#what has been heard cannot be unheard

[lemongrablothbrok]

Me: *decides to slowly make my way through the decades of music on Spotify (you know, for funsies) starting this week, beginning with the '50s*

Spotify's "Soft '50s" Playlist: *starts playing "Down in the Willow Garden" by the Everly Brothers*

Me: Ah, one I've never heard before. Well, knowing these bros, it's probably sweet and romantic and maybe a little silly...

Me, about a minute later: WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF SICK TWISTED ROBERT BROWNING TYPE SHIT IS THIS NOW. PHIL? DON? WERE YOU GUYS OKAY?

[dollypopup]

Lady Whistledown is the worst part of Penelope.

Lady Whistledown is not her independence, or her dreams. Lady Whistledown is not Penelope's purpose. Lady Whistledown is her coping mechanism for being unheard and invisible. She repeatedly tries to give it up, and she repeatedly returns to it, as if unable to let it go. Her entire narrative has set her up for realizing she doesn't need Lady Whistledown and that, in fact, for Penelope to live in the light, she has to kill that which keeps her in the shadows.

Penelope not wanting to tell Colin and insisting she doesn't have to is likely because she has already given it up, or she plans to. "I don't have to tell Colin because I'm retiring". What use does she have for Lady Whistledown when she's going to be married and thus cannot stay in hiding anymore? What use does she have for a coping mechanism when she knows she has people who listen to and hear her?

But even still, her not telling Colin is *wrong*. Whether she is retired or otherwise, she is in danger. And the fact that she then continues gallivanting about in the midst of a hunt for her, putting herself, their marriage, her family, and his family in danger, and still insists on not keeping him in the loop?

Polin is meant to be a partnership. That's what a relationship, a good one, is. When Portia tells her that she no longer has dreams, that's wrong, but also. . .Lady Whistledown isn't her dream. Writing, being heard, that's her dream. In fact, her and Colin have the same purpose: to love and be loved, to write and explore and sate curiosity, to be heard and taken seriously.

Colin has been honest with her, and she owes him the same.

Lady Whistledown is the anchor yanking down at her ankles, and she's wrapped her arms around him. If she sinks, he sinks with her. To see people insist that Penelope is not in the wrong for such an action, to purposefully keep the truth from him, and, even worse, to state it is COLIN'S problem to solve. . .that's asinine. And it's toxic.

Penelope has an arc of growth she must undergo, and in traversing it, she commits several harms. This fandom spent YEARS insisting Colin had to grovel and suffer for one statement, and were frankly cruel to people who rejected such an idea. And I don't want Penelope to grovel or suffer, either.

But she owes this man a hell of an apology. She has to see her actions as hurtful. She has to realize and understand that she is no longer alone, and that the mortifying ordeal of being known means she must open herself to unlearning the survival mechanisms she was so accustomed to. Because they weren't good for her. Whistledown made her win, yes, but it also made her cry. Whistledown is power, and that power corrupted. Whistledown is danger, and it is security of funds. Whistledown has served its purpose for her. And now she has to own up to it, and she has to walk into the light. Because to be loved is to be changed.

Colin has been open and vulnerable with her, he showed her all his cards, he was always in her corner and he always owned up to his messes, and he deserves a partner who can do the same with him. Otherwise, the same reasoning Penelope had being so adamant against his marriage to Marina, applies to her as well. Because what of him? What of Colin? She must not do this to a good man.

To love Colin is to choose him. And what people forget is that Colin *is* part of Penelope's dreams. He's not the full scope of those dreams, but he is absolutely a vital part of her fantasies and desires. Lady Whistledown? Lady Whistledown isn't. Lady Whistledown wrecked her relationships, broke her friendships, forced Penelope into corners both literal and metaphorical. Lady Whistledown is the coping mechanism I cannot wait for her to shed. That does not mean Penelope stops writing. That does not mean Penelope 'gives up' her career for a man and sheds herself in marriage to him. It means she can move on, upward, to better.

And let's be very clear here: Penelope is *lucky* that what Eloise wants is honesty and not revenge. She has good, kind people around her. Colin is a warm hearted person, he is the most forgiving of everyone in that entire ton, and all he wants is her truth so he might love her in full.

To deny him, her, them that much- is cruel.

[late-night-secrets]

!! tw: mentions of torture !!

**********

As Hirotsu steps closer to the room, the screams grow louder. A man’s voice, distorted by pain and agony. Whatever is happening to him, it’s stripping him of his humanity and lays him bare to what he truly is: a dying animal. It makes Hirotsu’s hair stand on end.

Closing the distance to the door that separates Hirotsu from the suffering creature, he can make out more than the screams: more voices, two of them; one deeper than the other. A man and a woman.

No, a boy and a girl.

They boy’s name is Dazai, and he is, despite his young age, one of the Port Mafia’s executives, meaning he owns a higher position in the chain of command than Hirotsu. The girl, on the other hand, is fairly normal. As far as Hirotsu’s knows her ability is not worth mentioning. And yet she is a well-known person within the Port Mafia, just because of her acquaintance with Dazai. No one really knows how they have gotten close, Hirotsu suspects it’s simply because they share the same age. It’s not easy to find peers in a criminal organization like the Port Mafia.

Contrary to the screamer, these two seem to talk calmy with each other; so soft that Hirotsu cannot make out any words.

He pays the guards next to the door no mind and knocks. Unfortunately, it drowns in another bloodcurdling shriek that makes Hirotsu shiver internally. Patiently, he waits until the cries quiet down to pathetic whimpers before he knocks again. Yet, it seems he remains unheard. The muffled voices are still too quiet to understand but given their speed and intonation, they appear excited.

He fears he will have to enter without announcing himself beforehand.

“Please, excuse me,” he apologizes as he opens the door and enters in a humble bow.

Another scream.

“This one was good! You get the hang of it!” Dazai’s voice chirps encouragingly.

“Thank you,” the girl replies. “He still didn’t talk though.”

“Oh!” The boy makes a sound as if he suddenly remembers something important. “We haven’t asked him a question in a while, have we?” He chuckles at their silliness.

Hirotsu understands that his presence hasn’t been noticed, so he straightens himself to look at the room in front of him. It’s a dimly lit, almost empty place. There’s a chair in the middle, and on this chair sits a man.

Or what’s left of him. He’s still alive – his misfortune – but if Hirotsu hadn’t heard his agony before, one glance at him would be enough to get that death is mercy compared to this. Some parts of his face are swollen, probably where he has been hit. And there’s blood, a lot of it. It’s streaming down his face, dripping onto his dirty shirt. It’s also streaming out of his fingers, out of his naked toes. Some of them distorted in such a way that they have to be broken.

In front of the man stand the other two, the boy and the girl, two teenagers. They are both wearing bloody aprons and gloves that reach to their elbows. Their backs are turned to Hirotsu, facing the man on the chair and currently chatting with one another. The girl loosely holds something in her hands that Hirotsu correctly identifies as pincers.

