressed up to go to work, and plonked down on the bed. His face was carved with lines that made him look like a completly different person and he was refusing to look me in the eyes. I knew what that meant. Someone else was either missing or dead.

"Who was it this time?" His raised his eyes wearily, twiddling his thumbs "Noah, come one"

"The girl from next door, the young one" I felt bile rise in my throat. The one I'd seen last night. I should've said something, I knew she was young why didn't I say something. Guilt swirled in my stomach and it must've showed on my face as Noah raised an eyebrow at me, "you saw something." It wasn't a question.

"I saw her coming out of that club across the street from Joe's, with some rich old white guy, looked like 70" I turned my head away and sank down in bed, "Jesus. This is so fucked up." Noah just nodded.

"They found her body down that alley by Joe's under a pile of rubbish, I tried figuring out what was going on but everyone's telling a different story, some say she had her guts ripped out, some said she was shot... I dont- I honestly.... Fuck."

I shifted forward in bed and wrapped my arms around him. We may not have known her very well but she was young and kind, and that was enough. The list of bodies and missing persons was getting longer and longer every fucking week but nobody thinks there's a pattern, nobody has noticed a pattern, and it was getting closer to our front door too, 3 people from our building, dead or missing.

"Maybe we both need a day off today" Noah let out a breathy laugh and leaned into my arms

"I fucking wish".

I spent the rest of the day dozing, waiting for Noah to come home and thinking about how long it had been since I'd seen my friends. At 2:30 I ventured to the kitchen in barefoot (Noah wouldn't have approved) to make Mac n cheese (you know the really crappy stuff out of a can?). Our kitchen was filled with pots and pans we never actually used, Noah couldn't cook and I was a lazy bitch so we never really bothered, but as more and more people went missing or died, the more jumpy Noah got around people. Anxious and paranoid, he'd decided that we would just have to figure cooking out, cause anyone could be a threat. There was no blaming him for his fear though, as far as the public was aware, there were no suspects, no evidence, no witnesses. Whoever the fucker was, they knew what they were doing.

Being home alone had started becoming increasingly scary, so I checked locks, behind doors, in cupboards, under the bed. Like when I checked for monsters when I was little. Except this time the monster was real.

Around 6:00 Noah got home, his face slightly pale and with bags under his tired eyes. I opened my arms for a hug, which he gladly accepted, basically melting as he sagged.

"I am so glad this week is over" he shifted, pulling me towards the sofa, groaning as his bones cracked "two days of worrying about things that aren't science, before it's back at it again"

I smiled sadly, slumping into the sofa with him. My entire body was still aching like hell and my throat felt like someone had taken a flame thrower to it, but I could cope(kind of).

Our sofa was comfy and soft, covered in blankets at my own request, ready for that kind of situation( and also ready for the colder seasons as the heating had stopped working ages ago but the guy we hired to have a look never turned up). Also a billion different scented candles for as many different situations and moods as I could think of. There was a small TV that we never used perched on a stand in the corner (we were considering selling it)and the rest was essentially books that we'd collected since we moved here. Noah always said we should move somewhere nicer. But that place felt like home. Maybe that's why we stayed as long as we did.

I demanded that Noah go get changed so that we could cuddle, and despite all of his protests of "no, I'm too tired", he did. Coming back 2 minutes later in a pair of shorts and a pink Floyd t-shirt, and slumped into my arms as I pulled 3 or 4 blankets over him. His head found my lap, as I crossed my legs underneath me, holding his hand and petting his hair. Clinging to both me and the blankets he started to sob, heaving and crying into blankets, and my chest ached. I wished there was something I could do. I wished I could help him.

[pass-the-bechdel]

Supergirl s02e16 ‘Star Crossed (1)’

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, twice. Barely.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Five (41.66% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seven.

Positive Content Rating:

Three? I guess.

General Episode Quality:

Nevermind, they’re back to stupid. So, so stupid.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Kara passes with Rhea when they meet. They speak again later. There’s a lot of Mon-El involved both times, but they get there eventually.

Female characters:

Kara Danvers.

Alex Danvers.

Lyra.

Rhea.

Maggie Sawyer.

Male characters:

Mon-El.

J’onn J’onzz.

