#which like- it's one thing being dense. and it's another thing being unable to communicate w eachother (this was zl's fault)

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

Do you have any Zhongli/Zhongchi fic recs? I haven’t found any that are nearly as good as yours 😔😔

funnily enough someone already asked this, but it was quite a while ago and tumblr is a mess to search old shit thru so here, this is the post this was asked during the ao3 crisis of- .......last year? i can't remember. either way, the post starts w me saying i don't have all the names and links but dw, after ao3 came back up i edited the post so you should see all authors and links in the recs.

i have to admit that for reasons unrelated to the fandom i haven't been reading many zhongchi fics as of late? so like- bear in mind i don't have an updated mental picture of any of the recs after the post was made. so if one went off the rails or if one of the WIPs finished, i'm not aware;; i also mention in the post that i'd add more recs if i had access to ao3 (which i didn't at the time bc it was down), and while that is true, it's been so long since i read any of them that i wouldn't be able to confidently reccomend them outside of 'i somewhat remember the plot and i remember liking it'. also i don't remember half of their names. so uh- yeah that's the list i think

[turbulentscrawl]

Ganji Gupta General HCs

I'm unable to make a header for Ganji at the moment, but I'll add one to the post later when I can get on my good desktop.

Edit: Added!

-First of all, in case it isn’t clear, Ganji started the fire. However, it’s important to note that Ganji chose arson for a few specific reasons. Plausible deniability was one. The second was that a fire gave people a chance to escape. Ganji believes in something along the lines of karma (I’m not especially religious or philosophical myself so I don’t feel inclined to pick one in particular for him), and a fire better allowed that to step in and save his targets. If the universe or whatever higher power, decided they deserved to live then they would, and Ganji could rest assured that they weren’t a wholly bad person. All but that child perished in the smoke and flames, though, so that settles that doesn’t it?

-Ganji is a man suffering from disillusionment. This is the result of him being taken advantage of. He left everything behind, came to another county just for the sport he loved, for his passion, only to find out that he was seen as nothing more than a novelty item. Something—not even a someone—kept around because his very existence was “amusing.” Disgusting.

-And it all happened because he’s naïve. He knows this, and just about everyone that’s around him for more than a day knows it, so now he’s incredibly protective of that aspect of himself. He’s not self-conscious of it or anything, he knows that naivety is just as aspect of someone being kind and trusting, but he’ll be damned if he lets someone else use him to their benefit again.

-Like Andrew, he’s developed a tendency to be sharp and reclusive as a defense mechanism. However, his emotional walls aren’t as thick, as dense. In a way, his hurt runs less deep because he doesn’t have self-hatred to factor into the cocktail of his pain. He warms to people faster and has a sweeter disposition under his cover…but you’ll have to be persistent if you want to get to that point. Ganji will shrug off offerings of kindness several times before giving someone a chance.

-In-line with his kindheartedness, but counter to the façade he puts up, Ganji can’t ignore someone else in real need. His mask falls as soon as someone’s peace or safety are threatened. He’s either the greatest hero or the biggest liability to have in a match because he can and will charge head-long into a hunter if it means saving another survivor. Even the ones he doesn’t like all that much. Additionally, he’s generally willing to argue on behalf of someone not willing to speak up for themselves.

-This boy is hard-headed. Stubborn! There are so many stupid hills he’s willing to die on. But he’s also not very good at arguments (which is unfortunate, considering the above hc), he stumbles over his words a lot, jumbles his points up. He sounds a lot more put-together in writing than in person, but his handwriting is atrocious so honestly good luck reading it. Poor guy is at a communication crossroads and both roads lead to embarrassment.

-As one might guess, this all makes Ganji very one-track minded in matches…and with most of his problems in life. Something wrong, anything? Swing the bat. At a ball, at a head. You know, whatever the situation calls for.

-His nativity also means that he doesn’t pick up on flirtation well. Someone either has to be very direct or very patient for Ganji to pick up on their interest. When he does catch on, he’s hesitant to reciprocate. He can’t deny the appeal of relationships, but he hasn’t had one since before he left home. Things are different. Really different, considering the manor…but it’s not hard to convince the guy to give love a chance as long as you’re not overly pushy.

-He spends a lot of free time at the manor trying to get people to play cricket with him. It doesn’t matter that no one else is really good at it, he just misses playing. William and Mike are the only ones who agree regularly, and that’s certainly not enough people. Most others only play along for Ganji’s birthday.

[incognito-lionbeast]

More Shen Mei AU, because... gotta.

Continuing after the Immortal Alliance Conference-- frankly, even though the Situation RE the Endless Abyss goes significantly better than [either] canon, Shen Qingqiu is still a mess. He can’t help it nor can he help avoiding his feelings / not wanting to talk to her about it. Which feels awfully familiar. Life repeats itself, huh? Can’t prove he’s grieving if he interprets his Sister being upset at his lack of communication as her grieving instead!! Which thus becomes a bizarre grief ouroboros, both wanting to comfort the other and failing-- him wanting to comfort for the wrong reasons & her utterly unable to break through to him. Frustrating, frustrating.

In any case, she’s sure that things-- that Binghe will be fine, eventually, even if he’s miserable for a little while. Binghe went of his own volition & they didn’t say anything damning, right... they just need to be there for him when he gets back. Problem solved? Maybe. Anyway, though at this point she doesn’t understand the depth of and/or which sort of love it is, Shen Mei is positive that Binghe loves her brother. And Shen Qingqiu loves him.

None of this solves her problems, though. The best she can do to vent her frustration is to talk to either Liu Mingyan [her rival] or Shang Qinghua [weird uncle] about it, as they’re the ones she’s closest to. She gravitates towards the latter, but Shushu is always so busy (and really no more helpful about this than Shen Qingqiu)... so....

Maybe she should count her blessings that her brother snaps out of the worst of it after a few weeks. Which is still when Shen Qingqiu finds out about Airplane (despite his sister knowing for quite a while now). Actually, she insists on being there when her brother confronts Shang Qinghua, because if nothing else this should be entertaining, right? And it’ll save time! Since one or both of them will have some explaining to do--what with leaving Shen Qingqiu out of the loop like that, eheh.

Unfortunately, despite her insistence that Binghe won’t hurt him, Shen Qingqiu is still determined to utilize the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom. His counter-argument that, even if that IS true... he’s still under the influence of the No-Cure poison. A new body wouldn’t be such a bad thing. There’s really no downside to this, because they ALL know that there’s only one cure for that particular poison. And he’s definitely not going to fuck Binghe, okay?? Even if Binghe doesn’t hate him, there’s no way he can ask for that!! Binghe is his disciple--whom he got poisoned protecting in the first place! Could he even refuse?!

Which. Alright. Fine. Her brother’s got a point. (and, for the record, Qinghua is still ~touched~ that Cucumber-bro remembers such minor plot-points...)

She’s coming with you guys, though. If for no other reason then to get off this damn mountain!! Shen Mei is slowly going insane, because now that Binghe’s gone she also has to contend with Ming Fan/the other Qing Jing disciples more often. Don’t get her wrong, they’ve improved a lot since her brother’s arrival. And it’s not that she dislikes them in particular, however she greatly envies that Airplane & her brother are Peak Lords who can just kinda do whatever. Meanwhile she’s trapped as Ning Yingying.

All in all, the excursion goes roughly the same as it does in canon--just with an additional +1 party member. Though, she’s more like her brother when it comes to Zhuzhi-Lang--and actually tries making Gongyi Xiao apologise. Just sorta: Please excuse my senior, Mr Snake. He's usually really nice... just a little dense sometimes. He’s really very sorry. Right? :|

She also offers to help Zhuzhi-Lang braid/tie up his weird cartilaginous hair, since she’s sure that it must get in the way.... poor thing. This will be important later. Like in-story AND “in another post” later.

[sindri42]

The experiments did happen, but the methods and results are both being deliberately mispresented to you by an account that treats the Russian Sleep Experiment like a thing that actually happened.

Calhoun's experiments, from 1958-1968, were designed to study the effects of overpopulation, not abundance. The rats were given limitless food and water, and protection from predators and disease in order to allow their population to increase far beyond the capacity of their environment, which had a harsh limit on volume.

In the first experiment, using wild-caught rats in a quarter-acre enclosure, the population peaked at 200 and then stabilized at 150. Observing the rate of reproduction led Calhoun to believe that in the absence of any external threats the population could have risen as high as 5,000; instead a near-total lack of maternal behavior led to an extremely high infant mortality rate, with only enough baby rats allowed to survive to replace the rate at which adults were lost.

In the second set of six experiments he used domesticated rats, which he maintained in groups of 80 (roughly double the population which he thought could live in their enclosure without undue stress) by simply removing any babies from the enclosure beyond those needed to replace losses. In these, the rats displayed a variety of deviations in behavior; some would become aggressive, others lethargic, some hypersexual, others would emerge from their nests to eat, drink, and move about only if the rest of the community was asleep. They tended to gather in several distinct social groups, which would have highly abnormal gender ratios (a group with seven females and a single male, another with twenty males and ten females, etc.). In some, but not all, of the test populations, researchers observed what Calhoun called a "behavioral sink" where after a few weeks of overpopulation the rats would cluster together extremely densely in the chamber where food was provided, leaving the rest of the enclosure very sparsely inhabited; this disrupted normal practices of courtship, nest-building, and child-rearing severely. When the healthiest eight rats from each enclosure were allowed to survive and returned to a more normal environment, those who had developed this "behavioral sink" proved unable to develop normal relationships or produce surviving children with the normal rats.

Calhoun describes two distinct behavior patterns in female rats and four in males during the second round of experiments. The females who lived in the less densely populated pens maintained relatively normal behavior patterns; they would build a proper nest, and when their estrus came they would venture out to choose a mate, carry a litter, and then protect and provide for them as normal, with about 50% of their children surviving to maturity. The females living in the more severely overpopulated areas would construct partial nests or not at all, and often become distracted during vital tasks or even abandon their children, leading to 80% mortality in the experiments where a "behavioral sink" did not develop and 96% in the ones which did. "Dominant" males would claim a territory and attempt to prevent other males from entering it, protecting the females within from the worst effects of overpopulation while exacerbating the problems in the rest of the population (though I dispute the author's use of the word 'harem' to describe this group, since when those females went into heat they often left this territory in order to choose a mate somewhere else). "Pansexual" males supposedly lost the ability to distinguish between "valid" and "invalid" sexual partners, propositioning females who were not in estrus and other males just as much as females who were in heat. "Somnambulist" males were completely passive, ignoring and ignored by both male and female rats, even disregarding females in estrus. The fourth and strangest behavior pattern observed is what Calhoun calls "Probers", males who did not engage in struggles for dominance and tried to avoid conflict with other males, but maintained a higher activity level than any others, constantly prowling for any estrous females, and if they did not find any they would lurk at the entrances to the dominant males' territory, just out of reach but returning almost immediately after any attempt to chase them off. And while normal courtship behavior among these rats involves the male pursuing the female to the entrance of her burrow, then waiting outside until she emerges to accept their advances, these Probers would simply follow her into her burrow... and often cannibalize any young found within.

The third round of experiments is the one named (and described quite incorrectly) above: "Universe 25" consisted of only a 101*101*37 inch box, further subdivided into sixteen "cells" in which Calhoun decided to take his previous results to extremes by doing everything he could to maximize the population (using house mice rather than rats this time). He started with eight mice, each 48 days old, who had been totally isolated for 21 days before the experiment (and thus probably never developed appropriate social skills to begin with, but at least they were weaned properly). After an initial adjustment period, the population began doubling every 55 days and maternal care and socialization of the young continued as well as could be expected, until the adult population reached around 620. At this point (315 days into the experiment), the decline began. As Calhoun describes it (though reading this paper I'm beginning to doubt the validity of his interpretation), the increased numbers of adult males (who would normally depart to find territories of their own but were prevented from doing so) overwhelmed the ability of the previously dominant males to control, leading to widespread invasion of the females' burrows. This in turn caused the usually peaceful female mice to fight to defend themselves, taking over the duties of the dominant males, but also turning their increased aggression on their own young, leading to some being injured or killed and many others being forced out of the nest long before they would usually have been weaned. This caused the immature young mice (male and female both) to grow up without any of the normal social skills; they would not fight with the other mice, but they would also rarely mate and never raise children properly, doing almost nothing except eating, drinking, sleeping, and grooming themselves. From days 315 to 560 the population increased at 1/3rd of the previous rate. After day 560, all growth ceased and the population began to decline rapidly since the only mice who remained were these well-fed, well-groomed, and completely un-scarred "beautiful ones" but all sexual activity had ended. The last generation survived and remained physically healthy long past the normal life expectancy for their species, but did not reproduce.

So no, none of these experiments provided "ample space to roam and socialize", the entire point was to shove more animals in a tiny box than they would ever tolerate. And no, the decline of civilization was not caused by homosexual activity as those twitter screenshots try to imply, nor even cannibalism. And the "universe 25" experiment was not repeated over and over with identical results, it was the last and most extreme example in a chain of experiments lasting for years each of which turned out a little differently.

The first test, with wild rats, was able to self-regulate and maintain a stable and healthy adult population, though the rats did so by deliberately increasing infant mortality rates in order to avoid allowing the adult population to exceed the limits of the environment, a solution that is... distasteful when applied to humanity.

The second and third tests differ in specifics, but both seem to support the conclusion that extreme and sustained overpopulation makes it impossible (for rodents) to raise a family in peace (largely due to mothers being repeatedly attacked in their own homes), and that children who lose their parents at a very young age might themselves be able to live long and happy lives, but are unlikely to raise families of their own, even if put into a healthier environment than the one they grew up in.

It’s not just mice.

But wonder if the results would be different if they tried “democratic” socialism and not just socialism?

[flickeringart]

Uranus in the houses

Descriptions could be relevant for houses with the cusp in Aquarius or houses that contain Aquarius

1st house: This house is related to self-image, persona and outwardly projected identity. It represents the point of entrance into the world, the point of birth and emergence from the undifferentiated source as a singular entity. Uranus here points to someone that is not very happy with the denseness of physicality. The person is restless and fidgety, running on high voltage. It’s almost as if there’s more energy to the person than is able to integrate into their being. The person could be impulsive and might give off a vibe of wanting to “level up”, get out of the old and jump on board with the new. Coming into life might’ve been particularly jarring for the individual in one way or another. Perhaps the birth was abrupt and unexpected, fast and overwhelming. Since the 1sthouse represents beginnings, this person might find himself or herself thrown into new contexts and situations rapidly without much time to lean into things slowly. There’s something within that can’t stand how things are and must uproot and move on but it’s questionable if there ever was any rootedness to begin with. The energy of the person runs high, but it’s unpredictable and unreliable. It can prove difficult for this person to follow conventional norms, not necessarily because the motivation is lacking but because there’s an inexplicable urge to switch things up and change gear. Changing gear is a good metaphor for Uranus in general because once you’ve changed you’re on a completely different level of experience. This kind of person is in their own lane, going at their own pace in their own way. While “in the mode” one can accomplish a lot of things by virtue of being in a certain mind frame but once the mind frame changes the behavior and patterns of action are conducive to something else. The person is predictable to an extent, but there’s no way of knowing how long that “mode” will last. One is showing up in life from a certain standpoint but that standpoint might alter and then there’s nothing anyone can do about it – conforming is not something that is easily done for this type of individual. No amount of pushing or coercing from others will get the person out of their state. It’s a little bit like trying to reach an airplane by stretching one’s arms up and shouting. Once the person has “switched” there’s little connection to the previous context. It can be exciting to be around these individuals because they have the ability to switch the way they present themselves to the world by getting into completely different states of being on the flip of a dime. Needless to say it can also be unnerving. They come off as charming, a bit distant, quirky, somewhat irrational but stubbornly determined, completely unique and original. They can come off as detached from reality and fixed in their own perspectives. They are distinctly more open and easy to be oneself with than most.

2nd house: This house is related to value, safety and control on a tangible level. It has to do with one’s talents and one’s ability to generate wealth, to acquire money and possessions. Uranus in this house can make a person experience unpredictability when it comes to their income. It might be difficult for this person to create stability because of the inexplicable urge to break out of limiting structures regardless of the safety they provide. The person might find themselves in circumstances where it’s impossible to find a foothold in the world; there might be constant ambivalence around how things are going to work out financially and materially. This is the type of person that could have a lot going for them one month and then suddenly everything is switched up and there’s no longer any desire to produce or put innate abilities to use. The person probably has great potential for living a life that is on the edge, waiting for sudden bursts of energy or insight to kick in in order to be able to have it all under control again. The annoying thing is, that one can’t predict when the impulse comes or when the light bulb goes off. There’s no way of knowing how things are going to work out over time because Uranus is an extremely erratic and disruptive planet. There’s a risk of not being the least bit practical with this placement, seeing as Uranus operates on a higher plane of thought progression rather than personal security and stability in the material realm. The risk is to be too ahead of oneself, acting on premature convictions and causing unnecessary unease because one can’t stand to keep doing the same thing. “Isn’t money an outdated concept already?” Uranus in the 2nd might be too progressive in their thought patterns and too concerned with the possibility of a better system of doing things in order to align with conventional structure. These types may be the first one’s to subscribe to new ways of earning a living, more exciting and evolved methods of putting one’s skills to use. Doing things the same way for years, working in the same place, saving money or playing it safe might not be in the cards for this person. In the extreme case, this person might get rid of all their personal possessions only because they felt bored and deemed them outdated and boring. There could be perpetual dissatisfaction with the material situation since Uranus is about potential more then manifested reality. Once everything imagined is actualized, it no longer holds any value in the person’s mind. Uranus certainly keeps the person in constant pursuit of the future, but the future never comes, as we all know. Visualizing the perfect meal or getting an idea for the perfect way to decorate the living room might be very satisfying but when seen in the “flesh” it all seems very unappealing. It’s difficult to satisfy Uranus in the 2nd, but it’s a positive thing in the sense that it keeps the person reaching for the ultimate physical translation of the perfect thought version. One could be prone to be unintentionally careless with material objects, causing breakage easily and wearing things out because of the unrealistic expectations on the physical objects somehow survive despite themselves and their frailty.

3rd house: This house relates to communication, interaction with the environment, siblings, neighbors, as well as learning and early education. It’s basically the house of everyone and everything that one relates to mentally on a daily basis. Uranus makes for quite a highly charged mental sphere being placed here. There’s potentially a lot of changes and disruptions of the way one is interacting from day to day – it’s difficult to fit in or mold oneself to the pace and jargon of one’s close circle. The person might have a lot of unusual or unconventional methods of relating and is prone to bewilder and stir people up. It might be difficult to make friends, or rather, keep them, because of the unreliable pattern of relating. However, there’s the promise of being very exciting and surprising. Because Uranus is so characteristic of creative freedom this type of person might be a bit of a loner. One needs to be or do whatever one wants even if it means disrupting the status quo. The mold that conventional education forces on individuals might not work well with this kind of person. There needs to be more freedom and openness for originality and rapid changes of pace. This is the kind of person that is rebellious without trying to be, unable to relate in a consistent manner. One lacks boundaries for how to be in and conceive of the environment, which makes for potentially genius ways of operating and thinking. Albert Einstein had this placement (according to astrotheme.com) and his observation and ability to step out of the boundaries of conditioned thinking led him to great discoveries. Learning is done through lightning speed in bursts of insight with this placement. Lightning strikes from above and an idea has hatched that other people have a hard time understanding. These people might prefer being observers of people and the environment rather than actively engaging. They might relate to things with a cold and seemingly uncaring energy. This is because the mind is very far up in the sky of potentials and ideas, far removed from the fixed and permanent reality of the earth plane. Other people might feel as if they’re being related to as concepts rather than physically manifested beings. The very thing that makes these people revolutionary thinkers (and creative odd balls) will perhaps get them into difficulties when trying to adapt and fit into the environment they find themselves in. Since the 3rd house is about communication, these people might dress contrary or despite of the norm, use body language that is a bit eye-catching, and appear in a way that’s considered to be shocking and provocative. It’s not necessarily that they’re trying to be different; it’s just that they have very open minds and doesn’t see the purpose of performing within limits. If an idea and concept appeals, it’s not any less valid than the preexisting set of unspoken rules of conformity. Blending in is too boring and dull, it doesn’t allow for free thinking and free living.

