#where it can do things that are tedious/difficult/impossible for humans to do

[parab0mb]

So, now that I finished the game (again) and the DLC chapters, I'm going to ramble about Crosscode C:

This game is really bizarre in the sense that, to be completely 100% honest, there isn't any particular part of the game that I think is all that mind-blowing. But all the individual elements (heh) of the game come together so well that the resulting product ends up being so much stronger and memorable than the sum of its parts.

Like, most indie games have one or several notable flaws or shortcomings (and understandably so) but this game is such an airtight experience that I can't help thinking about it and just being like "the how HECK is this game so GOOD?!"

...I am of course just getting started, I've got a wall of text of things I liked and thought were just "meh" under the 'keep reading' if you're interested (you've been warned (also spoilers obviously)):

The combat is definitely one of the strongest elements of the game and probably one of my personal favorites; its brutally difficult and sometimes feels like bullshit (and maybe there is one or two instances where it actually is just bullshit) but once you get the hang of it is really is flashy and satisfying and makes you feel badass to pull off. Plus its got the whole easy to learn, hard to master thing going on (like most of it is just charging SP and pressing the space bar, but knowing what moves to use and when def play into things).

I dunno how much of a hot take this is, but I really liked the puzzles in this game! I won't deny that they can sometimes drag on and interrupt the pacing of a temple, but personally I didn't mind. And just like the combat they're so well constructed that, while you'll spend minutes staring blankly reminded that you're a simple-minded creature and that the human mind wasn't made for this and you should be foraging for mushrooms in the woods and risking death over your next meal, they rarely feel impossible to solve without having to resort to a playthrough and are really satisfying to finally figure out (not to brag but there was exactly one puzzle in the game where I had to look up the solution and another where I did solve it on my own but then looked it up cause I thought I cheesed it by mistake). At first I wasn't a huge fan of how fast/precise you have to be for some puzzles on top of just finding out the solution in the first place, but after a while you kinda get used to it (and there is an option to slow things down which is really nice of the devs to include).

The story is... pretty alright. Yeah. I honestly don't have much to say about it. Bit of a slow pace, does the job, and has it's share of twists and emotional moments, but the narrative itself doesn't really do anything mind-blowing either so... you know. I definitely think it's the characters themselves that are memorable and prop up an otherwise average story. I mean every single one of them is just the hugest goober and even characters who initially seem forgettable or one-dimensional end up subverting your expectations and being super endearing/compelling/layered. Oh yeah, and Lea is a character that can only say like 10 words and SHE DESERVES THE WORLD I WOULD KILL FOR H-

Also, since the DLC is brand new to me I do wanna say that the ending was the tiniest bit underwhelming. Like you break into Vermillion Wasteland, fight a (surprisingly easy) boss, and that's... just it. Like 20 minutes top. I dunno, it feels like... something was missing. Still thoroughly enjoyed the entire thing and it is nice for the cast to get their happy ending (not quite as emotionally impactful as the base game's end imo, but still great and I'm glad they gave us more time with these dorks).

The platforming and navigating the overworld is tedious, which sucks a bit since that makes up a good chunk of the game. Idk man, having to scale different elevations of platforms is made frustrating by the fixed camera and the fact that the different "levels" of platforms aren't distinct from each other at all, so its easy to get duped by the perspective and jump to something you can't actually reach (yes you can use projectiles to check but it still isn't fun). Even without everything blending into each other visually, trying to find which obscure paths from four rooms ago will bring you to a chest just isn't all that enjoyable (some of the later maps like Sapphire Ridge were okay though, if only cause they started to have actually interesting puzzles to do). Basically they're just... there, between the actually fun stuff.

The trading system and farming for resources is confusing and kind of a chore. That's all I got.

Guess I'll touch on the art/music since I don't have too much to say about them. To be perfectly honest I'm not actually super crazy about the artstyle (blasphemy!), but I won't deny that the sprite-work and overall aesthetic are still super-well done, even if they aren't my personal taste (tl;dr I'm neutral on it). The soundtrack isn't something I'd put on my phone and listen to in the car, but like the art it's still well-made and perfectly suits the mood of/drives the emotional impact of the game, and there are still a handful of standout bangers (Lea's theme will live rent-free in my brain of course).

One last thing I'll say (that I mentioned before) is that as fun as this game is, it feels like a commitment to get through at times. Even when I first played it and had more free time, sometimes this game just felt "imposing" to pick back up after a break. Idk its hard to describe, but at least for me it was hard to play any other games alongside this (especially with my limited free time) which kinda sucked a bit.

To wrap things up, if I had to give the game an arbitrary number rating, I have to give Crosscode a 0/10 because its an indie game that doesn't have a fishing game (smh honestly how could they make such an obvious mistake 😔).

[crusherthedoctor]

Get a Load of Traits - PART 2: Dr. Eggman

It's that time again, folks. Time for another analysis you didn't ask for.

I explained how the setup goes with my previous installment revolving around Sonic, but to recap: for the sake of not dragging things out too much, I’ve decided to keep it all thematically consistent by sticking with 9 main points per character, in terms of what I personally consider the highest priorities for each of them. These will usually not be listed in any particular order of importance or relevance unless stated otherwise, and while there may be other major traits that might not get mentioned (in which case, feel free to bring them up yourself if you see fit), this keeps things simple and focuses on the points that have the most flexibility with how much of the character they encapsulate.

It should also be noted that these posts are made with the game portrayals in mind, because the games mark the core of the franchise, and as such, they objectively contain the purest essence of the cast. Adaptations generally like to play by their own rules, some more gratuitously and inexcusably than others, and this will inevitably crop up with certain entries. All that being said however, I’ll attempt to stay focused rather than devolve into another rant about this adaptation or that adaptation, only directly referring to them if I feel it’s necessary for the point being made.

Anyhow, for today’s installment, the spotlight shines on everyone's favourite villain that they pretend isn't a villain: Dr. Eggman.

He's larger than life.

Where could he be???

He's shaped like an egg. He laughs and bellows like it's going out of fashion. He proudly announces when he's in the room for no other reason than to inform everyone that he's in the room. He takes sadistic glee when you don't have enough memory in the memory card. Why would you want to sawdust away this side of him? What are you, a Hollywood writer?

Just as Sonic is a fun hero, it's integral that Eggman is a fun villain. He's all about the colour, the spectacle, the raw energy. This is non-negotiable. If you approach this character and think he needs to be made grounded because he has a silly name or something, then you are going about this the completely wrong way. Villains like Eggman get praised all the time for being vibrant and wacky, so frankly, there is no excuse to write him off for it.

He is genuinely smart.

"Oh yeah? Well if you played nice, I wouldn't need to transform you into a tedious gameplay mechanic that appeals to furries and is guaranteed to give this game negative reviews from IGN. Haha, gottem."

Look at the screencap above. He was able to turn the tables against Super Sonic right when it looked as though he was thoroughly cornered. How was he able to achieve this? By planning.

*leans closer to the mic*

P L A N N I N G.

Yes, he is not literally omniscient. Yes, he can be prone to the occasional oversight. Yes, unexpected events can transpire that would be difficult if not impossible for him to account for. But all that aside, Eggman is a genius. He does have an IQ of 300. He talks a big game, but with all the amazing tech he's created over the years, and with all the ways he's pulled a fast one over the heroes, he has proven that he can play the big game. Need I remind you that this is a human, and his arch-nemesis is the fastest thing alive, not some dude on the street. He would need to be on his A-game in order to last.

And yes, it is indeed him who does all that brainstorming. Ever since day 1, he's always been very hands-on with his operations, not needing to steal the credit from another scientist or force a hostage to do it all for him. His plans? His weapons? They're all him. Would a mere bumbler be able to subdue the Time Eater?

He is genuinely evil.

"What's this shite I'm hearing about a Mr. Tinker...?"

We've got the Triforce of Funny Man. We've got the Triforce of Real Intelligence. Now here comes the hardest pill to swallow: the Triforce of Actually Malevolent.

For reasons that can be pinned on certain portrayals that are coincidentally more commonly found in adaptations, fans are all too willing to remove agency from Eggman's villainy. When they're not claiming an amnesiac personality that peaced out as quickly as it arrived is his true self, they're claiming he has all these heated gamer moments for the purpose of avenging his Wasted™ grandfather, Professor Gerald Robotnik. Or they claim he's not as bad as other villains in the franchise because he "only" wants to conquer the world, rather than destroy it.

Now how can I put this gently...

No, I am not just saying this because I personally happen to favor Eggmen with proper villainous balls to their name rather than glorified frenemies with Sonic at best. Even when exorcising myself of all potential bias, the Eggman we see in the games is still a very different fellow from what a concerning number of fans say with a straight face he is.

He stuffs animals inside robots on a regular basis. He lies, cheats, and backstabs on a regular basis. He fired a laser at the planet with the intent to fracture it, with no consideration for destruction or fatalities. He conquered other planets just to reduce them to self-indulgent attractions for his theme park. He drove a friendly robot to insanity after they were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to destroy Station Square right out the gate, with the only difference come the end of his rope being that he changed tactics to more suicidal means out of desperation. When the Deadly Six were defeated, and the world remained in a dire state, his only reaction was to express relief that there was still something for him to lord over. And although Forces may have glossed over much of his rule, it's clear that it wasn't pleasant for anyone other than himself. Throughout all of this, he rarely brings up Gerald in a consistent manner outside of SA2 and ShtH, and in fact, even in those games, it's pretty clear that he only cares about Gerald's scientific legacy and how that makes him special in the process due to being his grandson. He's never been shown to give a damn about the rest of Gerald as a person, including the philanthropist he was at heart prior to his last days.

Not wanting to destroy the world is not an act of kindness. It's simple logic: he can't conquer something that's not there. And is treating the population to a lifetime of slavery really that softer than a quick and (relatively) painless death? I'm sure TV Tropes would say yes, but what do you think?

He's a self-made man.

Egg Jameson confirmed.

Our horizontally enlightened fiend did not start with a kingdom of his own. He was not a test tube baby who could shoot lasers out of his hands from day one. He was not born a demon, nor did he hail from a bloodline of gods. When he began his path in life of being a furry shamer, he had only his gadgets and tools to work with. Yet, he has managed to carve himself a bountiful list of pro gamer moves over the years despite his mortal human status, including harnessing the Time Eater as mentioned, bringing his dream Eggmanland to life in all its glory, and the engineering marvel that is Metal Sonic... and almost never suffering from financial troubles despite the frequent destruction of his machines at Sonic's hands. (Keep Sonic 4's name out your fuckin' mouth.)

And speaking of that last part, there has been evidence across the series that he has more than one way of ensuring the moolah keeps rolling in. We've seen him set up casinos, carnivals, Extreme Gear companies, newspaper factories, and other facilities to extend his reach. We've seen his robots mine for resources all over the world, and occasionally other worlds. We've seen him own a literal ocean of oil. We've even seen him sell his stripped down robots to chumps who don't know any better. For all his childish ways and penchant for plagiarizing the Death Star, he's surprisingly good at money management.

Then there's his specific approach to scheming and beating Sonic. Winning on its own is never enough for him: he wants to win on his terms, by doing things his way. So he might steal a shiny gem, but he'll use it to power the tech that he made. He might wake up a sleeping beast, but he'll have an Egg Carrier operating alongside it. The doc is always pulling his weight no matter the game, because if he didn't, how could he back up his self-admired intellect without it ringing hollow? You know he wouldn't be having that.

All of this goes a long way to explaining how he grew a knack for being so pro-active as a villain in the present day of the games proper. Instead of having it easy by being born an almighty superbeing, he had to work his way up using nothing but his brain. Because Dr. Eggman is a man with quite a few admirable qualities. Just a shame that morality is not one of them, no matter how much I've been gaslit by fans into believing otherwise.

His ego is his motive.

Don't say it.

As we discussed, for all his manufactured admiration of his late grandad's genius, he doesn't mention him as often across the franchise as fans would lead you to believe. But you know which moustached gentleman he does mention a lot throughout the franchise...?

An overfilled sense of pride is to be expected for a pure villain. Regardless of their motive and their means to fulfill said motives, they're expected to think highly of themselves to some degree. But Eggman is not your everyday egotist: he IS the ego. Many villains have made statues of themselves, but how many do you know who have defaced historical monuments and plastered their visage on them? How many villains do you know who call half of their machines Egg Something? How many villains do you know who make up every single boss in more than one installment?

That's because Eggman's ego isn't just part of his character: it's the source of his drive. Everything he does, everything he wants to do, is fueled by how much he loves himself, and how displeased he is that the rest of the world does not feel the same way. He wants everyone to bow down to his excellence, he wants to conquer the world to satisfy his lust, and even that wouldn't keep him satiated forever, since evidence has shown that he would just make a grab for the whole universe if he got bored. He cannot picture a world where anyone else matters, because they're not him. Over the span of three decades, his inflated self-worth at the cost of everyone else's agency and wellbeing has not diminished one iota, and unless SEGA decides to pander hard to the Eggdad standom, this is not likely to change anytime soon.

Which leads me to my next point...

The consequences are irrelevant to him.

Quote by Billy Mitchell.

Part of the recurring problem with Eggman being woefully mischaracterized as not such a bad guy when you get to know him is because people like to suggest that since he rarely shows outright sadism while committing his evil deeds (except this is also not true; see Tails' story in SA1, or the sheer ecstasy in his tone when he betrayed Emerl's trust in Battle), that means the results that spring from them are more excusable than the likes of Mephiles, Starline, Disney, etc.

Putting aside the fact that he's still willingly committing these deeds to begin with - with no regret at that - let's assume they mean in reference to ordinary citizens and the like. Now maybe it's true that he's not known to dedicate much of his career to making things personal with random nobodies. But let me ask you something: when he declared his intent to destroy Station Square with Chaos so he could build ROBOTNIKLAND THE ULTIMATE CITY WHERE I WILL RULE IT AAAALLLL COME ON CHAOS LET'S FIND ANOTHER EMERALD SHALL WE Eggmanland over its remains... did he say anything about letting the residents evacuate? Did he provide a means to help them evacuate?

What you need to keep in mind is that Eggman showing little interest goes both ways. He doesn't give any thought to these folk period. If his giant mech killed people who were in his way, or he fired a cannon at Whocaresville and the people living there didn't have time to get out of dodge, he's not going to shed a tear and call for a moment of silence. Because, as we've already established, the only person that matters is him. So long as he gets what he wants, and so long as there are still other people out there to worship him, what's the big deal if some kid is now without a parent or a home?

He is not a good master.

"Also, I did create a vaccine. That's what you get for listening to our loving fans who hate us."

Well, at least he shows a more caring side to his creations, right? Sure... if you don't pay any attention to how it plays out onscreen.

My dude is certainly willing to shower his creations with high praise, but what advocates of Good Guy Eggman fail to note is that he praises them because he made them. An achievement for them is an achievement for him, because how would they be so brilliant and competent if it weren't for who built them that way? And you know what else? That praise conveniently only manifests when the creation is doing their job: the moment they fall short of his lofty standards, he flips like a switch. Can it truly be considered sincere and from the heart if he's that willing to turn on them that easily?