“Oh, we forgot,” the girl realizes and has to giggle.

The man groans in pain. “Please…”

“Well, it’s not like he has any valuable information that we don’t know already.” Dazai places his hands on his hips as he speaks. “This is more of a training session than a proper interrogation in the first place.”

Just recently, the girl has joined Koyo’s unit, making her a part of the interrogation specialists. However, she hasn’t had much experience in the Port Mafia’s questioning methods which is why Dazai has offered to help. A surprise if simply given his position, but the bond their share is not unknown within the organization. Quite the contrary, everyone knows or at least suspects that they are fooling around – nothing unusual for their age – and yet no one dares to say it out loud. Of course not, this involves one of the Port Mafia’s executives! Still, sometimes Hirotsu feels like just once he should step out of the mafia’s hierarchy only to make sure that two young people understand the consequences of being too careless… After all, an infant is the last thing the mafia needs right now.

“Now, I think we can move on,” Dazai decides with a very reasonable tone and lets Hirotsu snap out of his thoughts. “What do you suggest we should do next?”

The girl ponders for a moment, so he decides to help out. “You have said something earlier that would be good idea now.”

She gives him a confused look. “Cutting of his limbs entirely–?”

The man on the chair groans at that.

“– But you said it’d cause too much blood loss,” she finishes ignoring their victim entirely.

Dazai chuckles. “Yes, it would. I’m not speaking about the limbs. Think again. What did you say even before that?”

A moment of silences passes as she roams through her memories. For some reason, Hirotsu doesn’t dare to interrupt. This whole conversation gives him chills.

“What did we say where it’ll hurt the most?” Dazai gives her a leg up. Hirotsu notices that he’s uncharacteristically patient. And cheerful, too.

Her face lights up. “The mucosa!”

The man groans again, louder this time.

Dazai nods at her proudly. “Exactly! You can give me these.” He reaches out for the pincers and takes them to a table at one of the walls Hirotsu hasn’t noticed before. He returns with several smaller, sharp objects. They look like needles, the older man thinks.

“Now, there are several places to reach the mucosa,” Dazai lectures her with a small smile. “For instance, mouth, nose, genitals.” He gets closer to the man, placing his legs on each side of the chair. If he lowered himself, he’d straddle the victim’s lap. While doing so, he never breaks eye contact with the girl. “My personal favorite are the eyes. They are especially sensitive.”

The girl nods and watches him curiously.

It’s then when Hirotsu realizes why he feels a little nauseous. They’re discussing torture. And whereas that is nothing new to him or to the Port Mafia in the first place, it’s a little different with them. They are just two teenagers spending time together, one helping out the other. Their whole demeanor is so casual and relaxed while there’s a man dying right next to them. Hirotsu dedicates his whole life to the Port Mafia and the Boss but right now he’s looking at two people who are still almost children, who have never known a life outside of all this violence and death. Briefly, he allows himself to ask the useless question whether people like them have any morals in the first place.

The next quiet moment comes – not counting in the man’s pleading – as Dazai leans forward to pull their victims lower lid downwards until the pink flesh of his mucosa becomes visible.

Hirotsu decides he has waited long enough. He’s clearing his throat and falls into a small bow. “Please, excuse me.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees both of them turning to him. The girl immediately bends at her waist to pay her respect, “Mr. Hirotsu. My apologies, I didn’t notice you coming in.”

“Neither did I.” Dazai doesn’t move. Out of the three of them he’s the highest in command, he won’t bow. Hirotsu notices how his tone has become sharper; they boy is in full mafioso-mode now. “Since when are you here?”

“I’ve just entered,” Hirotsu replies, his head still slightly lowered. “I tried to call attention to myself several times, but it appears I haven’t been sufficient enough.”

“My apologies, I’m afraid I was too busy to hear you. It won’t happen again.” The girl is still bowing. Dazai seems to notice, too. He muses at her, “No need to be so humble. The old man won’t hurt you.”

‘Especially as long as I am here.’ He didn’t say it out loud, yet everyone’s heard it anyways.

She is hesitating, clearly torn between the Mafia’s hierarchy, so Hirotsu says, “Please, stand straight, young lady.”

As she complies, Dazai continues the conversation, his tone distant again, “So, why are you here?”

Even though the boy is excellent at getting a hold of himself, Hirotsu does notice his mood shifting. He seems to be irritated. Perhaps because he has been interrupted. “The Burreau’s representative will arrive shortly. Your presence has been requested by the Boss. We tried to reach you via intercom but did not receive an answer.”

“Oh, yeah, I took it out because it was bothering me,” he answers bluntly. He hasn’t moved yet, clearly not wanting to go. But Hirotsu knows that he’s no idiot, he’ll comply to the Boss’s orders. Dazai stares at the man in front of him, his gaze cold – so different to when he was talking to the girl – as he seems to think. Eventually, he steps back from the man who visibly exhales in relief and calls out the girl’s name. “It seems like we have to postpone the rest of the lesson. Unless you want to finish on your own.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure if I can.”

Dazai turns to her, his features as well as his voice softening. “Of course, you can. You’re a fast learner.”

Hirotsu notices the flush appearing on her cheeks and clears his throat once more. “Actually, the presence of both of you has been requested.” He turns to the girl. “Ms. Koyo suggests you join this meeting as an observer. In order to learn.”

She bows her head again. “That is incredibly kind of her. I will gladly join.”

Dazai sneers, “Look at you, being all polite. Such a good, obeying mobster, aren’t you?” He lifts his hand in order to squeeze her cheek in a playful manner, but she immediately flinches back. “Ugh, stay away! Your gloves are full of blood!” she shrieks. Dazai laughs at her reaction.

And again, Hirotsu gets reminded that these two are just young people who barely have any mutuals to spend time with.

Lucky to him, the two don’t need another reminder as they start to put the tools away and get out of the aprons. Certainly, they take a little longer than necessary since they keep joking around with the man’s blood, yet Hirotsu doesn’t comment on it.

Without paying the man on the chair another glance, the three of them leave the room. The two of them continue their banter – they are discussing whose fault it is that Dazai has gotten blood stains on the bandages covering his eye – on the way to the meeting while Hirotsu follows them close. Giving the chain of command, the girl is actually supposed to walk behind him but he decides to turn a blind eye. Even though they seem a little more rigid in Hirotsu’s eyes, knowing they are being watched by him, he realizes he wants them to be young just a little longer. They will have to go back to being members of the Port Mafia soon enough.

Hirotsu tries not to pry but he can’t help but notice how they are different around each other; especially Dazai. Their facial expressions usually stoic masks, change, shift, display various kinds of emotions. It relieves Hirotsu a little to know that they haven’t turned into complete machines yet. But if he thinks back to the scene with the suffering man just know… He wonders if they might lose all what’s left of their humanity. Perhaps being around each other will keep them sane… Or, perhaps all hope is already lost.

**********

masterlist

[splosh-crime]

Tim Drake has Dissociative Identity Disorder AU

His alters’ purposes are Socialite, Assassin, & Robin.