Winn Schott.

Lar.

James Olsen.

Boris.

Mandrax.

OTHER NOTES:

“To make Daxom great again.” Oh, no.

Ok. That flashback. I have mentioned before, how disturbed I am to find that the original confrontation of Kara’s prejudices towards Daxom have since been shown as actual deserved disdain, and how Daxom being actually exactly as bad as she said (to a caricaturish level) undermines Kara’s supposed lesson as well as treating Krypton as holier-than-thou despite all the huge flaws in its culture that have been made so evident, creating this huge us-vs-them divide with a really clear ‘good side’ and ‘bad side’ and absolutely zero nuance, etc. The flashback to Mon-El’s departure from Daxom as it actually happened does no favours to any aspect of the narrative: Mon-El is shown as hesitant and concerned for the safety of others in defiance of the prevailing Daxomite attitude, because the show is too afraid of the audience backlash if they show him being truly callous instead of just passively allowing it, while at the same time the narrative gives no quarter for Daxom and its people as a whole despite their undeserved fates. We are supposed to see Mon-El’s guard and think him awful, but what do we expect any ‘good’ guard to do? Maybe not kill that one guy, but the rest, with the ignoring everyone else in order to focus on rescuing the person he’s pledged to protect? Even killing the Kryptonian makes sense (is not morally ok, but makes sense) in the context of being exactly the kind of targeted violence that happens in the real world when people are ‘othered’. The coding of the behaviour is so transparent it’s disgusting, and coupled with that not-even-veiled MAGA line just before? Daxom’s Republicans to Krypton’s Democrats is a pretty fucking gross parallel to draw. I am very disappointed in the show for all of this garbage.

Remember when I fucking flagged Lyra as using Winn for her own ends the second she stepped on screen? Fucking flagged it. 

This is a much better Hamilton joke right here than the one a few episodes ago, but that one a few episodes ago was still too much, and that steps on this, because, really? Two sizeable Hamilton gags with only a couple of episodes between them? You’re trying WAY too hard to be current, show. It’s embarrassing.

Uurrrgghhh, and now we’re doing the ‘oh actually Lyra had a good reason for being terrible!’ thing? This shit is so predictable and empty and I am so over it. Remember one episode ago when this show was momentarily good again?

Is Guardian fighting in a fucking glass factory or what? So many glass panes to be thrown through.

So, we pretending that Lyra’s lie and Mon-El’s lie are the same? Just ‘they lied’ is not a parallel, show. These are not comparable situations.

See, Mon-El says in his apology that ‘I was a spoiled, useless person, but I didn’t know’, and that’s a big part of what is making this whole storyline, all season long, so poor. The total lack of nuance in Daxom. The clear-cut morality of Kryptonians which, also, lacks the nuance of reality. If Mon-El was raised in that life, how much opportunity did he have for seeing the flaws in it and recognising them as such? We have no concept of his level of self-awareness, and refusing to allow people room to grow is not how you achieve progress. At the same time, Mon-El’s process of self-improvement on Earth has been so paint-by-numbers simple, it’s hard to take it seriously. If he’s found changing so easy, how entrenched were those ‘spoiled, useless’ teachings that made up his entire formative existence? Real people take years to overcome such things, not least because when it’s a commonplace feature of how you were raised, it’s hard to recognise that there’s even a problem, let alone dismantle the rationale in your own mind that has allowed you to be unthinkingly complicit. Expecting Mon-El to change like flipping a coin is unfair; blaming him for the circumstances of his birth is unfair; telling this story in the way that they have, with his self-awareness and capacity for immediate total overhaul not just of personality but of ideals apparently uninhibited and detailed with only the slightest of backslides? Utterly unrealistic. What should have been a long, hard journey of self-reflection, questioning, and honestly ugly behaviour has instead been casual comic relief and romantic faux pas, and that’s so insulting. I can’t support Mon-El as a character because I can’t support the ill-constructed narrative that made him; in basic terms, he doesn’t make enough sense. He’s too unrealistic to function.