Of his many robotic stooges over the years, two that he held in high esteem were the E-Series and Metal Sonic. He made a show of tasking the former with an important mission, and the latter has been recognized repeatedly as one of his crowning masterpieces. And yet, all of the E-Series bar Gamma were discarded and essentially left to fend for themself in an unfamiliar world, with Beta being forcibly modified without a second thought. Gamma was only spared because, you guessed it, he was the one with a victory to his name. As for Metal Sonic, for all his longevity and special treatment, he too is not immune to punishment in the event of failure or disobedience.

And Infinite? His prized right-hand man during his six month conquest? Whisked away without a word after one bruh moment too many, followed by making a point to show off his own mastery over the (real) Phantom Ruby.

Needless to say, this is a stark contrast from the goofy dad you often see in fanart.

His will is equal to Sonic's.

"I'm gonna have to reset, that was a practice run."

Being a regular human does not serve as a limitation for Eggman's status and capabilities, unless you're a hack writer who believes superficial power levels are the instant-win key to a good antagonist, or a well-crafted story in general. On paper, a hedgehog with Sonic's level of power should have dealt with this silly old man once and then never again. That happened with aliens. It happened with gods. It happened with talking ballsacks. Yet Eggman is still around. Despite being subjected to a wide selection of situations that should have Big Oof'd him, with Sonic normally not considering saving him from said perils a high priority, Eggman keeps surviving, and he keeps trucking on.

Why? Because main villain immunity, yes, but compared to Bowser the fire-breathing turtle, and Ganon the occasional boar-shaped demigod, a human scientist managing to persist for as long as he has is still impressive even without the out-of-universe justification. This detail of his character is even incorporated into his boss fights: the Egg Viper battle ends with a kamikaze attack. The Mega Death Egg Robot had a second machine stored inside it, keeping up where the fight left off as the first one conks out. S3&K in its entirety was practically dedicated to his absolute refusal to call it quits.

He doesn't give up. He never gives up. And he's not the type to piss his pants either. When the odds are stacked against him, he will either give it his all with much gnashing of teeth, or he'll retreat because it's the tactically sound thing to do. What he doesn't do is show fear and plead for his life. (Unleashed doesn't count, that was a Wily ploy.)

He hates Sonic.

Or else he wouldn't have made this.

You would think this would go without saying. You have not spent enough time in the Sonic community. I wish I was you. (Then again, I met my friends through it...)

There are many people - many, many, many people - who will vehemently drill into your head with the trustworthy assurance of a SonicTuber that Dr. Eggman, arch-nemesis of Sonic the Hedgehog, world's longest Attempted Sonic Murderer champion, secretly likes the guy deep down, and would never wish for the Blue Blur to actually kick the bucket for good. They claim that when push comes to shove, the old doctor would never fully commit to world domination, because he simply enjoys his bouts with Sonic too much.

For X!Eggman? Probably.

Boom Eggman? Definitely.

Game Eggman? The Eggman? No.

Eggman hates Sonic. Eggman loathes Sonic, and he loathes the rest of his multicolored accomplices just as fiercely. The amount of times he has tried to bust a cap in Sonic's ass is plausibly in the triple digits. He has subjected Sonic to all kinds of threatening, terrifying situations with the explicit purpose of either killing him or hitting him where it hurts. He shows happiness when Sonic is in pain, or has appeared to have been vanquished by his efforts. What about any of this suggests that he likes him? Because of respect?

Now yes, that much is true. It's evident that Eggman respects Sonic as an opponent who can keep up with him, and it's true that he enjoys their battles to an extent. That's not the same thing as actually liking the guy on a personal level. For all the respect he may wield, he would still gladly rid himself of the hedgehog the first chance he gets. Remember the big moment in SA2 in which he launched Sonic into space? He bid his farewell, in a semi-mocking tone, then went right back to business like it was nothing. And what about Forces? What did he plan on doing with Sonic once he got bored of waving his victory in his enemy's face? That's right, he planned on slamming the red button on him. Sorry you had to find out this way, that's what happens when you don't Play The Game.

Ivo Robotnik is a jovial man, but his goals are dead serious. He wants his empire more than anything else in the world, and he will get it. For whatever thrills their encounters may provide, he would piss on Sonic's grave without a moment's hesitation in order to make progress with his ambitions. If he wasn't serious about taking over the world... why the fuck would he do all that he does? Do you really think he spends all that time researching ancient tablets because he wants to be Sonic's friend? Do you think he enslaves alien races because it's not like he likes Sonic or anything baka kawaii desu (please don't unfollow me, I won't do it again)? I don't think so, chum. There'd be no game, and no franchise, if Eggman wasn't coming up with ways to put him in an early grave. And then probably vandalize the grave after.

---

If you understand all of these points, and if you can take to them, then I believe you should have what it takes to write a good, or even great, portrayal of Dr. Ivo "EDP445" Robotnik. No portrayal is going to be one-and-one with that of another, there'll always be subtle distinctions depending on the writer, but you'll be fine as long as he's not a softie or a fool who only exists to be replaced with a gay platypus.

Oh and, one last thing...

Heroes manual lied to you. Sorry, English fandom.

[crystalelemental]

Okay so I am sorting through a lot of feelings on the DLC, while also dealing with prime time of “I am impossible to reason with right now,” so I’ll try to be measured in my response.

I think the inclusion of all of this is neat. I am generally a Doubles Hater, I don’t actually like playing Doubles at all, but having a more robust presentation of it is an interesting idea.

Similarly, in a game with EXP All and auto battle, where it is easier than ever to catch a team up, I agree that it’s kinda neat to be told you need to train up a team just of what you caught here. Especially for someone like me, who is a disaster human that insists on breeding and EV training everything, it posed an interesting challenge.

Unfortunately, the “must use things caught here” gimmick ends early and was super easy. Granted, I used Swampert and Chesnaught, which took some time to unlock, but you get my point. Meloetta would’ve made it even easier. So that challenge wound up feeling unimportant. Drayton was significantly more challenging, but admittedly my overconfidence after shit-stomping his goons really made the fight more of a battle of attrition. I didn’t properly fight him at all, so I can’t take a measure of the fight’s quality, but he did have some neat tricks.

But. More than that. My frustration around all of this is that Doubles disappears. I’ve watched my wife do the rematches against the coaches. They’re all single battles. And we’re still in a world where Pokemon doesn’t let you quickly swap out sets and stat allocation, which significantly impedes the ability to swap back and forth. I know it’s “faster than ever” to get a competitive team ready, but that’s still a tedious grind, I’m not doing this for every set, and outright cannot for legends we only get one of.

And around all of these things is the frustration of…man I don’t care. Lacey’s cute, Amarys is pretty funny, but I don’t care about this league. I just want the Carmine and Kieran story and to know the deal with Area Zero. And my wife did complete that story and guess what? It’s super quick. Like okay, some of it is really good, but some of it is downright frustrating, and the whole of the story I was here for goes by in the blink of an eye compared to dealing with this league I didn’t want in the first place.

It feels like a sort of mis-allocation of time, in a sense. Like the midpoint of an otherwise good story that added in an unnecessary arc for padding and you can just feel how much it drags. I feel like in a vacuum I wouldn’t mind them or this league at all. But with my main fixation being all the stuff you only get to after clearing it, the inclusion of trials, the need to catch things in the terrarium itself, the sudden shift to super serious EV trained doubles that necessitates new strats…it all feels annoying. Because it’s a blockade to what I’m here for. Just put this stuff after and we’re golden, but putting it before and making it eat all this time it didn’t have to for a fairly short payoff…I’m not as happy with it as I wanted to be.

Granted, have to also account for my general temper this week. It will not be difficult to get me riled, so I am perhaps being slightly unfair.

[pilgrimattinkercreek1974]

hi @mitha-bukhar do not apologize i love to explain things :-)

PFAS (Per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances) are a class of man-made "forever chemicals" that are found in a lot of everyday materials (e.g. nonstick pans, cosmetics, synthetic fabrics), and when they (bio)accumulate over time they are often linked to health concerns like cancer and endocrine disruption and also very harmful to ecosystems. they are generally impossible to detect by human senses (cannot be seen/smelled/tasted) and have become ubiquitous in water+soil+air+food systems in the last few decades. they've effectively dispersed across the entire planet (have been traced to remote places like deep arctic waters, inside whales) and have half-lives of decay as long as thousands of years. and so they are at once this active ecological/public health crisis and this synecdoche for the industrial-capitalist mechanisms of environmental+biopolitical domination that structure our lives in ways we don't notice unless we pay attention ---- don't forget about them! (further reading - x, x, x)

#2 is about being open to questioning+destabilizing+locating nuance re: broad strokes of assumption in one's life. this is because i spent the back half of this year attempting to reconcile significant shifts to my perception of my own identity at the same time as learning to write theoretical ecology models, a process that heavily emphasizes defining the boundary along which the qualitative dynamics of a system change + dividing potentiality broadly into boundary cases and interior cases. So. reminder that mapping even truth+certainty according to a cartesian coordinate system necessitates investigating what happens at the edges of possibility.

#5 is about the card game spider solitaire, which u can play using 2-4 suits (each added suit=increased difficulty). Actually not every game (i.e. starting configuration of cards) is winnable but a very high percentage are. however, because it can be a difficult and tedious game, people often give up winnable games anyway. a wrong move early on, which u have no way of knowing is wrong at the moment, can make the game impossible to win, meaning u have to go back+retrace ur steps+find out where you might have gone wrong+try again, sometimes over and over and over again until you hit upon a working pathway. and so it becomes this iterative meditative solitary process of exploring an opaque (but mathematically determined) set of possibilities with infinite time, meaning the capacity to win is (mostly) limited only by your own attentiveness to detail and willingness to go on

2025

Locate something redemptive in the sludge

Boundary case to every blanket statement

Create more than you curate more than you consume

Take the long way home

Every game of spider solitaire 4-suit is winnable

Don't forget about PFAS!

The cafe is for being off your phone

Attune yourself to the biogeochemical

Err on the side of subtlety…except in matters of love

Every day is all there is

[redrosesshadowwolf]

History is often disregarded.

We abandon the horrors of human kind to give us a sense of peace, but can we really have peace built on ignorance?

It seems impossible, yet some still try.

Not to say I'm all knowing, or can even accurately recount any of the historical knowledge I have gleaned.

Yet even with my lack of knowing I still see this atrocious thing happen over and over, ever seen a whole class laugh at wars? Crimes against humanity casually flipped to describe it as something less than it is? In a way making it sound as if it was okay that it had happened?

Juvenile minds don't always grasp the importance of learning, or of understanding that things like this have happened other humans did those things. I understand that, and when they try and make light of it at least its a little more forgivable at young age but I also don't think it should be so forgivable.

It's hard to figure out where to stand on such a matter. For some understanding will come with time, and others they only joke to escape the dread in that moment. Yet for others the negligence of making sure they know that what they did wasn't okay, means they just do it again, their jokes aren't to lighten the mood or for their own preservation it's cause they are developing a mindset were they believe things like that only happen far away and don't need to be worried about.

Or even that those things were truly okay.

As a student I can't decide whether I should despise the school systems that allow things to go as they do, or if I should be understanding that they're trying to keep everything in a tedious balance. As they know like I, that some only make light of things to help themselves and others while others truly don't care and are developing a terrible mindset. Trying not to emotionally and mentally damage those who are fragile to such topics means letting the dread seep away as people bring up the mood, I know people who can't deal with certain things and others who for prolonged exposure to the dread of mankind displayed so clearly in front of them such as in a history class may be prone to panic and anxiety so crippling that there own bodies may struggle to function, loss of movement, a closed up throat, headaches, a burning feeling in the eyes, nausea, lack of feeling, drifting far from the waking world into ones own mind, temporary loss of hearing and/or vision, ringing in ones ears.

Symptoms of extreme stress, anxiety, and panic can all be displayed randomly in some people when facing dread, sometimes in the form of panic or anxiety attacks or just a few symptoms may be experienced randomly.

Trying to accurately guess what may set off someone's panic is difficult

[skaldish]

Shadow-Work Pick-a-Pile

Before you are three images. Each represents a two-card tarot draw that addresses something about the Shadow—the parts of the self we hide from ourselves.

Choose one or multiple images that speaks to you, if any. Then click the "Keep Reading" link to see your fortune.

[Disclaimer: Please remember this is just a game and this reading is completely impersonal. I'll also discourage anyone from playing who's not in a calm and oriented state of mind, or otherwise not in the mood for introspection.]

Pile I

ACE OF WANDS (Reversed)

SIX OF PENTACLES

You can't reach the mountaintop by ignoring the foothills.

Human beings are forces of creativity and inspiration. But at times it can feel like the universe conspires against our pursuits. Right now we want so badly to actualize our ideas, but for some reason it's just not happening.

Pile 1 reminds us that the universe won't hand us results simply because we really, really want them. Every pursuit, no matter how passionate we are for them, has a process. If we ignore this process, try to skip it, or try to take shortcuts, we'll only find ourselves stuck and directionless. This is not the universe "punishing" us, but the natural outcome of cutting corners.

We need to accept there's dirty work involved with every pursuit; beginner things, boring things, ugly things, unglamorous things, difficult things, tedious things, delayed things, and things that are simply not gratifying. But the moment we do is the moment we can start producing real results.

Take some time to contend with this, and a path will open up to you.

Pile II

DEATH (Reversed)

KNIGHT OF CUPS

Change cannot be stalled with illusions.

Pile 2 is about resisting change. Specifically, it's about making up reasons to keep something the same, whether the nature of that "something" is physical, mental, social, or spiritual.

But now it's time to question the merit of these reasons. To what degree do these justifications hold truth? The mind is a powerful tool, but it can tell us many lies: That we've lost before we've even begun, that something that was true in the past is still true in the present, that something is impossible because it's never been accomplished, etc.

It's normal for us to resist change, and it's okay to fear it for no specific reason. But change is an inevitable part of life, and we need to go through changes to grow as people. If we chronically refuse change by crafting arguments against it, we risk walling ourselves up in a narrative of our own design.

Change doesn't need to sudden, nor do we have to abandon all discernment when confronted with it. But Pile 2 reminds us that there's a difference between "exercising caution" and "finding reasons to stay put."

Work on collaborating with the principle of change as opposed to ignoring it. When the unknown becomes known, it becomes a lot less terrifying.

Pile III

ACE OF PENTACLES (Reversed)

SIX OF SWORDS (Reversed)

A golden cage is still a cage.

Pile 3 suggests you've tried to make a difficult situation "work" for you for some time now because you depend it for security. However, it's time to accept the truth about your predicament: You're spending too much energy on something that just isn't serving you, and it's simply not worth it anymore.

We can convince ourselves to stay in lousy situations for one reason or another: We keep a toxic partner because we think we won't find love otherwise, we fake a persona for fear of displeasing people, we stay in an hostile work environment out of concern we won't get hired elsewhere, we tolerate a dysfunctional living situation because we don't know where else to go, etc.

But sacrificing your agency for security is just trading one kind of security for another. No one can truly feel safe and sound by doing this. Additionally, no healthy situation would ask you to make such an egregious trade.