- Tim has been dissociating since his parents started abandoning him. At some point, trauma-induced dissociation becomes so common that an alter develops to be present and help the body survive while the oldest alter (or “original”) cannot.

- Oddly enough, the Assassin (he/they) was the first alter to develop; though, originally they were nicknamed ‘Good Son’ because “Good sons aren’t seen or heard unless they’re needed, Timothy.” Tim’s mind was not equipped to handle feeling so abandoned even as his parents stood right in front of him. Tim would dissociate rather than cry or process; if he wasn’t to exist when unneeded, then he wouldn’t. Good Son trained in stealth to ensure the Drakes never saw him unless they had need of him. They’re the alter that perfected the system’s stealth to the point that not even the Dynamic Duo noticed their presence. Good Son developed into Assassin after training with Lady Shiva.

- Socialite (he/they) was next to develop. Where Good Son went unseen and unheard to please their parents, Socialite was created to do the exact opposite for the same result. Socialite was to recount evidence of his intellect like a show pony doing tricks but he “-musn’t boast, Timothy, it’s unbecoming!” Socialite was to allow any and all cheek-pinching regardless of consent because “She’s just an old lady, Timothy! I’m really so sorry madame-” Socialite was to learn every last rule of high society (spoken or unspoken), gather useful gossip for his mother, network and play nice with the snobby rich kids, and avoid the “riff-raff” whose differences outweighed their usefulness.

- Robin (he/she/they) was the last to develop, keeping the system’s body tethered to a consciousness when the others would dissociate from the horror of Gotham’s many atrocities. Robin handles the worst of the detective work for the same reason. They’re who Ra’s al Ghul would dub the Detective.

- P.S. if anyone writes this, please give the altars better names; from what I’ve seen, alters practically always have names beyond their title/category. Also please send me a link and/or tag me in your work because I’d love to see it!

[gotouhitori]

Okay, so. I'm in Love with the Villainess. Watashi no Oshi wa Akuyaku Reijou. WataOshi. Whichever title you want to refer to it by.

Before reading or watching it, I wondered why the hell people were holding up this random villainess isekai light novel with an over-the-top masochist main character as a landmark yuri title. Okay sure I don't doubt there's yuri going on, but how can it be so special?

Then I watched the anime. "Huh. The series and its main character are clearly and unambiguously lesbian in a way that so many other series can't bring themselves to be. And it has the most frank discussion of queer issues I think I've ever seen in anime or related media. Yeah, I think I see now, it is a cut above." And both because I've heard the novels get into a few things a little more and because the series now has its hooks in me enough for me to want to read the novels anyway, I read the first novel. And yeah, that does add a bit.

And then I read the second novel. The latter bit of the anime does cover the first bit of the second novel, but it's mostly new territory for an anime-only or anime-first such as myself. And holy fucking shit. Spoilers under the cut.

For one thing, the anime/first novel dropped some trans hints about Yu, and that turns out to be a whole transfem allegory - which isn't unheard of by any means, but it's not especially common in a work where that isn't the main focus. And not only that, but there's an actually explicitly textual transmasc in Rae's past life, who forms part of Rae's motivation to make considerable effort and take considerable risk (up to and including treason) to make sure Yu can live as a girl - once Yu states that is what she wants, it is important to note. Random yuri villainess isekai light novel says trans rights, and will absolutely stand by it.

And then all of the stuff about class and inequality comes to a head, and remember how the game that Rae's in the world of is titled "Revolution"? Yeah. One of those happens. Various hints have been dropped about what happens, largely centred on Rae making efforts to save Claire's neck in the most literal way possible when things really go down. But holy shit does that turn out to be more effort and a much more complex endeavour than it appears at first... or for most of the time while it's going on, for that matter. Ultimately she arranges things so that while the revolution still happens (it is basically inevitable), overall loss of life and suffering is minimised, and the general situation is as good as it possibly could be. By the time the proverbial smoke clears, Rae and Claire are openly living as a couple, which is a lot more than you usually see - one of the things Rae comments on is how in per previous life, too much of the yuri she read ended with at least one of the girls either dead or winding up with a man, which annoyed her enough to write fanfic based on series she likes with unsatisfying endings to fix that. And though the game did have a yuri spinoff, the original - the events of which she was living through and manipulating - was het. The character she winds up with was never supposed to be a romanceable character to begin with.

And that's just the first two of the five novels. Living through and changing the course of an actual revolution and settling down with her partner is just 40% of the whole story. (And less if more novels get published.) I've just started the third novel, and it's certainly looking like the rest is going to be at least as much of a ride as the first two were.

This really is an outstanding series. It's Dungeon Meshi levels of "I cannot stop thinking about it" to me, which if you've seen how much I post about that, says a lot. And I haven't read even half of it yet.

[riphobisbraces]

The Lucky Seven | BTS ot7 x reader

Hybrid/Royal AU

~ Prologue ~

[word count: 500+]

❀ genre: dark royal core, hybrid au, royalty au, hybrids/knights!ot7 x human/princess!reader, afab (she/her) reader, polyamory (mostly ot7 x reader), strangers to lovers, daddy dom, smut and sexual sometimes. tiny bits of horror

❀ warnings: smut, swearing, murder, death (not the reader or ot7 though, I’m not evil), mentions of inbreeding (not between reader or ot7) some unsettling horror depictions, it won’t be every chapter though or the whole story, just little bits here and there. (I’m willing to re write chapters for you to read if you can’t do horror but still wanna follow along, just ask! 🖤)

——— summary ———

In a world of hybrids and humans, following each other closely to extinction, you are one of the last full humans, Princess y/l/n of the emerald nation. humans are essential for the survival of hybrids so why are assailants hunting you and your family down? because of this, the court has decided it’d be best for you to be guarded at all times by the nations strongest knights, you’ve only ever heard of them but have never seen their faces. What will happen once you come face to face with the infamous “lucky seven”?

^^ you know the vibes! :))

[ prologue ]

Humans are precious, without them, the hybrid species would not be able to survive. Because of this, hybrids have always put them in high regards, protecting them and being more than happy to serve families or single households as butlers, maids, governesses and more but most importantly, becoming a part of the family, a family member.

However one incident hundreds of years ago have put both the human and hybrid species at risk, now humans hold even more power than they did before, with only a few dozen of full human families left. This incident a hundred years ago led to an agreement amongst high ranking hybrid officials, these families will become protected and considered what we know as, royals.

Kingdoms arose far and wide, each nation has their own human royal family, the lifeline of the hybrids of that nation. But because of the fear of extinction and inbreeding within the humans, there have been rules implemented , each family must produce at least one heir, they must court another member from another family and so this happened. This went on for years and the officials thought hybrid and human-kind were safe but failed to acknowledge the impending danger.

They realized they would soon have to start inbreeding within the families. The horrifying predicaments that their last human families could end up in was more than enough to choose something else, something unheard of.