URGH. This is such a fucking mess I am annoyed at myself for even trying to untangle it. That kinda happens when you’re trying to over-simplify your storytelling to this extent: the break from reality is too intense, and you end up with a heap of confusion that your audience can’t figure out how to engage with on a meaningful level. In university, the single most important word I learned was ‘ethnocentricity’ - the belief that your own culture/background is inherently superior to all others. On the surface level, this is plain ol’ racism - and can be many other ‘isms as well, as cultural background shapes our perceptions of gender, sexuality, religion, etc. Looking deeper, we see ethnocentricity manifest when we assume that our social or moral codes are automatically the correct ones, without pausing to question where we got those codes from, and whether or not, actually, there might be better ways to do things. I actually debated this directly, back in 2016 when two Australian men were executed in Indonesia for drug smuggling, and the debate over the morality of the death penalty was rife throughout the country. I’m not going to get into that debate again here, but as an example of ethnocentricism, it was a case in which a lot of Australians flat refused to acknowledge the possibility that just because another country has different laws which conflict with our way of doing things, doesn’t necessarily mean that the people of that country are corrupt, lesser beings with an under-developed sense of morality which we need to step in and correct. Different ways of doing things can be shocking to our sensibilities at first blush, but we have to think about why they are that way and how the backdrop of that logic informs the constructs we see, before we pass high-and-mighty judgment over others. 

Supergirl’s Daxom narrative is a perfect example of ethnocentricism at work, with zero reflection: Kara is right, Mon-El is wrong, this cultural division is all-encompassing and without exception, the end. To be clear: I’m not suggesting that there’s a way to argue for, say, slavery being ok, but what there is is nuance to how people reach such a conclusion, and if we refuse to engage with the nuance we can’t engage with cultural learning, sharing, or understanding, and that’s how you end up with blank hostility instead of working towards more positive futures. Something being ‘obviously morally correct’ is (as evidenced through the entirety of human history) not enough to change systemic issues outright; if it were, the systemic issues wouldn’t have developed in the first place. Supergirl has run into trouble here because it’s trying to be topical, addressing the divisions in current US politics, but it also doesn’t want to actually have a nuanced conversation about the subject, and so instead we get heavy-handed black-and-white morality that only alienates the two sides instead of identifying common ground and building upon it to bridge the gap. Moreover, the show cripples its ability to explore these concepts in a better, more thorough way in the future, because it refuses to commit to the shades of grey in its situation and instead builds a two-camps concept in which any dithering or olive-branching between the two looks like ideological compromise and moral degradation instead of the complicated and painful process of learning that it represents in the real world. 

The truth is that as nice as it is to sit on your moral high horse feeling pure and special while everyone else scrabbles on the muddy ground, you can’t understand the people down below and you certainly can’t help them unless you’re willing to hop down and work through the mud as well, and what use is ideological purity if you’re the only one who benefits from it? That doesn’t mean that we should all start behaving in ways that conflict with our moral compass because, hey, some people are bigots, but it does mean recognising that we are all in a process of self-improvement and if you’re not at least open to the possibility that your way of doing things isn’t the best way, you can’t progress yourself, nor does treating others with condescension help bring them to your way of thinking or at least to a middle ground from which you can proceed together. That’s all a much messier and trickier prospect than what this show wants to deal with, and yet it’s exactly the story they’ve blundered into the middle of with the ridiculous notion that they’re gonna be able to clear-cut their way out. Mon-El’s process should involve a lot of questions: not ‘this thing is correct because obviously it is’ or ‘this thing is correct because Kara says so’, but rather ‘I’m being told that my way is wrong: why? Why is it wrong? Why was I taught that it was right? In what ways has my belief in the correctness of this thing influenced my perceptions of other things? Is it possible that this thing I believe actually is right, and Kara is wrong? Why should her perspective be infallible? What are the consequences of either possibility? Does that jive with the rest of my understanding of the world? What else is altered by this change? Are these alterations also correct?’ and so on, and so on, ad nauseum. Exhausting, repetitive, and complicated, yes, but that’s the reality (not least because he’s supposed to be a literal alien from another planet, but, whatever). At first, I thought it was stupid of them to introduce Mon-El without bothering to spend time on his integration into Earth culture outside of a handful of gimmicks; now I see that it’s much worse than that. I don’t expect this whole arc to end well; I only hope that it ends quickly.