Finding security elsewhere may seem like an impossible task, but Pile 3 would like to remind you that you always have a choice. It may be a difficult choice, and acting upon the choice may bring a period of instability with it, but no storm, no matter how great, lasts forever. Calm waters and blue skies await you outside of the golden cage.

Take a moment to contemplate what is no longer serving you.

---

[All images made with Wombo Dream AI]

[tardis-ghost-blog]

A task to fail (Simm!Master x Reader)

Rating: E - For explicit sexual content Summary: "No. That's not another task." His hand stroked along your cheek and he smiled. "Just couldn't resist stealing a kiss from you."

Sometimes the Master brought a bunch of humans aboard the Valiant. It was fun to watch their various reactions, to walk around in front of them, grinning madly. Sometimes he let them look outside the window when he sew destruction, other times he told them horrifying stories about how they would die.

It was one of those times when you first entered the Valiant. The soldiers had captured you off the streets, had told that you had been chosen as a special guest for the prime minister. With you were two others. They all looked so scared. Sure, you had heard the stories, but they had never bothered you. Since the first day Saxon had appeared on telly, you had found him quite fascinating. There was just something about him that had always made you want to meet the guy.

This made you weirdly calm when he walked in, clad in a black suit, eyeing everyone with almost childish curiosity. After a minute he stood in front of everyone and grinned widely.

"Congratulations, humans!" he announced. "You have been proudly elected to become part of my staff up here. I'm afraid-" he put on a mocking put- "your predecessors have decided to quit the job."

You exchanged glances with the others and found even more fear in their eyes. Saxon clapped his hands to get your attention back.

"To make this more exciting, I will decide what your tasks will be. If you do them well, you might stay. If not... well. We will find an... arrangement." He let out a chuckle that simply sounded evil.

It was inappropriate, but the way he acted just got to you. You couldn't help but smile at this and Saxon saw it and trod directly in front of you.

"Is that funny?" he asked sweetly.

"You'll kill everyone who fails, won't you?" You hadn't really planned to say this, but you just had to know. "It's a game."

Maybe you shouldn't have sounded so excited about this. It also was your own life that was at risk.

"Oh, and you like games, little one?" Saxon bent slightly down to your eyelevel, which wasn't very high. "Are you begging to become my personal assistant?"

Wide eyed you glared at him. You wouldn't even make it a day! He would give you an impossible task and just smile this god-awful smile of his, that was far too charming.

Despite all of this... you nodded.

Saxon blinked surprised, then threw his head back and laughed.

You never learned what happened to the others and you never asked. Instead you focused on the given tasks and did you best to fulfil them properly. And, at the same time, tried to find out as much as possible about Saxon.

He made your life difficult, that's for sure. On your first few days he let you sort the library. First alphabetically, then, when he decided this was boring, he made you sort everything once again, this time by colours. So you arranged everything to form a bunch of quite pretty gradients.

Saxon stood there, one finger on his lips, head slightly tilted, nodding eventually. He gave you a happy grin. "That looks way better, don't you think? Well, I think it does. Good job."

There were other tasks. Tedious tasks that were meant to tire you, some that were like puzzles you needed to solve. But you wouldn't give up. He couldn't kill you, when he had no idea where you were. So, until you found a way to get or do what he wanted, you hid. Each time you came back successful, Saxon looked a little dumbfounded.

"Stubborn, aren't we?" he mumbled one day. Then a smirk spread on his lips. "How about you make me a cuppa tea? I could really use one."

Tea... That sounded weirdly normal and easy. He probably was extremely picky with how it was made.

"Mister Saxon, Sir," you said then. "How would you like the tea?"

He couldn't punish you for making it exactly how he ordered you to. And when he realized your intention, his eyes crinkled in joy. It made him look really handsome and you had a hard time not blushing.

In the end you made his tea to his exact liking. And you weren't sure whether he hated or adored you when he took the first sip. Whatever it was, it was followed by an amused chuckle. He gave you a smile and it made your heart jump.

"You really try to stay alive, eh?"

"Uhm... sure. I guess." You shrugged and couldn't help but smile a little. "But it's more fun to see how happy you look when I do something right."

That surprised him visibly. For a second something slipped and he looked almost lost, as if he had no idea what to make of this. You decided it was a good opportunity.

"I always thought you were an interesting man, Sir. I'm glad I could meet you."

Saxon arched a brow and took another sip. "You'll die here. You know that, don't you?" He waited for your nod. "It's fun to play with you. But sooner or later there will be a task you won't manage to complete." He cracked a crooked smile. "Almost a shame. I'm really having fun with you. You're not as stupid as the others."

"I had to fend for myself my entire life," you mumbled. And when he didn't stop you from talking, you dared to continue, "I... actually should thank you. Your soldiers killed my foster-dad. He used to beat me a lot. Because of him I never had any close friends and... no other family. There is nothing I could return to, anyway."

Saxon didn't say a word. However, from then on, he kept you around. To make him tea, to sort his files, to keep his office clean. But mostly, as it seemed, to learn more about you. He asked many questions and you never hesitated to answer. Because, in return, he gave answers of his own. And you learned so much. When he told you, one day, that he actually was an alien, you didn't have a hard time believing it.

"We look so alike, though," you said, eyeing him curiously.

"Oh, there are many differences." The Master - he had told you his real name - chuckled and reached for your hand to place it on his chest.

You blushed at the touch and your own heartbeat sped up, so it took you a few seconds to realize that his was somewhat strange. It was fascinating and made you smile.

He told you of the war, of how he had fought in it and then ran, how he had almost obsessively spent a lifetime doing literally nothing else, but to repair a rocket to a place that wasn't even real. And then he had landed here.

"Sounds like you didn't have a quiet minute since years," you muttered.

"Yah..." The Master sighed and leaned back on the sofa. Lately he was strangely tense around you, especially when you came too close. And still his eyes followed you everywhere, almost hungry. "No time to... rest." He growled to himself and closed his eyes.

"You're alright?" you asked and leaned down to him. "Want me to make more tea?"

The Master grinned with closed eyes. "No. But..." he paused and eyed you possessively, which sent a shiver down your spine. He shook his head. "You're fun. I quite like you, which is bad. That makes it really hard to break you."

"Why, thanks?" You laughed and poked his shoulder. "Come on. You've told me so much already. I don't think a little request would break me." You poked out your tongue. "I could manage all your stupid tasks. I'm sure I can manage to do one that actually means something to you."

"Yeah?" he giggled impishly, suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. It made you lose balance and you almost fell. But you could stretch out your hand in time, which landed right next to the Master's head. And your face came close to his. So close you could get lost in his hazel eyes.

"You know... Time Lords are usually above such things." His thumb stroked over your wrist. "But you make this difficult. And it's been such a long time. With the war and everything."

You had no idea if you should stay in this position or move away. He was so close you could feel his breath ghost over your lips. Your eyes met, his gaze was intense, demanding without words. In that moment you didn't care if it would bring you in trouble, the urge was too great. So you leaned forward, only a little, brushed his lips with yours. He sighed, lids falling shut.

And suddenly he grabbed your sides with both hands and pulled you right into his lap. Surprised you yelped, but he left you no time for confusion, his mouth found yours, devouring it in a fierce kiss. Your hands landed on his shirt collar, stroked along the cloth to do something. His tongue pressed against your lips, demanded entrance, which you gave willingly.

There was a soft groan from him that let warmth pool into your belly, but at the same time seemed to snap him out of everything. He broke the kiss, both of you panting heavily. His irises were almost black, his look mischievous.

"Whoops," he breathed out.

"Yeah." You chuckled softly. "Whoops." Then you remembered something and pulled away a little. "What about your wife?"

The Master huffed. "Political marriage. We never... were close in any way."

Slowly your fingers trailed down his chest, your hands came to rest above his hearts that still were beating wildly. It made you proud and giddy that you could do this to him, made you crave more. You moved in his lap, just enough to feel yourself gliding over the bulge in his pants. That made him groan again, but surprisingly he stopped you with his grip.

"No. That's not another task." His hand stroked along your cheek and he smiled. "Just couldn't resist stealing a kiss from you."

You giggled at that and gave him a tongue-touched grin. "Since when are you so reluctant?"

He returned the grin, connected your foreheads. "I like the thought of how I could make you feel, how I could make you scream my name. But it needs to be real. It's no fun otherwise."

"Is that so?" You leaned forwards and captured his lips again, rocking against his crotch in the same movement.

The Master groaned openly into your mouth, one of his hands snaked to the small of your back to press you closer. The kiss got wilder, his tongue doing things to you that made your head light. He swallowed your soft moans, while his finger glided along your shoulders, every touch sending goose bumps down your spine. You shivered when he traced a line down your back, when he caressed your bare skin and opened the clips of your bra.

"Sure about this?" he brought out.

His eyes were so hungry for you, it was hard to tell if he would really stop would you say 'no'. And still you had a feeling that he would. Which got you aroused even more. So, instead of an answer, you reached a hand between you and cupped his erection, stroking firmly over his pants. He gasped, eyes falling shut.

For a bit he let you tease him like that, then he grabbed the hem of your jumper and pulled it over your head, together with the opened bra. His skilled hands moved to your breasts, caressing them, thumbs stroking over your nipples, making them harden almost instantly.

Somehow your lips met again, tongues dancing sensually. It wasn't fair that he was still clothed, so you unbuttoned his dress shirt, happy he didn't wear a jacket right now. You wanted skin, wanted to feel him, and quick.

You weren't the only impatient one, however. Without a warning, the Master grabbed your bum and lifted you from him to drop you on your back on the sofa. His fingers slipped under the waistband of you jeans, eliciting a new groan from you, before he grabbed your feet to get rid of the shoes and then, finally pulled your jeans down, together with your soaked knickers.

His eyes roamed over your naked body, took in every detail with awe. You sat up then and unbuttoned his own pants, while he kicked off shoes and threw away the belt. Curiosity grew in you, making you wonder if Time Lords actually were... compatible with humans. It certainly had felt like it, and when you pulled down his pants you weren't disappointed.

"Like what you see?" he asked, wolfishly grinning.

"Oh, a lot."

"Then move aside, will you?"

You did, making space on the sofa, only to find yourself sitting in his lap again a second later. Feeling him skin to skin made your head even lighter than before. You started to move against him, then wrapped your hand around his erection to glide up and down his full length. Your thumb stroked over the tip, made him sigh out a moan. His fingers were on you clit at the same time, drawing circles that spiked your lust to new peeks. Oh, you wanted to have him inside you. You couldn't wait any longer. It was unbearable.

You groaned and kissed his half opened lips. "I need you. Want you."

"Say my name," he breathed against your mouth.

"Master." His name stumbled over your lips like a plea and you could almost hear his patience snap.

Both of you moved in unison. He straightened a little and you sat up on your knees so he could guide himself inside you. Slowly you let yourself down again, feeling every inch of him fill you out completely. You both groaned, stayed still for a moment to adjust and simply savour the intensity of the moment.

His hands on your bum urged you to move, pressed you flush against him. You had never done it in this position and regretted it now. The friction was just perfect, or maybe it was only because of the Master. You built up a rhythm, moved on him with delight. He, on the other hand, nibbled his way down your throat, leaving small marks on your skin here and there, while his hands were either on your bum or your breasts.

The tension in you rose quickly, almost too fast. You wanted to enjoy this, wanted to savour every second of it, so you slowed down a little. The Master grabbed your sides and guided your movements, his clouded eyes fixated on yours. Slowly you rose, let him almost slip out of you, before he pulled you back close, making you feel him glide inside you again. It was something you both enjoyed and repeated once more, panting.

The Master wouldn't allow you a third time, captured your lips and pulled you down on him, made you move again with impatience, breath ragged. He must be as close as you were and the thought sent a shiver through your whole body, made you move just a little faster until there was no turning back and you came with his name on your lips, clenching around him and groaning into his mouth, riding out the orgasm until you felt his grip on you tighten and until he had to break the kiss as his own release washed over him.

It took you a small eternity to find back to your senses. You heard the Master's rapid double heartbeat, felt his grip soften, but only for a moment. He then lifted you from him a little to slip out of you and lay down on the sofa. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his look weirdly serene in that moment.

"How about we change our game a little?" he murmured. "If you fail a task I get to have you again."

You nestled against his chest and chuckled. "That's not fair. I'd have to fail on purpose, then."

"Mhm..." He smiled impishly. "Can't let a human win against me, after all."

"That's too bad. I'd get to win, no matter what." You glinted back at him, mirroring the mischief.

The Master scowled, mockingly pursed his lips, then captured yours in a sweet, short kiss. His fingers gently trailed along your spine, drew circles on your skin until your breath hitched.

"I think I still win this," he muttered.

[tipsygeek]

So I just finished running Pathfinder 2e's The Slithering with my group, and I have thoughts. If you're a player, maybe don't read this?

It's a long read, so I dunno, get your coffee first or something.

The Slithering spoilers ahead.

You've been warned.

My players bought this book for me because we all thought the premise was really cool, and I still think it is! What's cool about it?

Takes place in Kibwe in the Mwangi Expanse

No humans allowed (go crazy my furry friends)

The stakes are really high (the city is afflicted by a curse that transforms people into ooze!)

Starts at level 5!

I read through the whole thing and thought "Welp, this'll need some serious TLC." Because this adventure starts at level 5 rather than level 1, the characters should either 1) have some downtime to get to know one another, 2) already know one another. The adventure gives zero opportunity for this.

So I added an introductory chapter and background elements:

All characters had been part, when they were going, of a sort of school/orphanage situation

While they did not necessarily know one another (they could) or have strong ties, they all had a reason to be in Kibwe: their former headmistress was getting married

The adventure started weeks before the first case of Slithering

They had friendly NPCs they could go to.

I could introduce Tomil and his sliminess (intended) ahead of time.

The intro, that enabled them to test out their characters, get acquainted with other characters, and start working as a group was "find the lady's future husband, mister got lost in the jungle."

After that intro, they got to the marketplace where the adventure actually starts.

And here's why it's so important: the first fight, against black puddings, is motherfucking hard!

Actually most fights are. This adventure is pretty brutal tbh. This was a recurring theme until the end.

A problem I've encountered, mostly running this game on Fantasy Grounds, is that several encounters did not have maps, including the first one. At a table I can "guesstimate" a decent map for a market or a temple, but I can't really improvise on Fantasy Grounds. Other adventures (i.e. Quest for the Frozen Flame) are much better at giving maps even for tiny, seemingly innocuous fights.

Once the adventure started, we had a lot of fun with encounters that were not combat (helping the medics, the debate with the fearmongerer, etc.) Along the end of Chapter 1, after a long dungeon crawl, I also added a bit of a sidequest with the Boggards to change the pace a little.