4th house: This house relates to roots, family, home and the ancestral past. It’s the place at the bottom of the chart, hidden from view, constituting relational foundation, our emotional base, our heritage and sense of deep belonging. When Uranus is here, home is potentially something distant, something that is more conceptual and abstract rather than concrete. The sense of belonging isn’t very stable. Although it can be captured every now and then it is very ambivalent. Usually one’s sense of home is anywhere and everywhere or perhaps so far removed from reality that it doesn’t seem to exist at all. The people of one’s family and family past are experienced as individuals, not as inextricable marks on one’s soul. In a sense, the universe is these people’s home, they might feel unusually connected to the people of the world and deriving their sense of containment from larger movements and units rather than the family of origin. They’re children of the universe first and foremost – perhaps very much inclined to find people they really feel connected to and make them their base rather than focusing too much on the blood relatives. These people might change residence often, feeling too restless to settle anywhere or with anyone for too long. It’s likely that the people of one’s family were never truly present even they were in close proximity physically during the formative years. The family is never “had” in the real world, but ever present in the realm of potential. It can make for a dissatisfaction to never be able to be in the same space or feel any real emotional closeness to one’s family. Unpredictability and disruption might’ve been characteristic of the familial sphere. On a more positive note there could’ve been a space of high openness and room for unconventional and highly original streaks. Independence might be deeply rooted in this type of person who might be trying to find a connection to a deeper identity through going against the grain. Again, being a “rebel” is not necessarily intentionally pursued; it’s just a consequence of needing to be whatever one feels to constitute the path forward. Conforming is not an option, it’s deeply important to ride the wave of one’s own convictions and insights no matter how risky or unsettling it might be. “Breaking the rules” is not done out of aggression per se, it’s done because being a game changer establishes a connection with one’s soul, the archetypal father and hero myth. The 4th house is where legacies are born and carried out. Uranus is the legacy of the sky god, the creator of the universe, the maker of the blueprint, which makes these people extremely invested in progression and tuned in to the winds of change. They might be keen to generate large movements toward a cause, more in love with the expectancy than the actual manifestation of the results.

5th house: This house relates to entertainment, leisure activities, uninhibited self-expression, creativity, play, romance and children. Basically, it’s the domain of anything that is done purely to have fun and enjoy life. When Uranus is active in this sphere, there’s detachment and innovative genius in approach to play. The person might have unusual ways of finding pleasure and enjoyment that is quite different from the norm. It’s also done with an urge to construct something of novelty, something fresh and exciting that hasn’t been experienced before. Playing around with the potential of doing something or exploring possibilities mentally might be a real thrill for these types. Ideas make these people excited, especially if it’s advanced and revolutionary and can be applied universally. These people are creative thinkers and have fun when catching some wind and can elevate above the ground for a while in their minds. When they can get to a place that feels elevated in terms of concept and ideas they are having the time of their lives. There’s an urge of wanting to express something profound and precious in the mental realm – to arrive at a conceptual point of perfection. Having children could be a very appealing idea, but one would do well to remember that the idea is more appealing than the actuality – especially when it comes to Uranus. The person might take an intellectual approach to having kids, insistent on doing things as properly as possible according to modern scientific discoveries – or simply according to one’s own “elevated” objective perspective. One aims to be progressive, not only with one’s children but also in romantic pursuits. These people might have a slightly odd style of courting their love interests, certainly well thought-through but a bit special in the sense that it has an unexpected element to it. There might be a feeling of not being seen in the present “here-and-now” by these people, being treated as a component in their mental narrative of the ultimate romantic situation. In any case, Uranus in the 5th certainly takes the experience of “having fun” to the next level in terms of planning and visualizing something unique and new. One might shock a few people in the process, some may like it and some may recoil from the strangeness of it all. It is possible to completely revolutionize entertainment with this placement, coming up with something that people haven’t experienced before, going a little overboard or testing the waters of what is acceptable. If it’s paired with enough finesse and good -will, one might be warmly received as someone who can be perform something that wouldn’t seem to belong on this plane of existence. That being said, it that which is foreign and unfamiliar is not always welcomed with open arms. It’s scary – and people might want to censor one’s self-expression.

6th house: This house relates to work, employment, the practical daily activities that needs to be performed in order to sustain health and well-being over time. This house is where one manages the technicalities and details of living in order to make the expression of life more pure, clean and organized. Uranus here can’t stand routine, which might cause the individual to be unable to stick to any routine or prior commitment. There’s a deep urge to break free from that which has become tedious and unexciting and one has no way of knowing when that famous restlessness is going to kick in. The person might go a long time doing the same things, keeping the same job or sticking to a set routine but it’s never because one does so consciously, it just happens to be the “mode” one is in for the time being. It could switch at any time and the individual might find it impossible to keep doing things the same way. One has to follow the spark of inspiration because it literally goes off like lightning and won’t be denied. This might not be comfortable for the conscious self that might be adamant about sticking to a set plan and operating out of reason. There’s not much to do than to trust and hope for the best with this placement. What one should do on a given day is not set in stone, even if one attempts to be very structured and conscious of what is being done. There’s a stronger push-and-pull force that dictates the daily activities. Some days there’s a lot of energy to put into projects and chores and work and some days are void of electric charge all together. Some days one is on fire and on others there’s no energy left at all. It’s wise to take advantage of the spurs when they come and work with the erratic pattern of energetic bursts because they might prove very useful. On a more negative note, the high productivity that can be generated by Uranus in this house might lead to burn out because of the high voltage of the planet. Exhaustion might be a high risk and all the related physical symptoms that come with it, since the 6th house rules physical (and mental) health. There might be temporary ills and pains that come and go – sickness might come from “out of the blue” and then disappear without apparent reason. The body might require very specific and unexpected nourishment and one might do well to yield to the impulses and insights received in the name of health. Keeping up unconventional dietary habits could be a thing, experimentation and change in the way one manages necessary activities such as eating, sleeping and exercising would be typical of this placement. Employment might also be irregular and unconventional in some way – working odd shifts and hours, having no set schedule, having undefined and unspecified tasks, not being able to go by anyone else’s guidance etc. Uranus in the 6th would have a hard time working “for” someone because of the strong emphasis on freedom and space, it can only be done if there’s complete integrity in the subordinate position, in which case one is really not subordinate at all. There’s no such thing as obligation, there’s only modes of being, which are set and carried out. These people could be very concerned with health and daily life as an experiment, like observers studying phenomena in order to get a grip of all the intricacies and details in order to change and explore potential. The boldness of experimentation can of course get out of hand and turn destructive, so one ought to be careful.

7th house: This house relates to other people, cooperation, union and commitment. Usually that which is in the 7th in the chart is projected onto other people and sought after through engagement with “that which is other”. It’s through looking to other people that the planet is discovered in one’s own life. When Uranus is here, innovation, change and genius is encountered through cooperation and deals, whether it’s marriage, business or any other social declaration of entanglement. Uranus is discovered through the consideration of other people and their perspectives. This type of person has a very liberal and open attitude to other people and is focused on progress and change as to make things better for the sake of social well-being and harmony. It’s no wonder that successful politicians have this placement such as Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Angela Merkel (as found on astrotheme.com). One is inclined to be open and insightful in relationships, detached, rational and impersonal. Emotional bonds could be difficult to form and stability in relationships could be hard to come by for these people. Somehow, other people might get up and leave for no reason and there’s no way of being sure that anyone will stay, especially not out of dependence. This kind of person is going to have to be in partnerships that allows for a lot of freedom of expression, to the point of there not being any ties that bind at all. Uranus has such force and charge that nothing is going to go according to convention. Everything is going to be a bit odd and erratic in relationships, for better or for worse. Saying “I love you” is never a guarantee for life-long commitment because the next day Uranus might’ve switched gears and the person has fallen out of love – not by choice of course, but because the feeling is gone and the mental frame is completely different suddenly. These people crave excitement and looks for it in others. They would find people who strictly lives inside the “box” of convention to be extremely boring and painfully narrow minded. If cooperation and engagement with others doesn’t bring some kind of fresh and new perspective, if it doesn’t feel exhilarating and revolutionary, one might not be able to stick around for too long. In the case of Uranus being projected on other people and not realized as part of oneself, one might be shook by other’s unpredictable and jerky behavior. One might see potential, genius and originality in others but fail to recognize it in oneself. The great ideas and insights that come from engaging with others might add a lot to the person’s life, but one might also feel sad that these qualities are absent outside of a social context. There’s no need for this of course, because Uranus will always have to be accessed through the house that it’s placed in. On a more negative note, people with this placement might scorn and reject others for being so “up in the clouds”, inconsiderate and individualistic. “Other people are so unpredictable and unreliable” might be the narrative, when in reality one is failing to recognize the same tendencies within oneself.

8th house: This house relates to the deep end of experience, death of all kinds and transformative yet traumatic experiences. It’s related to everything that is hidden, the most private, intimate and vulnerable dimensions of life, which includes shared finances and sex as byproducts of strong emotional attachment. Uranus here makes for potentially shocking discoveries of grim, taboo or soul-shattering realities about oneself or other people. Death of loved ones, random inheritances or unforeseen debt could surface from seemingly out of nowhere in the strangest of ways. However, one might be able to deal with it in an objective and detached manner without getting too drenched and sunk by the whole experience. A lot of things related to the most intimate sphere could change very quickly without a moments notice. The most personal and deep dimensions of life are never stable for this person - but the transformation is not that severe since there’s a simultaneous distance and objectivity in one’s way of relating to death and crises. Uranus here is a bit of a contra-intuitive placement because there’s coolness in the face of the most soul-shattering experiences. It’s as if this person is looking at everything but is never completely enmeshed in the emotions surrounding it all. Objectivity and rationality is sought in order to keep things light and up in the mental realm of clarity. The transformations this person goes through are quick and life altering, at the speed of light everything is turned upside down. There’s openness and fascination for everything occult and one might have quite an alarming universal perspective in personal and deep emotional matters. Death is related to primarily as a concept – and so is intimacy. Tying oneself to another can be done, but the risk of doing so is understood from a higher perspective. It’s easy to get into states of paranoia, fearing that important attachment will be broken because there’s a push for change from below the surface. When Uranus is in the 8th, socially/societally divergent behavior might lurk in the basement of the psyche and carefully kept out of sight from the conscious self and the rest of the world. Certain impulses and urges that don’t fit into a preconceived framework might be suppressed because of early conditioning and fear of losing something or someone. These people have the capacity to get a broad and clear view of the darkest facets of life and humanity with revolutionary insights into the depths of the psyche. There’s excitement in probing deeper and uncovering more and more through personal experience but also from looking into other people’s lives, what they invest in, support and might hide from view in order to stay in control and protect their interests. These people look for the unexpected and can therefore spot things that others don’t because they’re not blinded by the veil of convention.

9th house: This house relates to knowledge that is gained through experience and exploration. It’s the house of higher learning and the intuitive search for truth. It’s the house of exploring themes and patterns through life; in essence it’s the house of studying the archetypal realm. With Uranus here, there are bound to be life-altering discoveries and insights into the themes of life, how energies express themselves through the collective and what they ultimately mean in the context of life as a whole. There might be a strong push to discover the meaning behind things in order to change it and work with it to elevate humanity in the process – especially as it relates to the mental framework of people. One might be inclined to share one’s progressive perspective and insight in order to educate people and have them get more out of life that way. Belief systems and innate knowing can be thrown out the window with this placement and replaced in a heartbeat. Other people might be confused as to what one really thinks because it depends on what gear one is driving on at the moment but it could change at any time. There’s restlessness and a strong urge to look to the future for answers and reject the “old”. Openness to experience the strangest things could be characteristic of this placement – if one is in the right “mode” or mind frame to go along with it. Stubbornness and rigidity when it comes to certain opinions and insights could be typical, although it might change very quickly and won’t stick over time. Something the person is thoroughly convinced of today might seem foolish to them tomorrow. There would be strong push to go out of one’s way to discover things, no matter how impractical and inconvenient the pursuit. There’s electricity and charge to the person’s mental pursuits, to one’s observation and efforts to extract value out of experience. Although there’s force and intensity to the process of learning about life as a whole, there’s also a peculiar detachment to the whole thing as if one isn’t part of what one is learning about. In contrast to someone with say, Moon in the 9th, Uranus in the 9th doesn’t experience the overwhelm that it means to learn and experience existence because one is the “observer” not a living and breathing merged component of the experience. With this placement one might have an unusual outlook of life and a very rare and interesting life philosophy. In fact, one would not really subscribe to any one outlook and might identify solely as the observer because one has switched perspective so many times that one knows that none are ultimately real. This doesn’t make the person discouraged, it only confirms that life is complex and multi-dimensional and that truth is nowhere to be found within the hologram of existence.

10th house: This house relates to public image, career and our personal contribution to society. It’s represents worldly purpose and outward persona. When Uranus is here, the person has a certain protruding electricity and charge – there’s a lot of energy put towards moving forward into the future in revolutionary ways. The person could have a reputation for being unpredictable, eccentric and a bit irrational as a byproduct of only seeing potential and not taking note of the limitations. The person exist “outside of the box” and is somewhat of a stranger in society, presenting far-reaching ideas that might be difficult for the average person to digest. There’s probably great openness to all kinds of people and experiences, but the person is extremely jerky and fidgety, so it’s impossible to really know when there’s going to be resistance and when there’s going to be acceptance. More than any other placement, Uranus in the 10th is an indicator of someone to catch people’s attention because it’s so potent and forceful in an electric way – it’s so unsettling and unconventional that people can’t help but turn their heads. “I’m not like everyone else” is the kind of message these people convey, consciously or unconsciously. These are extremely flighty individuals – they can be miles away, seemingly living in their own fantasy world, except that they know that everyone else is doing the same thing and they’re just not aware of it. These people are likely pinned as the odd person that has a lot of energy and unusual opinions and modes of being. They can switch gears or “roles” frequently, unable to be bound by any standardized career path and pushed to carve their own lives, take risks and live on mental impulse. They probably have no idea what they’re doing most of the time, or at least it seems like it when taking the most contra intuitive paths and moving into unpaved territory in terms of vocation and worldly achievement. Some force of the unconscious is seemingly moving these people, pushing them and compelling them to take mental leaps. The curious thing is, that once the leap is made, there’s absolute certainty because one is not merely hoping to level up, one has switched gears and is now operating on a completely different level of existence that is just as real as the previous one. These people are really the pioneers and revolutionaries of society because they radiate a collective urge for change; they shake things up, perhaps even negatively in some people’s eyes. They are symbolizing the urge to break free from old shackles and to reinvent the ways of society. People might feel uncomfortable and put up a lot of resistance to this kind of energy, because it’s disruptive and destabilizing. These people might have “weirdo” painted all over their forehead, being misunderstood and taken for extreme creative individualists with no anchoring in the norm – or they might become the “hook” for collective unconscious forces as the leader of a collective movement. In the case of the latter, the individual becomes a public image for the winds of change for better or for worse. The career might be paved with unforeseen events sudden blessings and curses, as well as unpredictable turns of the road.

11th house: This house relates to collective movements, common goals, friends and shared interests, societal change and progression. Uranus is very much at home in this house, seeing as it is the planet of large-scale revolution and change. When Uranus is here, there’s a strong awareness of the differences and commonalities of human beings and a capacity to switch between groups of people and finding a common ground with all of them. This is the type of person to jump in between social groups – not belonging to any one group but open enough to partake in all of them. The humanitarian and liberal perspective is protruding and very strong – there’s no one more open and willing to find friendship with people from all walks of life than Uranus in the 11th. It’s likely that one views the self to not belong to any specific group or class of society, but to them all simultaneously. All people are part of the human family and this is profoundly clear to this person – religion, political opinion, ethnicity, sexuality or any other factor comes second to the fact that everyone depends on one another. This person might have great ideas about how humanity should organize itself in order to benefit everyone without the blood thirsty uncivilized game that is “survival of the fittest”. Of course, primitiveness is not innately bad, but the person with Uranus here aims to view things objectively and find new ways to make everyone live in a way that benefits the whole rather than merely themselves. That being said, this person could have some unconventional ideas and highly creative solutions to certain collective issues. One might be associated with various groups of people and have great insight into their way of viewing things, their needs and convictions, their character traits and innate disposition. More than anything, this person is an observer of humanity, a person of mental understanding of the inner workings of social systems and groupings. Prince Charles, Prince William and Prince Harry all have Uranus in this house (according to astrotheme.com), which makes sense considering that they are people who are supposed to have a connection to the people – they are essentially symbolic “agents of the divine”, supposedly anchored in Christian values of brotherhood, love, compassion and respect. They are involved in various social projects and aim to improve that quality of people’s lives through their work and presence. Whether it’s successful or impactful can be up for debate but it’s certainly their intention. People with this placement will likely seek to offer guidance or insight to the masses in some way, whether it’s through expressing certain values or bringing an objective perspective to the situation that equalizes the charge within people. This type of person would be phenomenal at reminding everyone of the commonalities and shared quirks, reminding people of their basic humanity and all the problems and gifts that come with it. By being radically open and honest, other people are allowed to show their weaknesses and strengths as they are without feeling the need to fit into a box.

12th house: This house relates to the collective unconscious, undifferentiated reality and the absence of separate self. It is a house that is related to universal feeling, the truth of everything being one. This house is essentially the enemy of individuality and at the same time is the birthing place for it. The 12th is dual and paradoxical, the place where “reality” and dreams blend. With Uranus here, the person would feel as if collective forces govern his or her life to a large extent. Changes in the collective unconscious affect these people personally more than others, for better or for worse. They live in a perpetual atmosphere of Uranus, which means that mental impulses and insights flood them daily of the most new and jarring kind. The inner world is potentially absurd and strange and completely different from the mundane everyday life. In fact, these people might not find that there’s anything mundane about life because everything is a fascinating phenomena to them. There can be hidden feeling of not being of this world, of feeling things more objectively and from a standpoint of universal reality. These can be very creative individuals, able to channel some genius ideas through letting go of the defenses put up by the ego. This could potentially be done through sleep, drugs or any other method of releasing resistance. Since this house is related to hidden enemies, it might be that certain original ideas are detrimental to the separate self and to other people in one’s surroundings. Because the 12thhouse is the realm of no boundaries, doing the most destructive and weird things might come easier to these people. There’s a disruptive quality to these people that shines through their subtle aura – they’re not trying to act out of the norm but little twitches and pushes make them do things that they ultimately can’t control. In a sense, these people are sponges for collective energies and pushes for change. Adolf Hitler had this placement (according to astrotheme.com), which expressed itself extremely destructively. Uranus in the 12th reaches for the heavens and might end up in hell because ecstasy is only felt through complete disregard for the preservation of the individual even though one might argue that it is in the individual’s best interest. In a sense Uranus in the 12th is a push for societal structure and progression that comes the closest to ecstatic bliss and one might take the most insane actions to get there. On a more positive note, this placement can express itself as a positive force for changing group consciousness, and communicating a vision of a civilized and peaceful society based on humanitarian values, mutual respect and love. Whether the ideas are realistic and applicable might be another question, however, the dream of redemption can inspire people and instill hope in the darkest of times.