[immortal-journal]

Living With Cavemen

To suffer alone, or to suffer with company - which is better?  Frankly, I don’t know.  While having somebody to talk to is nice (or grunt to, as the populus tends to do in the current age of cavemen), it can get dull, fast.  At first, it was funny to stumble upon the second man on Earth.  I had been living for quite some time before I saw another being like me.  First, I had to wait for the development of simple-celled plants, which eventually turned into monstrously large, poisonous greens.  Next came the animals, fuzzy and deadly.  Some of the mammals existing during this time were tame, but even then, I was still hunted by every large predator and their beastly mothers.

So, when I did find something that didn’t want to immediately kill me, I was pleased, to say the least.  We stared.  This man, if I could even call him that, was disgustingly malformed.  His bone structure was… Interesting.  His jaw protruded about two inches out from the rest of his face, his back was hunched to the point that I thought it was injured, and not to mention those mangled feet: crooked, dirty, and surely broken at one point.  The hair on his head looked like a tangled mass of mammoth fur, and his clothing (or lack thereof), was thinly shredded skin off of some animal.  Even though he was ugly, he was still my relative, in some twisted nature.

When we found each other, I assumed there would be some sort of conversation after our small staring-contest, but… Nothing.  The cave-dweller stood there, staring, for a complete minute.  A minute during our prehistoric existence seemed to last forever.  I moved first.

The caveman flinched, but didn't shy away, and instead made a move towards me, as a silent communication to bond with me.  I stepped closer, then suddenly, we were nose to nose and I could smell his stinking breath.  Awful; he really needed to clean up and I decided that I would help him with that.

I was introduced to his people, the others that were some hybrid of monkeys and humans, and they greeted me fondly.  I was fully expecting the lot of them to be savages, uncivilized in their ways, and I was fully wrong.  The women boiled and cooked what meat they could, while the men hunted, and the children cried.  To see the qualities of one man split up into subsets of other, individualized humans was astonishing.  While I survived on my own, entirely independent and void of any assistance, these brethren of mine had a system to ease my own work.  I expected to help with our survival, but the monkey-men had forced me to sit, eat, and relax.  I dwelled on my current predicament.

It was uplifting to see the world that I had lived on for thousands of years finally create a being like me - a human, flesh and bone, with no scales or feathers or claws to be frightened of.  I was no longer alone. I had company that would care for me. Everything seemed optimal for me.

That was, until, I knew of death among humans.  I had witnessed the life draining from other animal’s eyes, especially during the mass extinction of dinosaurs, but some ignorant part of me thought that a creature like me would also be brandished with the same immortality.

I witnessed my first human death on a date that is long forgotten. It was a man who was technically considered the leader of a tribe I knew - I wasn't a part of such a group, I refused to join a squadron of ape-men.  I called him Knuckle-Dragger, because he quite literally dragged his knuckles across the rocky ground with a hunched back and bent legs.  It was only a matter of time before Knuckle-Dragger dug his own grave, with such a misshapen body.  A fatal misstep on the unstable mountain sides our houses were built upon on had proven itself to be gruesome and beyond repair.  I was shocked, upset, and for the first time, not able to comprehend the impact of the situation.  I witnessed this death only a single day after I had met the second man on Earth. I learned the world's brutality and the misery of company.

I also became fed up with the way these men spoke.  Urgh.  Mmph.  Gruh.  What kind of speech was that?  Assuming that these people had enough of a hive mind to task everybody with a job to do, and do well, I imagined that these cave-dwellers would have a better method of communication. I spoke to the men and they never responded in a way to progress our conversation.

For example, there was an ugly mother that I named Rock Woman, because she was constantly drawing on the walls of our caves, as if somebody would make a great discovery of her art one day.   Anyways, I would talk to Rock Woman, simple and slow.  “Hello,” is usually what I would say to begin.  And Rock Woman, with her stuffy human snout, would moan in response.  She would never say hello, much less hold a conversation longer than two grunts.

After meeting Rock Woman, I decided to educate the mongrels of men.  They finally learned how to greet each other, at least.  Little did I know, my simple lectures would turn into the English lexicon thousands of years into the future.  I thank Rock Woman for the inspiration to teach.