Every single part of this book is met with a very glaring problem (super obvious in part 2):

The party is on a very limited time frame (they're racing against a curse)

It's impossible to complete the dungeons in a single run so they need to rest (and feel guilty doing so by YMMV)

There is no mechanism for what happens when they go in and out of the dungeons, how the denizens react

So I had to improvise A LOT. I've got nothing against improvising but it was just... a lot of raking my brains lol

Finally, after all this, I basically cut the last chapter by 80%. I had issues with it and didn't think it brought enough to the story, it was just like one of their excessively long final dungeons in JRPGs. My issues with last chapters were:

Definitely against the clock (now they're racing a statue THAT DOESN'T STOP)

Same map as the last "dungeon in chapter 1" but different denizens

The motivations of the denizens make no sense because the bad guy actually died before the adventure began

Final note on my apparently lengthy list of complains: a lot of enemies are fought over and over and over again. Oozes (I guess that makes sense), cultist, Athovians... it becomes tedious and difficult to make fights interesting after the third or fourth fight. There could have been more balance.

THAT BEING SAID! We had a lot of fun, I have an amazing group who built the story and each other up. It's doable, but as a GM I found this adventure to be the not-fun kind of challenge. If you ever are interested in running and want to know more about my setbacks or experience, hit me up!

[ckneal]

I know that it’s not the week for it, but you know what’s going through my head today?

Michael, going to Purgatory to fish out the Ghoul’s soul, just like he promised Adam that he would, and how annoyed he must have been when he realized he’d have to make the trip alone. Because of course the Ghoul couldn’t go, being soulless—that’s the whole reason Michael has to go in the first place, since Adam’s gone and enmeshed their lives together not just with the monster who had killed him in his first lifetime, but with the very part of that monster’s being that is tied to the earthly plane and incapable of traversing the higher levels of existence available to humanity and all its misfit offshoots only in the afterlife. And of course, with Adam now settled in his old, human body—having been painstakingly reformed from the ashes that the three of them had tirelessly rooted for in the woods outside of Windom—the Ghoul couldn’t very well be left on his own. Soulless and driven primarily by his id, there was no telling where the Ghoul would wind up or who he might hurt if left unsupervised.

And so, Michael begrudgingly has to go to Purgatory alone, possibly aware of the fact that no sooner would the portal close behind him (after all, Michael could open and close the door to Purgatory at will, there was no need to risk who knew what creeping out into their motel room), before the Ghoul leaned over to Adam and murmured something along the lines of, “So, you remember when Michael was dead, and how we’d get off telling each other all the things we’d do if we weren’t stuck in the same body?”

MEANWHILE, Michael was left with the nearly impossible task of finding one stray monster soul in the gruesome, ongoing battle royale that is Purgatory. His choices of strategy are to either assume his trueform and squint down at the souls scurrying over the realm like a swarm of ants in hopes of finding one specific ant, or to walk around in his human-looking form, hoping to find the one soul he needed to find in order to go home. Both were exhausting, and not helped by the fact that Michael had no idea if the Ghoul’s soul was even there—what with the way that the monsters were constantly murdering one another. Even the angels (as per Castiel in season 6) didn’t know where the shredded souls of Purgatory went after they died again here. On top of that, even when presenting himself as human, Michael’s grace gave off an aura that inherently attracted the attention of monsters and Leviathans alike, and while neither was a true threat to an archangel, the continuous fighting was numbingly tedious to say the least.

Especially since most of the beasts that Michael bested and offered to show mercy in exchange for information burst out laughing when Michael then revealed that he was looking for a ghoul from roughly ten years ago. Monsters on the more harmless end of the spectrum didn’t last long in Purgatory.

Eventually, Michael gets a lead about a cave rumored to be a djinn’s nest. Djinn were naturally highly sought after by the less violent souls who found themselves in Purgatory. With no way to escape, it wasn’t uncommon to pursue a gentler avenue to that second, inevitable death in a djinn’s trance. But some people had overheard telltale sounds of fighting coming from inside the nest, suggesting that something else might actually be hiding there.

Michael tracks down this nest, knowing that it’s a long shot. The Ghoul’s soul would have been living in this bloodbath for a decade, after all, but he steps into the alleged djinn’s nest and feels the solid impact of a club striking ineffectively against the back of his head, and sure enough, there stands the Ghoul.

One thing that Michael found unexpectedly jarring was how young the Ghoul looked. He hadn’t thought much of it when Adam had asked him to age up their shared body—supposedly to help him slip back into his old life if he came across anyone he used to know—but the difference was hard to ignore when he was looking at Adam’s face as it was the day they met, under the coating of grime that marked every moving thing in Purgatory. A face that was, additionally, staring at Michael in a mix of confusion and terror. And it was only then that Michael turned his head and realized that it wasn’t a club that had hit him, but an axe—made of silver, if Michael wasn’t mistaken.

It was an awkward first meeting. Naturally, having been in Purgatory over the entirety of his soulless-sona’s relationship with Michael and Adam, the Ghoul had no idea who or what Michael was, and looking between Michael and the now dented axe, could only reasonably conclude that whatever Michael was was a lot harder to kill than a shifter. He took about three seconds to assess the situation, and then did exactly what had helped him survive in Purgatory for so long: ran for all he was worth.

On Michael’s part, he was realizing that he’d been so caught up on the headache of finding the Ghoul in the first place, that he hadn’t even considered what he would say to him when they finally met in this place. “No, wait!” were certainly not the first words he would have planned on.

The next hour or so was spent with Michael reminding himself over and over again that he loved Adam, and Adam loved the Ghoul, and he had promised to do this for both of them. He let the ghoul run outside the cage and then used his wings to relocate himself into the Ghoul’s path, the wayward soul crashing directly into his chest, and Michael’s arms springing around him to keep him from getting away. The Ghoul turned out to be surprisingly feisty though, and while Michael had no doubt that the Ghoul wouldn’t break free, his struggling was a nuisance. Michael wound up pinning the Ghoul against a tree—decidedly ignoring how his soulless-sona would likely have enjoyed that.

“WHAT are you?”

“I am the archangel Michael—”

The Ghoul’s struggling promptly resumed, along with a line of panicked cursing. “Okay, fuck, I know I wasn’t the best guy, but fuck, really? There are so many bastards in here, and you’re going after—”

“I’m not here to hurt you!”

“Okay, but I’m not looking to accept anyone as my lord and savior either! GET OFF ME!”

“Adam Milligan sent me.”

The Ghoul finally stopped struggling at that. As best he could around Michael’s hold on him, he started to gesture to his own face—then stopped and gestured to both his and Michael’s face. “You mean Adam Milligan as in. . ?”

“Yes.”

“WHY?”

“I will likely ask him that question every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Our—”

And it is at that point that Michael becomes aware that his grace—beacon that it is in the madhouse that is Purgatory—had attracted a horde of Leviathans. The Ghoul can hear it too, as whatever’s coming their way is big enough to topple trees. Michael tells the Ghoul to stay close so he can keep him safe, which elicits another strange look from the Ghoul, who had had very few experiences with people wanting to keep him safe, even before he and his siblings were killed. He reminds Michael that Leviathans are pretty high up on the food chain, and Michael assures him that he’s so far above them that he isn’t even on the food chain. The Ghoul winds up running anyway when he sees how big the horde is, Michael shouting after him.

Leviathans, of course, can’t actually kill an archangel, but that isn’t the Leviathans’ goal. They’d heard the rumor about a vampire who managed to make its way out of Purgatory smuggled inside a human soul, and wondered what their chances would be stuffed inside an archangel’s grace. And as such, they abandoned their humanoid forms and proceeded to throw themselves onto Michael as tar-thick liquid goo. Michael could blast them off of himself, but it was difficult with how they skittered around, and there were so many of them—and then all at once, a bottle crashed against Michael’s side, and his entire being was enveloped in fire. A startled, terrified noise burst out of his throat, realization triggering a memory that Michael usually kept firmly out of mind. Then something heavier crashed against Michael’s chest, and he tumbled backward with a splash.

When he opened his eyes, the Ghoul was on top of him. The two of them were laying in the bed of a shallow river Michael hadn’t even noticed before.

Scrambling up into a sitting position, the Ghoul asked, “You alright?”

“What was that?”

The Ghoul reached into a satchel he was wearing—which was now soaked through. What he held up was clearly a molotov cocktail, but when Michael looked closely there was something swirling in the liquid inside.

“Phoenix ash. Djinn who had the cave first, um, had one. I heard it took out Eve, figured it could help with those things.”  

“I see. . .” Michael started to sit up as the Ghoul carefully tucked the bottle away.

Then the Ghoul cleared his throat and asked, “So. . Are we friends, or something?”

“Something like that.”

The look the Ghoul shot Michael was sharp. After all, phoenix ash wasn’t exactly a resource to waste on just anyone, and Michael begrudgingly offered, “You have memories waiting on earth that will explain all of this.”

“How do I have memories on earth? I’m dead.”

“. . .It’s complicated.”

“And what, I’m supposed to just trust you? No secret code, or sales pitch or anything?”

“It’s a long story. If I go into it, we'll likely be interrupted.”

The Ghoul frowns and stands up, water running off his clothes as he wades out of the river, thinking. Michael moves to splash water on his face, still shaken from having been set on fire, even though his grace is already healed. He’s interrupted by the Ghoul saying, “Alright, let’s go.”

Michael says, “Just like that?”

And the Ghoul looks uncomfortable, frustrated and vulnerable because he isn’t convinced, but he gestures around them, to the scenery that is currently calm but littered with bones sticking out of the mud left and right, evidence of past bloodshed that would only repeat again and again throughout eternity. “What else am I gonna do?”

 And so Michael snaps his fingers, and the portal back to earth opens.

Outside of a body, a soul is actually a very small thing (see season 11), and so Michael actually winds up cradling the Ghoul’s soul in his hands as he steps back into the motel room. And then promptly drops it when he finds Adam and the soulless Ghoul in a state of undress in their king-sized motel bed.

“Oh hey, you’re back!” Adam says, rising out of the bed in a pair of shorts, as if he hadn’t been doing anything wrong—which, of course, he hadn’t been, Michael reminds himself as he let Adam kiss him in greeting. Even so, he finds himself having to draw in a long, calming breath when he looks over and sees the soulless Ghoul grinning at him, reclining on the bed, unbothered and completely naked.

Souls are immaterial things and not subject to the laws of gravity. And as such, when Michael dropped the Ghoul’s soul, it didn’t so much hit the ground as float gently toward the bed, inherently drawn to the other part of itself that resided within the Ghoul’s body. When it reached him, it fazed right through the Ghoul’s chest, without ceremony, and only then did the self-satisfied smirk leave the Ghoul’s face, as he bolted upright, looking like he was about to be sick. Adam was concerned, but Michael assured him that everything was fine. The Ghoul’s head was merely spinning as a decade’s worth of memories inserted themselves into his consciousness, merging who he’d been on earth with the part of him that had fought for his life in Purgatory.  

“He should probably stay in bed. It will take him awhile to adjust.”

“Right. . .” Adam nodded and turned back to Michael. It was actually a little surprising how quickly concern disappeared from Adam’s demeanor, Adam trusting Michael’s assessment of the situation unequivocally. Heat replaced it as Adam’s lips found Michael’s again. “I know you don’t need to sleep, but do you want to lay down with us for awhile?”

Adam already had a hand lightly resting on Michael’s belt.

Still on the bed, the Ghoul was watching them with interest.

Later, when Adam was asleep, half sprawled on Michael’s chest with the Ghoul curled against his back, Michael opened his eyes when he felt finger tips idly moving over his stomach. He looked over and found the Ghoul, propped up on one arm, watching the movements of his own hand over Adam’s shoulder, with an expression on his face that Michael found unreadable. The Ghoul’s hand withdrew, and Adam nuzzled in closer to Michael when he moved incrementally, trying to get a better look at their third companion. And even as the Ghoul laid there, perfectly still when their eyes met in the dark, as an angel Michael was aware of how the Ghoul’s heartrate spiked as he seemingly sucked his tongue for a moment before saying, “Thanks for, you know.”

[bailey-reaper]

Hhhhh could you write a sequel to the hades fic???? it was SOO good!!!!!!

For Dear Life (Hades & Persephone AU)

Notes: (continued from here) Hello anon, I'm very happy to hear you enjoyed the Hades/Persephone fic! As I've said before, I love mythologies!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: abducted / hostage situation; power imbalance; intense emotions; Tia seriously screws around with Greek mythology. Like really REALLY screws around...; I'm sorry historians (again!) and mythologists

It was impossible to say whether or not the underworld met their expectations, because such things were normally so abstract and not a subject they really thought of; so, to be suddenly confronted by the literal domain of the dead, was utterly mind-boggling.

All they really remembered, as the chariot dove deep into the bowels of the earth was the feeling of the God of the Underworld holding them close and partly shielding them with his long cloak of darkness. It had surprised them to hear a heart beating in the deity's chest – surely that was something of an oxymoron?

With a firm shake of their head, they quietly wondered why they were dwelling upon that precise detail; it seemed like such a trivial thing...

They had been escorted to a garden within the deity's palace: the plants were unusual colours and shapes, no doubt thanks to the lack of sunlight they enjoyed, but it was a soothing space nonetheless and one that helped their racing thoughts to calm. As they looked around and overhead, it struck them how easy it was to forget this was a subterranean domain given how high the vaulted cavernous ceilings were.

"It is a pleasant garden, is it not?" a familiar, but terrifying, voice remarked as the tall and imposing Lord of the Dead entered the space.

Instantly the feeling of calm abandoned them and they stood with a small yelp of shock, "........" even if they'd wanted to speak, it was as if their voice was stuck in their throat.

"...." the God's expression was momentarily odd, they might have taken it as him being wounded or even disappointed, before he cleared his throat and sat on a bench fashioned from black marble, ".... I have no intentions to harm you. It may be difficult to believe that, but it is the truth... won't you come here?" he held out a hand, "I have shown you a great deal of discourtesy thus far in failing to properly introduce myself... My rashness can only be attributed to the passion you make me feel. It is... very out of my usual character."

And it was, for the Lord of the Underworld was known among his brethren as a level-headed judge who maintained utmost composure at all times. In fact, they often described him as being 'cold as a corpse' and brutal when it came to matters of logic or strategy. Impulsiveness was an unknown concept in his mind, until now...

"...I... am fine here," they replied, settling back down in grass that appeared to be more peacock blue than green.

"... Very well," once more he wore that wounded expression, but the God seemed willing to respect their reluctance, "I am the God of the Underworld, I believe your kind call me 'Hades'."

"... Hades," yes -- that was what humans called the stern God beneath the earth, but it sounded to them as if that might not be his real name, "Is... that not your name, then?"

A smile graced and lifted his features for a moment, brightening them in an unexpected way, "You are as astute as I thought... that is correct: my 'true' name is not Hades, though, mortals may call me whatever they wish."

"Then... what is your real name?" this topic of conversation made them curious: where had the names of the Gods actually come from? Were they brought to the minds of men in a dream? Or did the Gods themselves provide false identities, if so then why?

"Mmm," he looked momentarily pensive, "That is a secret, for now... a God's true name holds great power. To entrust it to another is akin to making a vow."

Their eyes widened, "Oh... I... I see."

"You will forgive me if I do not offer up something so personal at this delicate juncture, I am aware that your presence here is entirely of my doing and that you are... unhappy about it. I will not keep it a secret any longer than I must."