[antimonarchy]

How to Create Image Descriptions

So I’ve been creating image descriptions on tumblr for about a month, and I wanted to share some helpful guides I’ve found on how to create them as well as my own tips that I’ve picked up. Video descriptions and transcripts are also necessary, but since I mostly focus on image descriptions that’s what this guide is about. This might get a bit long, so fair warning. 

What are image descriptions?

Image descriptions are a textual depiction of what is going on in an image, as shown with the image below. 

[Image ID: A picture of a person with short black hair working on a computer. They are sitting at a wooden table with a large blue pot of pink flowers in front of a grey brick wall. A guitar is propped up against the wall in the background, and there is a string of lights near the ceiling. /.End ID]

Why create image descriptions?

The primary reason for creating image descriptions is to allow people who are blind/have limited vision to experience visual content. Many people who are blind/have low vision use screenreaders, which read text out loud when it is clicked or hovered over with a mouse. A large amount of online content, such as pictures, graphics, or drawings, is visual and so possibly cannot be experienced by someone with vision problems. As a general rule of thumb, anything that can be dragged or dropped most probably requires a description. In addition, if someone has partial vision and attempts to zoom in on an image, sometimes it can become pixelated and impossible to understand. 

Some neurodivergent people might need a description to understand the tone of an image, such as the meaning of facial expressions of a person to understand what emotion the artist is trying to depict

Some people might not have high speed internet or have low computer memory, meaning that they turn off images in order to save space. This means that they as well might require descriptions of visual content

Are image descriptions the same as alt text?

no, alt text and image descriptions serve the same purpose, but they are different in how they are presented. Alt text, short for alternative text, is included in the html of an image and can be read by a screen reader. However, there are many reasons why many prefer image descriptions over alt text. 

There is a limit of 200 words in alt text on tumblr specifically (and not in other contexts, which makes this information only applicable here), which means that detailed images or graphics are unable to be described fully without possibly cutting out important information. 

People who require descriptions, but who do not use a screenreader, must right-click and search through the html of an image in order to find alt text, but with an image description they are saved that work. 

Who should create image descriptions?

Everyone who is able to should create image descriptions. A content creator is best able to communicate the message of their work through text, as they are the one who created it and thus understand its message the best. While of course it takes practice when starting out, over time image descriptions become second nature when posting visual content. Always check the notes of a tumblr post for an ID rather than reblogging without one. 

What should be included in image descriptions?

There is no simple answer to this question, there are a variety of resources and guides on how to create one, and you should not accept my advice as the ultimate authority, as I am by no means a professional, and only create descriptions in my spare time as part of the effort to make Tumblr more accessible. However, here is my information for those starting out. 

First, consider what type of visual content it is. Is it fanart of a tv show, a screenshot of a tweet, or an informational graphic meant to educate people on a particular issue? 

Then, consider what information is most important in the image. If the visual content is an image of a famous building, then in writing the description the focus should be on the building, rather than describing for instance the color of the sky, surrounding buildings, or the clothing of the people walking by, as they are not the information that is being presented. 

Perkins ELearning has an excellent list of things that should generally be included, which I will include here. In my experience, these are the most important elements to describe

The people and animals in an image

The background or setting of an image

Elements that relate to the context specifically, so if it was an image of a congested highway on a news website, the description would mention the packed cars

The colors of an image (don’t overdo it however, a simple ‘light blue’ will suffice, no need to say something like ‘a color blue that is similar to the color of a robin’s egg’ unless it is crucial to the viewer’s comprehension of an image)

Context for an image. For instance, imagine if someone had drawn a version of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme, with Eleanor Shellstrop from the Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” Rather than provide a description to the example such as:                                          [Image ID: A drawing of Eleanor Shellstrop saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” /.End ID] you would instead say                                                                                                [Image ID: A redraw of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme with Eleanor Shellstrop from The Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place. /.End ID]

If the image is of a social media post, include the username/handle of the creator as well as the reactions (likes/reblogs) if they are visible in the image, as they may be cut off by the original screenshotter. 

If it is a drawing or piece of art, always look for the artist’s signature when writing a description

How do I write an image description?

To start off, here is an example description written for a piece of art I made myself. 

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Suki from Avatar: The Last Airbender over a gold background.  She is shown from the shoulders up facing the viewer, and has a neutral expression. She is wearing metal armor over a light green tunic, and is wearing her Kyoshi Warriors facepaint and headdress. The artist’s signature ‘Astra’ is written in the lower right of the image. /.End ID]

In this description:

I made clear where the description begins and ends, so that someone with a screenreader is not confused. I usually use brackets ([ ]), write the words ‘Image ID’ (or video/gif/other) and finish with a slash, period, and the words End ID. (/.End ID)

I emphasized the type of image, in this case a digital drawing

I said the character’s name (obviously this may not be known if describing a photo or something you are not familiar with)

I described the background and the character’s clothing

I described her expression

I included the description of my signature.

This is my basic process for writing a description

I first say what the content is, such as a drawing, photo, or screenshot of a tweet.

I then use what is called Object-Action-Context for the most part, which UXDesign has a long article on https://uxdesign.cc/how-to-write-an-image-description-2f30d3bf5546. For example, [Image ID: A photo of a person standing in a crowd waving to someone out of view in front of a river. /.End ID] While obviously I would usually provide more information than that, Person = object, standing + waving to someone out of view = action, and ‘in a crowd’ = context. 

I describe the clothing that might be worn

I talk about the position that people in an image might be in, such as leaning against one another on a couch, or standing with their fingers intertwined

I talk about the expressions on their faces, if shown

I talk about their general appearance (if important to the description) such as hair color/length

As said before, I talk about the context of an image if necessary

If the background is a simple color, I usually include it in the first sentence of the description. However if it is more complicated, such as a river winding through a dense forest, I include that at the end of the description after describing the important elements. 

Typically if I am reblogging an image, I do not add on any commentary after creating an image description, as this allows others to reblog my description without my personal reaction. If I want to add on to an image, I usually reblog my description post. 

In general, it is best to remain objective when writing a description, meaning not including your opinion of the content. However especially in an informal setting, say for instance you were describing an adorable cow, I would see it as fine to say [Image ID: A small drawing of an adorable cow. /.End ID] because the emphasis is on the appearance. There isn’t a clearcut answer, and it really depends on the context. 

What are some tips for writing descriptions/common pitfalls?

If there is an element of an image like a line that represents an emotion, or a sound effect like ‘clang’ if something falls, include that in the description. For instance, [Image ID: ...beside the mug that has fallen on the floor, there are the words ‘sploosh’ indicating the sound of the water that has spilled out. /.End ID]

Put image descriptions first. Don’t hide them under readmores or any other text. If you have something with multiple images and you are the creator, place the description under each image in succession rather than all at the end. Readmores are ableist, as they require someone who has vision problems/one of the conditions described above to do more work to access the message of visual content. 

If you are mentioning the skin color and/or race of someone in an image, make sure you describe it for anyone else who might be in an image. Don’t just describe the race of someone who appears to not be white. This doesn’t mean that you have to describe race, such as if the character is one whose race is commonly known, just that if you do, make sure you do it for all characters/people in an image. 

In order to write IDs effectively, I’ve found it useful to download a screen reader. I use NVDA, which is entirely free and easy to use and can be downloaded here: https://www.nvaccess.org/download/. 

Insert + Q turns it off

While my guide has focused mostly on image descriptions, video descriptions are also necessary. However they are not my area of expertise, and differ slightly, so I would recommend anyone interested in them to check out this website https://www.washington.edu/accessibility/videos/

Transcripts, for those who are d/Deaf/Hard of Hearing, are also necessary for making content accessible, and might be required for content that also has a visual format, such as a Tiktok. I would recommend this website https://www.w3.org/WAI/media/av/transcripts/ for anyone interested in writing transcripts

What are some more resources I can check out?

Here are a series of websites that I have found while researching how to write descriptions

UX Design -  I mentioned UX Design earlier when talking about Object - Action - Context, this article is very useful and examines how to structure a description and provides very useful examples for beginners

Perkins E-Learning - This article is very useful in helping someone what to include in a description, such as clothing or background information, as well as providing some additional information on alt text if you are interested

Meloukhianet - This blog post by s. e. smith goes into detail on the elements of an image to emphasize depending on its context, using the example of a picture of their cat sunning himself. 

SOAP - This article by the Stanford Online Accessibility Program (SOAP) provides a large amount of information on the purpose of image descriptions and what content requires them

HubPages - This article by SOTD and Zera discusses the difference between sparse, lush, and overdone descriptions, which is the amount of information included, and if/when each should be used. 

I hope you found this information helpful, I encourage everyone to check out these websites, and my inbox is always open for questions!

[wontbyers]

People will say they don’t understand why we ship Mike with Will if we also point out how he’s such a bad boyfriend to El, like how come we’d want him to date Will if he’s such a bad boyfriend….and it’s like, I can’t tell if they’re seriously dense or just trolling to be blatantly missing the point that badly.

We’re explaining the reasons Mike and El are an unhealthy couple, because Mike doesn’t love her her the way she wants to be loved, because he’s not “in love” with her. If he was with the person who is right for him, who he’s in love with, he wouldn’t have the distinct problems he faces in his relationship with El (being unable to say ILY for example.)

Not a single Byler shipper is ever saying “Mike is a shitty boyfriend inherently, he doesn’t know how to treat somebody right…so I ship him with Will!” We are saying “Mike is a bad boyfriend to El specifically because he either puts her on a pedestal (superhero) or treats her as something like a lost puppy who if she doesn’t need him anymore their relationship won’t exist/continue. He also doesn’t feel like he can be his nerdy self around her. It’s codependent and inferiority-complexy and weird. They should just try to be friends first. Meanwhile, he has a much stronger depth of emotional connection with Will based on their many years of friendship and generally good communication with one another (heart-to-hearts) and if they got past the homophobia and miscommunications of it all and dated, they would be really good together/for each other.”

Like…Nobody who is anti-(one particular ship) and pro-(another ship including one of the same characters) who points out why one of those couples fundamentally doesn’t work is being hypocritical or silly for suggesting that the central character would be a better partner in one relationship than another, because each of those relationships are unique and will necessarily not be identical situations. “Boyfriend-material” is not actually a fixed personality trait which a person carries through every single relationship they find themselves in.

Mike will not be the same boyfriend to Will as he is to El, because they’re different people who make Mike feel different things and he treats them in a different way. God, people are so weird and purposely obtuse when they make these statements???

[mage-ical-character-person]

THATS THE THING FOUR HAS NO IDEA DOES HE. LIKE HE HAS FEELINGS ABOUT THREE BUT LIKE.

Because like. It’s a mix of Four just being oblivious and Three just always refusing to communicate. Cause it is hard to deny that there are a lot of mixed signals from Four’s perspective. He’s too dense to pick up on this stuff on his own and Three lies about everything to cope.

I will elaborate. A lot

Even just using You Used to Be Cool as an example no one talks about how weird that all must be for SMG4. He didn’t get any of the context that we as the audience got. All he gets is:

Four never learns what the hell is going on. And the stuff he does get does not paint the best picture.

It makes me insane because to us this is an episode about how far Three has come but to Four it looks more like he’s relapsing or something.

This is the closest he gets to an explanation and he is NOT paying attention. He has a tendency to focus on one thing and just not notice anything else at all. (Relatable) Four is very single minded. Even if he was paying attention, the most Three gives him is basically just “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone and I enjoy messing with you.” But yeah. Three lies about everything to cope, never actually apologized, technically, and still insists that he’s a villain. Four obviously cares, but he really just does NOT understand Three, so it really feels like Four is just. Kind of a jerk sometimes. But it’s always a result of him simply not understanding.

Like Trash Friends gets talked about with Four being unfair, but Four has absolutely no idea how SMG3 feels or what he’s going through because Three refuses to admit any of his feelings, ever. He won’t admit he’s struggling, he won’t admit he cares about Four, and he won’t admit that he needs help. And Four is too dense to understand whatever Three’s deal is on his own.

This is so heartbreakingly wrong that it loops back around to being funny. Four is so unbelievably oblivious. If there’s one thing that’s all Three ever thinks about, it’s Four himself. And he has absolutely no idea.

I feel like their biggest issue aside from just lack of communication is that they’re so used to being at each other’s throats, they were bitter rivals for so long, and it seems like they’re both struggling to adjust to that not being the case anymore.

Most obvious example is this. (Also Four that’s not even true. He deleted you from existence, but it didn’t seem like he ever intended to kill anyone. Except Boopkins he did in fact directly threaten Boopkins’ life.)

Notably Three’s defense isn’t that he’s changed because he’s not willing to admit that. Three claims he still thinks that was a good idea. He will not express remorse that would require vulnerability

But also this is a thing where like. They are still rivals it’s just a much more friendly rivalry now and most of it is fairly lighthearted banter, because that banter, the back-and-forth and the one-upmanship and the just generally messing with each other is what they’re used to. But they’re friends now! So they’re less harsh about it. But also old habits die hard and they’re very good at escalating situations. So you get things like the 2023 Christmas Special or Trash Friends or their fight on Mr Puzzles’ gameshow or 3’s Bomb Cafe

That one’s interesting because part of it is exactly what Four is saying, they’re used to messing with each other and Four didn’t realize he was taking it too far. BUT THERE’S ANOTHER LAYER TO IT.

It’s obvious enough that Three needs help for SMG4 to notice, and this bit here contextualizes that whole episode as Four trying to get Three to admit he needs help, he wants SMG3 to just admit he has feelings, he wants Three to ask for help when he needs it and he wants Three to swallow his pride and actually be honest for once. Recent videos show a lot more progress with this, but it’s slow and subtle, and stuff like Four making jabs at Three for being unable to make friends is still happening. Which could certainly be interpreted as trying to put Three in a situation where he has to acknowledge the crew as his friends in order to defend himself. Or just messing with Three for fun. Who knows

Four knows Three cares, but he has NO idea the extent of it because Three’s so bad at communicating he’d rather wiretap Four’s room than just talk to him. But SMG4 certainly wants to know. He wants to understand Three.

They’re just both SO bad at it.

I need them to have the cliche “What are we?” discussion and I don’t even care what they decide they are, the result doesn’t have to be SMG34 becoming canon or them just admitting they’re friends and they care about each other or what (as far as canon goes I think they work best as A Secret Third Thing.)

And YEAH! SMG4 simulator is great because it shows how much Three’s opinion matters to Four and also that by doing this stupid facade SMG3 is hurting the very person he’s so terrified of losing. I mean, SMG3’s one comment of “This is the worst video I’ve ever seen” not only kills SMG4 instantly, but makes Four decide he needs to try harder and “use his BEEG brain…”

AND THEN WE GO TO HIS BRAIN AND THREE IS THERE AND ALL GLOWY AND SPECIAL BUT WORTH ALL THESE NEGATIVE POINTS. NOTHING SUBTRACTS MORE FROM SMG4’S SCORE THAN THREE

Oh yeah “Just” SMG3. Nothing special about him I guess. Let’s not think about that for too long. I’m sure caring so much about his approval means nothing.

Reminds me. Interestingly, Three indirectly started Four’s perfect video spiral in the IGBP arc too. But I’m sure he definitely doesn’t feel guilty about that at all and is totally fine.

anyway the two weird meme boys out here proving nothings more cringe than insincerity.

actually hold on putting a pause on talking about smg3’s fucking.

It’s sweet that he’s worried about 4’s internet safety. Cause the “Dude, I thought you installed adblocker!” Is such a small thing but combine that with his reaction to seeing the little TV adware Puzzles thing in IGBP and frankly even the way he protects 4 when they’re in the Dark Web together in the 10th anniversary special.

Protecting your crush from malicious popups that want to steal his data, money, and/or soul. love to see it ❤️

Especially when the SMGs are all seemingly made from code and come from USBs. Like that adds significance I think

there's so so so so much significance

like the way how he put a camera in 4's room because he's so scared of the same thing happening

I can imagine him more than once reminding 4 to add an ad blocker (and 4 still forgets)

and the small things like the gif episode where he pulls him away from danger

also him just in general caring about people in Revelations when he decided not to use anti meme energy, like that's genuinely so significant to him and his journey as a person

I can also get why he's like this. bitch is codependent asf

not to say he isn't a character on his own, I just feel like if 4 was gone, he'd be utterly fucked

[greysfall]

My 4444-word review of NEO TWEWY (with personal illustration + heavy spoilers)

My overall critical score for the game is 7.5/10, while my personal enjoyment score is 8.5/10. This review is posted as I have 80% completed the game, got the secret ending and achieved the Angel psychic rank. I’ll first start with the main pros and cons as follows.

PROS:

-        Enjoyable as a whole, still upholding the first game’s spirit in world building and sharing the same backbone - which was mostly revealed in the Secret Reports, it’s impossible to grasp the story without reading them.

-        The new cast and new game is charming in their own way

-        The old cast’s return is one of the biggest highlights for sure, it was fun and impactful. Everyone stays true to themselves and also had their own stories wrapped up nicely.

-        Boss designs are cool, new pins are fun to use and collect

-        The connection between the old and new cast is well written and executed, including but are not limited to the tension between the old and new protagonist, the weird but fun interaction between the 2 Composers, the new friendships revealed and formed

-        Sho being in the main cast is something so uniquely TWEWY and uniquely Sho

-        Still good music

-        Still many fun side quests, some of them really uphold the same quirky spirit of the old game and some are surprisingly touching

-        Many new nice stores and yummy looking foods to explore

-        The map is really easy to memorize for me, it’s fun to travel around the “current” Shibuya to see all the differences compared to the past

-        The social network is crazy and interesting to read through

-        Has an anti-frustration system to help 100% complete the game more easily and earn money faster, so post-game is relatively managable.

-        Overall, I really feel the efforts the team poured into making this as their passion project, not just during the development process but for all the last 14 years. They showed the vision of what they wanted to make, at the same time giving something to both the old as well as new fans.

CONS:

-        The biggest problem with the game is scenario writing. The story is so heavily back-loaded. The director himself thought it would be better to balance out the tension flow by adding more at the beginning but gave in to the scenario writer in the end, probably due to time pressure. This results in an underwhelming execution of characterization and lots of wasted potentials for the first half of the game.  

-        I struggle to view it as a stand-alone game, since the backstory and the old cast both play such an important role in the core of the game. If someone plays this game without having played the OG, they can only enjoy it on surface value at best.

-        The new cast is nice but most of them aren’t quite as intriguing as the old cast, maybe it’s cuz they’re all too nice deep down that they lack a little bit of an edge, of that batshit craziness that everyone in the OG used to have? I think some characters (Fret, Nagi) ended up weaker in terms of characterization because the writer is too afraid of making them unlikeable – which kind of backlashed cuz they only became likable in the most expectable way to cater for a specific group of fans. I would have wished for the other team leaders to be more crazy too, had they not suffered 30+ loops of the Game…

-        The CAMERAWORK IS HELL.

-        Gameplay does get tedious at certain points with all the time travels.

-        Shiba is so badly written as a villain, some Shinjuku characters should be given more screentime cutting into Shiba’s– like Hishima or Kaie or even, Hazuki (though his limited presence also solidified his importance).

-        Some of the main character designs, for example Beat’s hairstyle and his food reactions are hilariously bad. What’s the point of covering up most of his unique facial features?

-        Some of the minor/side characters’ design are too cool for them to have such a small role (eg: Ayano, Eiru). Ryoji did get much screentime but is nowhere as fun as Makoto was.