Instead of the atrocities that could await their humans, they decided to create half hybrids, and then quarter hybrids in an attempt to keep the human blood strong, they allowed certain higher ranked hybrids to mate and produce half hybrids with the royals, of course this was all in vain because now there only leaves one full blooded human family left. humans are hybrid lifelines, without them, they cannot survive. Hybrids need the blood of humans to survive, without it, they can stay trapped in animal form forever.

They would lose their senses, memories then soon enough, perish. Because of this, humans are seen as gods, something to be grateful for and protect. A single droplet of pure human blood can save a whole village for a year. their bodily sacrifices are seen as selfless therefore hybrids feel the need to repay them for their lives in any way that they can.

But because of hybrid-human breeding, the blood is getting weaker, needing more and more to sustain a village. there is only one royal family left with full humans. you are the princess and only child of that family.

Your family is being targeted for unknown reasons, seeing as the species needs you to survive and stay strong, it’s basically unheard of. The court and your father have decided that they need to assign their strongest knights in the kingdom to guard and protect you. They are the most noble and capable knights heard of throughout the nations, their name is enough to make any criminal or wrong doer shiver and back down.

They’re a pack of full hybrids, and they’re called the lucky seven.

a/n: I’m so very excited to be finally writing this, this concept has been on my mind forever! also it’s my first fanfiction so please be nice :) I’ll be writing chapter one and two tomorrow 🖤

Next chapter :

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

AU, about a month after Ingo's disappearance, a man is found in Pinwheel Forest. This man is identical to Emmet, has the classic frown Ingo is known for, is a DNA match, and is taken to the hospital with a head injury.

Emmet is ecstatic. His brother has been found! He goes to see him immediately.

There is one problem. This man? Is absolutely convinced that he is not Ingo. He isn't. His name is Alexi. He doesn't have a brother. He did not grow up in Unova, he's never even heard of Unova. He's from America, he lives in New York.

What the fuck is a Pokémon?

It's one thing if he lost some memories because of his head injury, but manufacturing a completely different identity and set of memories? Something's up. That doesn't even touch the fact that Ingo doesn't seem to remember the existence of Pokémon, that's just unheard of. Everything about Ingo screams psychic type manipulation.

Emmet's upset. His brother doesn't remember him. It sucks, but at least Ingo is alive! Not well, obviously, he doesn't even know his own name, whatever psychic type got him, it got him good, but he's alive! And that's all that really matters, right? Besides, they have programs for people who are victim to psychic attacks. It will take a while, but Ingo will get better. He'll remember who he is, surely.

But he doesn't. He never does remember. A month in therapy, a month being poked and prodded by people who specialize with psychic types, and he continues to not remember. He continues to insist that his name is Alexi. That he doesn't know Emmet. That he doesn't work in the Battle Subway, or that he has ever had anything like a Pokémon.

Another month, and "Alexi" is starting to have doubts. Pokémon obviously exist. This man, Emmet, does look exactly like him, and they said DNA samples show a match. Some of the things Emmet says about him is correct. Alexi does love trains, he works at Grand Central Station. He does prefer sweets. Hell, the man even knows Alexi's exact sandwich order. Clearly, Emmet knows him. Knows Ingo. So perhaps Alexi really is Ingo, somehow?

Yet another month, and Alexi begins to believe he is Ingo. He must be. These people recognize him, recognizes that he smiles with his eyes, knows the exact moment they need to cover their ears before he yells in excitement, understands what he means with his small gestures and weird way of speech. They know him. Because he's Ingo, apparently. He never was Alexi, because Alexi was a... fake. Something a psychic Pokémon made up, and isn't that a doozy? That things like that can just happen? That his entire life could so easily be deleted from his mind and replaced with something that feels real, but isn't?

By the fourth month, Ingo returns home. He does not regain his memories from before the attack, and he still needs to get the hang of certain things he just cannot remember. He doesn't remember battling, for example. He doesn't remember how to interact with his Pokémon. Chandelure always seems worried and wary, for example, and he doesn't know how to comfort her. She hovers around him, stares him in the eyes... she must recognize that he no longer knows her. It must hurt. He feels guilty.

It takes a while for him to memorize the "new" station schedule and its stops. The cities and towns all sound completely new to him. He still remembers his mechanical engineering at the very least, thank goodness for small mercies, but it takes a while of him shadowing Emmet for him to get back into things.

Soon, things return to a... relative normal. Battling is still off the table for him, he's forgotten all his battling experience and doesn't really have the time to relearn, but he is rather content with his trains. He doesn't remember his brother or his friends, but they tell him stories, and he makes new memories with them. This time, he takes care to write all his experiences down. Just in case! This way he'll have proof to show himself in case he ever gets uncoupled from his real memories again.

Five years pass. Things are good.

Then, one day, there's a knocking at the door. Emmet is working a shift at the Battle Subway. Ingo is alone at home. He wonders if Emmet had ordered something and forgot to tell him. He goes to answer the door.

There's a man outside with his face. It is not Emmet.

Abruptly, Ingo finds out that... He's not Ingo.

He's Alexi. And the real Ingo just returned home.

[doberbutts]

I also think- having recently seen a post that said Blue Eye Samurai isn't a queer story, it just has queer elements- that sometimes it feels like fans cannot make up their minds.

Do we or do we not want stories that treat being gay as a perfectly normal, perfectly common experience the same way straight people are depicted in every story to ever exist?

In BES, no one is outright stated to be queer. That's partially because in Japan, until Japan felt the need to sanitize itself to appeal to foreigners, it wasn't unheard of at all for men to be gay. Multiple famous samurai and swordsmen and nobles were either outspokenly gay or are commonly theorized to have been gay in modern historical readings. Abijah making multiple references to swinging both ways, Kaji's offer of a male prostitute, the various scenes we have of men being together in sexual positions, they're not met with surprise because homosexuality was an acknowledged thing that happened.

Taigen's erection while he's wrestling Mizu, even though he doesn't yet know her secret, is treated awkwardly because they're supposed to dislike each other and also he's supposed to be in love with Akemi, not because "whoa bro no homo".

(This is also why I keep saying that it's difficult for me to put into English words what I think Mizu's gender is, because gender and sexuality quite frankly did not work the way my 2020s American brain wants to contextualize it, and I think it's important to consider the cultural aspects here esp in a show so heavily leaning on a racial story)

However, compared to many other shows out there even regarding the same area and country, BES is significantly more queer than the majority of them produced in the last 30 years. Is Mizu herself queer? Well... maybe, depending how you define it. Back in the day, otherwise cisgender crossdressers and male-impersonators were still grouped in with those we'd call transgender nowadays. She seems to be exclusively interested in men, but also seems to be equally receptive to considering herself sexually as both a man and a woman pairing with men, than as a man or woman pairing with women which she has adamantly refused with zero interest on multiple occasions.

Is Taigen bi? I mean, maybe! He seemed more mortified that he had an unwanted erection in front of someone he wanted to impress and play with, than that he had it over someone he considers a man, using the excuse that he misses his would-be fiance.