"...." it made sense that a God would not trust a relative stranger with something that seemed to hold a great deal of power. They wanted to ask more about it: what did it mean to know a God's true name? What kind of 'vow' did it create? But, it seemed more prudent to leave the topic for now, "... Please won't you let me go home?" they asked, eyes pleading, "I am... flattered to have caught the eye of a God, but I am a mere mortal. I cannot see what lasting intrigue I would have to a divine being such as yourself."

The Lord of the Underworld tilted his head, "Do you think me a shallow man who saw your beautiful face and thought only of that?" he shook his head, "I appreciate that we Gods have a less than glowing image among mortals, and that we have a reputation for treating humans in a superficial manner, but, that is not why I have brought you here. I do not see you as some pretty trophy to keep until I tire of you. Though you are beautiful, yes, it is not simply your appearance that has captivated me so."

"What...?" for some reason his impassioned words made their heart thud in their chest; did he really meant to say that he, a God, had fallen in love with them?

"You possess a quality of character and strength of spirit that has quite simply dazzled me... I have watched you from afar, seen how you have helped your fellows and maintained your grace and resolve even in the face of adversity. I was blinded by more than just your looks."

They blinked a few times, going over his words again and again in muted silence. How could they respond to such a heartfelt answer? It was clear that the God of the Underworld was sincere, if nothing else-- but, this was too much to take in.

"... I'm sure it must come as a surprise to hear a God's confession, but I cannot yearn from afar any longer... that is why I have brought you here. So that I might marry you and take you for my spouse."

"This... it's... this is far more than a surprise... it's shocking. I'm a simple human, surely there are other Gods and Goddesses that are better suited to wed one such as you?"

The God chuckled, "Gods and Humans aren't so different you know... We're possessed of the same diversity of thought and feelings, the same irrational sensibilities and yearnings... it is not as if for every God there is a comparable divine partner. In fact, I find a number of my divine brethren to be a noisy, irksome lot and ill-suited to my temperament. I gladly opted to rule the Underworld for it lessens the time I have to spend with them."

".... huh?" suddenly, they couldn't help but giggle, "... Are you... saying that you view the Gods as annoying relatives?"

"...." he pursed his lips, "Well... they are."

"Oh... I had no idea... So, you came here willingly?" he nodded, "That's not what our books say: apparently you drew lots with your brothers and received the underworld having drawn the shortest straw."

"...?" he looked genuinely bemused by that account, "... I've... never heard something so ridiculous in all my life... drew lots? By the Gods, no. The last thing I would want is to rule the Gods and endure the constant politics of Mount Olympus. Truth be told, I have no idea how my brother manages it..."

Once more they were laughing, for the God of the Underworld --Hades himself-- looked utterly aghast, "Oh! But what about the sea then? Wouldn't you have preferred your brother Poseidon's domain?"

"First, Poseidon is not my brother, he was a 'brother-in-arms' who assisted me and my brother... second, the sea is not much better than Olympus given its relative proximity. I find that my brethren are far slower to make the trek down into the bowels of the earth than any other place."

"I... had no idea the Lord of the Underworld was so anti-social," they mused, smiling to themself having almost entirely lost their nervousness, "But... I suppose it makes some sense, given that your domain is that of the dead. Have you... always been like this?"

"Like what?" he cocked his head.

"... Disagreeable to spending time with other Gods."

"I suppose so," he folded his arms, as if trying to recall some divine equivalent of childhood, "There are so many irksome and tedious Gods in the world, I discovered that during the wars with the Titans."

"Oh... so those wars actually happened then? Our human books are right about that much at least?" he nodded, "So... are the myths about your brother, Zeus, true?"

"What myths about Zeus?"

"That he's the most terrible womaniser who forces himself upon anything that catches his eye?"

"What?!" he stood up, clearly flustered, "Who dares to tarnish my brother's name so?! He's not some philandering hedonist! He's a man of the utmost integrity and happily married! Not to mention his wife would punish him severely were he to hold such callous disregard for the mortals..." suddenly, he stopped his ranting and looked apologetic as he sat down, "... Forgive me, that outburst was uncalled for..."

"I'm... surprised," they said, "Because our myths suggest that you and Zeus do not get along... but you seem incredibly fond of him... oh... and what did you mean that Poseidon is not your brother? Aren't all the Gods related?"

"Of course I'm fond of him," the God said, "He's my brother... and as for your other questions.... what kind of inbred bedlam do you think the Gods live in? We are not begat as generations of mortals, we all issued forth from the black waters of Chaos..."

"But how are you and Zeus related if all Gods are not born?"

"I... was a weak little God when I emerged from the primordial darkness, in fact it was questionable whether or not I would survive. Zeus took pity on me, and shared with me his ichor.... that sustained me and breathed life into me. We are brothers who share the same blood, literally."

"Oh... wow... I had no idea..."

"Why would you? It is not as if we Gods are at pains to correct the fantasies that mortals dream up to explain the world around them," he folded his arms, "I'm... glad you seem a little less nervous in my presence."

"Ah..." they blinked, "Now that you mention it, I do feel a lot calmer."

"That's good... I hope, with time, that perhaps you will... take a liking to me."

"...." funnily enough, seeing more of the God's character had endeared him to them, "I... can't make any promises," they said, while looking down and smiling.

He seemed to pick up on that coyness, "Hmmm... that's better than an outright no. Now, I should like to show you my domain. Do you feel up to a chariot ride? I won't burst up from the earth this time and grab you..."

"In that case, yes."

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: Nirvana in Fire, Episode 02

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 54 Episodes!

A Cunning Plan

Let's start by checking in with the in-progress schemes. Nirvana in Fire features many, many overlapping schemes that stretch across multiple episodes.

Princess Nihuang's Marriage: Princess Nihuang is betrothed to a dead guy, and that's fine with her. If she needs tender emotional care she's got Xia Dong. Xia Dong is married to a dead guy so this works well for both of them.  

The Emperor wants to marry Nihuang off, because she's got a loyal heap of troops at the southern border, and he's a paranoid old fuck, who doesn't like anyone to have the power to overthrow him. Marrying her will sort of force her to hand her troops off to her impulsive younger brother, or something.

The Emperor has a soft spot for Nihuang, however, so he's allowed her to set a bunch of impossible conditions on the marriage, including a martial arts contest. NIF is a hybrid palace drama and Wuxia drama, so there are courtesans and backstabbing and sneaky maids and sneaky eunuchs but also, people can fly.

The two main power seekers, Prince Yu and the Crown Prince, have flunkies that they want Nihuang to marry, but their flunkies suck at martial arts, so if they want her to marry one of their dudes, there will have to be cheating.

Note that Nihuang's good friends Jingrui and Yujin are taking part in the contest to marry her, which might be weird, except they both know she can beat their asses so they seem to just be joining in for fun & prestige. 

The fact that she doesn't want to marry either of these loveable cuties means that she's pretty serious about staying betrothed to her first love, despite his apparent deadness.

(more after the cut!)

Recruiting Mei Changsu / Killing Mei Changsu: Team Prince Yu wants to recruit Mei Changsu. Team Crown Prince wants to recruit him or kill him, if recruiting him doesn't work. 

Mei Changsu acts like this is so tedious; all he wants to do is rest. But they only want to recruit him because he and his pal Lin Chen made them believe he is the answer to their problems.  Whenever Mei Changsu acts annoyed at something, it's probably something he actually orchestrated. "Pork chops again?" (secretly buys more pork chops).

The Duke Qing/ Landgrab Case: In Episode 1, the Jiangzuo Alliance protected some witnesses against Duke Qing in an enslavement/land grabbing case. It's difficult for me to find anything about historical land grabbing in China because Google is full of 21st century land grabbing information. Anyway Duke Qing works for Prince Yu, so the witnesses are (whether they mean to be or not) on The Crown Prince's side. The Emperor has an interest in this case, because land grabbing is bad, apparently, even by corrupt-emperor standards. Xia Dong is in charge of investigating.

The Chiyan Army Case: This is the big conspiracy that the entire show is about. 11 years ago, the Emperor received evidence that Prince Qi, Lin Xie (Mei Changsu's father), and the entire Chiyan army were going to rebel. This was supposedly reported by Xia Dong's husband, Nie Feng, before Lin Xie supposedly killed him. The emperor ordered executions for everybody.

Prince Jing thought this was a bunch of bullshit and didn't hesitate to say so, which got him sent off to distant regions to do army things for years at a time, and landed him a place high up on the emperor’s shit list.

The Hazelnut Pastry Scheme: This is a small scale, benevolent scheme, in which Concubine Jing will eventually stop making cookies with hazelnuts in them, because Mei Changsu is allergic to them. 

Ok, that’s the scheme roundup for this episode. On with the show!

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

After a quick expository chat between the Emperor and Gong Gao, laying out the reasons for the Nihuang Marriage Scheme, we go to Prince Yu’s place to watch superhot Meng Zhi, commander of the emperor's guards, whip some ass. Not, alas, literally.  Despite his leather shoulder thingies and his handsome beard, and his commanding ways on a battlefield, when it comes to interpersonal relations he is pretty much a labrador retriever puppy in human form.

Meng Zhi is kicking the asses of Prince Yu’s fighters to determine if they're qualified to compete in the Marriage contest. They are not. He points out to the Prince that they can't put such terrible wimps into the competition because it will make the country’s defenses look weak.  

This beatdown is observed by Prince Yu and by Xie Yu, who Prince Yu thinks is on his side. Xie is 100% on the Crown Prince's side, but is carefully hiding that fact; he has his son working for Prince Yu as part of his cover.

In determining how severe an ass kicking is, everyone talks about how many moves it takes to defeat someone, like it's chess. Meng Zhi can beat literally anyone else in the show. He's number two on the Langya List of fighters & we never meet #1.

Fe Liu Was Fast as Lightning

Mei Changsu is hanging out in the garden at Xie manor while Fe Liu jumps around. Fe Liu wants Mei Changsu to play Roblox with him, and pouts when MCS opts for staying in the garden and reading a book.

Fe Liu is utterly devoted to Mei Changsu; I really love their relationship. Fe Liu’s backstory isn't fully explained in the show, but apparently he was raised from an early age to focus on being extremely lethal, and didn't spend much time learning to talk or other skills, making him the epitome of the asynchronous/ gifted teen. Mei Changsu isn’t who raised him to be like this; MCS and Lin Chen rescued him, which is why he is now Mei Changsu’s personal murder pet.

Fe Liu is both a complete fantasy character and also a really believable teen, beautifully acted by Leo Wu, who DMBJ fans know from Tomb of the Sea, and who Xiao Zhan fans know from Battle Through the Heavens.

Fe Lui promptly gets into a fight with Meng Zhi, who's visiting Xie manor. All Fe Liu was doing was leaping about the rooftops like an assassin, but since Xie Yu is the sort of guy that a lot of people would like to kill, Meng Zhi doesn't think this is so good. They have a hilarious, entertaining fight with many, many wire-assisted moves.

They're pretty evenly matched, and Xie Yu watches them with extreme interest until Mei Changsu shows up and tells Fe Liu to stop. Xie Yu is watching because he needs to know how many dudes he should send to assassinate Mei Changsu. Answer: more. Always more.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately since it’s probably all part of MCS’s plan) Fe Liu's extreme skilz make it obvious that his boss is someone important. Mei Changsu discusses this with Jingrui and Yujin in an open-air setting where Jingrui's brother Xie Bi can totally hear them.  In no time flat, father and son have reported his identity to their respective princes.

Over at Prince Yu's place, Qin Banruo and her awesome eye makeup join the party. She's Prince Yu’s advisor/manipulator, working for the (fallen) Hua kingdom, led by the (deceased) Princess Xuanji . She has a network of spies who work for her, that she deploys for Prince Yu's schemes. Her ultimate goal is not to help him, however, but just to fuck up the Da Liang Empire, which conquered the Hua.

(Nearly) Everybody Hates Jingyan

Xia Dong heads out on her assignment in the Land Grab Case, and Nihuang goes to see her off. They talk about gender expectations and how annoying it is to have to marry a dude, and briefly hang out being WLW goals with their mutual devotion, excellent fashion sense and deadly fighting abilities. Nihuang, in particular, wears the prettiest things and also stands at attention like she's commanding an army; I adore her.

They're interrupted by the arrival of Prince Jing, who is greeted cheerfully by Nihuang and eye-rollingly by Xia Dong.  

He's wearing an awesome brass-and-blue armor that we never see again after this episode. It's too bad - it's a good color for him and it has a cool vampire cloak with a high collar.

Prince Jing takes the opportunity to snark at Xia Dong about her investigation and the Xuanjing Bureau’s penchant for inventing finding conspiracies, and then rides off before she can reply.

This leads Nihuang and Xia Dong to get into their chronic argument about the Chiyan Conspiracy and the Lin family, and then Xia Dong hits the road.

Prince Jing and his subordinates stand around outside the palace waiting to report to the emperor while the emperor ignores him. They get sweatier and sweatier while they wait. which makes me like the Emperor a little bit more.

Prince Yu and CP Xian are busy sucking up to the emperor as they look at a manuscript. They are a bunch of assholes and you can see that Gao Zhan isn't a fan of this bullshit.

Eventually Gao Zhan reminds/persuades the emperor to summon Prince Jing, whose brothers snark at him like a couple of 12 year old girls while he radiates manly vigor and handsomeness.  

Consort Jin is bummed that she can't see Prince Jing for another 5 days, and her maid sidekick says random comforting things. This maid, Xiao Xin, is actually a little snake, who works for Qin Banruo's network. We don't learn that until sometime later.

All of the maids have this same hairstyle. If you are a westerner and you think this hairstyle is crazy, have a look at some Roman and Byzantine historic hairstyles. I'm not saying this hairstyle is NOT crazy, mind you; just that crazy hair was a feature of many, many historical empires.  

Consort Jing has someone deliver her hazelnut cookies to Prince Jing; she doesn’t know about Mei Changsu yet so hazelnut is still on the menu. Nicest mom. Also smartest, helpful-est mom, as the story develops.

Suck-Up Contest

At Xie manor, Xie Bi tries to get Mei Changsu to go meet the Empress, who has stopped by with Nihuang specifically to meet him, as part of the Recruit Mei Changsu scheme. Jingrui says nope, fuck that, he's not going to be a pawn in your political games, fuck off. We get to see Jingrui being steely and righteous, which is both cool and hot. Nihuang should totally marry him.

The Empress is annoyed that Mei Changsu doesn't show up, and Nihuang is like, it's ok, I don’t actually give a fuck about meeting new men. But I did want to meet his murder puppy Fe Liu.

Grand Princess Liyang says they don’t need to bother meeting pugilists, despite her son being one and her supposed best friends/co-parents also being pugilists.

Grand Princess Liyang will probably be glad Mei Changsu didn’t come to her little party, once she realizes what tends to happen when Mei Changsu comes to a party.

Then we go to the suitor tournament, in which everyone more or less sucks.

The princes really want to go over to Mei Changsu’s balcony to meet him, and they have a hilarious silent interaction where they both try not to be the first one to move. They finally cave, and go together.  