-        Overall the scope of this game is made a little too big for the team to handle as perfectly as the last game that was very compact, it felt somewhat rushed in development too so the missing pieces are clearly there in the final picture

The entry fee versus paying for it all in the end

An important difference between the Neo game and the original Shibuya game was that the Shibuya rule asked for an entry fee that is the Player’s most important asset, stated as a chance the Composer gives them to reexamine themselves. Meanwhile, the Shinjuku rule neither encourages nor allows personal growth and ultimately aims to erase as many Players as possible. It’s a pity we were never introduced to the full Shinjuku rulebook, as it seems like the system there focuses more on building up power and a grand government to compare with the individuality-driven system of Shibuya.

When you have to compare the new game and the original game (OG), this is an important factor to consider. Also, the OG has a serious storyline running through and through, locked with a different partner/GM creating unique atmosphere for each week and you don’t get to see your old partners again until the end. NEO’s team system does not allow such deep insight and communication between the Players. All of your teammates are always there throughout, the dynamic does change with each new addition but it is not as prominent as a partner change.

Another important factor is how the OG was built from scratch for a new platform as “something no one has ever seen before”, while Neo recycled a lot of old unused ideas from the previous development (check out this interview for more details). The development team for NEO lacks 2 key members and had a change of writer so the final product is not as strongly bound together as the last game.

The new cast is definitely inspired by today’s teenagers (from the view of creators), compared to the old cast they’re more sociable and always seem to take whatever works for them despite feeling unstable inside. They are all innocent and genuinely nice kids, avoiding to hurt each other to a degree that they end up keeping some sort of distance. They’re also unable to communicate at deeper levels, always stagnant at this half-baked stage of equilibrium without any motivation to get to the core of things. That is the cost of entering the game without an entry fee, without even dying or having a reason to be there/to fight seriously. These kids were stolen from the RG into a Game that was decidedly the worst environment for them to change or develop, just wandering around cluelessly to find a way “out” until tragedies started to unfold one by one and they ended up being charged the total sum of the price for their actions – ultimately losing everything in the end.

That is, I believe, a story arc which can resonate more to the youth of today rather than of my generation. If the message of the old game was to “listen”, enjoy life to the fullest and accept to trust others, the message of the new game is to “speak up” from the inside, trying to understand yourself and take actions instead of just going with the flow and finally, to take responsibility for such actions.

If Neku was handpicked by the Composer for being the special one with an all-dense soul to ensure victory of the game then Rindo was just a normal kid chosen out of random by Kubo to be his back-up plan, who just happened to have a high enough imagination to awaken the incredible power from his pin. Rindo was then officially chosen by the Composer as Josh picked up and handed the pin to him again, this time not as Josh’s personal Proxy – but as the Proxy to represent the normal people of Shibuya and via whom he could gamble if humans can fight for their own fate.

The underworld heroine and the hero with little of his own

Shoka is for me a refreshing and layered heroine. She’s the kind of character that took at least 3 trials of creators to form as a complete individual – that included Nomura who gave her the base design and Reaper background, Gen who gave a more cunning touch and the writers who made her English dialogues more punchy. Dishonesty equals “tsundere” is such a cliché, so the English writers tried really hard to avoid that trope in my opinion, while still letting her good intention come through.

She serves as the character who is informed of everything the players should have known, and there was almost nothing she could do about it. Almost. Until she met Rindo.

They were drawn to each other by sharing a state of “not having anything of their own”. They both started out with not being able to truly know themselves, Shoka even hated her RG life but also managed to mature from that stage before Rindo. She must have vibed with Shiki’s love and passion in the Gatto Nero threads, initiating her connection with Shibuya and understanding herself more. With Shoka as Swallow, they were able to open up to each other and offer mental support… but was still not getting to the centre of their problems because for all this time, Shoka could not tell Rindo the most important things about herself.

How did Shoka feel when she met Rindo at the UG? She probably didn’t want to hope that he would live the day until she witnessed the Twisters’ potentials. From the very beginning, they were both incredibly conscious of each other and also constantly frustrated that the person they happened to “notice” was such a condescending bitch/a clueless loser. The Shinjuku Reapers are overall quite drunk in power and uncompassionate to Players, Shoka included. She is also a master of dissociation, which results in her constant boredom, tone swings, haughtiness and subconsciously distancing herself from the friend – the boy she cares about – from false hope, as she judged from facts that it was a hopeless situation where nothing could ever be. Maybe she is naturally a bit of a chameleon just like her name suggests (Shoka 紫陽花 = hydrangea, the color-changing flower), so putting on an act and always dissociating herself from what’s important was easy, while hiding her contradiction was impossible. It was the ex-Reaper Beat who broke it out to her, that she should decide whether she really cared and wanted to do something for a change. He knew how it felt like to cross that line, and knew she wanted to too.  

Shoka is endeared by many of the Shinjuku Reapers and has shown independent acts of kindness (the Shinjuku ghost), proving that her kind and truthful side is as real as her harsh and dishonest side – which makes her a nice mirror to the previous heroine Shiki, who also embraced a dichotomy of self-complex and self-love within her character. In the end, she was the first of the new cast to ultimately accept all that is important to her and independently made the decision to help save Shibuya despite all costs.

She was jealous at Rindo’s interaction with Tsugumi and Kanon but remained silent cuz she wasn’t at a place to have any say about it. She also didn’t reveal about Swallow because that would only add an awkward irrelevance to their current situation, as she was too ready to face erasure at the end of the Game. She only wished to “play a game” with him, be it FanGo or the Reapers’ Game. The tension that the team could only feel at the end, she’s felt it the entire time. The song “DIVIDE” is applicable to not just one bond in the game, but it always makes me think of theirs. There is always a “divide” between her and Rindo throughout the course of their journey, as the living and the dead, as a Player and Reaper, as someone who has a place to return to and someone who doesn’t, someone who knows little but wields too much power and someone who knows a lot despite not being able to do much.

“If only I had the chance to connect with you on the other side

But time goes on, and without us realizing it

The battle is getting heated

Time goes on, and without us realiazing it

Divided again”

To be honest, maybe I didn’t grow any affection for the new main cast from Rindo’s perspective but from Shoka’s. Since I started to sympathize with Shoka, I started to see the boy in a more “real” way. The real Rindo, behind his peaceful façade with others, would lash out on Shoka for her unfairly harsh attitude while none of the others cared. He could also subtly feel that mantle of unspoken secrets from her, her own contradictions, the unresolved chemistry between themselves – and not knowing what to do with it rather than to feel angry with all the unfairness he could not process. (As a Libra too, he’s triggered the most by unfairness!)

It is actually a positive development as he’s at least “reacting” to something strongly now rather than to keep evading his problems. During my replay, I clearly saw the difficult situation Shoka was in, her remaining harshness after the Motoi incident was due to her internal struggle with a mission to save her own life, versus a chance to really be with the team. Her decision was to do both at the risk of losing favour from both sides. Rindo started to accept her layer by layer, as the person who resonated the most to her contradicting nature from the start and knew that via learning her resolve, he has learnt his too.

Later into the game, she even got too much of his attention. Maybe even without knowing she’s Swallow, he’s familiar with her thinking direction and Swallow had always been closer to him than any other friend. It was only after she had to betray her important ones twice that she could start being truly honest. The scene when she died a 2nd time left a strong impression in me, the little reveal let Rindo know that he is also losing Swallow as he’s losing Shoka – and that only death could drive the last secret out of her. Her final “Later, loser” echoed through Rindo as it was the final truth, with only him remaining to hear it: they had actually, already lost everything.

Rindo was the boy who never dared to face all that matters to him until he lost it all, fighting an unfair battle in the faith that they would somehow still win. Shoka was the girl who always knew what was dear to her, but never dared to think she could be together with them ever after and still threw her all into a battle she knew was losing. I think they stir each other on naturally to fill out their gaps, similar to what the Shibuya game partner systerm would have aimed for. The end reward was a little divine intervention to help close up the divide between them once and for all.  

During the game there was not enough space to process anything personal so at the ending when they officially became “friends”, it was an important affirmation of their bond. Some people complained it was friendzoning but it’s not, they just have arrived at the perfect place to start something more. “From now on, we will truly be together” – I read it as that kind of message.  

The heroine from a lost battle, with her story taken away

After reading the secret reports and playing the game to be surprised of how small a role Tsugumi had in the main game despite being the “Hype-chan” thought to be a major character of the next TWEWY installment, many fans would feel sad at a missed opportunity to see the Shinjuku arc in full depiction.

It was shown clearly that, a Shinjuku arc was very carefully planned out and is a vital part of the whole story, yet it could not be made due to various circumstances behind the development scene. I would assume, that the team were not able to make a TWEWY game that ended on a despairing note, but it already happened in their mind, thus becoming a mental burden that forced them to break away from it and started the game anew with NEO. A significant part of NEO became the healing arc for the Shinjuku characters, especially for Tsugumi though I really wished more emphasis should have been placed on her rather than Shiba. We didn’t even get to see her brother – Shinjuku’s Conductor who had a vital role and instead was given the clueless Shiba, who had absolutely no idea what’s going on all the way until the last day in NEO. It’s as if Tsugumi has had her story stolen away from her, because her own battle ended with a saddening loss.

I think every time the game creators look at Tsugumi, they would feel that sadness too. Maybe to them, she is a bigger character than what is seen by the fans, as despite their failed effort to depict her story, she’s lived in their mind for all these years through periods of destruction, healing and rebuild.  Though it is a pity we could not get to experience the full scope of the Shinjuku story, the creators was clear about the place they wished for it to arrive at.    

Individuality, connection and the social network

The team system adapted from Shinjuku rulebook does not allow much room for personal development, as the team dynamic is closer to a work relationship forced to bear results, than a spiritual bond to max out all corners of understanding as found in the partnership system. The old Shibuya system allowed only 1 winner and 1 week limit per game, while the new rule declares for a 1 winning team and only the team at last place will be erased – the other teams will enter another loop. Furthermore, whichever team to challenge the unwinnable Ruinbringers will face the risk of ending up dead last followed by erasure. As a result, the longest-standing teams are most likely not the strongest ever recorded, but the ones who have figured out a strategy to simply survive until something changes, enjoying their newly found social constructs while they are at it. Basically, it is a system to hypnotise players into the illusion that they are still “living”.

Therefore, we as players would not get to the core of each Player individually as fast and directly as we did in the last game. The Twisters were able to stand out not because they’re powerful, they only started to have a real chance after growing enough to each form a meaningful and personal connection to another teammate. It did not come as a team, nor did it intiate from the existing friendship between Rindo and Fret. In fact, I did not find much solidity or anything truly note-worthy about the main team and new characters within themselves until they started clashing with other team members, Reapers and new recruits from week 2 onwards. Rindo found his personal development with Shoka (via a clash with Motoi and pretty much a mini dating sim between them), then via the confrontation of his role with Neku; Fret found his with Kanon then Nagi, the team learned about the real Neku via Beat, Neku entered the UG via Coco’s wish to save Tsugumi… it was not the team but their personal links that empowered them to fight and solve each of their problems.

The other team leaders may have failed because they did not form such personal links, after 30+ hopeless loops Fuya’s team all fell apart to pursue their own interest even at the cost of erasure, Motoi quit his KOL façade to work like a dog for the Reapers (probably to save just his own ass not his team), while Kanon dropped her tricks to find changes via honest cooperation in acceptance of a fair loss. The despairing note in that is huge without making much of a scene because their failure didn’t happen at their best effort to “win”, but in their last attempt to find a way “out”. Even Shiba got his way “out” in the end thanked to his personal friendship with Hishima and Tsugumi.

Something has shifted in the mindset of the game creators in the last 14 years, as both games are about “connection vs individuality” but the last game focuses more on connection between just individuals and this one on the overall network that is formed out of those individual connections.

The introduction of Beat into the main cast was truly the bridge between old and new, they helped each other out in several turns before officially recruiting him. Beat is a character whom a lot of fans including myself have felt somewhat concerned about after Neku disappeared from the RG, so when the new kids welcomed Beat with warm and organic interaction and Beat seemed happy, I started to feel like I wanted to help them out too! I think the overall team chemistry is enjoyable enough for new players, but I could warm up to the new kids more from the pov of a returning character – whom I’m glad to be Beat, as the older brother figure who is genuinely kind, fun, serious and upbeat at the same time; who is needed and needs the kids in return.

The social network is a fun and refreshing feature. You can read all of the crazy tidbits about Shibuya and the links each character have formed with the town people, it’s also fun to visualize how the characters act off screen. Characters’ profiles provide extra insight into their background too, like how it reveals Tsugumi has been friend with Coco during her time in the RG. During the game when not all characters have showed up, you can sometimes guess which empty spot will belong to whom. For example there is a 1 character linking to Neky that is not linked to anyone else, so I could guess that was Joshua, and that another character linking only to Joshua was probably Hazuki, hinting that the 2 Composers are related before either of them even showed up.

Hazuki only showed up for 5 minutes, but his presence is so vital and true to the game that I think he is the most memorable out of the new cast. The two Composers have such an intriguing bond, with their yin/yang or phoenix/dragon themes, opposite color design, the sempai/kouhai tone and the way they keep some sort of distance/work relationship as if it’s mandatory between Higher beings, yet at the same time they can talk so casually because they are truly equal – and different from one another. I have written a separate meta on them here.

Some people pointed out, that all Shinjuku characters’ names and themes are based off Hanafuda cards and the Phoenix in Hanafuda belongs to the Paulownia suit – which is Joshua’s name flower. This is so interesting because it feels like the creators somehow saw it as a sign to interweave the Shibuya and Shinjuku storylines together. Though it doesn’t come out much on the surface, it’s fascinating nonetheless considering both Josh and Haz had at some point interfered with the other town’s affairs.

“Shibuya tour with Haz” was such a special scene, as it happened between 2 characters who do not/no longer have a reason to care about Shibuya, on the subject of what is worth saving about Shibuya. Hazuki carried out the purification of Shinjuku and stepped in to restore Shibuya just as part of his job and unlike Hanekoma or Joshua who both possess profound understanding of humanity, he really didn’t know humans at all. Rindo’s irrational wish invoked in him a sense of curiosity, to try gambling on something irrationally and learning a bit of what his senior have experienced. With all the pieces put together, it provides an overview on Higher beings as a whole, and that Joshua and Hanekoma are really the odd ones out with Hazuki being somewhere in between them and the rest.        

The old friends

It’s easy to have returning characters overshadow the new cast as they have already matured out of their personal story arc and stayed in our hearts for all this time. In the end, I have managed to enjoy both the old and new cast separately and altogether, and they will both find their own place in our memory of this game for the long term.

Sho is truly as crazy as ever, the game wouldn’t be the same if Sho is any less of what he is. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like Neky or Beat is younger than Nagi at all, with moments when it seems like Neky has aged 14 years instead of 3 years. His friendship with Coco surprised me pleasantly, and their interaction together with Beat was fun to watch. Rhyme’s found a new dream and her friendship with Kaie is precious too, especially considering that she can still talk to him online after the game ended. Josh and Neku’s interaction suggested that they have resolved the past and are on equal terms now, they even parted ways in good spirit and I don’t feel any worry about them like I did before.

Neku and Shiki’s reunion scene was beautiful, theirs is such a special bond that it has grown and supported them even without being able to see each other. I am so happy to see them all again and that they stay true to who they are, albeit looking more grown up, cooler and happier than ever before.  

Overall, NEO can’t become a classic on par with the OG, but is definitely a good sequel and a good game in its own rights. I’m happy with whether or not there will be a 3rd game to complete the 3 monkeys theme, but if there will be – I hope the creators can really find the time to learn from the last 2 games and start over with a fresh mindset and strong core.  

[thefanficmonster]

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in. 

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

[crystalsenergy]

positions to touch the Shadow: the journey to your Self - # 1 (contacting our fragilities, fears, pain and so on)

pics not mine

Shadow: what is it? - The Shadow is an archetype by Carl Jung about what would be potential traumas / problems / characteristics of ourselves that we decided to hide from others and/or us. these Shadows, although they seem useless to people - because they are completely important for true self-knowledge. people hide this in an attempt to live without them, thinking they will succeed.

advice: it's important that you respect your pace, so as not to suffer the consequences of such abrupt contact with your "internal enemies". i have some experience with people who were completely unaware of their problems that, for me, were clearly appearing in their behavior in an unnoticed and irrational way, and when these people touched their Shadows, they went through moments of shock and a slight crisis for ask themselves about different points in their life. it's like opening the chest of that room hidden from your mind and finding significant points that influence your personality and, consequently, ending up also in contact with the memories of what may have originated all of this in the life experience of these people. it's delicate, so we need to respect our own time. on the other hand, i have also dealt with people who, when in contact with their Shadows, didn't feel so much sudden suffering and confusion, but an even greater hunger for knowing themselves. if you already know yourself and know that you don’t have to go so calmly, go for it. otherwise: respect your time, but don't miss the opportunity, don't waste time. the sooner we start looking for the completeness of our personality, the better it gets.

▪ PLANETS ▪

- Saturn: Saturn is present in our daily lives, in the sense that it appears within us (since the positions and aspects with Saturn influence our personality) in different situations, showing us where we lack maturity, where we need to evolve. Saturn is that internal voice (which can be increased or decreased depending on our life experiences) that tells us where we aren't good, that makes us be more rigid with ourselves. the positions of Saturn refer to the most practical thing and that turn out to be much more conscious than the other planets and asteroids. however, even so, i have seen cases of people who evidently have low self-esteem, which is explained by a position and an aspect with Saturn (Sun square Saturn + Saturn in Aries) but who admit none of this to themselves, however, a person who is outside and observes them, notes several irrational and defensive behaviors when they listen to phrases, for example, that touch their internal wounds, activating the feeling of 'not being good enough at anything'. this prevents us from evolving in the sense that the less we give light to it, the less we know each other and the more we make decisions and attitudes based on irrationality and lack of awareness of our fears and weakness.

- Pluto: our unconscious pains, the problems that we are not able to touch so easily, but that deeply affect our personality. once we touch on our Pluto issues that we try so hard to hide, we may be able to find a healthier way of dealing with almost unconscious patterns. here we have the most rotten, bad and negative feelings and sensations, the experiences that we want to forget, but that influence our personality so much. Plutonian matters (sign and house, but especially the house) speak a lot about how we project ourselves around the world. if we have the ability to analyze ourselves in a more psychological and internal way, trying to establish contact with our personal unconscious, we can transform such problems and negative feelings that we carry within us. but the first step involves letting go of the habit of hiding these problems even from yourself. Pluto wants you to let your power emerge to be reborn in the face of pain and hard phases. we all have a subject for which we will undergo transformations - be it in the way we accept that subject in our life, how we see that area in life and the way we treat others or how we treat ourselves. it's necessary to know how to overcome all the fear you have of such a subject present in the house in its positioning (example: Pluto in 7th house - excessive fear of being betrayed or left out of a relationship, going through troubled and unbalanced relationships. you need to learn through all these bad experiences).

▪ OBSERVATIONS ▪

- if you have intercepted houses, signs and planets: this means an empty area in your life, something that was not given to you or that you didn't know how to develop.

- aspects between shadow planets, asteroids cited, either among themselves (example: Saturn square Chiron, Lilith conj Pluto), or with personal planets (example: Nessus conj Venus) must also be taken into account when studying your Shadow side.