Now, I will move onto the savagery of the cave-dwellers.  They made simple tools, found fire (after I generously helped with their discovery), and even began to fabricate better clothing; the humans were progressing and giving me hope.   But all good things must come to an end.  While my people had found fire, they were oblivious to the other hoards of enemy men finding them.  Ensue violence, brutality, and death.  I figured that with the small community we had built, the men of all different groups would come to the consensus that it's smarter to work together instead of destroying one another, as well as ruining their equipment.  I should have expected less from a race as stupid as my own.

After the tribe I squatted with had been almost completely run off or killed, I decided to leave the humans and resort to my sad, quiet life among the birds and the trees, but not before I accomplished a goal of mine.  Before I left completely, I spent the night with a woman.  The taking of my virginity is a horrid sight to remember, but the feeling was pleasurable.  I know why the humans like to do grotesque things to each other - because it feels good.  Not just for sex, but for other notions as well.  Power over others, the feeling of a fresh game hunt, sex and dominance, the men like to conquer.  My first climax with a woman washed an immense wave of raw, carnal instinct over me, and I felt like I had made my mate my own.  I think that was the first time I realized what man so desperately craved.  Although, even with that knowledge, I still decided to leave the cavemen.

I didn't return for another thirty years, to which I am grateful.  While I was gone, it seems that the humans had matured some, and even integrated a system of law and order to a forming society.  Their tools got better and soon the early developments of the hammer and screwdriver were made.  I was pleased with my fellow men. That's how I discovered pride in others, not just in myself.  The population could progress with or without me (even though I did offer amazing advice for the first men on Earth).

I also noticed that these people were forming features similar to mine - lean bodies, smaller jaws, straighter backs.  The changes to their bodies were almost insignificant, but I had been so taken aback by their disfigurement the first time that even the slightest of changes caught my eye.  I wondered how similar they would look to me within a few hundred years.  I never grew or aged, always living in the same body, so I had no clue as to what aging or the harshness of nature would do to their weathered bodies.  Something had intrigued me for the first time in a couple thousand years.

I stayed with the humans for a bit longer this time, but I never helped them and they never helped me.  I was a silent companion of theirs, I suppose, because they always showed interest in me, yet we never interacted.  They really were like the pets I had kept with me for the long years leading up to my discovery of the ape-people.  Amusing to watch from afar, pesky to encounter up close, pitiful in most scenarios, but overall, I decided to camp with them and write in my journal most days.  I rarely had spoken to them until they developed a limping form of speech and were able to orally communicate with me years later.

One day, I had decided to travel and not waste my years with the cavemen.  I finally decided to call them my family - a word they developed - once they had grown enough, but I had no strong emotional attachment to them.  A few of them died every week, anyways, either from a terminal illness, a fatal error during hunting, or blatant stupidity from the slowly growing race.  A part of me wondered if there were others out in the world that were similar to me (and hopefully smarter than the few tribes I had witnessed for years).  I packed my clothes, makeshift toiletries, and off I went.

The journey I embarked on seemed to last for quite a few weeks until I came across another pack of cavemen that weren’t threatening to kill me.  If an unacquainted man stumbles into your camp, the chances are he will be beaten and barbequed.  While I had been the victim of abuse on some rare occasions, I was, more or less, smart enough to escape any situations of impending doom.  (Whatever doom meant for me, anyhow.)

The next community of people I found had darker skin, yet I had no idea of where I was heading at the time.  Maps hadn’t existed for thousands upon thousands of years later.  These humans were stronger, more resilient, and seemed to have tighter family bonds.

I built my house several miles away from any civilization.  Even when I found people who were welcoming, kind, and caring beyond all belief, I still wanted to stay secluded in my home, maybe with a colorful plant to take care of, or a small rodent on the off chance that I was feeling more lonely that year.  I ponder my original question: Is it better to suffer alone or suffer with company?  It’s hard to answer.  I’m lonely and I will admit that, but I see too many deaths for me to stomach.  Then some kind of realization washes over me to think that I have to live with this for my whole life, billions of years of suffering, trillions of people I know will die, and I wish with all of my heart that I will one day find somebody with immortality like me.

For now, I choose to suffer alone.