Then they compete to see who can be the most cringe and blow the most smoke up Mei Changsu's ass.

They ply him with gifts and flattery, which he mostly manages to resist.

Cookie Time with Granny

Then they get summoned to go meet the grand empress, who is (I think) the mother of the previous emperor, the grandmother of the current emperor, and the great grandmother of basically every highborn character of the current generation, including Nihuang and Yujin, although it’s not clear where they sit in the family tree. Historically, cousin marriage - particularly of maternal cousins - was no big whoop in China, so it's not surprising that a lot of nobles would share a great-grandmother.

The Grand Empress is a sweet lady with dementia. She can’t figure out who the hell anyone is. First-time viewers feel the same way.  

Her dementia is pretty well depicted, unlike a lot of TV dementia, or at least it matches up to my experiences with my own elders. She remembers the distant past more vividly than recent times; when she understands who’s in front of her she connects with them emotionally, but she falls off track easily. And she projects the identities of people she misses onto people who are around her.

Like many other grannies, no matter who is visiting, she wants them to 1. get married 2. produce offspring 3. eat something, you’re so skinny

When Mei Changsu meets Granny she immediately calls him Lin Shu, either because she recognizes him or because she really misses Lin Shu, or both. She calls Nihuang over and joins their hands, and Mei Changsu grabs onto Nihuang's hand and holds it for a while.

Everyone thinks it's adorable that Granny has dementia and is confused about that guy who was horribly killed, except Nihuang, who was already checking Mei Changsu out and is somewhat verklempt. She might have to revise her anti-man feelings a little bit.

Everyone leaves, and Nihuang hits up Mei Changsu to take a walk with her, casually mentioning that she could have his hand cut off for touching her, but since she's not in the mood, he's ok.

She prods a bit to find out what he's doing in town and what he's up to. “Do you have a girlfriend? Like a serious girlfriend or just a stalker who works for you?” She asks him which of the two princes he's going to support, but they’re interrupted by a eunuch beating a slave child. That’s the price you pay for trying to have a date in the palace, I guess.

[useless-lesbian-writer]

Mc did not have a very good day. Her pancakes for breakfast didn’t bake properly, her lunch tasted like reheated leftovers, her night's work was monotonous and to make it worse, her truck took about 10 minutes to start.

 

Perhaps her terrible mood contributed to this. Since Grace went to college, JD has accused her of being a little too melancholy. Something that was easily answered with a "fuck you" (which proves the theory of variant humor). But mc mainly blamed her monotonous life, the same routine can always be tiring and even when your little sister flapped her wings and you are still stuck in this hole that is called Havenfall, there is no way your mood can be one of the best.

 

Despite the circumstances, she managed to make good friends... supernatural friends, to whom she pretends that she does not know each other's secrets and they pretend that she does not know to maintain the "harmony of ignorance" (as she herself named).

 

It can be a little difficult to hide a demon who let fire in the night sky, a doctor who only drinks a specific drink with a very peculiar color, a werewolf with a habit of running through the forest. Even your boss has very inexplicable events around you that always come down to dust and green smoke. You might think MC is crazy, but, hey! She already thinks that about herself, get in the line!

 

The drive home was tedious without her usual companion, it was something she was trying to get used to and, sometimes, a distraction. The road was deserted and poorly lit, but Mc could still be proud of never having been in any accident. Animals on the runway were frequent, but it was just a matter of attention and reflection (and not being distracted by the flaming demon that could pass through the sky with a frightening frequency. Really, how did no one notice?).

 

Mc knew she wasn't far from home when she heard wolf howls. They were tall and very close, so she kept an eye out for any unforeseen events. She just didn't foresee a woman falling (being thrown?) On her moving car. The impact was inevitable and the woman was thrown for a few meters, even with a sudden stop. Mc tried to understand the situation well, while the car's headlight illuminated the female body thrown on the ground. Her brain seemed to take a long time to respond, but in a few seconds she was already jumping out of the car to help the poor woman stretched out on the floor.

 

It was impossible not to notice the curved ears on top of the woman's brown hair. The girl also didn't seem to be older than MC. But the most surprising thing about her (something mc didn't need to kneel beside her to notice), is that she wasn't hurt, in fact, it looked more like she just took a shove. Her robes were dirty and her pants tore a little, but she definitely didn't have a single scratch.

 

"You... Hm" MC didn't quite know how to deal with the very-beautiful-flying werewolf who sat under the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if trying to situate herself "You sure are fine, but you want me to take you to the hospital?"

 

The girl who didn't seem to have noticed (or cared) about MC’s presence, raised her head and MC could notice that the claws and ears weren't the only non-human things the girl had. Her eyes were a magnificent golden and carried a strength within it. Eyes that looked at her in amusement when she noticed that the MC was just impressed.

 

"Aren't you scared?" the werewolf's voice was soft and had a slight accent, which MC found a charm. Her gay ass couldn't be crushing an unknown runaway werewolf, could it? "And are you still worried?"

 

"I'm scared of how much bill will be to fix the dent you made in my car!" MC pointed with her thumb at the big dent in the bodywork and with the same hand, reached out to help raise the odd "You are not the most bizarre thing I have ever seen here, you can be sure!" MC's smile was confident as if to say 'look how cool I am dealing with supernatural things', but she wanted to say 'you may not be the most bizarre, but the most beautiful is a strong candidate'.

 

The werewolf accepted her hand and stood up quickly, as if she didn't even need help, but didn't want to leave MC in a vacuum. Already standing, MC could notice that she didn't even was taller than her. It was even a little cute, actually.

 

Suddenly, the werewolf seemed nervous and looked around as if looking for something. Mc noticed and looked to the side where the girl came from and among the vegetation, she noticed a pair of bright eyes that moved away quickly when she was noticed. Mc didn't understand the girl's fear, since whatever it was, it seemed to be gone very quickly.

 

"No one was supposed to have seen me like this, but at the same time..." the werewolf looked awkward "You at least were the person who helped me up and didn't pass the car over."

 

The stupid joke drew a light laugh from the MC, who coudn’t help but notice: that was her first smile of the day.

 

"Okay, werewolf-prone-to-flight, do you have a name?"

 

The werewolf twitched her ears in curiosity, while her own eyebrows went up in surprise. You don't expect to find someone so open and sympathetic to the supernatural as well. The girl seemed to process the question for a few seconds, before smiling and extending her hand.

 

"My name is Annabelle"

 

The peculiar resident of Havenfall, returned the smile and the friendly handshake, before answering "MC".

[eggytranslations]

Volume 1, Chapter 10-Separate Paths

Content warnings: n/a

At night, the two brothers lay in bed with a lit candle by the bedside, chatting face to face.

For the most part, it was Shen Zhen who did the speaking. He talked about the anecdotes and odd happenings of officialdom as well as which new friends he had made recently and what kinds of natures they all had. His expression was animated as he spoke and his words could not be stopped in the slightest.

Shen Qingxuan listened for a moment before he shook his head faintly. He knew that his time in officialdom was still short and that he had not yet experienced those petty schemes, so his spirits were high and full of expectations. What will happen in the future was not yet evident.

In the end though, he was his very own younger brother. After a minute’s hesitation, Shen Qingxuan ended up pouring a basin of cold water on his brimming, enthusiastic heart. You need to be prudent in all things. Before you have distinguished their faction, do not make friends carelessly. Even if you have gotten to know them, keep a distance. It is not too late to wait until later, once you are sure you can associate with them, to treat them sincerely.

Shen Zhen was a little taken aback. After he recovered, although he did not say anything, he was no longer as spirited as before. He merely nodded and agreed.

-

Shen Qingxuan realized that he was overly blunt with his words. It was not entirely impossible for Shen Zhen to be aware of all these reasonings, but to have it said so candidly made it hard for Shen Zhen to accept emotionally at the moment.

With a sigh, he reached out to stroke his little brother’s head and continued to say, Father’s wealth is great and his influence is broad so I know you do not have worries from that end. But you must think about it. The greater the wealth and influence of the Shen family, the larger we are as a target to rope in for conspiracies within the official circles. You have just entered this space, so your experience is still short and without any roots. If you do not act carefully and join the wrong faction, it will be very difficult for you to turn things around again. Not to mention, if that happens the Shen family wealth may not be able to help; instead, our family might lose everything and become ruined or dead!

The last sentence, after some hesitation by Shen Qingxuan, was nevertheless said out loud. Under the blankets, Shen Zhen’s body shivered once.

“Gege, I know.” Shen Zhen was silent for a long time before he slowly said, “This time I have come up to say goodbye to you.”

-

This time it was Shen Qingxuan’s turn to be taken aback. Shen Zhen took a glance at him, and then lowered his eyes, saying softly, “It is precisely because I understand these things, so I requested to be transferred to the south and take office at Ningyuan County’s government office. The official documents have already been sent down. I set out at the end of this month. This parting will be as lengthy as the mountains are high and the rivers are long, I do not know when I can return……”

Shen Qingxuan furrowed his brows as he tried to recall where Ningyuan County was located. After thinking for a long time, he remembered that Ningyuan County was a small county seat in an extremely remote part of the south, situated in a hot and humid climate where the folks were fierce, and brigands and bandits ran wild. The people there were all called southern barbarians.

Shen Qingxuan’s brows did not unfurrow until after a very long time. He replied, Going there is good too. If you stay in the capital with this temper of yours, you will never know when you might offend someone. Go there to sharpen yourself. Once you return, gege will set a dinner to welcome you back.

Shen Zhen smiled and reached out his arm to hook his older brother’s neck, burying his head into it and saying softly, “I knew you were going to say this.” After a pause, he continued, “Although that place is a bit more challenging, it is a good place to build foundations for my career goals. Gege need not worry about me. A couple of bandits and brigands are not enough to defeat me. Moreover, diedie has a shop there, so there is no need to worry about clothes and food either……Ten years at most, and I will return.”

Shen Qingxuan was silent as he nodded his head.

This was their first time parting as two brothers who had grown up together from childhood. Although they were distanced by some years of age and were polar opposites, nothing could erase their mutual affection made of blood thicker than water. This greatly saddened both of them.

And after who knows how long, Shen Zhen finally said something. “Gege, I know your health is not good. But you must promise to at least wait until I return.”

Shen Qingxuan was stunned again. When it dawned on him, he could not help but feel grieved. He nodded and promised at once. Of course I will wait for you to come back. Rest assured, I still have not seen you get married and establish yourself, and then shoulder the responsibility of bringing honor to and continuing the Shen family legacy. How could I let go and leave?

Shen Zhen finally laughed, “Wait for me to marry and have a son. I will definitely have two kids and give one to you for sure.”

Shen Qingxuan laughed as well. To this day, he still had not taken a fancy to any girl, so who knows when this hollow promise will be fulfilled. Then he thought that it was not necessarily true that he will not be able to marry and have children. If it was just a matter of carrying on the family line, then it was quite simple. But at the same time this thought appeared in his mind, Yi Mo’s face abruptly popped up at the worst moment, startling him into suppressing and keeping his restless thoughts down all at once.

I must not think about it again. I dare not think.

-

The two brothers affectionately spoke a good deal of words again. For a time, Shen Qingxuan was unsure if he should tell him about the matter of regaining his ability to speak, including the matter of knowing the serpent as well, to save his younger brother the trouble of worrying about whether he was alive or dead while he was away from home.

But on second thought, he abandoned this idea.

Although he could speak now, he did not know how long this state could last, let alone what kinds of mishaps might occur in the future. He had already experienced the ups and downs of life. Before determining the final outcome, there was no need to make his family worry with him.

What’s more, the future of him and Yi Mo was quite complicated. Neither of them could promise each other anything.

Besides, vows were empty and tedious by nature. Who would believe them?

-

In the later half of the night, Shen Zhen had fallen fast asleep, appearing docile as he nestled next to his brother, just like when they were kids. No matter how feral or unruly, he was always clever yet sensible in front of his elder brother, putting on a submissive appearance. It seemed as if there were an invisible pair of divine hands that had arranged everything.

Shen Qingxuan smoothed his brow, lost in thought as he looked at him. Even from a young age, there have been people who have pointed out that these eyes were the most similar feature between them, as they had both inherited their father’s eyes.

Their least similar feature was also these eyes.

While Shen Zhen’s eyes were still full of youthful energy and innocence, Shen Qingxuan already possessed a pair of gloomy and exhausted eyes.

Shen Qingxuan sighed without a sound, tucked in their blankets, and in a daze, gradually fell asleep as well.

-

The next few days were a continuous rush since Shen Zhen needed to hurry on and take up his new post. The entire household was busy running around, not even Shen Qingxuan could decline and had to go down the mountain as well.

Since they were short on hands, Shen Qingxuan sent his own serving boy over to help out. He himself was unable to help, so he sat quietly in a shaded nook.

Shen Zhen busied himself with saying goodbye to his friends and going in and out of taverns and restaurants. When he came home, he also could not rest, and was instead pulled away by Master Shen to bid farewell to his elderly relatives one by one.

Shen Zhen would come find Shen Qingxuan in his free time to relay his hardships, remarking that he did not realize leaving would be this tiring. Naturally, Shen Qingxuan would say something to appease him and follow up by pushing him to another banquet.

Soon, after everything was sorted out, Shen Zhen went on his way.

Shen Qingxuan had also returned to the mountains, settling back into his quiet days. He would count the sunrise and sunset as he listened to the sound of wind blowing through the tree leaves.

-

Ever since they parted after the hot spring, Yi Mo had not shown up again.

He was not sure what Yi Mo was busy with, or maybe Yi Mo did not want to see him again at all. Every time Shen Qingxuan thought about this, he could not contain his scoff. So what if you do not want to meet. At most, you can hide until next year’s trial, and then you will have to come find me anyways.

But then he thought, What kind of person is Yi Mo? Did he even need to hide from a cripple like him who could not even truss a chicken? He probably did not wish to come.

Was it that he did not wish to come, or was it because he shunned him for being a cripple with dubious intentions? The latter was not impossible, Shen Qingxuan kept thinking, I fear that this yao has lived for millennia and has never encountered such a dishonest and shameless matter. Immediately, this idea was overturned by him. This was a yao who had lived for millennia; what kinds of things had he not seen? It was possible he had already seen all the affairs of the human world, and it was simply only because Yi Mo looked down on him and did not wish to see him.

Shen Qingxuan sat by himself in his room, the thoughts in his head spinning fast, but he was unable to make sense of any of them. Instead, the messier his thoughts became, the more depressed his heart felt.

It was like there was something blocking his chest, he only wanted to howl hysterically, and trash and break some things to feel relief.

Perhaps it was because he had just experienced a period of excitement, he could no longer guard this loneliness as calmly and composedly as he did before.

Sensing his own dangerous mood, Shen Qingxuan felt even more stifled. He really had no outlet to vent, so he simply picked up a stack of strange fox and ghost stories that he had collected previously to read. Except, as soon as he read a page, he wanted to rip out a page. He wanted nothing more than to rip all these things that falsely seduced people’s hearts into fine powder.

What fox girl would receive a good marriage when repaying a kind act? What love-struck fool would receive a marriage alliance after watering a flower spirit……all of it was entirely ridiculous and delusional.