▪ ADVICE ▪

- make a mini summary of everything you have from each shadow placement and organize it all in a list, studying a point one by one.

examples:

"saturn in my natal chart 🌌✨

- saturn in aries [low self-esteem, power issues] - saturn in 8th house [rejection of my sexuality] - saturn square sun [another possibility of low self-esteem, feeling thati should not have fun, relax, have an internal father who in the end is me. me = my internal strict father.] - saturn opposite neptune [difficulty with my psychological, with living my restrictive issues and obstacles in my life in a more creative way, embracing myself. difficulty with being complacent with myself] - saturn square chiron [a feeling that I deserve to go through what I am going through, a desire to further hide my weaknesses and show myself to the world in a more controlled and inhibited way with regard to my internal problems and pains"

"black moon lilith (true lilith, the most known) in my natal chart 🐍✨

- lilith in libra [obsession or denial of being in relationships, extreme experiences in relationships, power to transmute the way i see and deal with world and others] - lilith in 3rd house [feeling unable to know things and feeling smart, running away from conversations and socializing, having an immense power to persuade people through words, having to deal with the feeling of not being heard] - lilith square north node [feeling of having to go against my purpose in life, the possibility of self-sabotage in order to fail to fulfill what i was given as a task for this life, i may have difficulty embracing my most intense and dense sides of my personality . and at the same time i can have an immense power and energy to evolve using this intense energy in a positive way]"

▪ FICTIONAL POINT ▪

- Black Moon Lilith (h13 'True Lilith'): deep power to transmute the energies of pain of Dark Lilith and humiliation of asteroid Lilith. Black Moon Lilith represents the obsession, the escape, what we really do with all our unconscious energy and potentials. where you can experience the ambivalence of extreme desire and extreme denial / rejection. where you can pass through a deep transformation / meatamorphose.

▪ ASTEROIDS ▪

- Lilith (1181): where you are confrontational, impulsive, where you seek exile and rebellion because of feeling suppressed, humiliated or incapable. where there is refusal, emotional and psychic frustrations. where you feel untrustworthy, shameful. how is the core of your wound and how it was experienced by yourself. the projections in collective expectations and where you refuse to agree to them. where you experience pain, passion, redemption. the core of these issues.

- Dark Lilith (h58 'Waldemath Black Moon'): the most hurt and intense side of Lilith. psyche instincts. it's when you feel pain because of the suppression that you experienced and where you have an extremely pain to deal, what can lead you to seek revenge or simply act in defensive / aggressive ways. represents your reaction to your original pains (1181 Lilith). it is an intense energy and if it isn'tr used correctly, it can lead you to self-destruction or it can even lead you to insert this energy from your frustrations and negations into your human experiences. if we get lost in the middle of our pain, we can become selfish and project our negative experiences and emotions on the community or on other people.

- Chiron: where there is more pain within you, the situations in which you are most vulnerable and that you seem to be unable to cope with at all. represents cycles of pain in your life. it can also represent things that you feel you were "born" to have to deal with. it also represents subjects in which you sin when it comes to healing but you are / can be extremely good at healing others.

- Nessus: where you can experience some type of abuse, toxicity or abusive experience. acts of violence and situations of this kind.

- Proserpina (26): where you can have to work to leave the fantasy aside, where you may not have maturity. it represents a cycle of killing and grieving the child's fragile ego, and then becoming more mature. is the loss of innocence, revival and reconstruction.

- Achilles (588): your deep weakness, deep wounding, ‘achilles heel’.

- Echo (60): where you don't believe in yourself, where you may lack self-esteem and may be little original, where you may have to deal with narcissistic people. where you are prone to being manipulated and losing your individuality to others.

- Atropos (273): where you can experience endings or transformations, loss or death that can impact you deeply.

- Narcissus (37117): where you can be indifferent, selfish, what needs to be improved; or where you may have to experience situations of manipulation, being with people in general or with someone really narcissistic, or it can mean in which subject you will have to deal with extreme disinterest, lack of empathy, or abuse on the part of people, which can cause you deep pain.

- Karma (3811): karmic issues, which seems like you have to deal with this life in a repetitive and tiring way. which can bring you a feeling of helplessness, circumstances of pain and difficulties.

- Dionysus (3671): where you can have a double nature. where you can have addictions, and a tendency to get easily intoxicated.

- Grieve (4451): one more tip about possibilities for grief, sorrow.

[unknown-writing]

The boys reacting to their s/o pulling themselves out of a Bad Depressive Relapse:

Warning(s): Mentions of depression, Intrusive thoughts, self-destructive behavior’s

A/N: I’m very proud of myself for pulling myself out of my bad depressive relapse episode this morning so, it’s time to write some comfort!

This man is pretty dense when it comes to dealing with other people’s internal suffering tbh.

Like, unless your outwardly showing signs of pain, he won’t fully get it.

He noticed that you were...Not your usual self for a while. A long while at that, it started to worry him that you weren’t laughing with him anymore for that period of your slump.

But, one morning, an early morning that is, you had snuck out of your room that you shared with the girls to find Luffy for some much needed Cuddling.

Ever so quietly moving towards his bed, you slowly climbed in. Him feeling movement on top of him startled him awake but, he kept quiet.

Seeing that you were the one crawling in his bed, literally made him have the biggest grin on his dorky face you’ve ever seen.

“Welcome back y/n-san” He whispered as he pulled you in for a tighter cuddle session, you couldn’t help but chuckle but, you kept quiet to avoid waking the other boys.

Soon enough, it was morning, and the rest of the crew saw that you two were finally cuddling again after your depressive slump.

Nami so took a picture with the Camera-snail for blackmail evidence to tease you with.

Seeing you severely depressed drove him Mad.

Not because he was mad /at you/ But because he was mad at /himself/ for not noticing it sooner than he should have.

Robin tried telling him about your depressive slump but, Zoro was completely clueless on what she was getting at.

“My y/n? Depressed? Why? She looks perfectly fine to me.”

That line was a big mistake on his part since you accidentally heard that, which sort of drove you over the edge again

Ngl, it took him quite a while for him to start making it up to you again after that night. His guilty conscious refused to let him rest peacefully until things where settled between you two again

Weeks went by, and even though most of the Straw Hats assumed you where still depressed, Zoro sensed otherwise.

It seemed like to him that you were finally starting to shed your light again, even if it was a slow start at first.

One day though, while the two of you were on grocery duties to help Sanji since he took the role of guard duty this round. You grabbed his arm and hugged it tightly.

it startled him at first because he thought he was being kidnapped or something, but once he saw that you had just grabbed onto it and acted so casually about it

This mans started to blush a pink hue. A brief silenced filled the air between you two before he spoke up,

“...Y/n-san....” He paused before turning towards you, “Is everything ok now? And I don’t mean that fake bullshit ‘Ok’ either...” he asked while looking concerned

You looked up to him, with the biggest smile he’d ever seen. Even if it was a small one, the fact that you smiled again after so long of not smiling, it drove him Wild.

“Yeah...........Yeah.......Everything’s gonna be ok now.” You started off before holding his hand firmly, “I have my Nakama...And I have you by my side. So, I’m no longer alone anymore.” You smiled again while looking up to Zoro, who still had the blush but, a genuine smile back

“That’s my girl.” Zoro just says while bending down to give you a quick peck on the forehead, which made you blush a deep crimson red seeing as you two were in public still.

Okay but, you /KNOW/ this idiot is gonna think it’s his fault your depressed.

He’ll constantly blame himself for your sadness, as it’s not something that could be easily cured with affection or food.

He’s even more sad when he can’t dote on you so much because it makes you feel even worse.

You have to keep reminding him that this was just how your brain worked sometimes.

It wasn’t until Nami and Chopper explaining it to him properly, is when he started to finally understand that some people just feel down and needed some space for a bit.

Even when he was giving you your personal space, he still made you your favorite foods, making sure that you had stuff to drink and eat even if you were cooped up in your bedroom for a long time.

He won’t admit it directly but, he genuinely misses you. He misses your smell, your touch, your face, your body, your everything.

He especially misses the way you can easily fluster him and make him feel like a King, but he’ll deny those feelings if you asked him though.

A couple of month’s had gone by of this depressive state of yours. it was starting to take a mental tole on himself, knowing that you were stuck in those same four walls, missing everything that was happening, being unable to help you at all during this.

Just as he was about to head towards the sleeping cabin area to drop off your next meal, he’d noticed that your door was slightly open. He blinked, confused and worried that somebody had tried sneaking inside of it somehow.

But soon enough, you had popped out, yawning as you’d just woken up that morning. Nothing had harmed you physically from the looks of it, he looked up and down for a while before placing the food tray on a nightstand to avoid spilling the food.

You turn after hearing the tray clink against the wooden surface, “Oh? Morning Sanji-sa--Ouf!” You where cut off from a tackle hug.

Sanji had wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you so close to him you were practically choking on his hair. “S-Sanji?? Is everything alright?” You asked, patting his back gently

Your eyes widened as the next thing he did was give you a big passionate kiss on your lips. You felt salty fluids on his face. “Oh.” You thought as you realized what was happening

“I missed you so fucking much y/n-chan.” Sanji says after the kiss. Hearing him say that so bluntly made /you/ turn red-faced and start to stutter.

“....Yeah....I missed you too Sanji-san.” You admitted while smiling again after so long of not showing your smile to anybody. Poor Sanji nearly fainted.

Law knew something was off about you even before you realized it yourself.

You were grumpy, snippy, more “tired” than normal. You had constant mood swings that showed up out of the blue. Everything was just...Off.

It didn’t take much for him to realize that you were dealing with Depression. Although he knew very little of your past, he knew that something was eating at you.

Once your downward spiral of your mental suffering began, you stayed in your bedroom for the majority of the time, refusing to go out even if it was for a general meeting for a mission, or even for food.

Law wasn’t the best at communicating his own feelings towards somebody, so helping his crush with her depression was a little bit harder to do than he thought.

He didn’t realize that you would get so bad that you just woke up absolutely /screaming/ at the top of your lungs during a nightmare. The only reason he knew what was happening was because Bepo went to drop off some food for you, and then ran once he heard the screaming.

After a while of some studying on Depression, Law tried everything that he could to at least /try/ to get you to speak with him...But, after a few weeks of this, he started to get tired of chasing you.

“Y/n-ya...At least let me check for injuries.” He said as he sat on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door with a frown....No response.

He could hear silent sobbing and hiccups behind him, which hurt because he didn’t know how to help you! it drove him Mad!

He was about to give up, sighing in irritation. As he started to walk away, he heard the bedroom door start to click open. You peaked your head out tiredly, face stained with dried and fresh tears, your face all red from not just crying but from stress as well.

Seeing you so Broken hurt him. He’s been there before, he’d never wish to see his friends be broken like this...Let alone his crush.

You opened the door wider so that way he could come in, “...sorry....For the mess...” You weakly spoke, allowing him to enter your room.

Once the two of you were in your room, you had shut the door, then locked it behind you...Eventually turning to face Law, the next moved startled him

You were so tired from the depression night terrors, the screaming, the crying and well...Everything else...That you just fainted into his arms! “Y-Y/n-ya??” He questioned as he stood still. No response...Well, nothing with words anyways. A soft snore leaked passed your slightly open mouth

You had fallen asleep, quite literally in his arms. And he didn’t know how to handle it. You were his crush after all! What was he supposed to do!? Move you away!? Fuck.

He calmed down and carried you bridal style in his arms, thanking God that you were a heavy sleeper, and shuffled his way onto your messy bed, kicking his shoes off at least before getting comfortable.

Another week had passed since that night, and throughout that week, law would give orders to Bepo and Penguin to take control of the ship while he stayed put. he would only move to take a piss/shit or a quick shower before rushing to your side again. He’d forgo the shower if waking you would cause you to feel alone and start crying again.

Once that week had passed though, you had woken up to feel a body underneath you. Blinking, you were confused as to what was happening. You then blushed a deep crimson red seeing Law underneath you, holding you so tightly to him that you could hardly breathe properly because of it.

Law had woken up after feeling your movements to try and get out of bed and take a shower, since you hadn’t taken a proper one in the past three weeks due to your depressive state hitting you like a two ton truck.

You then felt an arm snake around your lower waste, pinning you down of sorts, which made you jump a bit and turn to see who’s it was. Only to see Law wide awake and looking upwards at you

A brief silence filled the room before Law had spoke. “Y/n-ya......You’re Ok.” he says quietly, trying not to startle you...Soon, the memories of what you went through during your depressive state had hit you. You saw everything that happened. And then you saw that Law had tried his hardest to get you to feel ok.

You started to cry again, which made him frown in worry, only to . be taken aback by the sudden tackle hug you were doing, “Law!” You kept muttering in between your hiccupped sobs as you held him.

All Law did was rub your head gently and held you close to him again. He didn’t know how to respond. “....You saved me.....” You commented, now hovering over him with a shaky smile.

Those words. Those three single words made his heart melt with pure happiness. A feeling he hasn’t had in a LONG while. Despite the fact that he hated being called a Hero, if he could save /you/ from death? Then he’ll take being called a Hero by you any day.

You just kept hiccupping as you cried of happiness, but that was easily silenced with Law’s next action. You felt Law’s rougher lips against your own, which easily made you stop crying. He broke the kiss after a while and smiled back, “...I’m glad that your Ok y/n-ya.” he says before pulling you down for another kiss

[13atoms]

Lost in Translation (Count Orlo x Reader)

Inspired by some amazing asks, here's the arranged marriage + language barrier oneshot!

I usually try to keep a reader pretty vague in these fics, but I’ve made some compromises here. Mainly: female reader, who speaks English and German, but not Russian, reader is younger than Orlo. I’ve left the country of origin open, but thought I’d add those caveats 😊

Content warning: mentions of nsfw, think that's it!

Word count: 10.9k

✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉✉

For years, you had made a noble attempt to pretend this day would never come. That your arranged marriage would forever be pushed back. That had certainly happened before. You had been due to wed another man in the Court of Russia who had met an unpleasant end after crossing their Emperor. A third-born prince who wed another instead. An older man from your home country who had failed to agree upon a suitable dowry. In some, deep part of your mind you had wanted the same fate to befall the man you were due to marry come the Spring.

He would fail to prove suitable, have some injury befall him, simply change his mind.

The thought of leaving your home forever to marry a stranger was terrifying, even if you knew it was a common reality. But this match, excellent politically, had come to fruition.

He was a Count. A reputable one at that. The marriage represented a social step up, even allowing for the differing nobility systems between your countries. He was a brilliant politician and a well-read man, you had been told.

You tried to let that comfort you.

Marriage had to come eventually, your mother had reassured you, as she helped you into a carriage. A Count of such stature was, at least, a strong option for your family. Regardless of how you felt about the match.

The rest of your household had watched with grim faces as they bid you goodbye.

It was the best thing you could do to help the tumultuous situation back home, you had been promised.

You were doing your duty, you had been told.

With each minute of your journey you could only think of the time it would take to return home – how you were being taken so far from your home that it would prove near impossible to travel back for frivolous reasons. Perhaps your husband might permit a journey back in the event of a funeral, or the birth of a niece or nephew.

Perhaps he wouldn’t.

The man was older than you, strangely old to be unmarried. Or so the maids had gossiped. He was a formidable diplomat in a way which likely made him a difficult man, they had speculated, and you could not help picturing the creature who might be awaiting you at the end of the aisle.

Would he be cruel? Ignore you? Would he be desperate for an heir? Or so busy with other members of the palace that he had no interest in consummating your marriage at all?

Arranged marriages may have been customary for people like you, but every young romantic secretly wished to avoid it. You had always hoped to meet your own Prince Charming, the two of you falling for one another so soundly that he insisted upon being allowed to marry you. In your dreams, you had longed for the moment such a man would whisk you away to a beautiful castle, to a life of adoration and comfort and mutual respect.

Perhaps even of unconditional love, if such a thing even existed.

You held a hand to the side of the carriage to brace yourself as the road grew suddenly bumpy, trying not to be jostled until the wheels found smoother ground again. Outside you could hear the coachman and his boy, chattering and clicking to the horses. The sound of the road beneath you muffled their voices.

From your book, you pulled a well-worn set of papers.

“Count Orlo,” you tried the words on your tongue, “Count Orlo.”

His last letter, making arrangements for your travel, had come written in a curious of lines and curls which meant nothing to you. Enclosed with it was a translation of his words, printed plainly in unemotive English by another hand. Even as you had read the translation over and over, you looked for meaning in the original. You had kept it. At the end of it, beneath a flourishing signature you caught yourself staring at, he had written his own surname, spelt the letters out in phonetic English so you might attempt to pronounce it.

You had been practising since, trying to imagine how someone Russian might pronounce it without having ever heard the accent – let alone the language.

Would it be much different to your own?

As you crossed land and sea you noted the air cooling, your body aching from the journey. Yet you constantly found yourself unable to step outside for fear of realising just how far from home you were, the strange biomes you passed only serving to make you anxious.

In the books you attempted to read on the journey you kept that sole letter you had from your suitor, using it as a bookmark and reading it each time you opened the book to read further.

“I have made every attempt to ensure your comfort here, and I await making your acquaintance eagerly,” part of the translation read.

It was a sentence you had let your eyes drift across over and over again.

You wondered how those words had sounded to him when he wrote them. If they even had the same intent as the words you read now, if perhaps there was a way to communicate the subtleties of sarcasm or irritation in Russian which was not translated in the version you read.

Though those words seemed charming, you knew not to read anything into them when their meanings had been mangled through a language barrier by an uncaring stranger.

Until you set foot in St. Petersberg, you would have no idea what kind of man you were to marry for the rest of your life.

*

Too soon, the streets of St. Petersberg were outside the carriage windows. And then they disappeared again, a well-paved road leading into thick forest, making you frown as a busy stream of fine carriages passed you the other way.

The dense trees seemed to be symbolic of the country itself, tall and proud and terrifying as they blocked the sunlight from the road and seemed to reach into the sky forever in their bid to escape the ground.

There was not a single pothole, the road perfectly laid, as you moved to attempt to freshen up your appearance. Books stacked neatly to be removed by a footman, you had nothing to do but watch as the traffic grew denser and denser, the trees thinning.

Then opening up.

Vast lawns stretched ahead of you, brightly coloured figures milling around in the midmorning sun, wandering across the manicured grass with the intent-less pace of nobility.

Your breath was taken away as a building came into view, as tall as the forest you had escaped from and twice as intimidating. The crunch of the horses’ shoes became louder on the gravel you drove on to, the carriage moving slower, as the huge palace loomed into view.

There was one name which had been drilled into you before you arrived, Emperor Peter. His palace was to be your new home, and he was not a man to be crossed. You could see why he intimated so much now, as you gazed up at the extravagance of his stronghold.

Too soon, the carriage door was open and you were offered a hand to step down to Russian soil. The building stretched up above you, seeming to stare down in judgement with a thousand glassy eyes.

As you blinked at the cool, bright sun, you noticed a man waiting nervously for you. Your chauffeur whispered to him, and a small greeting left his mouth.

It was in a language you could not understand.

Your heart seemed to jump to your mouth as he reached to take your hand, pressing it to his lips in a movement as gentlemanly as you had ever seen. In the fraction of a second his eyes were closed, you tried to catch your breath.

Unsure what to say, you let him drop your hand and straighten back to standing, his eyes searching your face in something blessedly unlike an inspection of your features. Instead, it seemed as though he was simply taking you in.

The wind was bitter, and you wrung your hands at the loss of your suitor’s body heat. You couldn’t conceal a full-body shudder as a howl of viscous cold blew through the grounds. The man took a step back, welcoming you into the warmth of the open palace doors. You followed, feeling as though you were watching yourself from a distance rather than experiencing your own body.

He was handsome, you noted. Clean-shaven and well dressed, with a significant effort put into his clothes and hair. He was not the old man you had feared, either. In fact, you found yourself quite delighted at the idea of being seen by his side.

Still, you refrained from letting your guard down. You had no idea of anything about him. He could be a monster, though none of his demeanour so far seemed to suggest so.

Say something, your mind screamed to you.

“The weather is rather bitter here,” you smiled, uncomfortable as the man seemed to nervously pace, rocking back and forth on his feet as he regarded your shivering form.

A frown creased his brow.

“It is cold,” you clarified, sounding the words out in an attempt to make it easier for him to follow.