Abijah certainly seems to be bisexual, considering we see him having sex with both women and men, and his various sexual references talk about both men and women as well. This is ignoring whatever weird sexual tension thing he's got going with Heiji, who seems both receptive and repulsed by it.

And, not to be remiss, but there is a reason I specified that homosexuality among men was pretty known. Due to the more rigid policing of women's sexuality in this era, homosexuality among women was less commonly reported (though I have heard stories of noble women and their handmaids, or the working poor women, or among prostitutes living together in the brothels, so also not unheard of but perhaps less accepted as women were largely bought and sold in marriage and sex trafficking) - but even with all of that, Kaji and Kinuyo have something together. Whether that is a mother-daughter thing, or if they were lovers, is up to interpretation. The implication that out of everyone at the brothel that Kaji genuinely cares for, Kinuyo was special, and that wasn't a particularly uncommon arrangement historically if I'm hearing about it 400 years later in a completely different country.

So this "well it's not a queer show" and "if I was told this was a queer story I'd be disappointed" is honestly just ridiculous hooey to me. Do you want characters who are able to explore their sexualities without looking over their shoulder out of fear of homophobia, or not?

[kurithedweeb]

I went to a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons recently and let me tell you I've had such ideas about how each one applies to each of the Ro'Meave brothers. I saw like entire animatics while listening.

Spring is about all three of them: the first section is Vylad’s, upbeat, innocent. The second section is Garroth, much slower and more somber, almost mourning interspersed with moments of frantic energy like the first, about the night he escaped and was captured by the titan golem that guards the outskirts and released at the last minute after it saw flashes of Esmund, who created it. Zane in the third section where he almost mirrors Vylad but with a less jovial air.

The second section, the slow one, got to me especially. It reminds me very much of rain and it switches between slow somber pieces and bursts of almost frantic energy that follows a two-beat rhythm. In the beginning, Garroth is still the heir but he is becoming increasingly disillusioned with the idea that his allowing himself to be molded like this will do anything to save his family and has recently discovered he'll be married off without his input, and his planning his death is a slow and controlled process. There is a frantic burst where he believes he's been discovered, but the actual death is a calm, calculated affair, and the panic only sets in when he is running through the streets to make his escape. There is a brief, grieving respite in the sewers as he properly tends to the wound and it finally completely sets in what he's doing. If he goes back now, he'll be killed for real. So he goes out into the rain and he runs, and the frantic energy in the faster parts get more and more sad as he cries and his tears mingle with the rain, and there is this feeling right in the middle where it feels like something is approaching. Something massive. In the background of the shot, an enormous shape becomes visible, and though Garroth doesn't turn to look he knows what's coming, and he's incredibly worn out from what he's done. He wonders if he shouldn't have done this after all. He slows to a stop and lowers himself to his knees, and he curls into himself as one massive hand comes down over him and covers him from view. The hand slowly lifts, turns towards the camera, and reveals Garroth cradled in the center of its palm, so small by comparison. He finally lifts his eyes to look at it. They're face-to-face. In the reflection of the golem's eyes, we see Garroth, and the rain washes his image into one of Esmund.

There are flashes of Esmund seen from the perspective of the golem. Laughing and talking with his friends. Talking by the fire with his family. Gathering the materials for the golem. Sketching designs. Looking into the golem's eyes and smiling softly as a parent to a child, speaking to it though the words cannot be heard. Esmund, wounded and torn open emotionally, mouth opened around an unheard cry as he throws things off his workbench and collapses against its edge, shaking as he holds himself up with a hip pressed to it and a hand coming away bloody from his bandaged side. Esmund curled into his seat by the hearth, the flame so low as to nearly not be burning, exhausted even in sleep. Esmund in the golem's palm just like this, holding his hands to its face and laughing with the joy of creation. And Garroth in the same pose, grief-ridden and resigned. And in the last few beats of the song, the golem lowers its hand and it remains there with its hand upturned in the grass as Garroth flees.

Summer is Garroth. Shots of him traveling, ill and hurting, and finding his way to Phoenix Drop. The second section is him finding Zenix, first slowly integrating into Phoenix Drop and then following a blood trail out to the woods and finding a boy crumpled to the ground and covered in wounds, the camera pausing a completely three beats on his feeble form before the pace picks up again with Garroth crashing to the ground and gathering him up and getting up even as he shouts for help. Shots of rushing Zenix to safety and caring for him and taking him on as his apprentice. The third section is as Phoenix Drop begins to devolve under Malik’s increasing paranoia, in the final slow part Zenix looks upon the flames he set to Malik’s house. Summer ends as Garroth takes charge of the investigation and the village and gets more and more tired with each passing shot.

Autumn is Zane. It has a bit of a haunting beginning that quickly folds itself into jovial music you wouldn’t find out of place in any noble society party scene in a movie. This is what he was raised in, where he finds his power, his connections, and there are sharp moments that reflect that there’s something well-hidden beneath the high-society charm. The slower second section is the moments behind the mask when we can see a sliver of the true face of the boy beneath: one devout and calm and perhaps not so inhuman as he portrays to his subordinates. He holds himself to an ideal. There’s a segment at the end of the second section that reminds one of a steadfast love, and this is Zane bringing Janus into his embrace and his plots as a man who finds loyalty in affection and duty and a sense of self given by another. In the third section, he dons the mask and veil once again and this is when he gathers all his strings and seizes power, by the end standing as the undoubtedly most powerful man in O’khasis even if all that power is hidden in doublespeak and undertone.

Winter is Vylad. The first section is Vylad as a boy as he grows into his teens, reminiscent of his part of Spring but having grown into something else. As we near the second section, there is an undertone of unease as he realizes something has been happening without his knowledge. The upbeat tone of the first part sombers a bit as Garroth dies, and soon after picks back up as the plot against Vylad spirals into fruition: in the last few segments of this section he is running through the forest and fields. The second segment opens as he is being hunted and chased, strings plucked in tune with his rapid breaths as he finds himself pinned and stabbed and lying in the grass as his life drains away. For a handful of moments, he sees the afterlife. And as this section closes, he wakes in a body he no longer recognizes, feeling as though he has been stuffed into a broken doll. In the third section, he navigates his old-new body. He finds himself in the Nether, at the beck and call of the Calling and cruel commanders. He gathers his strength, and at the first burst of a frantic movement, he makes his daring escape. He is chased, and so near when he is caught. But he bides his time, shown in shots of him drawing on the walls of his cell and fighting anyone who comes near and slowly cutting his way through his bars until the second frantic movement crashes over him and he bursts from his cell, runs through the fortress, bulldozing past anyone he can. The portal is within reach. He bursts through it and does not stop, heart racing and breath coming quick as the day he died. He’s forced to slow eventually, and over a series of backgrounds that change with each repetition, he slowly falls to the ground. As the song comes to a close, as he sits defeated on his heels without even the strength to push himself to kneeling, there is a swell that inspires hope, and he looks up to Hyria standing over him at the edge of the Sacred Forest.