Did the people who wrote these novels not know that “humans and yao walked separate paths,” huh?!

––Humans and yao walked separate paths.

Shen Qingxuan narrowed his eyes, chewing on these six words with gnashed teeth. Turning them over repeatedly again and again, soundlessly biting them out, then swallowing them down again and again. He was angered without reason and his hatred was drawn out even more.

Those words flashed across his mind again, “separate paths that converge to the same end,” but then he did not dare to continue the thought again.

They were a human and a yao, plus they were both men, so this convergence could not bring about the “same” romantic affairs mentioned in stories.

At most, they would be an excuse for others to gossip and add more topics for people to talk about after meals.

Once he internalized this point, Shen Qingxuan’s unwarranted anger skyrocketed even higher.

-

“Did those novels provoke you?”

Shen Qingxuan whipped his head up only to see Yi Mo standing next to the candle, half of his face hidden behind his messy long hair, the other half shown in the swaying shadow of the candlelight, and a pair of light-as-water eyes staring fixedly at him. His eyes were extraordinarily tranquil through and through.

Shen Qingxuan’s hand trembled once, then those white as snow scraps fell messily and scattered all over the ground.

The originally chaotic thoughts in his head seemed to follow these scraps as they fell to the ground and sank into the background as well. It was suddenly peaceful.

He was neither worried nor panicked, neither happy nor concerned.

He just unhurriedly lifted his head and gazed at the other man’s tranquil eyes. He vaguely thought that they had been like this for thousands of years, as if they were a secret place that had existed since antiquity where no one had visited.

“Yi Mo.”

Shen Qingxuan heard his own voice sound out in this still world and ask word by word with incomparable earnestness:

“Shall our separate paths converge into one?”

Would that be okay?

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #9: The Search For The Feathered God

words: ca. 2400 setting: Fairytale World lemon: No cw: none

“This was the story of two sisters who loved each other very much and made a journey to discover themselves.”

“Once, when the world was still young but not so young that the gods frolicked without mortals, there lived two sisters. The names of these sisters were lost to time, but to modern ears, they might be referred to as “Anna” and “Elsa”.

Like all of the humans alive then, they spent their time with their peoples. They learned a craft, the culture, how the world worked, and about the old gods. For you see in those days, the old gods were so ubiquitous that their stories hardly needed to be.

The old gods were a different sort than the younger gods. They were spoken of, sacred, and altogether content with what they had created.  The younger gods had a fire to prove themselves that led them to continue to meddle in human affairs. Both sets of deities ruled together, for the sun and the moon bound them in creation.

In those days, humans were still developing their gift of curiosity, for they had yet to learn all that they were. It had led them much further than the people of wood or clay, and it would continue to. Unbeknownst to them, their sense waned when there was normalcy of living. People grew comfortable with the way things were, for that was the order seemingly ordained.

The sisters’ curiosities were a finely developed sort. The younger found herself with an ability to dream in the day, able to imagine all sorts of wonderful things. She was naturally drawn to living things and discovering what might be around every corner. The elder knew herself to be talented with lines and shapes, understanding how things might be made. 

They wondered most about the ability that the elder had, since she had the ability to summon cold and frost. They had at first surmised that she might be a partial god, but their parents were still there. Even now, their best guess was that she had been blessed.

What changed everything was when Anna decided to ask around to see if perhaps they might be able to ask the wise god. He might know why Elsa was like that. To her horror, all laughed at her silly proposition.

‘Nobody has seen the wise god!’

‘Then I’ll be the first!’

They’d shake their heads and shake their bodies with that hidden laugh of pity. Poor, foolish girl. She didn’t know what she was attempting or requesting. Nobody had found him in quite some time, so why would she?

Anna though, she wasn’t the sort to give up lightly. She would be the first, and she would find an answer to Elsa’s lifelong question. Elsa in turn was willing to support Anna’s quest at every step.

With heavy hearts, they set off from their home. The general air was one of grieving, for nobody expected to see them again. Surely they would be eaten by prowling jaguars or struck down for their insolence, or sadder yet, wander forever chasing something impossible.

Their first step was to visit the great city of Teotihuacan. Though they had never been, they had heard stories of the trade hub. So many people were there that it felt like a guarantee that they would hear about the whereabouts of the wise god. Maybe nobody at home knew, but the people there might.

They traveled a long while, for in those days, they had no quicker speed than what their legs might muster. Often, their pace was slowed by the mild ache of muscles that asked why there was a sudden increase in exercise. It may have been a blessing from the gods for this sluggish pace.

For you see, the sisters had none other than the other for company. Though they had always been close, this bond was only tightened with them being their sole respective companions. There were struggles with annoying behaviors, but they had suffered those before and thus found it easier to move past them.

There was a close call once, when they had heard a soft padding and the crack of a broken branch. That was their only warning, as Elsa’s ice spiraled around them defensively to  form a protective dome. Into the dome crashed a jaguar, with its ferocious maw spraying thick strands of saliva. 

It found itself unable to break through, though its every swipe made Elsa tremble and sweat with exertion. Eventually, it grew tired of attempting to prey on them and left, finding it to be far too much trouble. Nevertheless, they did not leave the dome for fear of being hunted once more.

Elsa was beside herself. She wanted to go home immediately and demanded for Anna to go home. Anna protested, naturally. They argued on whether to go or stay late into the night.

‘Anna, I can’t let you risk yourself for me!’

‘We can make it! I know we can, please just trust me!’

‘This isn’t worth your life, Anna.’

‘You’re worth a million jaguars, Elsa.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Please Elsa, for you. It’s not risk when it’s out of love!’

‘That makes it worse!’

‘But we’ve come so far. We will find the source of your powers, I swear it!’

‘But- I-’

‘Elsa. You. Are. Worth. It.’

Anna scooped Elsa into a deep embrace and held her there. Elsa in turn weakly hugged back, still trying to process what happened. 

Anna loved her that much. Anna loved her that much. Anna loved her that much.

Anna loved her.

Tears welled in Elsa’s eyes, and she could barely contain the liquid emotion spilling out. Anna’s eyes watered in empathy and they remained in the hug for a while. Sometimes, it was nice to be reminded you were loved. Then and now. Humans never did fundamentally change all that much.

The remainder of the trip to Teotihuacan was relatively peaceful, all things considered. The two kept the dome up for a few more days, but were able to travel safely after that. It ought to be noted that while the jungle was beautiful, it formed a monotonous, lonely sort of beauty. There were only so many shades of greens and browns and fantastic creatures that one could see before the eye wearied of even those.

It was because of that, that when the city appeared over the horizon, it appeared even more glorious in its humanity. The bustle, the sounds, the buildings, the people: all so very human. There were more people in this one place than they had ever seen at home. It seemed a given that somebody might know where the wise god was.

To their shock and mild horror, it seemed that people from all over knew the wise god as something different. Some said that they spoke of the rain god, or the sun god, or an evil god. All had different versions of what seemed to be the wise god. The only consistency between these versions was that the god had the form of a feathered serpent.

Some suggested that they might travel to Tenochtitlan. Perhaps the Emperor or the princess of that land might know. Nobody knew where the wise-feathered god was. Only that he was. They both often felt rising frustration at the fact that the wise god was among the old gods.

They stayed in the city as long as they could, but there were no answers to be found. If nothing else, they had only found themselves new confusion. Seeing as they had no other lead, they decided to make the journey to Tenochtitlan to meet those peoples and their emperor. Perhaps, perhaps.

Like the first journey, the second was long and tedious. The land was as of yet untamed by man, and thus plants sprung up as they pleased. Paths were cut into these, but the plants seeped their long roots into the paths in order to secretly reclaim them. 

Once more, the sisters found themselves yet closer to one another. Words were unnecessary to express the care they felt for each other. It was not quite yet something more, but it was not merely the platonic love that one might feel for a wonderful friend or sibling. Indeed, the line between platonic love and romantic love is oft blurred, but theirs had become near vanished. But that is difficult to identify when one might never conceive of such a concept. Or perhaps, shame would arise otherwise.

When they arrived, they were once more in awe. This time, however, it was at the gardens seemingly floating over the water, farmers propelling themselves in small boats. Indeed, it seemed like the very city floated over waters, and was decorated with bright accoutrements that accentuated its near concentric design. It was truly a capital to behold.

When they arrived at the palace, the two were greeted by stern-faced guards who regarded them with little care.

‘What brings you to the palace?’ asked a guard.

‘We come seeking answers,’ replied Elsa.

‘Answers?’

‘Yes, we are searching for the wise god.’

Elsa stayed cool, but looked faint. When asked later, she confirmed that she indeed was on the verge of nervous collapse due to the danger of being so far from home and potentially insulting an emperor. Anna on the other hand, looked impatient.

The guards turned to each other and shrugged.

‘Very well.’

The sisters were allowed entry into the main hall. However, greeting them was not the emperor at all, but rather his daughter, the princess Iztaccihautl. She looked wistful and distracted, as if her mind was far away. She gave them a look and asked why they might bother her solemn vigil.

They in turn, answered that they were looking for the wise god. She told them that perhaps they might be able to find him if they asked a rabbit who lived at the base of the mountain. He had spoken to a god in a cave.

‘And…’ The princess gulped. ‘My beloved has been fighting in the mountains. Please, if you see him, tell him I’m waiting for him.’

Anna patted her on the back. ‘We’ll find him. Promise.’

‘You will? Oh thank you!’

‘I bet you he’s already beat all of them.’

‘Yes, yes I do so terribly hope so.’

‘I know so. You gotta hold onto hope, okay?’

‘Okay. No matter what.’

With the information in mind, the two trekked off into the mountains. The terrain from before was difficult, but now it was rugged and vertical. The earth did not care for comfort and maneuverability, only that it merely desired to be there and so it was. Once more, they grew closer. They still hadn’t the words to express what each thought, but the princess’s word, ‘beloved’ struck both deeply. There was something about it.

In the mountains, they found a band of warriors. Brave, decorated, and handsome, they were returning with the spoils of victory. Though some were wounded and all were tired, they had not lost the smiling bravado that marked the human spirit. They passed through the group, and told them of the princess’s message.

As if by some revitalizing magic the leader, Popocatepetl perked up at the message. He nodded at his second in command with hardly any time between his movement and suddenly running ahead to reach his love. The sisters had a good feeling about the lovers’ ending.

After that detour, they continued their journey. It made them both think more, about what type of love it might take to run so fast, to worry so hard. And in both, it resonated with something deep within that they did not wholly understand. They had begun to develop a vocabulary and rudimentary instincts, but they simply had not yet realized what sort of love was between them.

Eventually, they made it to a tree that looked like it might home a rabbit. They knocked politely and asked if it might wish to speak. When it hopped out, both were shocked. Anna squeed, and asked when it got its ears lengthened. Long ears were perfect for it.

In those days, rabbits had short ears. But this rabbit, the first long eared rabbit changed everything. It had done the tasks necessary to receive a reward from the god living in the cave. Thus, the sisters offered him food in return for knowledge of where the god resided.

The rabbit happily showed them to the cave, which contained darkened coils. They had the feeling that finally, after such questing, it was over. They had found him.

The wise god opened one eye and peered at the mortal humans who were the first to find him in a very long time.

‘What brings you to my cavern? I am resting.’

‘I-I’m really sorry but I have two questions, O wise one,  if that’s okay,’ Anna said.

‘The distance you traveled and your bond… yes. Yes, I think it is alright.’

Anna gulped. ‘One. Who are you? I thought you were the wise god.’

The serpent loomed and drew to its full height outside of the cavern, a glittering mass of emerald scales and long feathers emerging from its head and tail.

‘I am Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom. I am attributed the weather and occasionally the sun. Ask your second question, child.’

‘Um… why does Elsa have magic? She’s just a normal human like me.’

‘She was blessed. It was a reward for the love your parents gave the world, and the one between you.’

Anna blinked. ‘Between us?’

‘Yes. You ought to have recognized it, strong as it is.’

‘I-’

They looked at each other, a longing gaze going between them.

For the first time with the god, Elsa spoke up.

‘It’s okay then?’

‘Yes.’

From there, the sisters turned to look at each other. They did not wait any longer for the veil of confusion had been cast away. They understood what it was they had and how to act on it.

Thus, the god went back to resting in his cave, and the sisters kissed away all lingering doubt or fear. They eventually returned to their village, and lived happily ever after.”

The old, withered woman finally ended the story. Her voice was now scratchy, as the children looked up in wonder.

They soon ran off to reenact the various adventures, and she smiled at her dear sister. 

She murmured quietly to herself, so faintly that even a bat would be hard-pressed to hear it.

“This was the story of two sisters who loved each other very much and made a journey to discover themselves.”

[nathanieldorsky]

Interview with Jerome Hiler and Nathaniel Dorsky, May 2021, Leeds, U.K. to accompany an outdoor screening hosted by Will Rose

WR    The screening of your work in Leeds will be outdoors in a field at Meanwood Valley Urban Farm. It will be dark of course, but the films will be set against the backdrop of the city and accompanied by the sound of the outdoor environment. I’m interested in how these local conditions might affect your work. What do you think about this, and have you ever screened your work outdoors?

ND    When Jerome and I were in our early twenties we would leave New York City for a summer evening at my parents’ house where there was a backyard bordering a forest. We would have outdoor screenings using two projectors and enjoy the superimposed images and their many chance occurrences. San Francisco does not have windless warm evenings and the summer nights are particularly cold, so the inspiration to do this type of screening does not come naturally. But this summer, with the Covid crises restricting our social and screening lives, we had two screenings for six people each on the backyard patio of filmmaker Scott Stark. We were all dressed for a winter sleigh ride and masked with distance between seating. I showed three films I had made so far during the lockdown, one of which, Temple Sleep, you will see this evening. What was particularly lovely were the swaying tree shadows on the screen from the surrounding window lights going off and on. The film felt like it was floating within a larger cinema.

JH    Of course, silent films are extremely vulnerable to ambiance, yet there are always margins, and some are larger or smaller so it’s impossible to predict what is too distracting or not. Every screening is a law unto itself. No two are alike – even when there’s an immediate repeat screening. When I send my films out to be rented, they’re like children old enough to be on their own. I wish them luck. That’s about all I can do. Back in 1964 I roomed with Gregory Markopoulos and we were always trying to find some spacious outdoor setting for a night time screening. It never came about, but I feel now that I saw the beginning of an idea that eventually led to his Temenos events in Greece.[1]

WR    You have each largely kept your personal filmmaking practice separate from your ‘day jobs’ (Jerome as a carpenter and documentary director, Nathaniel as a film editor) – to what extent did/does your daily work influence or affect the films you make, and vice versa?

ND    As an editor one has to be very strict sometimes with a client for their own good … you witness the naked self-deceptions … so when you are working on your own film you almost laugh when this dialogue takes place all within yourself … you see the importance of not deceiving yourself … you see the way you fib to yourself …

JH    It has been some time since I worked as a carpenter. The work was all-engrossing and I hardly had a chance to have my films affect that particular work. However, the money I made certainly allowed me to make films. When I was young, I admired the filmmakers who had day jobs that supported their work. I also worked on documentary films and there it was a case of my personal films influencing my documentary style.