Perhaps the language barrier would be worse than you had feared. Ignorantly, you had hoped that perhaps he would speak some English. Or that your languages might be similar. He looked at you wide-eyed, lips moving silently as he tried to understand you.

“Co-ld,” he repeated back to you, the syllables broken in the way a non-native speaker might dissect them for understanding.

You rubbed your hands on your own shoulders, a mime of the word, and he nodded frantically.

“Snow!” he stumbled, in English, the shape of the word strange on his tongue.

It wasn’t snowing, but you were pleased he had understood your meaning. You nodded, internally devasted at the realisation that the two of you could barely understand one another.

Suddenly an entire, long marriage of devastating isolation from other speakers of your own language, seemed to stretch before your eyes. He did not speak English. Of course he did not, you cursed yourself. This was Russia. And you did not speak a single word of Russian.

Around you, the conversations sounded like gibberish, the international tone and body-language of gossip the only indicator of what those in finery were saying.

“German?” you tried, moving to allow a nobleman to pass through the door you were blocking, wincing at your own awkwardness.

The Count cocked his head.

“Do you speak German?” you repeated, this time in German, sounding the words out slowly.

You knew, even from his first wince at your first word, he did not understand anything you were saying. You sighed and the Count grimaced in agreement. That, he could comprehend.

Around you the building seemed like a breathing organism, its people flowing from room to room, constant noise and sound and smells threatening to overtake your senses.

Even mere feet from the unfamiliar man you were engaged to, you found your attention drifting as the palace became overwhelming. He surged forward to steady you as a stony-faced nobleman barged into you, concerned words spilling from his lips in a language you didn’t understand. He snapped at the man, after you were stable, and you saw him scurry away with a frown.

With wide eyes you watched the Count as he guided you to a safer spot before dropping your elbow. At least he was handsome. And somewhat younger than you had been led to believe, not so elderly or callous as suitors your friends had been forced to wed.

He curiously had none of the politician’s bite that you had been made afraid of – in fact, you might have believed him to have no power at all if it were not for the arrangement of your betrothal to him. And the way he had sent a man twice his size packing, merely for knocking into you.

He just seemed too nice. He was smaller than a lot of men in the palace, dressed well, with no air of arrogance about him as he tried to welcome you without words.

“The room,” he sounded out.

His English was unnatural, the syllables slipping against one another awkwardly, but you smiled dumbly as you recognised the words. He held one hand outstretched, and then snatched it awkwardly away just as you reached for it. You nodded instead, closing your empty hand at his subtle rejection.

The Count watched over his shoulder, taking a few cautious steps, before seeming satisfied you were following. You loathed that you could not speak to one another, could not joke or lighten the mood, as you tried to understand his jittery body language.

He led you in a confusing attempt at being gentlemanly, lacking the words to direct you, but refusing to be ungentlemanly enough to allow you to walk behind him. Side by side, slowly, you reached an overside pair of doors which he clumsily held open for you.

You blinked in surprise, suddenly realising where you were. It was not merely his room, it was also your room. The room you would share with him. For as long as you both shall live.

As he bustled behind you, moving things in a frantic attempt to tidy the already-spotless space, you remembered to close your mouth.

At one end of the large space was a grand four-poster, deep red drapes tied back around it, fine sheets tucked in tightly. Dark wood accented by golden candle-holders betrayed the opulence of the space – but most striking were the bookshelves. Reaching the ceiling, covering an entire wall, French-style Walnut framed hundreds of books. Your elation at the space, accented with pieces of history and culture that made you increasingly fond of the man, was quickly dampened by the realisation you could not read a single one of the titles.

The windows were thrown open wide, thin white curtains fluttering in the wind, framed by heavier burgundy woollen drapes. With each new pass your eyes made of the room you noticed something new. A new painting, a framed letter, a pot of feathers or an exotic tchotchke, all told the story of a man who was more than met the eye.

You only wished you could speak to him. He seemed to be wincing as you took in the space, one hand perched on the door handle, left there from where he had closed the doors. He let you take your time orientating yourself, saying nothing as your eyes finally settled on something familiar: your luggage.

In their own strange way, the trunks were comforting. A reminder of who you were, your family name painted on the side and your possessions sat in there.

Completely out of place for the room.

Even the cream colour of the trunks seemed to clash with the very furniture around it, and your nervousness came back full force, making your stomach clench as you wondered if the Count would allow you to keep your things here.

He seemed entirely unbothered, reaching to adjust his glasses as you turned to look at him, seeming to fluster at the attention. As you opened your mouth to try and say something, you heard masculine shouts outside.

A sudden gunshot pierced the air outside, the sound ricocheting around the palace, loud enough to make you gasp and flinch. Immediately, the Count was by your side, hands hovering at your elbows as you caught your breath.

You realised you were shaking, each inhale coming as a gasp, the stress of the day coming to overwhelm you. As you turned to the Count, fearing judgement for your weakness, you saw nothing but worry in his shining eyes.

In that moment, you felt sure he begrudged the language barrier as much as you did.

He seemed to be fumbling for the little English he had learnt, before closing his eyes with a frustrated huff, pinching the bridge of his nose as he strode across to his desk.

One hand braced him against the heavy wood as his other hand flipped roughly through the pages of a book. You couldn’t help your curiosity, leaning over his shoulder.

As you glanced at the pages of his book, your heart clenched. It had the distinctive smudges of something he had written himself, words in neat Russian and shakily-formed English beside them. He glanced at you, almost embarrassed, as he flicked to the page he wanted.

He made some attempt at pronunciation, but you found it easier to follow the point of his ink-stained index finger.

“Safe.”

Next to a scribble of Russian, was the word safe.

You read it aloud, and he copied you, his eyes childishly-wide as he looked for your reassurance.

You nodded.

“Yes,” you told him, words weak as you tried to force them past your lips without crying, “safe.”

You weren’t sure if his book helped him understand your spoken words especially well, but you tried anyway.

“Thank you.”

It took him a second, but with a gulp and a head tilt, he understood you.

As he looked at you from his hunched position over the desk, hours and hours of translation work in front of him, you wondered what he had expected of you. If he was disappointed that you spoke none of his language, disappointed by some physical aspect of you, or by your strangeness whilst taking in the overwhelming nature of the palace. Did he even want a bride? Had he rejected the notion of an arranged political marriage as vehemently as you did?

Were you an intruder here? In his space?

The two of you stood for a moment, both silent as you regarded one another. Another shout outside made you jump, shoes shuffling against the carpet. It seemed to prompt the Count into action. He was rifling through the book again.

“Food?” he tried, repeating himself until you understood his meaning. His Russian accent was strong, his hands flailing as he tried to mime.

“Food?” you repeated back, and he clapped his hands in realisation, repeating the right pronunciation back to you.

“Yes, please,” you smiled.

With a timid duck of his head, he fled from the room.

*

The Count was gone for a long while, long enough for you to wander around the room, stroking a hand across the soft quilt of the bed, touching the spines of the books, and casting an eye over the translation guide Orlo had put together for himself.

It was an incredible amount of effort, you realised, to have filled almost an entire book to construct his own dictionary. It gave you hope for the type of a man who was willing to put that much effort into understanding a woman he had never met.

After a quick lap of the room you caught yourself in the mirror, realising how exhausted you looked from travel. You turned to your luggage, hoping for time to change before Count Orlo returned.

No luck. As you crouched at your open trunk, you heard the door open, glancing up nervously before sighing in relief as you realised it was just the Count. He greeted you with a smile, nodding.

He watched you curiously as you rummaged through your tightly-packed luggage for a change of clothes, desperate to change from the journey. Your travel clothes were sorely in need of a wash. In truth, you had hoped to change into something nicer before you were introduced to your betrothed.

As you found a gown to change into, the Count stepped backwards and dropped his curious gaze, realising you intended to change.

He called a word, and you flinched at the sudden volume of his soft voice, surprised to hear footsteps come running. A serf appeared, a woman who greeted you with a tight smile, and you looked to Orlo with a furrowed brow. He gave you a nod, his eyes kind, as he left the room.

It was fast, to change and quickly fix your appearance with the help of a serf. Although she did not speak a word to you – though you tried both English and German – she was kind as she fastened and unfastened your laces, and you tried to find some reassurance in the looks she gave you.

Did she think the Count a good man, you wondered? She seemed unafraid and comfortable in his rooms, in a way you did not expect from serfs in this place. You tried to consider it a good sign.

The moment the serf left he returned, slipping through the door and admiring your new dress with a gentle nod. There was a sincere appreciation in his eyes that threatened to make you blush.

For the first time, as he crossed the room to offer you his arm, you could imagine yourself waking up beside the man.

He opened his mouth as if to say something as you watched him curiously, but then closed it. The words would not come to him, and you wished you could tell him it was okay, your own vocabulary in his mother tongue painfully limited.

He reached for a closed trunk, looking to you for permission before he opened it.

There was a slight tremble in his hands, and you felt a rush of appreciation at his sheer gentleness. You wished you could apologise to him for the man who had appeared in your nightmares, sharing his name but not his demeanour, brutish and cruel where the Count seemed timid and polite.

Where his fingers faltered on the latch, you flipped the trunk open, your hand accidentally brushing his. You looked away very intentionally as you felt the warmth of his skin, instead turning to the contents of the trunk.

You were glad it was devoid of anything embarrassing, your undergarments blessedly packed in the box below. Instead he was faced with the spines of dozens of books. The titles were all well-thumbed, favourites of yours which you could not bear to part with. You had hoped you might be able to get more books in Russia, once you arrived, however the greatness of the language barrier was beginning to impress on you.

These might be the only books you could read for a very long time, and you were glad you had persuaded your driver to bring them all this way.

The Count, for his part, was reading the spines in fascination. He might not recognise the language, but he seemed to have an appreciation for the beauty of the tomes.

Certainly, if his own décor was anything to go by, he was an avid reader himself. As his fingers ran along the books you had brought, tightly packed together to survive the journey, you found yourself strangely embarrassed by the language of the books.

He seemed unaffected, a genuine curiosity on his face as he looked for your permission to pull one from the trunk. His fingers teased the spine as his eyes met yours, seeking your gentle nod before taking the book and opening it.

Unreading, he scanned the words in front of him. You recognised it as a beloved novel, one so well read you could recite the passage he followed off by heart.

With a smile to you, he turned the pages, seeming to just admire the shapes of the words.

He finally closed the book, passing it back to you, and you tried to force the book back into its place in the trunk. It was a squeeze, and you winced as Orlo watched you struggle for a moment before attempting to still your hands.

Suddenly he was on his feet, rushing to the huge walnut bookcase which spanned an entire wall, and started pulling his own books from the shelves.

You watched in confusion, as he moved a huge stack of his tomes to space on a lower, empty shelf, stacking them in the space above the existing books clumsily to clear a space.

He said something in Russian, before realising you had no understanding of his words. Instead he reached down for the book you were still struggling with. As he took it gently from you, setting it on the shelf, you finally understood his meaning.

In near-shock, you unpacked the trunk, the pair of you working together to add your beloved collection to his library. The Count displaced his own books until there was an entire shelf at your eye-level filled with your most beloved possessions: stories in a language he did not even speak.

Overcome with emotion, you crossed to his desk, reaching for the handwritten book you had seen earlier. The Count followed, watching you a little confused.

Flicking through page after page, growing increasingly frustrated as you did not find what you wanted, you felt Orlo’s eyes on you. And prayed he was not offended by your going through his personal notes.

Finally you found what you sought, turning the book to him with your finger pointing to the words you wanted.

“Thank you.”

Orlo pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he read the translation you pointed to, speaking the Russian words to himself, before looking up at you with an unhindered beam.

Maybe everything would be alright.

*

The food Orlo had brought during the early afternoon was barely more than snacks, hardly touched as the two of you had shared a comfortable silence, each reading your own books. You were glad for the downtime, though uneasy from being alone with a near stranger.

You were hungry by the time the Count sought out the word dinner in his translation book, and you gave him a nod.

With each step he led you towards the rowdy dining hall, which seemed to be the destination for every other soul walking these halls, fear sunk its claws deep into you again.

For the first time, you spotted the man you could only assume was the Emperor, holding the attention of a few long, heavily decorated tables. The entire room was filled with outrageous finery – beautiful dresses and golden candelabras all begging for your focus as your eyes tried to take in the room.

Count Orlo exchanged a few words with the Emperor as the two of you entered, suddenly clasping your hand in his and holding it up, and you tried to smile politely as all eyes turned to the pair of you. Emperor Peter seemed to say something snide to the Count as he spared you a few words of introduction. The rest of the seated masses offered up a few weak claps. Then, you were able to dissolve somewhat into the crowd.

Your fiancé pulled out a chair for you near the head of the table, seeming to offer encouragement in his gentle pat of your shoulder, seating himself beside you just as a starter was brought out.

From here you could see most of the court, noting that your position seemed somewhat elevated over most, a handful of seats from the Emperor and the blonde woman uncomfortably positioned next to him.

You had been seated beside a nobleman who was far more engaged with his fingers under a woman’s skirt than talking to you, and you fought not to look outraged at the debauchery and inappropriateness of it all, as the woman groaned and the Emperor laughed and clapped at the scene.

When you looked away in embarrassment your eyes met the Count’s, and without language, you could see the apology in the deep brown of his irises and the irritated twitch of his lip.

He pulled your chair slightly closer to his own, and you were grateful, as an onion soup was placed before you.

Unlike the rowdy group around you, you endured the meal in silence. Subtle help with cultural things – strange cutlery customs or drinks you ought to avoid – were the only interactions you had with the Count.

Fortunately, the Lord beside you had been distracted from his woman by the arrival of a rather impressive whole Salmon.

So that was some relief.

As you finished your main course you found yourself finally beginning to relax, mentally congratulating yourself for making it through the first of a presumed lifetime of outrageous meals in a foreign country.

At least, you thought you had made it through.

The beautiful young woman from the Emperor’s side was stood in front of you, clearing her throat with an impatiently folded pair of hands. As your eyes met hers, she held out a hand to introduce herself, spouting off a string of Russian you had no hope of understanding.

With one hand under the table, you sought out the Count’s attention, only to find him deeply engaged in a conversation with the soldier beside him.

Damn it.

The woman was looking to you expectantly for an answer, but you could say nothing to appease her. Not whilst lacking a single word of Russian.

Panicked, you turned to the man beside you. In truth it was a relief to see him laughing, so engaged in a rapid conversation with someone, but you were forced to interrupt. The woman seemed increasingly offended by your panicked silence with each second that passed.

“Orlo?” you tried his name, wincing at the distinctly un-Russian sound of it, but the man himself turned immediately.

From the beam on his face, he seemed delighted you had attempted to address him at all, his hand finding yours on the table.

He made a distinctive hum of questioning, before following your eye line to the woman trying to speak to you.

“Catherine!” came her name, before a string of Russian.

You breathed a sigh of relief, wishing you had the language to thank the Count for saving you from further embarrassment or offence caused.

When their short conversation lulled, you found two pairs of eyes on you.

“I do not speak Russian,” you told her, hoping your apologetic tone transcended the English language.

Her eyebrows raised, pretty face contorted in surprise as she turned to Orlo, a quick punch of Russian shot her way before she left once again. Orlo gave you a knowing glance. Then, she spoke.

For a moment you did not recognise her words, before realising with a start they were German.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You were sure your face betrayed how your heart soared at the recognition of understandable words, her face schooled in a sombre mask even as your features lit up in delight at familiar language. With a conspicuous look around, she leant closer to you.

“We will speak later.”

The blonde woman returned to the Emperor’s side for the duration of the dessert course, but you felt your mood immeasurably lightened. The Count seemed to recognise it too, his movements a little lighter as you counted down the seconds until you could speak to someone.

Mere minutes after the Emperor stormed from the dining hall, seemingly on some form of rampage, the Count gently guided you to a side room. The German-speaker was there, and she greeted you kindly the moment the door closed.

“I apologise, I try not to speak German in front of the court. It reminds them my roots are not in Russia – although my heart belongs here.”

You could not help the beam which broke out across your face, even as your fiancé watched with bemusement, and you found yourself subconsciously moving towards the blonde woman.

“I am so glad to have someone to speak to! What’s your name?” you asked her, feeling immediately at ease, elated to see your joy at the conversation mirrored in her body language.

“Catherine. I am the Empress.”

With a glance to your fiancé, you stumbled on the spot, taking an awkward curtsey as you realised exactly who you were speaking to. Was this some sick joke, you wondered, to get you in trouble before you had even unpacked?

“I had no idea,” you apologised, “I apologise for my rudeness, your majesty.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering something in Russian to Orlo. He had the nerve to look embarrassed, at least, and you felt your shame slightly diminished.

“Nonsense. You have done nothing rude,” she smiled, “Besides, I married into this madness. Just as you will.”

Unwilling to make a fool of yourself – or get yourself executed – you silently nodded.

“It is strange, to hear my native tongue so far from home,” she mused, cocking her head and glancing around the room.

You let yourself relax a little, sensing no true offence in her tone or body language.

“I am so glad to hear someone I can understand,” you confessed, “I feel so stupid, to not speak the language.”

She looked at you pityingly, and you ducked your head under her gaze.

“It is not your fault. The language is… challenging, to say the least.”

“I confess, it all sounds like gibberish to me. At the moment.”

You found yourself elated as the Empress laughed.

“I remember that. As a child, I just nodded when people spoke to me.”

It was your turn to laugh. Beside you, Orlo had a smile on his face as he made some quip in Russian to Catherine. The Empress threw her head back in laughter, before quickly letting you in on the joke.

“Orlo is rather concerned we are getting along so well.”

You gave a nervous laugh, glancing at the man as Catherine linked her arm around yours.

“I think he should be worried,” she told you, a theatrical stage-whisper in your ear, although Orlo could not understand her, “I shall finally have a friend who understands me without the burden of translation slowing my thoughts.”

Even in her arrogance, you liked Catherine. How could you not, when someone as powerful as an Empress was treating you like an old friend on your first encounter? She led you from the room, muttering about a tour of the palace, as Count Orlo trailed behind you.

As Catherine explained the layout and rhythm of the hallways, you tried to file every piece of information away, catching yourself laughing at her glib comments – free to gossip and make jabs whilst those around her could not understand her words. For the first time since disembarking your carriage, you felt on even footing with the strangers milling around these hallways. Able to speak, you could be yourself a little more. Though you regretted that it was impossible to truly speak to your husband-to-be.

Abruptly, you caught yourself interrupting the Empress midway through a tale about some curiosity, a strange painting hung in the hallway which she had plenty to talk on.

“Catherine – ”

“Yes?”

Even as an Empress, she seemed unbothered by your rudeness. Perhaps just speaking to someone else from her home country, she felt the Russian role she held stripped away.

You glanced at Orlo, stood beside you staring at his hands as the pair of you spoke in German, patient and yet left out.

“Would you be kind enough to translate some things to Russian for me? For Count Orlo?”

“Of course.”

The Empress seemed to understand. She gave a curt nod, pushing a door open to enter a parlour. The few serfs cleaning and resting in there quickly scattered, leaving the three of you alone. Orlo closed the door behind you, guiding you to sit on the chaise as if you were something delicate, a gentlemanly charm to the way he offered his aid even as you crouched to sit.

Catherine sat beside you, smiling a little as Orlo joined your side at a respectful distance. He was looking curiously between yourself and Catherine, his nervousness given away by the jerky movement of his head as his eyes flickered from woman to woman.

“What would you like me to say to him?” Catherine asked gently, her tone more subdued than you had heard it thus far.

Rather than excitable, bordering on bragging, she sounded serious. You wondered how long ago she had been in your shoes, marrying a stranger in a foreign land. From the haunted look behind her eyes, the memory was fresh.

