#ECC Memory

[findasongblog]

Find A Song in memory of a friend who chose to leave life behind

Ecce Shnak - Stroll With Me

'Stroll With Me' is the first folk song in Ecce Shnak's catalogue. Here, David Roush plays his classical guitar as he sings of his beloved friend - a young woman who chose to leave the Earth from the sometimes overwhelming woes and chaos of conscious human life. He pays homage to her spirit and memory and vows to hold her precious for every day until his own death. In the video itself, his character Larry pays similar homage to the ghost of his dear friend Barbara.

They stroll together to a canoe on the bank of a river that is special to their history. They paddle to an island where he bids farewell to her and his attachment to her as a living being. Though he tries to call her back onto the canoe in a last moment of denial, she gently but firmly insists that he leave her and paddle himself home. However, before pushing his boat offshore, she bids him farewell with a set of gesticulations and expressions that are part of their selfsame language of precious charms and inside jokes. To help tell this tale, they evoke imagery from an old-time Swedish film that addresses some of the same themes, albeit in a totally different context.

David Roush explains, "Where that old tragicomedy is about religious war, famine, and pestilence, ours is a story of heartbreak about a single life that seems to have ended far too early. Either way, death is certain and unavoidable. Music is one of the only methods human beings have at our disposal to understand and accept this great and mysterious challenge of life. Here is our own music toward that end. To all those in grief, whomever or whatever its subject: we honor you in your own versions of these great challenges of life, and we are utterly grateful to stroll with you through it all. In love, melancholy, and roundabout spiritual triumph."

Added to FAS Spotify playlist indie folk/country/americana.

[semi-sketchy]

Little reminder to refresh your data every once in awhile! This can be as simple as taking a folder and copying it to the exact same spot then deleting the original. (Don't use cut, that's a moving process.)

Refreshing your data helps prevent bitrot on rarely accessed files!

[thetechnonews]

ECC Memory Market Expected to Expand at a Steady 2025-2032

Global ECC Memory Market size was valued at USD 11.8 billion in 2023 and is poised to grow from USD 12.45 billion in 2024 to USD 19.11 billion by 2032, growing at a CAGR of 5.5 percent during the forecast period (2025-2032)

read more : https://www.skyquestt.com/report/ecc-memory-market

[sineout]

That is ECC server memory both of those things come with a price premium. Unless your CPU and Motherboard support ECC there is no point in getting it.

Poking around to see if I should upgrade my ram and:

16 gig for word processing????

[daily-dubois]

Favorite thing about Harry? He's my favorite fictional character

Easy answer: his stupid dumb dumb face i like drawing it hes got good shapes

Real answer: warning for talking abt depression and passive suicidality!

aughggghhggg. There’s a lot I’ll be real, from the way de explores how one’s upbringing makes the person they end up being, to the themes of self discovery, the way it explores queer identity and how being a queer cop inherently pits you against and alienates you from thw queer community, to the way it explores the way one could become a class traitor, the way it tackles addiction, what i believe to be one of the best representations of systems, the way he allows for exploration of a religion as a methaphor for love which drives me NUTS, the funny silly jokes he does, his silly personality, ecc, there is one thing that stands out to me. The way Disco Elysium portrays interpersonal relationships when you’re depressed.

This isn’t subtext, it’s text that’s Harry is depressed, from the way he interacts with fhe dead body

To the way he views himself

To the way he views his relationships with others

Like istg. One of the most impactful moments of the entire game was that fucking letter. Most ppl focus on the “you have a vast vast soul and I’ll always come back to it” but i genuenly. The first part, its fhe best representation of how it is to love someone who’s depressed. Its even my alarm!

There’s this gentleness in it all. I can’t explain it other than as someone who’s depressed dating someone who isn’t, it feels like that, that what it feels like. Especially when you throw suicidality into the mix, it makes this cocktail of what you’d except to be met with “you cannot love others until you love yourself” mentally thats rlly prevalent nowdays

And dont get me wrong, you need to know your self worth to be in healthy relationships, but as a depressed person, you ARE worth love, you ARE worth people’s affection. Harry gets to be depressed and you get to see it, he gets to be an addict, and Kim still loves him.

Its this, thing, that Harry isnt a burden to kim, it isnt just kim that changes Harry’s life, its also the opposite. Kim gets to loosen up around Harry, the trajectory of his life is just as changed as Harry’s is, they become inseparable. Harry is depressed and he also gets to crack silly jokes and like disco music.