[astroyongie]

Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: we have one more! hopefully this one will be insightful despite being small

“How Am I” Section

“Relax, I am just kidding!”

What happens in the unconscious brain: 

“It’s just a joke”. Honestly, how many of us have heard these words after something hurtful has been said our way? or how many times we have said it when we tried to smooth the situation after saying something hurtful? 

This is a classic example of passive aggressiveness, the desire of hurting the other person is so deep (sometimes unconscious) that a person try to find a justificable way for their actions

the psychologist Aaron Beck explains that passive aggressiveness happens when we are forced to obey a reality that takes away our control on the current situation

Richard Lazarus, another psychologist, pushed the theory further and explained that passive aggressiveness comes from three emotions: Happiness, Humiliation and Confusion. 

Basically what happens inside us is that we make a cognitive analysis (primary evaluation) about the thing that is happening to us and hen we have the emotional reaction (secondary evaluation), which can stimulate the passive aggressiveness 

For a concrete example, let's say that you are in a group of friends, and this one person has been annoying you. There's no particular reason, just hearing them speak makes your blood boil (primary evaluation) and the moment you get an opening you will have this emotional reaction which is saying something sarcastic based on something they said or did (secondary action). it often happens too quickly for one to control, which often makes the person add the “i was just kidding don't take it personally”. 

feelings and thought is what brings out action out of us, and sometimes internal conflicts happen which triggers the passive aggressiveness which is a way for our inner self to evacuate the frustration without taking action 

the passive aggressive person feels a profound confusion related to themselves and the others, which is often compared to the reactions of teens 

Overall, being passive aggressive is a normal reaction for those who have trouble in expressing themselves and have internal conflicts within their desire and their morals 

if you are interested in more of this topics you can check the works of Magda Arnold, Richard Lazarus, Theodore Millon, Roger Davis and Aaron Beck

So what can we do?

Being passive aggressive is usuallçy a reaction in situations where we want to please people but our inner side has conflits 

it comes from fear, fear of being unheard, of benign rejected by the people around you, by society, fear of losing control over a situation that you try hard to grasp 

but it also comes from pent up frustration and rage. that deep anger one can feel for some situation or people that our body just cannot process

fear stops anger, just as external agreement stops fear 

knowing where your passive aggressive comes is already the first step to deal with this internal emotions and be able to settle the passive aggressiveness in you and avoid hurting people by your words

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself 

[enkisstories]

Did I imagine things? Rose Tico wonders. For a moment she thought to have heard the voice of... a long missed voice. And not just Armi's voice, but specifically his lopsided singing.

But her boyfriend is dead, executed by the New Republic. Armitage cannot even return as a ghost, as that is unheard of for non-force sensitives. His essence has returned into the Force, destined to create a new life somewhere else in a new form and more thoroughly memory-wiped than a droid.

Knowing this, seeing a leaf in the exact tone of orange her beloved's hair had been in front of the window pains Rose.

Only the "leaf" really is a thatch of orange hair bound into a braid, hanging over unusually pale skin. And Rae is snuggled up to the wearer, perfectly trusting.

Overwhelmed by the sight, Rose does what comes the most natural: Reach out through the window and PULL at the braid.

One "Yelp!", a long embrace accompanied by several proto-speech sounds and a generous amount of tears later, all with the baby between them, Rae gets handed back to her mother.

Armitage: "Rebel-scum through and through, your mom. And if "rebel-scum" is not your first word, then you're disinherited on the spot, but no pressure!"

Rose: "I never thought to ever see you two both with my eyes open. It was only ever either Rae or the memory of you."

Armitage: "You named your... my... our daughter Rae?!"

Rose: "Finn suggested the name - when we believed you dead for a few months and he slowly realized that he, too, was kinda missing you. I knew you'd have like the name."

But there is only so much information to be exchanged before limbs go jittery and the tears set in again. The parents set Rae down on the porch that is warmed up by the autumn sun and then cling to each other.

Armitage: "I didn't mean to make you sad. Or angry. I didn't mean to play that dirty trick on you. None of that matters, of course, since all of it happened regardless of my wishes. You have all the right in the world to be mad at me now."

Rose: "It's not that I'd never cried because of something you did as the General. But the pretend-execution wasn't your fault. Or was it? Were you in on the scam, Armi?!"

Armitage: "I wasn't. I didn't know what would happen."

Rose: "It's over. Do you hear me? No more dabbling in ruling the world, no matter how well you think you can "improve" the First Order. You're going to stay right here, raise little Rae with me, build crazy shit and snark at the city council when they complain about it!"

Armitage: "Agreed! I do have that mental image of sending the Chancellor a used diaper with best regards. But that's as far as this will go."

[slyredfox12]

if anyone says that the queer or lgbtq+ community is the most accepting community in the world they are wrong and should look into what marginalization they do themselves against other queer people.

I have seen so many stories and experiences within the community about a lack of acceptance that are heartbreaking.

I myself have been called “not actually trans” in queer spaces because I’m AMAB nonbinary and still dress masculine. I thought queer people would be the ones to know that clothing doesn’t make the person.

I have heard many stories of how AMAB nonbinary people are denied in queer spaces because they don’t “count” as nonbinary.

There’s the jose story that I just saw that had a quote of someone saying that “a space meant for women and nonbinary people” meant “a space meant for women and women who identify as nonbinary” which completely invalidates nonbinary as a concept.

the LGBTQ+ community is meant to be open and accepting of everyone who have been marginalized by heteronormative ideals, why are we marginalizing the marginalized. why are we strengthening heteronormative ideals by implementing them into queer spaces.

this platform is no safe haven against that either, I have seen blogs and spaces inherently queer that specify that anyone AMAB should not interact because they are not as queer as those AFAB.

I’m also specifying that yes there is the marginalization of trans people by cisgender queer people, but there is also marginalization of trans people by trans people that goes wildly unheard of for no good reason.

the LGBTQ+ community has no future if some queer people are “more queer�� or more accepted than other queer people.

a house divided cannot stand.

nonbinary AMAB people I love you, you are just as queer and deserve just as much community and acceptance as everyone else, regardless of your sexuality.

[workersolidarity]

🇵🇸🇮🇱🇺🇲 The mainstream media in the United States and Europe is painting everyone into a corner. Either you are "with Hamas" or something, or you're "with Israel" whatever that means.

Here's the reality of the situation:

Palestinians live under worse apartheid conditions than anything we've seen in our lifetimes. They endure industrial scale oppression and violence at every level of their lives in an attempt to force their displacement.

You know, that whole make someone so miserable they leave of their own volition thing? Yeah, well that's what's been happening in Palestine since 1946.

War by war, skirmish by skirmish, conflict by conflict, with the backing of the entirety of the Western international apparati and the United States, Israel stole a little more land each time conflict broke out from the native Palestinians.