“I wonder if you could… thank him. For his kindness. And apologise that I do not speak the language, I feel so stupid, that I did not learn before arriving but I could not find any instruction I should learn Russian – and I realise I ought to have known but it simply did not cross my mind. The marriage was all so last minute and I only saw his letter days before I left and – ”

Sensing the panic, as it rose in your throat and leached into your words, Catherine stopped your words with a single politely raised finger.

For a moment she seemed ready to answer back to you, to speak German and comment on the contents of your message for your husband-to-be. Then she simply turned her head a few degrees and addressed Orlo.

You had nothing but trust to prove she had translated for you directly, and yet the widening of the Count’s eyes told you she must have made a valiant effort at repeating your ramblings. His hand hovered in the neutral space between your hand on the chaise and his thigh, undecided as to whether he ought to offer you comfort or respect the boundary of space which still existed between you.

He chose the latter. Strangely, you wished he hadn’t.

Orlo was replying, a stream of carefully considered Russian which Catherine nodded at, a gentle smile on her lips. Then, she turned back to you.

“He says you could not possibly have known he would not speak English or German, and that he is trying to learn. He also says that he has arranged an adjacent room for you, in the event that you are not comfortable sharing with him.”

She seemed to have more to say, a personal comment to add, but Orlo had already interrupted her, cramming in more sentiments he wished to have translated. In all your time with him, you were yet to see him so talkative, desperate to share his thoughts with you. Your heart ached as you realised how much he was unable to tell you.

“He also says he is sorry you have met under these circumstances. And that, should you ever need anything, write it. He is better at translating the written word.”

“He also says that you are pretty, and it is nice to meet you.”

She rolled her eyes, but you shot the man in question a smile. He beamed back.

There was a playfulness in her words which indicated the Empress was mocking Orlo’s desperation to speak to you, but you could not join her in her ridicule. You found yourself truly touched by the lengths he seemed willing to go to in order to secure your comfort with him.

There were very few noblemen who would do that for a bride from a political marriage, you knew. Catherine continued to speak in the same tone, perhaps to prevent Orlo’s suspicion, but her words were suddenly her own.

“He is a sweet one, you know,” she confided, “he has been trying to learn English for weeks. Now I wish I had known to teach him German. You will be safe with him. Ask for anything in the world, and he will provide it. For all his flaws, he is a good man. A true romantic, too. I am glad he seems to have been lucky enough to have a wife who will not abuse that.”

Blinking tears from your eyes, you nodded. Catherine reached out her hands for you, and you took them, a silent promise of friendship which you were surprised by the speed of.

“I am here. If you ever need anything. I know how hard it is, to not understand what is happening around you.”

You nodded mutely, your voice choked by how touching her kindness was after so many weeks of worry, and a day of confusion and fear that you might never be properly understood again.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “and please tell the Count thank you. Most – most sincerely.”

With a kindly smile, almost sisterly in how she seemed to both patronise and care for you, Catherine released your hands and began speaking quick Russian to Orlo.

Now relieved from understanding the conversation, you slumped a little against the arm of the chair, concealing a yawn as the late hour and long day caught up with you.

Without being in a proper bed for weeks, having taken in an entirely new country and life over the course of the day, your body was begging you for rest. You forced your drooping eyelids to stay open as Catherine and Orlo spoke, noting the way both of them shot you glances as a heavily-Russian-accented version of your name cropped up in their conversation.

There was a gentle smile on Orlo’s lips, and you found your heart jumping at the very sight of it, your own expression subconsciously returning his look, lazily and slightly as your lips curled up.

He had started to look at you more, as their words grew faster, and you let your eyes slip closed.

It felt like seconds had passed, but from the laughter in Catherine’s words, you realised you had fallen completely asleep. Your feet had slipped free of your shoes, your face pressed against the arm of the chaise, and the hand on your shoulder was accompanied by the light voice of Catherine.

“As I have just told Orlo, I think you ought to get to bed. You have had a long day.”

Her smile was tinged with amusement as her face slowly came into focus, and as you turned to see Orlo’s face, you noted the concern on his face. He said something to Catherine, and you saw as she laughed and shook her head.

He said something again, more insistent, and the Empress rolled her eyes.

“He wants me to apologise for keeping you up so late.”

Against your better judgement you looked into his wide, worried eyes, catching yourself truly touched by his apologetic nervousness. And the way he was, hours after meeting you, already trying to look after you.

“Tell him not to worry,” you muttered, your voice a little rough. How long had you been asleep?

As Catherine began to speak, you tagged on:

“And thank you!”

She translated with an entertained glance to you, before rising to her feet.

“He says not to worry. And I need to go.”

You wondered if she truly had to leave, or if she had merely grown tired of the two of you using her as a translator.

“Thank you,” you called after her, watching the rise of her eyebrows as Orlo seemed to speak at the same time.

“You are welcome,” she replied, first in German, and then in English, “Good luck.”

With that she was gone, and you were following Orlo back to his rooms.

*

True to his word, translated through Catherine, there was a small room conjoined to his which contained a bed, and your clothing trunks had been dragged through there at Orlo’s request.

With a tired smile, which you hoped conveyed your thankfulness, you had closed the door between your rooms and near-fallen into bed.

The next morning arrived quickly, the sun risen as a shouting group in the forest outside awoke you. You jumped at the presence of a stranger in your room, before recognising the serf as the woman who had helped you change the day before.

“Hello,” you tried, wincing at the realisation she could not understand you.

Following her nervous glance to the tub in front of her, you realised she had drawn you a bath.

Wordlessly she undid your corset, and you held it to your chest as she seemed to hover for a moment, unsure of what to do. With a polite nod and a dismissive hand, you hoped you encouraged her to leave for the evening.

Barely five minutes after sinking into the hot water of the bath, you pulled yourself out and crawled into bed.

*

The dawn brought a little more optimism about your time at the palace.

Your husband-to-be appeared both polite and wealthy. There was at least one person here who you could understand. And, as you gazed out the window whilst your serf dressed you, the palace was beautiful.

If a little rambunctious.

You would have to get used to the startling bang of gunshots.

As your maid left and you prepared to leave the sub-room to greet the day, you took a deep breath. This was manageable.

Even more so when you saw the Count sat at his desk, glasses removed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, enraptured by the page in front of him and deep in thought.

You let yourself slightly knock against the wood of the door, alerting him to your presence, and the man smiled to you with all the happiness you might have expected from a true friend.

He cleared his throat and stood as though about to give a speech, before two recognisable words left his lips.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning!” you returned, unable to resist a smile.

The Count nodded his head, happiness creeping across his own features.

Then, he offered you a less recognisable pair of words. After a few tries, you realised it was a translation, and timidly tried to copy him.

He gave you a pleased applause as you finally repeated the words back correctly, accompanied by yet another “good morning!” and you could not help your optimism at the tiny piece of progress.

Your first Russian. Taught by a willing teacher, who seemed to have all the patience in the world for you.

Certainly, things could be worse.

*

As the day wore on, you cursed your own optimism. Of course, things could be worse.

Of course, they got worse.

It seemed as though every person you encountered wanted to speak to you, and that your future husband was far too busy to chaperone you everywhere. It was agony, to be treated as though you were stupid or rude simply because you had never had the change to learn a single iota of Russian.

Worst of all, you could barely pronounce your own fiancé’s name.

He joined you for lunch, finding you in his rooms with your head perched on your hands, a faraway look in your eyes as you lamented an entire morning spent in the agony of navigating the seemingly-brutal palace social circles without language.

All day you had sought out the click of his shoes, or the bright yellow curls of the Empress’ hair, and been disappointed each time it was merely another of the palace’s endless parade of strangers.

He joined you at the small table in the corner of the room, the two of you some distance apart, his fingers tapping arrhythmically against the tablecloth. As food was brought in he seemed to remain lost in thought, sparing you an occasional moment of attention as he stared out of the window.

Suddenly reminded of your earlier discomfort at being unable to pronounce his name, inspiration struck you.

You pulled his letter from the pocket it was stashed in, and he seemed surprised to see it, meeting your eyes with some meaning you found impossible to understand.

Ignoring his surprise, you skipped the English translation to read his original hand, finding where he had written his name. Attempting to remember what he had responded to yesterday at dinner, you sounded it out.

“Count Orlo.”

He nodded in recognition.

You shook your head.

Repeating yourself, you pushed your finger along his writing, trying to make him understand. With a subtle gasp of understanding, he smiled sweetly.

And corrected your pronunciation.

It had been miles off, and you felt shame build hot in you as he had you repeat the name back to you. First ‘Count’, a half-dozen times until you mastered the shape of the Slavic letters, before moving onto his surname.

The realisation you could not even say his name right made you want to sink into the plush carpet of his room. He saw it, as your voice shook across ‘Orlo’, a clear frustration in him as he fumbled for English words and reached for your hand in comfort.

It seemed to take him relatively less time to learn your name, a fact which only made your shame build.

You ate in silence, refusing to look up from your plate and cursing your overwhelmed memory for struggling to recall the perfect pronunciation.

Slowly Orlo’s hand crept across the table, covering yours. As you looked up at him, the shining in his eyes made you want to sob.

“Thank you.”

He struggled through the phrase, but that seemed to only amplify the meaning, making your lip tremble in an appreciative nod.

“Thank you,” you repeated back to him, watching as he mouthed the words to memorise how you had said them.

You forced another mouthful of quiche into your mouth before you could sob with frustration and confusion at it all.

*

As Orlo bid you an apologetic and poorly-pronounced “goodbye”, you had the intent of spending the afternoon reading – however your own nervousness quickly derailed those plans. You were unable to focus on the words in front of you.

You had even borrowed Orlo’s translation book for a little while, before conceding that reading the words in his script gave you very little intuition on how to pronounce them.

It was hopeless.

In a bid to acquaint yourself better with your new home you took another lap of the palace. Generally you tried to avoid people, not keen to endure yet another embarrassing interaction where your words were not understood by judgemental strangers.

Instead you stuck to the sidelines – the shadows of the corridors or barely-used paths through the grounds. Finally you happened upon a crowd of expensively-dressed women, and found yourself fastidiously avoiding them. Until you spotted a pale blue gown adorning and even paler woman: the Empress.

You let yourself exude some confidence as you walked closer, catching her eye over a crowd of poorly fitted wigs and champagne flutes, stumbling at little as she seemed to look past you with glazed eyes.

“Catherine!” you called, closer now, so she couldn’t possibly miss the true Germanic pronunciation of her name.

She ignored you, turning her attention to a conversation with her maid. Your heart sank.

“I wondered if you might help me learn a few words…”

You could hear chatter around you, a few snickers as the Empress ignored you once again, barking a few words of Russian towards her serf. For just a second she looked at you with a warning frown and wide eyes. You realised your mistake, as the ladies of the court began to swarm around you, harsh words you didn’t understand growing louder.

Even as you looked at her for help, for recognition, the Empress stalked past you. You were left at the mercy of the Ladies of the court.

Perhaps this was the worst turn your day could have taken. They bodily forced you to sit with them, feigning friendship as their words almost certainly said something else. You sank into a chair with a sinking feeling in your stomach, nausea rising in your throat as fingers plucked at your unstyled hair.

And the taunting began.

*

They mocked you for hours. For things you couldn’t translate, leaving your own mind to cruelly fill in the gaps each time the conversation seemed to make all eyes turn to you. Each time you thought you might rise and sneak away, sharp nails and etiquette pinned you in place.

Until the arrival of a panting and alarmed Count Orlo, you were forced to mutely endure your role as the centre of their attention.

You recognised the tones of intimidation, if not the words. Their picking at your clothes and touching your hair, peering at your features and demanding things from you in a language you could not understand.

It was your only point of pride that you remained stoic, even as they held you from leaving him and time again, not a single tear left your reddened eyes. When the Count finally sought you out, so late into the day that the air was cooling and men were returning from their hunts, you found yourself cursing the very day you had heard the word Russia.

With an overly pleasant smile and a hand on the small of your back, Orlo had guided you away from the loudly cackling group of ladies, each taking turns to shout increasingly loud insults for the fun of mocking your inability to understand.

But you understood their intent. You had, for the past few hours, understood their mockery. And the betrayal of the only friend you had managed to make here, the only hope you had as a translator – all because she was embarrassed to be seen speaking German to you.

I know what they were saying, you wanted to snap, how dare you treat me like I’m stupid?

You found yourself shaking with emotion. With rage and upset and a hurt which seemed so potent and physical it felt as if your heart was threatening to rip itself apart.

Orlo gave a gentle click of his tongue, and it was enough to drive you beyond all social etiquette.

Storming ahead of him, you refused his hand on you, his calls of your name. Through unfamiliar corridors you marched back to your stupid shared room with him, slamming the door even as you knew he was mere strides behind.

Good.

Your smaller adjoining room was hardly a safe haven, but it had a locking door. Barricading yourself inside you instantly felt childish, wondered if these actions would be enough for some horrific punishment or political consequence.

And then you realised you did not care.

Fuck them all.

Outside Orlo was trying the door handle, calling your name, desperately trying to find the words for an apology. But he failed, and you had no intention of helping him learn any further.

Fuck, you wished you could shout at him.

Or at the Empress.

Or at those women, who thought you less than them just because you could not understand them.

With a dramatic huff, which you winced at the loudness of, you kicked your shoes off and clambered beneath the covers of your bed.

Your travel coat was beside the bed, a hand-me-down from your mother, and with a tremble of your lip you pulled the fabric closer to you. The itchy sting of tears, the tightness of your throat, preceded desperate sobs which violently wracked your whole body.

Outside you heard Catherine’s voice, Orlo’s frantic tone, and you pulled the quilt over your head.

You had no want to speak to either of them.

Even without a language barrier, you were not sure you could articulate the nature of your feelings in that moment. Instead you pulled the thick woollen coat closer, cherishing the worn fabric against you, familiar in its smell and in the strong memories it brought.

You had been happier, you realised, the last time you wore it. At your home and surrounded by people you loved, who knew who you were. Who you could share with, communicate with.

How long until even this smaller haven was taken from you, and you were expected to join the Count in his bed? Until you were no longer ‘new’ and you were expected to simply endure feeling like an outside? All this for a man you barely knew, whose ring you would wear as the members of the Court mocked and judged you for reasons beyond your control.

A soft knock on your door was followed by airy German.

“I apologise,” it said, and you recognised the Empress’ voice, “allow me to make up for my rudeness earlier?”

You couldn’t reply, trying to stifle your crying. Eventually, with one last try at turning the handle, she left.

Then came Orlo.

“Sorry.”

It was English, and your anger was momentarily interrupted at the tiny realisation that he was still trying.

Yet you couldn’t open the door, your tears salty on your lips, eyes puffy as you pulled the coat closer still.

As anger and embarrassment coursed through your veins, tears ached in your sore eyes, sleep finally claimed you – fully asleep and clutching your coat as if it were a lifeline.

*

You awoke at the fall of night, to hunger and the quiet movements of your maid. She had gotten in somehow, and you found yourself a little frustrated to realise that even in this small room you could not fully block the rest of the palace out.

She looked at you in the twilight, an apology in her eyes which told you she took no pleasure from trespassing. To your embarrassment you realised you were still clutching the coat, hugging it like a child. You slowly pulled it free of yourself, standing and folding it back into a half-packed trunk without saying a word.

Most of your personal items were still not unpacked, and the thought gave you a crushing sense of how unwelcome you must be here. How new this all was.

That you couldn’t hide in the shadows forever. This afternoon had taught you that.

The people here weren’t kind, as you had imagined. They weren’t welcoming and patient and keen to welcome you to the fold. They had seen your weakness and torn at you like a pack of wolves, ignoring your whimpers.

With a sigh you hunched over on the bed, feeling lightheaded and disorientated, an ache still in your bones from the journey and a pang in your stomach from missing dinner.

Only the shuffle of her feet reminded you that your maid was still there. Without the coat you shuddered, and she held out a robe for you to wrap yourself in, pulling it over your clothes. You thanked her with a silent nod, trying to bite back the tears of frustration that you could not speak to her.

A timid knock at the door made both of you startle, a shaky breath leaving the maid as she laughed at her own skittishness. You joined her in a watery smile, before the knock came again, this time accompanied by a gentle call of your name.

You had no idea how to welcome the Count in, knowing you ought to in service of maintaining a friendship with at least one person here, but with a nod your maid called for him to enter.

Eyes downcast, the timid man walked inside.

His translation book was clutched to his chest, and he pulled from it a letter, a small, tight smile on his lips as he handed over the piece of parchment.

It was nothing formal, unsealed and ripped from a long piece of notetaking paper, but it had been folded neatly nonetheless. You opened it with a curious look at the man, his eyes following your movements intently.

Confused and intrigued in equal measure, you found your hands shaking as you moved into better candlelight to read. In the mirror, you caught the bloodshot appearance of your eyes. Beside you in the mirror, the Count had the decency to avoid meeting your gaze.

By flickering candlelight you began to inspect the paper in your hands, surprised to realise it was in English. You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, and he smiled nervously, a glint of his teeth in the light as he tried to contort his face into something more welcoming than the grimace he was managing.

You bit your lip as you inspected the neat script, surprised at the honesty of the note.

‘I am truly glad you are here. I understand the frustrations that you are facing, and I feel the same way. I am trying to learn English, and I hope we might be able to teach one another. I will do everything in my power to make you happy here. What happened earlier was unacceptable. Catherine says she is sorry, and has spoken to the women. They will do nothing to upset you in future, under threat of the Emperor’s ire.’

There was a gap, a single line singled out from the rest, and you traced your thumb along the words as you absorbed them.

‘Everything will get better, I promise.’

Beneath was his flourishing signature, although the letter had blatantly not been written by him. Yet, it sounded spoken, and you longed to hear it spoken by him.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked back to him, and the Count finally stared back, his bottom lip worried by his teeth.

Soft footsteps told you that your maid was finally making herself scarce, leaving without a word from the Count. You wondered if she had told him you were awake, the timing was awfully convenient.

Yet you did not have the heart to see anything insidious or scheming in his worried stare, his irises almost black in the darkness of the room.

You reached for him, seeing confusion in his face until your fingers mimed for his translation book. He passed it too you, his fingers brushing over the worn leather cover before letting go, and you flicked through the pages impatiently.

The words were growing familiar now, but you struggled to recall them in the moment.

The page evaded you, although you could picture it in your mind’s eye, and you closed the book, scrunching your face in thought as you tried to remember the pronunciation he had taught you.

“Thank you,” you tried, and a lazy smile crossed his features.

He nodded in understanding, in approval, and you felt your heart grow three sizes with hope.

For once he was the one following you as you crossed to the door of your temporary room, entering the main apartment with a fierce optimism overtaking you. Your confidence only increased as you noticed the plate of food set aside on Orlo’s desk, a nod confirming he had saved it for you.

Thought of you.

The chaise by his fireplace was easily big enough for two people. It would seat two people, you decided. If the two of you were to wed, you could at least begin by sitting side by side, rather than with the distance both of you had kept.

It took a pat of the seat and a raise of your eyebrows to convince him, but soon the Count was sat beside you.

You set his book into your lap, taking a deep breath, before opening it to the first page.

The two of you could do this.

If it took years, page by page, you could teach one another.

You could take turns to repeat the words again and again until the pair of you could hear one another’s true voices.

As you read out the first word, a simple “yes” which the Count repeated back to you in English then Russian, you saw his own twin hope grow.

That this would work.

With time, and patience, and with dedication, you could make things work. Thousands upon thousands had before you, although rarely in circumstances so bizarre, and Count Orlo had already begun the groundwork of a marriage you could find yourself content within.

With each word repeated back to each other you grew more sure of his intention, of your eventual happiness here.

“Yes,” he repeated, smiling as you nodded your approval.

“Yes,” the Russian syllable left your lips.