Ofc Harry isnt loved by everyone, thats not my argument, its the interpersonal relationship aspect of it that makes me go :,). I like seeing depressed people who Aren’t improving get that level of respect in their relationships. It feels like the former means they dont deserve the latter, which isnt true: again working on yourself is important, but its undeniable that during low points there’s not much wiggle room, sure a lot of people help themselves up, and that’s incredible, but a lot of people need a hand, and that’s important too

This is also why i hateeee those jokes that are like Kim deserves better or Kim is out of his reach (or god for id “he hasnt showered since dora left him” genuinely i hate you hahahah depressed man is unsanitary get it?? Cause struggling with hygiene is a moral failing!!! Im so funny) because it ignores their dynamic in the game. Kim is a man that built his walls to withstand ANYTHING, he doesnt let himself get close, he TOO is repressed

Anyone could deconstruct those walls, but hasnt, it was Harry who did that!

Anyone couldve offered to play Wirrail during an investigation or dance in a church or used dialectics to get him to share a sandwich, but no one had until Harry, and that makes Kim open up.

Anyone could’ve shown compassion to Harry or have been patient with him and indulged him in his jokes, but it was Kim who did that (in recent memory, Dora wouldve been the first before his predicament, but he frankly doesn’t have that in his current predicament)

Point is, and idk id ive explained myself well, theres a gentlesness abt it all, abt the way Harry gets to have this nice thing, and that he isnt shown as unworthy of it, it means a lot to me.

Also on a larger scope od things we could talk abt how disco elysium criticises the idea of person first situation later approach to improving ones mental health but yk, thats a whole other topic

[nackrosor]

Gale Dekarios x Tav

1,1 k. - Gale comforts you after an emotional breakdown | hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

a.n: I wrote this solely because I needed to give myself a hug. But then I thought there could be someone else struggling with depression/anxiety/ecc who needs to feel loved and would like Gale to comfort them, so I'm sharing this for you ♡

You trembled against him, your hands desperately clutching onto his robe as he drew you into his lap and embraced you.

"I'm exhausted." you admitted with a weary sigh. "I can't take this anymore."

Everything was catching up to you; the storm outside, the terrible memories flooding back into your mind, the exhaustion of having to fight off those dark thoughts for so long. And it was all beginning to drain you. Keeping your troubles hidden from your lover had also been particurarly grueling. You wished you hadn't but you were scared he would abandon you.

Gale gently pressed his lips against your forehead as he held you close to his chest, his warmth enveloping you whole.

"I know, my sweet," he whispered in a soft voice, one that despite his attempts was full of concern, "just let me hold you for now, alright...? Try to quiet your mind for awhile. I'll help you through this."

"Why?" you simply asked him, your voice so vulnerable and earnest as it was subdued. You took a deep breath, soaking in his scent as you unconsciously nuzzled closer into him, clinging onto his robe with both your hands, holding on so tight that your fingertips turned white.

"Why would you stay by my side? Especially after everything I've just told you..."

That simple question was enough to take his breath away. He knew it was reasonable of you to wonder about that, since the emotional breakdown you had just gone through had left you in a poor mental state, and mostly in need of reassurance. He was more than ready to give you just that. However, it didn't make your question nor his answer any less powerful.

His fingers ran through your hair, his warm breath brushing the shell of your ear as he snuggled you closer.

"Because you are a sweet, compassionate, and bright soul who deserves someone to hold you when life's storms hit. Because your pain becomes mine when yours is as deep as it is and our bond is as profound. Because you ought to be happy, and I want to be a part of your life to assist you and ensure that you reach such happiness. Ideally, even be the source of your joy."

His words caused your heart to swell with pure affection. You raised your head from his chest, your touched gaze meeting his. Your hand reached out to tenderly graze his jaw as a faint smile finally bloomed on your face.

He melted at the sight of it, and his eyes lit up with some relief. He'd had enough of your tear-stained face, more so after learning the cause of your weeping. You were always a vision in his eyes, yes... But your stunning smiling face held his heart in a vice. He would gladly allow you to maintain such control over it if it meant he could always see you happy. Tears of joy may flow, but not of anguish.

"You like... Broken things, don't you?" you asked him softly, a hint of amusement in your otherwise genuine tone.

Gale gently took your hand in his and pressed it against his lips, placing a tender peck on the center of your palm.

"The only broken thing about you is your heart, my sweet," he replied softly. "And who wouldn't want to mend one of the most valuable things in this world? I am lucky to have found such a rare jewel, even if its shine isn't at its brightest right now." His eyes twinkled with a hint of playfulness as he added, "Little bit of elbow grease and you'll shine brighter than the sun, just like you were meant to."