WR    Your work is very much concerned with the act of filming in the moment – an idea which also seems to extend to the way you would like your films to be experienced. I’m curious about the role history and memory play into this presentness. When you film somewhere, is the history of that place important to you? And are your own memories of that place important to the way you respond to it in the moment with your camera?

ND    For me it is the presences and dissonances of light that guide my camera into the world. Generally I am not trying to evoke a place, but in the film Temple Sleep I shifted in that direction; in this case seeing a series of fly casting practice pools as the flooded ruin of an ancient temple of the past.

JH    I generally wander at random. Driving in my car – particularly in places that I don’t know, hoping to get lost. I will react to a location. I don’t set out to make a statement, rather I learn and am tutored by the film as it develops. My film has more to say to me in the long run than the reverse. All art works seem to be self-portraits.

WR    I understand that you often show your work to friends in private salon screenings. Until relatively recently this was the only situation that Jerome’s work would be presented in. Can you tell me more about these private screenings? And when you make your work, is it is useful to have a particular viewer (someone you know) in mind?


JH    Now that I’m shown publicly, I’m often asked why I “withheld” my work. But, as far as I was concerned, I was sharing my work as much as I could. Living in San Francisco, I was ensconced in such a vibrant and busy film scene with many visiting filmmakers coming through and showing their work. There were many impromptu screenings at different people’s homes. For my part, I would create tailor-made “films” from my camera original to suit the person or people who were attending that night. Then, I would dismantle the reel and re-purpose material for another occasion. This process of using original film resulted in much loss over the years. But, as for making a finished film, I had not found a voice and my attempts, I feared, might be pretentious. Suddenly, I was asked to be in a film show and I quickly finished a film in progress. In this way, I had found my very casual voice.

WR    You have been life-partners since the mid-1960s and make films principally for each other. Can you tell me more about how your work converges and diverges?

ND    Jerome taught me half the things that I know. His earliest filmmaking awakened me to the open glories of self-symbol montage, that a film is something in itself! Jerome is a bit more the painter and I, a bit more the poet.

WR    During the pandemic I have increasingly had the urge to be somewhere that I don’t recognise. I was fascinated to find out that your work is almost entirely filmed within a very small radius of your home in San Francisco. Why is this the case?

ND    This is an exaggeration … although it is true that many of my films are shot in walking distance from my apartment. But I would often in normal times go downtown with my camera in a car, park and walk around in a variety of neighbourhoods and environments. I could no longer shoot street or human scenes as if the Covid was not happening.            The real issue is that when you travel and shoot footage the footage is seldom as good as something you shot that you are very familiar with. When it’s familiar you have to work harder to make it touch something in the psyche … but a new place is all awe and seduction of the new but the footage one might take there is often not really so interesting as cinema. I have some travel films I’ve made on Kodachrome and have occasionally shown them in my apartment and once publicly at Anthology Film Archives. They looked gorgeous with the original camera Kodachrome going through the projector – now that is a heart stopper.

WR    You both have a close affinity to poetry and have found ways to create an equivalent sensation using the medium of film. Nathaniel, I showed your work in Leeds a few years ago in the presence of a very wonderful local poet. Without any prior knowledge, he appreciated it instantly as the filmic equivalent of a poem. Is there some intrinsic essence you can identify which makes film poetic?

ND    When film can create for the viewer feelings and intuitions, associations and discoveries, things that cannot be directly said, then it has poetic qualities. Not the false poetry of sentimental narrative, but the sharp present alert quality of light and the screen.
 JH    I think my films are more akin to music than poetry. Some musicians can tell me what tempos and dance forms my works employ. My subject matter is so truly personal that I doubt anyone else could follow a “narrative.” Though, I have heard a viewer’s re-telling of my film that was both true and sidesplittingly hilarious. You might wonder, “Do I have no regard for my viewer?” Actually, I hope that there is always something for the mind of the viewer to engage with along with the feeling that what you see and feel is, indeed, the heart of the film. The film is really yours. I remember, over so many years, tedious post-film discussions where a viewer stated their reaction and asked the filmmaker, “Was that intentional?” My answer would be: If that’s what you saw, yes, it was.

WR    The way light, weather and vegetation are measures of seasonal change is important in almost all your work.  How do the seasons play a role in structuring the way you make films?

ND    Like poets for many thousands of years, the change of seasons stirs the soul, awakening primordial feelings of birth, death and desire and the need to “sing” of such things.

WR    The pandemic has put a temporary stop to public screenings of work that necessitates film projection. This screening of your work in Leeds is a gentle re-connection with a type of art that has been in hibernation. What has been your response to the last year? Have you worried for the future of your art form?

ND    I just kept on shooting and vaguely wondering what damage the Covid crises would have on handmade films in public arenas. Luckily my film lab was allowed to stay open as an essential business … I could not agree more … and Eastman stayed open for purchasing raw stock. I found it very difficult to make a film during this crises – though I ended up making six … many quite short as the world had become smaller. I spent weeks at various places in Golden Gate park, a half block from my apartment. After three weeks or so ideas for making films in those locations took place and manifested. It was hard photographing things with this ominous lurking presence, but I found a way by relating to the oppression and trying to make films that were a purification for the impending claustrophobia.

JH    This is a very good question. The issue of impermanence has arisen most powerfully this past year. I find myself at an advanced age. I read complaints that my films are impossible to see outside of the larger venues in film capitals. My attention, as usual, has been on the making of films and not at all on their exhibition. I have never felt that video was akin to film. For me, it did not present itself as a substitute. I am considering, very seriously, transferring my films to a digital format. I do dislike the light of digital projectors, but I have to face the fact that loyalty to my first love is taking too large a toll on my work’s appearance on any screen at all.

[1]. Temenos is the name filmmaker Gregory Markopoulos gave to a remote outdoor screening site in the Peloponnese region of Greece. Markopoulos spent the last decade of his life working on Eniaios, an epic, 80-hour film cycle created exclusively for projection at this site. The next presentation screening will take place there in summer 2022. See: www.thetemenos.org

3 Films by Nathaniel Dorsky and Jerome Hiler | Outdoor Screening, Fri, 21 May 2021, Leeds, U.K.  link

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3 (though I’ll likely only post this chapter there tomorrow)

Set not very long after lwj and nhs silently bonding over bunnies. gonna blame @denira whose tags on the aforementioned chapter inspired me :D

Lan Qiren is busy today, so it is Lan Xichen who supervises Lan Wangji's guqin practice. It is what Lan Wangji prefers, although he knows better than to say it. Lan Qiren is more experienced, more skilled, and this is the superior teacher. But Lan Xichen is kinder when his brother makes a mistake, preferring to encourage rather than scold, so Lan Wangji is weak and prefers him.

When the lesson is over, Lan Xichen praises his brother for how well he did while Lan Wangji goes to carefully put away his guqin. When he comes back, he finds Lan Xichen looking at something on his desk. He was supposed to tidy it earlier, but got distracted. It is irresponsible of him, and if Lan Qiren were here, he would scold his nephew.

Lan Wangji is really glad it was his brother with him today.

“Wanji, this painting is very good,” Lan Xichen remarks, picking up something from the desk. “When did you make it?”

Considering he has not painted in a while, the question takes Lan Wangji by surprise. He cannot think of any recent work he might not have yet shown his brother. The mystery is quickly lifted when he comes closer and finds his brother holding the painting that Nie Huaisang gave him. Lan Xichen is right to call it good, of course, and Lan Wangji knows he should immediately disperse the misunderstanding that it is his own work.

Lan Wangji knows, also, that his brother is not very impressed by Nie Huaisang's skills. He cannot be blamed. Nie Huaisang is a very poor cultivator who doesn't even have a golden core yet, and Lan Wangji understands that in the world they live in, that is unforgivable for someone from such a prestigious sect as Qinghe Nie. Until recently, Lan Wangji simply agreed with his brother's disappointment, mostly due to never interacting with the other boy himself.

But since then there's been that afternoon with the rabbits, and Lan Wangji feels a little more positively toward his future brother-in-law. After all, Nie Huaisang didn't try to force him into tedious conversation as most people do, didn't tease him for his enjoyment of rabbits as other children did when he was younger. And, of course, Nie Huaisang gave him that beautiful painting where the rabbits look as if they might just hop from the page and started frolicking around.

Nie Huaisang doesn't look like much, but there might be more to him than can be seen on the surface.

“Brother thinks it's good?” Lan Wangji asks.

Lying by omission or implication is wrong. He'll have to be punished for it later. Handstands perhaps. But since Nie Huaisang gave him a gift, Lan Wangji feels like giving one in return.

“It's excellent,” Lan Xichen assures him, unable to take his eyes off the painting and smiling with open admiration. “I didn't know you had progressed so much! The lines flow beautifully, you're making them look relaxed and yet still ready to stir at the first noise... and the shading is simple but very good, it really brings them to life. Their shape is good too, very true to life, I particularly like their eyes and noses. Wangji, I think this is better than most of what I've done recently.”

Since Lan Wangji has little taste for pictorial arts, he doesn't care too much that this praise is not directed at his actual work. He only paints because it's what a man of good education must do. But he has seen how Nie Huaisang looked when he was painting, and knows his future brother-in-law must feel differently.

Usually Nie Huaisang always looks like he's about to cry if someone so much as looks his way, but that afternoon he was so focused that nothing seemed to touch him. Lan Wangji is half sure that if he hadn't been there to be the reasonable one, Nie Huaisang would have stayed painting until the very last ray of sunlight, perhaps even after night fell if the moon was bright enough. Everyone says he's lazy, but clearly that's not what's the problem with him.

“Nie Huaisang gifted me this painting,” Lan Wangji announces. “He made it himself.”

The silence that follows is to be expected. Since Lan Xichen has a low opinion of Nie Huaisang, it is normal for him to be surprised by the skill his fiancé hides under all that shyness. But after seeing what Nie Huaisang is capable of, it is obvious that Lan Xichen will have to rethink his position. There is no shame in being wrong, only in refusing to learn from it, the rules say.

“He lied to you,” Lan Xichen says without hesitation.

“He did not,” Lan Wangji calmly protests. “I saw him paint it.”

“I did not know you ever spent time with him,” Lan Xichen remarks, now inspecting the painting more critically, as if trying to find faults in it. “I suppose he might have painted it. The composition isn't very good, and the proportions of those poor rabbits is laughable. If they really looked this fat, they'd have ended up as a fox's dinner already.”

Lan Wangji stares at his brother, shocked by the sudden change.

“Brother said the painting was excellent. Was that a lie?”

“It is better than what you usually do,” Lan Xichen concedes, though it seems to pain him to say even this. “I was trying to encourage you. I know this is not an art you favour.”

“Brother said this was better than his own work.”

For some reason, Lan Xichen's entire face turns red at having his own words thrown back at him. He looks.

He looks angry.

Lan Wangji feels baffled.

If it were him in his brother's place, he'd be relieved to find that his fiancé isn't completely useless. In fact, his biggest hope for the future is that whoever his uncle and father pick for him to marry will be someone musically inclined, like him, so that they can at least have one thing in common. Since Lan Xichen enjoys painting a great deal, he should be glad to discover that it is a passion that Nie Huaisang shares, and that he shares it well.

“He must have copied it from somewhere,” Lan Xichen announces. “From memory perhaps, but there is no way Nie Huaisang made something like that on his own. Mingjue has told me that his brother and him have had little training in non martial arts, and it is simply impossible for someone self-taught to make something like this without help. I'm afraid he fooled you, Wangji.”

This conversation is starting to be upsetting, Lan Wangji decides.

Not because he thinks he was fooled. He was there, he saw the rabbits in that exact position, with the exact markings that Nie Huaisang depicted. There is no doubt that the work is entirely due to Nie Huaisang's skill.

What is upsetting, then, is to see his brother so unbending in his dislike of his fiancé. Coming from someone else, it would be understandable. Most people are petty, Lan Wangji has found out. But his brother has always been a model of virtue to him, always patient and kind and willing to give everyone a chance. In all of Lan Wangji's life, he has never seen his brother dislike someone so strongly. Even with Jin Zixun, who Lan Wangji wants to silence every time he opens his mouth, Lan Xichen manages to stay patient and polite.

Everyone has to dislike someone, it is only human, but out of every person they have met, Lan Wangji can't fathom why his brother has decided to dislike Nie Huaisang. It's like disliking a shrub or a rabbit. One can do it, and it is easy to take one's anger on it, but what good does it do anyone to hate something that can't defend itself?

It is odd for Lan Xichen to be so unreasonable.

“Did Nie Huaisang offend brother?” Lan Wangji careful asks.

That too sounds odd, if only because Nie Huaisang is so meek and shy that it seems unlikely he'd talk enough to ever insult anyone. And still, Lan Xichen frowns at the question, his expression turning darker.

“Why are you so interested in Nie Huaisang all of a sudden? You've never seemed to notice him before when he visited.”

“I like the painting,” Lan Wangji replies which wasn't exactly untrue, even if it isn't the entire truth. It was nice, that afternoon. Most guest disciples are too rowdy for his tastes, or them move in large groups that he doesn't want to deal with. As for Lan disciples, of course they are quiet, but most of them are a little scared of him for his connection to Lan Qiren and the sect leader. Besides, whenever he's tried to mention his interest in anything but cultivation, and especially in rabbits, they always look at him as if he's grown a second head.

But Nie Huaisang was quiet, and he  liked the rabbits enough to paint them.

“Nie Huaisang seems nice,” Lan Wangji says, feeling very daring for going against his brother's opinion. Maybe this is the start of that rebellious phase that Lan Qiren always seems to worry about.

Lan Xichen shoots him a surprised look.

“Is one mediocre painting really all it takes to buy your friendship, Wangji?”

“It's a good painting,” Lan Wangji points out. Then, after some consideration and for the sake of honesty, he adds: “We are not friends. But he is nice. I do not mind that he will join the family.”

This time, there's definitely a hint of wilful rebellion to his words. Lan Wangji knows it's wrong, that he must respect his elders, and Lan Xichen does count as an elder even if there's just a few years between them.

But really, it's not his fault that Lan Xichen is so unreasonable.

“I see you've decided to be difficult today,” Lan Xichen has the galls to say. “If you want to pity Nie Huaisang, go ahead I suppose. Good luck with getting him to say more than two words at once.”

Lan Wangji nods. Nie Huaisang is quiet. That is the nice thing about him. He also doesn't seem to have any expectations about Lan Wangji, never once bothering him since that afternoon with the rabbits, never seeking him out.

Lan Wangji likes it when people are quiet and don't bother him.

“I'll see you at dinner,” Lan Xichen announces, dropping the painting as if it is a particularly disgusting thing. “I hope you're less contradictory by then.”

Lan Wangji watches him go, still a little baffled that his brother somehow found something to hate in a person as bland and innocuous as Nie Huaisang. Then, when he is alone, he picks up the painting and carefully puts it away.

After all, as Lan Xichen himself said, it's an excellent painting, and must be treated accordingly.