For decades, Israel has used a policy of inviting Jews from around to world to pour into the newly founded Israel and water down the Arab-majority demographics of the region, even as they control who can and cannot leave Palestinian territories and use their blockade of Gaza to control their diets and therefore, their reproductive habits.

Every time there was a war or displacement of Jews around the globe, Israeli authorities were there to invite more Jews, especially European and Soviet Jews, into Israel.

And so each time the apartheid conditions of Palestinians became unbearable, the Arab community in the region would lash out however they could, using politics and violence alike, as any community living under apartheid conditions would do, and each time, with the backing of the United States, Israel acquired more and more territory, displacing more and more Palestinians as they crowded into the few remaining Palestinian enclaves; what is today's West Bank, East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip.

And so you can see by analyzing this history, how Palestinians, time and time again, are painted into a corner from which there is no escape.

Words go unheard by the world, prayers go unanswered, protests are brutally stifled using Israeli snipers, machine gun nests, and indiscriminate shelling, and slowly but surely, options for the Palestinian community shrink until nothing is left but violence. This cycle of violence is more than well documented for anyone willing to simply look.

Journalists and medics are purposely targeted during Protests, Palestinians are maimed, murdered, raped and imprisoned for resisting non-violently. This is also well documented for anyone willing to just look.

So no, no American has the right to judge Palestinians for how they choose to resist this Fascism, genocide, Colonialism and occupation.

I've NEVER heard an American denounce the settlers and occupation forces' beatings, raping, imprisoning and murdering of Palestinians.

I'm not "on Hamas' side" or whatever you people are saying, I'm telling you and everyone else it's not our place to tell people how they can and cannot resist genocide and ethnic cleansing or to pass some kind moral judgement as though we're somehow superior to Palestinians.

It's that same kind of supremacist thinking that leads Israelis to commit such horrific and barbaric violence against Palestinians in the first place.

I don't 'celebrate' the deaths of Israelis, I mourn the loss of Palestinians every day.

Solidarity to the death with Palestine!

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[firstofficerrose]

I just keep thinking about Camlann, and there are two scenarios that I come back to over and over.

Scenario the first: Lancelot. It's not a common name, but it's not totally unheard of either. Lancelot originates in the French romances, I believe, so he would have less power here than characters originating from the Welsh traditions. But Lancelot is genuinely one of my favorite characters in Arthuriana, he's such an absolute disaster mess of a man. He is constantly getting kidnapped and imprisoned, he is a dude in so much distress. He's an incredible fighter. He has (sometimes lengthy) periods of madness. He cannot achieve the grail. He has a thing with Guinevere, and I know that our Gwen is definitely falling for Morgan (which is excellent), but Lancelots are very well suited to pining as well... and there's versions of the story that could even be read as ace or demi, probably. He keeps getting tricked into sleeping with ladies he has no interest in, so you might even have space for Aro Lancelot. There would be power in a link to Guinevere, but I suspect that he could get away with leaning into fealty without romance, you know? Such a juicy space of stories to play with. Such a sopping wet guy. I want Perry and Gwaine having to team up to rescue this dude and having some excellent teeth-clenched teamwork. Do you see my vision here?

Corollary to Scenario the first: Galahad, for many of the same reasons. An even less common name, trickier to pull off, but Galahad being this even-more-incredible fighter might be neat. A lot of what Galahad does falls into the space of miracles, which might not work with Ella's stated intention to avoid living religious traditions, but Galahad is another really interesting character. Achieving the grail through the power of no fap. He's a late addition to the Arthurian stories, and therefore less powerful overall, but I think he would be interesting.

Corollary the second to Scenario the first: Elaine. There are *so* many Elaine's in the Arthurian stories, an Elaine could take almost any role she wanted and that versatility could be extremely useful.

Scenario the second: Robin Hood. This one is relatively easy, because a number of the names from the story (Robin, Marian/Marion, Alan, John, Will) are quite common. This story would be stronger in Nottingham, of course, but can you imagine having this little crew of archery anarchists on your side? It would be excellent. Robin is, in later versions, all about rebellion against a corrupt king or prince, which might give him and his Merry Men a fighting chance against Arthur and the Knights. I want to see it, it sounds great. Also, our group of main characters are casters, a Face, and close-quarters fighters, and in the interest of party composition, I would be happier if we had some longbowmen here. (I know about Perry's crossbow and the spear, but come on, Peredur is a knight in the Mabinogion. He - and therefore Perry - does swords and spears and lances really well, not crossbows.)

Bonus scenario: Pellinor and the Questing Beast. It's been a hot second since I've read Le Morte d' Arthur, but basically the first thing Arthur does after becoming king in that version of the story is run off and go on a quest chasing the Beast for a full year, relieving Pellinor of the quest. I have never heard of anyone named Pellinor outside of these stories, which tells me that he might work better as a monster. You have the Beast and the knight chasing him (Shūjūn mentioned things that looked like Knights and really, really weren't, it could work) as this monster that Arthur and maybe his Knights are all compelled to go chasing, and it gives our little group a break.

[mollymagician]

I am an obvious big, gooey fan of the fandom take on wise sunshiny badass-with-a-soft center (or vice versa) Hob. And I don’t know about you all, but rewatching his episode, I know what did it for me. If he didn’t want to become a 600-year-old cinnamon roll in my head, he shouldn’t have said “You’re late” in such a sweet, gentle voice. Sorry, my dude, what has been heard cannot be unheard. I was done in the moment that came out of his mouth.

[astercontrol]

when AO3 is down but I cannot wait

yeah i did not mean to write a whole other Tron fic that was not even on ANY of my burners a few hours ago.

But, I was thinking about my fic "Scored" and my fic "All The Way Home" that comes right after it in the series, and how they would really work better with a little transitional ficlet in between to connect them, and... it JUST HAPPENED okay

...it's T rated, Tron/Yori, implied Tron/Ram, implied polyamory/open relationship.

Also implied major character death, two of 'em, or at least Tron thinks so, because this is right after You Know What Happened.

*****

-All Gone-

*****

-

The moments after losing Ram and Flynn, and before finding Yori.

Sometimes a life of grief happens in a few nanocycles.

-

*****

-

The lightcycle comms are silent.

More silent than any moment before. Quieter than the thrumming, rushing moments between the crack in the game grid and the crack where pure power sprang up into the cavern, cool and fresh for them to drink.

Quieter than all the moments since they leapt, circuits glowing fully charged, onto their cycles and darted like bright photons into the maze of canyons--

Quieter than any picocycle of silence in all that time-- because this silence has a reason, more deafening than the silence itself.

It's full of what was said-- mundane notifications of turns to the left and right and up ahead, pings warning of a tank or Reco from this side or that-- in the noisy moments between silences.

It's full of what could have been said and now will not be.

It's full of the last things said-- the first one from Tron's comm, the next one picked up by his cycle's reception subroutines, chatter between inter-tank comms on the enemy side.

"Ram! Flynn! Do you read me?"