Orlo’s hand found yours in excitement.

*

There was a certain pride in your chest as you made it through your wedding vows, the Russian strange but coherent on your tongue as the familiar words flowed from you. With mere days to prepare, you had managed to achieve something which had once felt impossible.

You had not forgotten the words. You had not stuttered or run or cried. You had done what needed to be done for your family and for your home. Orlo, for his part, watched you speak with such adoration you could almost imagine that he had wanted to marry you, as the marriage was arranged all those months ago.

The way he had held you the night before told you that he did want to marry you now.

He rocked a little on his heels, seeming as nervous as when you first met him, the shimmer of tears in his dark eyes as you finished your vows.

The priest was speaking, but you had very little idea what was being said. The scant audience seemed to be paying attention, and yet you could barely stand to look at them. Rings were being found, papers laid out behind you, and Orlo was clearing his throat to speak.

You felt tears jump to your own eyes, as you realised you could understand his vows. He had memorised them in English.

[cienie-isengardu]

There is one thing that you mention a lot and it is Bi-Han's lack of social skills and well I do not agree at all, that is, Bi-Han as with Sektor is quite introverted but I do believe that the Lin kuei taught them social skills to be able to infiltrate them among the people during missions. Bi-Han I think he has manners and social skills but he doesn't hide when he doesn't like someone. He was sarcastic with Quan chi but at no time did he insult him or refuse to do his job

I do not have any doubt that Bi-Han’s speech patterns depend on whom he is interacting (x) but as much as honesty and straightforwardness are in itself valuable traits, frankness is not always an acceptable choice to rely on. Having social skills helps to navigate how to behave and talk to different people to not overstep or break generally accepted norms and in result, to build a healthy relationship, or in case of living in a strict warrior society, to not get in trouble. Bi-Han for me lacks in this department, especially in mentioned interaction with Quan Chi, because he was not on equal ground with the sorcerer yet had this borderline challenging attitude. And most likely yes, some of the rudeness came from not liking nor respecting the suspicious guy that already proved to be some insidious bastard for hiring another man for the same job. But the thing is, he wasn’t there to question a lucrative customer that was personally approved by the Grandmaster and he should keep his accusations and rude remarks to himself, not throw it into the sorcerer's face just like that.

I mean, as much as dark and evil Lin Kuei are, customer service is a vital part of the earning money process. Bi-Han wasn’t there as equal to Grandmaster (the superior whom he swore to obey) nor Quan Chi (approved client). Between these three characters, Sub-Zero was just a tool to finish an already made transaction, no one was interested in what he thought or felt at that moment. As much as the accusation to some degree may be forgiven, since Quan Chi openly antagonized Sub-Zero by calling Lin Kuei the ninja (an intended insult) and admitted to hiring Shiray Ryu (the enemy of Lin Kuei), he shouldn’t be so aggressive nor so open. It toned down once Grandmaster stopped their argument. Even then, Bi-Han could - should - ask about the mission in a more polite or at least neutral way, instead of “If it's so precious, why don't you get it yourself?”, since his superior made it clear Sub-Zero is gonna do another job for the client (“Now you will use the map on your next mission. Quan Chi has once again retained your services”).

The whole situation feel to me like Grandmaster promised Quan Chi the best man for the job but said man had this “fuck you” attitude from the start. Sub-Zero represented Lin Kuei but instead of the professional and obedient subordinate of Grandmaster there was an abrasive warrior who called Quan Chi on his lies and backed down only because his boss had enough of his attitude and the pointless argument. Not the best social awareness if you ask me.

Bi-Han wasn’t any more polite to Raiden (“That's it? Not even a thank you?”) and either deliberately provoked Scorpion during the Tournament or he was simply brutally honest about not caring about Shirai Ryu’s fate. Which, considering what he knew about the massacre, Scorpion’s obsession about him and just heard Hanzo’s promise to not kill him, he was stubbornly arrogant or really lacked empathy or good understanding of emotional impact his words may have on his sworn enemy. Considering how Bi-Han is described as “the most cunning” above all, we know he is pretty intelligent. But his harsh, abrasive, often confrontational behaviour makes me think he is good with cold logic, not exactly with empathy and because of that, he is not always reading the situation well and may “forget his place” when dealing with people he does not respect or care about or outright provoke them in the worst way. The whole argument with Quan Chi in the first place shouldn’t even happen because really, it wouldn’t be the first time an outsider (client) didn't care about the assassin's life and saw him as just a tool. Grandmaster himself wasn’t bothered nor surprised by Quan Chi’s deal with Shirai Ryu and so Bi-Han’s outburst is even more out of place in my opinion.

How much of this is Bi-Han’s intention to be a rude bastard and how much came from limited social skills (and maybe from introverted nature?) is of course up to debate. But to be fair, all cryomancers have this cheeky and passive-aggressive attitude in common (Frost for example seems like being constantly angry at everyone and doesn’t hold her sharp tongue, younger Kuai Liang literally disturbed Mortal Kombat last Tournament and told Shao Kahn to give him murderer of brother, Conquest!Sub-Zero was no less stubborn and asocial). I do see cryomancers in general as the asocial, aromantic & asexual (maybe even autistic to some degree?) people whose natural coldness may have handicapped sense of social norms and the fact that they are trained killers (thus have empathy dulled even more) don’t help at all.

At the same time, I strongly believe that not every warrior was constantly or even often working undercover and Lin Kuei used its members adequately to their skills. Some are better at spying (thus are better at interacting with people to get the needed information), some are better killers (whose interaction with people doesn't matter as long as the job is finished). There is not enough source material to say for sure what was Bi-Han’s specialization but Mythologies: Sub-Zero strongly suggest is was actually assassination and theft, as we were told by Grandmaster (“Once again, our most cunning assassin and thief is successful.”). The known jobs he did involved breaking into heavily guarded places (Shaolin Temple, Temple of Elements) to steal artifacts and killing people on the way. There was no need for Bi-Han to have any social skills nor during the Mortal Kombat Tournament, when he was hired exactly to eliminate (kill) Earthrealm’s Champions. Of course, this is barely the tip of the iceberg, more or less the last year of Bi-Han’s life, but if he truly was one of the clan's best, sending him on long-term undercover missions could be a waste of an opportunity for profitable earnings. I mean, stealing and killing are usually short-termed jobs, the “go in and get out” as fast as possible to not leave any trace behind. Those jobs of course also take time for proper preparation but because of its specific nature, a warrior can be sent from one place to another almost immediately, especially if the lucrative customer (like Shang Tsung or Quan Chi) needs to solve an urgent problems quickly. The game and movies are separated sources, but Mortal Kombat (2021) seems too put Bi-Han mainly on the assassination jobs or staying at Shang Tsung’s side than anything truly involding good understanding of social ettiquete; beside the sorcerer, Bi-Han did not interact much with other people, even with his own allies. Then there is the possibility that Bi-Han could work ultimately more in lawless, wild Outworld than modern Earthrealm which also would affect his behaviour and sense of social norms.

I believe Bi-Han took some undercover missions, but I see him more like operating in the city to do some quick dirty jobs and moving to another target than staying in one place for months while playing “normal” human being. That way he was more useful to clan by earning good money in short period of time and maybe correcting faults of other warriors (supervising them) or killing Shirai Ruy / enemy’s agents along the way. He probably could fit into society for a specified period of time if that was absolutely necessary but I don’t think it happened often. And even then, he most likely kept to himself because Bi-Han is introverted by nature.

At the end of day, the coldness and social detachment was a useful trait for a killer and murdering was most likely Sub-Zero’s expertise so forcing him to spend months on anything else seems to me like wasting both his potential and good job offers. So the Grandmaster (Lin Kuei) could tolerate Sub-Zero’s natural frankness because his social skills weren’t ever the priority.

Bi-Han’s abrasive ways to communicate with others, lack of empathy, the visible isolating himself leads me to think he lacks social skills (and maybe even could fit somewhere on autistic spectrum). At this point of time, I think cryomancers in general are dense when it comes to social norms and interacting with people and I don’t mean it as they are stupid or unable to learn. They just have different (mental?) mindset about such things than other people, even other Lin Kuei warriors. Of course, it is just my take on the matter so anyone can disagree : )

(Ironically, I have the impression that Sektor would do better in long-term undercover work than Bi-Han but he is hardly better at pretending to be a normal human being. The difference is that he is the quiet type easy to overlook while anyone not familiar with Bi-Han's specific behaviour will see him as the rude bastard.)

[bubblegumbeech]

Shadows and Souls

Dannymay day 10: Shadow

Crossover with Solo Leveling

It had been a bit of a cliche really, when Clockwork showed Danny around the zone, introducing him to different places and realms and explaining what was important to know about each. There had been an area, far away from the backwater section of the zone the Fenton portal called home and further still from more densely populated areas like the Timeless Realm or the Drowned Quarter, that had been covered entirely in shadows with little light to see by.

Normally that would be ominous on its own, but many of the different places in the ghost zone followed their own rules and laws of reality. Sure, most of it was a swirling void of greens and purples due to the constant presence of rich ambient ectoplasm, but that didn’t mean the environment wouldn’t twist and shape to the desires of whoever existed. Afterall, the drowned quarter wasn’t really underwater any more than anywhere else in the zone was. But it damn well felt like it.

That’s when the cliche happened. Once Danny’s eyes roamed over the shadowy abyss Clockwork had pulled him back from it, just slightly, just enough that Danny could feel the threat. He’d said to not go there, at least not yet. He’d said there was a powerful being in the realm, one that was dangerous and unstable. He’d pretty much told Danny the whole entire area was completely off limits and that it was a risk to his afterlife if he accidentally wandered in.

He said pretty much everything he could to make a fourteen year old half ghost curious as hell and then stole them away to go look at something boring and safe and horribly mundane while Danny did everything he could to plot a way into the realm of shadows.

It was dark. Obviously it was dark. Danny just hadn’t been quite prepared for how dark it was. The shadows were ever present, it almost felt like they themselves had form and were pressing down on Danny himself. Then a light flickered. Something bright in the swirling dark, a deep purple unfamiliar from any natural color Danny was familiar with. It sparkled to life and faded just as quickly before coming back just a little bit farther away. 

Danny followed it. What did he have to lose? There was no real way for him to get back on his own, unable to see through the oppressive wall of shadows, and it was the first thing even close to a path he could try and take. The closer he got to it the brighter the light got until it was swirling all around him, a river of light and power and Danny marveled.

“Lost little Ghost?” A voice came from behind and Danny quickly turned around, startled. It sounded like Korean, but Danny didn’t know Korean yet he didn’t have any trouble understanding what was being said to him. Which… only happened when ghosts weren’t really using their words to communicate.

He hadn’t expected whatever was here to have enough sentience to speak, or even take form. Much less to be able to communicate despite what should have been an obvious language barrier. 

There was someone, half hidden in the shadows with bright neon eyes the same color of the lights that Danny had followed, that flowed around them even now. 

“I’m not little,” Danny argued, insulted. Was this the threat Clockwork had warned him of? He didn’t seem more threatening than the average ghost. In fact, if it wasn’t for the obvious flow of his eyes and the countless shadows around them Danny probably would have thought he was human. 

He smiled, at least, Danny thought it was a smile. It was barely there and didn’t quite reach his eyes, but his expression had softened just a bit. 

“Beru, lead him out of here before he gets more lost,” he said and Danny balked. 

“Wait! I just got here! I haven’t even figured out who shaped this realm!” Danny was waving his hands frantically in front of him, trying to dissuade him. Something formed out of the shadows, the bright purple light collecting inside until a monster stood before him, large insect pod pincers and thin translucent wings. It almost looked like an ant, if ants were twice the size of a person and bipedal. 

The man blinked, and cocked his head slightly in confusion. “I am the only one here, these are my shadows.”

Holy shit. “You… wait there aren’t any other ghosts? This place is huge. Isn’t that a ghost?” Danny pointed at the bug-ant-person thing that was frantically waving at him to follow it. The man only looked more confused.

“You’re the only ghost here,” he said, in a horribly ominous way. 

Danny shook his head slowly, trying not to think about the implications behind that. “Are you saying you aren’t a ghost?” Also, was he saying the shadows weren’t ghosts? Even Johnny’s shadow was considered an actual ghost right? Or was there a difference? Come to think of it, Danny had never asked. He’d always just assumed they were a packaged deal, but if Johnny’s shadow was just an extension of himself, then what did that mean for a single figure that had an entire realm of shadows tied to him? 

He shivered, maybe he should have listened to Clockwork this time. He was usually right about things now that Danny thought about it.

“I’m not a ghost,” the man said, his eyes glowing in a very distinctly ghostly way, “I never died.”

Oh, terrifying actually. Wait, “you’re human?” 

The man flinched, turning his head away and pointedly not answering. “Follow Beru, he’ll lead you out.” 

“Wait, just one more question,” Danny pleaded, ignoring Beru’s increasingly desperate gestures. 

It was something that had been bothering him for sometime actually, ever since he saw the realm formed here. Realms like this, distinct as they are, didn’t come from nothing. And according to Danny’s calculations and the sheer amount of time he’d spent studying the infinity map with Frostbite, there should be a mortal plane tied here to the realm. 

That usually meant thin spots, a vague connection through the membrane of the zone and possible portals, but the entire area was dead. Flat. Lifeless. As if there was nothing living on the other side.

“The world you’re from… what happened to it?”

The man’s eyes went dark, something heavier than even grief weighed behind them. “It’s gone. The only thing left are shadows.” 

Ah, maybe Danny should leave. It would probably be the safer option, definitely the smarter one. But his core ached at the thought of leaving him alone, surrounded by what must be shadows from his own world. 

Shadows that aren’t full ghosts, that are an extension of him. He‘s powerful, Danny can tell, there’s very few ghosts that are as powerful as this man and he (apparently) isn’t even a ghost. But he’d also flinched when Danny asked if he was human so he probably wasn’t that either, not anymore. 

Neither living nor dead, Danny’s heart clenched, how unbearably lonely. 

“My name’s Danny, what’s yours?” It never hurt to have another powerful friend, and Danny’s obsession wouldn’t let him leave when someone so clearly needed help. Even if that someone didn’t realize it. 

“...Sung Jin-Woo,” the man said, suspicious. 

Danny just smiled, he’d never thought he’d be grateful for being frozen at fourteen all these years, but it did wonders for building trust. “Well Sung Jin-Woo, why don’t we be friends?” 

[dogtoling]

Your theories in Cephaling origins got me thinking. What exactly does the ink do that makes it so potent?

You mentioned ink was their most important tool. Did it turn into a kind of venom? If so, what affects does it have on anything that wasn’t a cephaling?

(I am so coining that blanket term)

Oh man this is a whole thing. The answers to this can vary SUPER WILDLY based on whether you’re looking at the game objectively or not. And I am definitely not seasoned in chemistry, so I can’t be much help... I can toss some ideas though, maybe

If you look at the gameplay objectively, the ink literally dissolves and explodes other creatures varying from other squid, octopuses, SALMON... as well as some objects ranging from balloons to crates to something else probably (although this might just be the pressure and obvious game mechanic). The obvious answer to this is that the ink is acidic; after all, we have potent acids in our bodies too and we’re fine. And it would make sense, the ink would definitely be a good defensive measure if it WAS acidic. It doesn’t still entirely hit the mark for me because Inklings constantly coat their own bodies in ink and seem to secrete it, and also i feel like things such as “ink being good for plants” would not really cut it if all the turf war fields were rugged and all the plantlife was withered and dead because the whole place is covered in potentially lethal acid 2/3rds of the day every day of the week...

I definitely view these as game mechanics because not only is that gruesome as hell, it does not make much sense for a creature (not to mention MULTIPLE CREATURES) to be so potentially vulnerable to their own species’ defensive mechanism that they literally dissolve and die if hit by it. Additionally, in every out-of-battle situation you get to shoot ink at people in (Cap’n Cuttlefish and Callie, and likely also Marie) they sustain absolutely no damage from being hit by ink. It’s just a minor inconvenience.

You could argue that there’s PLENTY of species that will die if they get a hit of their own defense, for example venom, but venom is not meant to go to your OWN body anyway. In the case of Cephalings and their ink... yeah it’s everywhere and that’s how it’s meant to be. Since the main purpose of ink is probably marking territory, defense and hunting, it would make sense for it to just be mildly inconvenient - we can tell from the game that it is more than likely somewhat sticky. If Cephalings itself don’t stick to it, it would make it function much like a spiderweb. Destroying your environment and potentially yourself with your own defensive measure would be worth the risk if it was JUST a defensive measure that is rarely used, but not really if you basically live in the deadly acid. 

buuut Inklings don’t die in their OWN ink, right, only another color ink? Yeah and that makes no damn sense. When the purpose of the ink is to communicate territory borders, you need a different color, but it is NOT ideal that the ink becomes deadly. Furthermore, it means each color of Cephaling would have to be able to develop compounds that are LETHAL to themselves AND others of their species depending on their current color. Alternatively, the ink colors could be dictated by a pH indicator chemical, but THAT would then mean that Inklings were able to produce ink on every level of the pH scale ranging from battery-level acids (pH 1) to like, lethal alkaline bleach and more (pH 14)

And you might see this for the first time and think, huh, that seems like it would make sense! Except not only would it make the colors on the tips of the scale lethal to like, EVERYTHING, but it would make all the ink colors that are NOT at the tips of the scale vastly inferior defenses since they don’t do like, anything. Not to mention that when the ink colors would then mix in turf war, they would neutralize and every pink-blue Turf War would be full of patches of green. Not great.

(I just thought of this now but let’s also bring back the canon passage that Inkling ink is safe to DRINK. Which it probably wouldn’t be if it had the potential to literally be bleach)

It does seem likely that Cephaling ink has some kind of harming compound, if it isn’t straight up acid. Straight up poison seems a bit unlikely, since toxins wouldn’t have an effect outside the body (which is why venom comes in the form of a bite or a stinger, et cetera), UNLESS it absorbs through the skin. Now this doesn’t seem very useful because the majority of Inkling predators and/or prey, fish and crustaceans, either have tough scales or a carapace. So having skin-penetrating poison as a defense would be like trying to bring a pillow to demolish a car.

 I would assume Cephaling ink is mainly used to mark and slow down prey before it is taken down with a bite. Sticky ink is also a very good defense against birds of prey, which would’ve been a really big threat for early Cephalings. When it comes to predators, the ink doesn’t need to be exactly lethal to be really inconvenient when you get hot pink sticky mucus in your face in the middle of a chase. 

One thing that is seen referenced in the game quite a bit is the oxidation of ink. Now, i’m not good at physics or chemistry like at all, but rapid oxidation is basically combustion. The oxidation of ink is seen as an explosion in the game, and is directly referenced in the weapon description for Blasters (the oxidation of the ink is delayed which causes the blob of ink to explode mid-air). My guess for ink as a whole is that it is packed very densely in the ink sac, and after it’s shot out and is in contact to air, it expands so that less ink is needed to make a move. When this process is then delayed, it all happens in one burst, which causes the ink to explode. This might also be how bombs work. 

This has kind of devolved into rambling so let’s just jump into the summary:

> Inkling ink could simply be an acid, though it’s questionable how they wouldn’t sustain damage from having their acid on their bodies constantly, and it would be horrid on their environment. The Turf War stages look WAY too clean for the ink to be a strong acid.

> It is possible that Inkling ink has compounds that the Inklings are resistant to, but non-cephalopods are not, although if these are toxins it makes little sense that they would have an effect outside of the body

> Inkling ink might not actually be harmful aside from being inconvenient, since it is probably sticky and hard to get off of the body. Its strength likely comes from slowing down its targets and making them unable to hide or escape. 

Thanks for the ask, I hope this cleared like, at least SOMETHING up or provided some ideas xD