"Pursuit force reporting. Two escaped units derezzed."

An answer uncaring whether he heard it. But an answer.

His own unheard answer does not count; it was too empty to be a word. It was nothing, a binary zero, the hollowest cry of No.

-

*****

-

---

Yori would love you.

---

He's said it to Ram so many times-- through the hard transparency between cells-- through the lightcycle comms to give Ram the strength to push through a grueling match-- through Ram's hair, face pressed desperately into curls, in one of the rare, rushed, secret moments when they managed to steal the time and opportunity to touch.

More times than he's ever said...

...Has he ever said the other thing? He doesn't think he did. And now he can't.

He knows Ram knew it, of course. He knows Ram said it. And that Ram knew, accepted, that it was hard for Tron to say (and why? Why was it ever so much harder to say the words on behalf of himself, than on behalf of Yori? ...Because Yori is love. Because Yori's love is a fact of the System, guaranteed. And Tron's is... well, Tron will never trust himself, not fully, never as much as he trusts her).

She would have. Tron never felt a moment's guilt promising on her behalf, because he knows it deep as any core programming. She would have loved Ram. Would have welcomed him to their life. Would have known how to make things work between them, as three, that never quite worked as two. Would have been the data transfer, the communication, that Ram deserved so, so much more than Tron ever knew how to offer on his own.

---

Yori would love him.

---

This one hurts deeper even though it's less true-- sent to Ram in silent data-transfer, more in jest than sincerity, a joke and a laugh pinged three or four times to punctuate the rhythm of the time since Flynn appeared.

Because laughter is the sharpest, deepest thing to miss, once it's gone.

Yori would love him, he's so funny. Did he-- did he just walk into a forcefield? Oh, Yori would laugh so hard-- we have to tell her.

He survived? Really? The Ring-Game match? All right, Ram, I stand corrected. You've backed a winner this time. We'll have to take him home. Yori will love him.

Did he just--

Oh, Users.

We're--

we're free.

He did.

He really did.

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes yes yes, Yori will--

-

*****

-

The Call from Alan-1 reverberates through Tron, charged on the energy from the pool, the bright hot energy glowing and pulsing within him-- perhaps the last thing Tron has left that he shared with them, with those two companions who are now two escaped units derezzed, the ones that Yori would have loved with him.

It aches and burns and he must save it for Alan-1-- to power his transmission, to cry his prayer up into the I/O Tower and receive an answer, instructions, upgrade, anything that may guide him to his purpose.

If he still has one.

And, if Alan-1 decrees that he no longer has any purpose--

--that he has failed his purpose, forfeited himself, by losing Ram, by losing Flynn-- that he will accept, too, as the deserved end of his functionality.

But, for now-- he sets his jaw, does not allow tears-- for now Tron has his directive.

Find the Tower, find Alan-1.

Which he must do by first finding Yori-- if he has not lost her too, and oh, he cannot think of that, because then everything would be lost.

-

*****

-

The room is bright.

Bright with the white of too many shells, too many workers uniformed in identical white and running near-identical processes on the line of the Solar Sailer dock.

He has sustained himself to this moment with the knowledge that he would know Yori if he saw her-- in any uniform-- in any room no matter what else was there-- oh, no, no, if Yori is not here, or if, oh, Users forbid, if Tron himself can no longer trust himself to know her-- or even if--

He freezes, immobile as the realization strikes him.

They are all discless.

It's a sick horror, sinking in.

Each back is marked. Not intricate like the scars of his own back, where the altered battle-disc was branded onto him at conscription, to track and control and make a weapon of him.

Not that, but marked instead with just a simple forked blue shape, where a program's simple, natural disc could attach... if it were there.

But it is not. They are discless, all of them.

Yori! Yori!

He pings his desperation into the void. If she has-- if she has been kept discless, to the point of degrading into a Stray, then she will not hear him-- then she does not, truly, even exist.

The screams within him are as deafening as the silence of the lightcycle comms that will never, never again carry him the voices of Ram and Flynn. Please. Please hear, Yori, you are all that is left to me, please--

He does not hear a reply.

But-- but he sees.

There she is, turning a corner, a curve of a white-clad back and arms, a flash of unique motion and energy and-- And he was right, after all, about himself--- he knows her, instantly, on sight, though he has not seen her before in this uniform or in a room like this. It is Yori. His recognition routines sing like the ground-shaking whirr of Recognizers.

Does she know him? Does she know anything? Is she-- oh, no, no, no-- she is walking past him, showing no sign, and pain stabs into his core, and he--

He should not have seized her so fast, so fiercely. He was desperate, he couldn't let her walk on past and miss the chance, he did not know what else to do, but oh, she must be hurt now and frightened, oh, Yori why did I do that-- He realizes too late that his whispered warning "Don't scream!" was a terrible idea. If she was frightened enough to scream she would have done it either way. But he has never been the one to make good plans. This plan so far has been failing, falling apart.

Please, Yori, please be yourself, be Yori enough to guide me-- I am lost without you.

The program in his arms does not scream. Nor does she smile. She stares, blank. But she does speak, and her voice, too, he recognizes.

"Thirty, fifty-six, ninety-nine are correct. Limited four and eight..."

Her voice... Yori's voice... and yet, in every quantifiable way the voice of a Stray.

-

*****

-

"No."

It's a hollower "no" than even the one he cried unheard into the canyons.

And yet--- and yet less meaningful. Because-- because he cannot allow himself to absorb the meaning of this negative. The absence of Yori, of her mind, of her strength-- that is a negative that cannot occur. Cannot.

His hands clasp around her face. His eyes connect to hers as if they could give her strength enough to bring back life.

And her head turns--

left, right--

"Tron!"

Arms wrap around him, clutching their bodies together as if to merge into a single script. The glow of her circuits against his, the life of her, all real, warm, back in his arms--

"Yori."

Pings burst between them before any more spoken words. A torrent of data, both sides at once, tangling and interweaving into each other's starving minds.

Missed you and Ram and love and Flynn and freedom and so many, many microcycles of separation.

Then, rushing in to meet him: so long here, so long, so lonely, they took me, took me, away from the laser, my purpose, oh, LoraB, oh Users, this place, my disc, my quarters, I can only go home to sync after work and the shifts here are so long, Tron, so very very long and I'm fading away--

But her eyes are bright and sharp and so, so Yori, as she holds him back far enough to look at him again. She's fading but she isn't faded yet, and he'll-- oh, he will tear apart the System itself to save her, if he has to.

If her disc is in her quarters he'll take her there-- bathe her in its energy until she's strong enough to snap it onto her own back and run away with him, far across the sea--

And she will.

She will know how-- she's already formulating plans inside that brilliant mind, he can sense it-- oh, she will save him. She will save... everything.

Not everything.

A cold reminder stalls his processes for a pico. She cannot save everything. Some things that he loved-- that she would have loved-- are beyond the saving Yori can do.

But she is here. That will have to be enough, for now. It will have to.

---

Yori will love... me.

---

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