His answer genuinely moved you, warming your heart and eliciting a soft chuckle out of your lips. The more time you spent with him, cocooned in his arms, heartened by his words of praise and reassurance and unconditional affection, the more convinced you were that he could, in fact, heal your heart if you allowed him. The way he had been listening to you, comforting you and reaffirming his place by your side when you were at your lowest had only reinforced such thoughts... along with your feelings towards him.

"Oh, Gale..." you cooed softly, placing your hand on his cheek yet again to gently cradle it. As you gazed up at him, your eyes shone with admiration, hope, and gratitude. "You're truly one of a kind."

The playfulness in his look vanished in an instant, his eyes softening at the praise. He felt the warmth of your palm on his cheek, and he leaned into your touch. A tender smile grazed his lips as he took a moment to study your fond gaze. You looked just as taken with him as he was with you; the realization made his heart full.

"And you're nothing short of a miracle, my little sunbeam." His smile grew even wider and warmer as he beamed at you. He brushed his fingers against your spine in a soothing circular pattern, pressing you even closer to him, while looking down into your eyes as if you were the only thing in the universe besides him. The only thing that truly mattered, anyway.

"The world is a better place because you're in it, and I mean that more than anything else."

Your jaw tensed as his words pierced your heart, causing your eyes to well up with fresh tears. Your hand on his cheek stilled, your chest felt tight, swelling with devotion.

You didn't know what to say. No one had ever spoken such lovely words to you, or made you feel so loved, valued, and treasured. This was truly foreign to you. You could only stare up at him in awe, your heart racing, your stomach turned into a nestle for a swarm of butterflies.

"Gale..."

The wizard felt his throat tighten with emotion. The moment was so beautiful, so pure, that it nearly left him breathless. Every fiber of his being vibrated with pure raw affection for you.

His touch was gentle as he brushed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away a stray tear. Then he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead while his arms securely wrapped around your frame, encircling your waist.

He took a deep breath and smiled.

"I love you, my dearest. I'll always love you."

You could feel your heart nearly burst in your chest. A faint sob escaped your trembling lips as you leaned in to rest your forehead against his, your palm on his chest, right above his heart.

"I love you too." you managed to whisper despite the rasp within your voice. "So much..."

Every ounce of emotion that had been threatening to overwhelm him erupted in that very moment, and he found himself clutching you harder against him, kissing the crown of your head over and over again.

There were no words. No poems or sonnets that could adequately capture that moment, the connection he felt to you.

His voice was thick and breathy when he spoke again. 

"We'll face every storm together, and our love will always see us through to the other side.... I promise."

MORE STORIES 🥀

[Also, please consider BUYING ME A ☕, if you particularly like what you read. Thank you! 🥀]

[wallace42]

I think one of the most interesting differences between TMA and TMAGP is that in the first, the majority of plot lines already happened, while in the latter, it's all happening right now.

When Jon starts as an archivist, Agnes is already dead, the Dark cult is in shambles, Leitner already was attacked and is into hiding, Salesa stopped his operations, ecc. For most of them, we only get to hear the end of the storyline first hand, and it always feel like we are just listening to an already complete story. Almost like, our job, just like Jon, is to listen and archive it in our memories.

While, when Sam starts working at the OIAR, a lot of the "statements" are recent, and the Externals are alive. We literally have an episode that is the direct conseguence of an action of a character. This makes TMAGP feels more proactive than TMA.

Basically, we are now watching Geltrude Robinson as an Archivist, instead of Jon.

[blueishspace]

Last Life with divine domains

Part 1: Rules and Domains.

Rules:

Last Life mechanics but everyone has an origin that assigns them a divine domain with powers and abilities.

Lizzie, Mumbo and Pearl will have completely randomized domains... for the other players they will have a domain that is connected in some way to the one they had in this version of Third Life.

For example In Third Life Scott's domain was Ice, possible domains for him could be: winter (as the season of ice), snow biomes, water (as ice is just a state of water) or crystals (as ice is a crystal)... I put these in a wheel and randomly choose one.

Possible Domains

In here are the possible domains they could have gotten. In [] is their 3rd Life domain.

BdoubleO - [Light] - Day, Sun, Colour, Lamps & torches.

BigB - [Weaving and Armor] - Protection, Warmth, Farm animals, Fate (as weaving is associated with it).

Cleo - [Stagnation] - Change (as opposite), Swamps (as biome of stagnation), Stone (as considered immutable).

Etho - [Darkness] - Night, Shadows, Depths, The Void, Mist, Secrets, Mobs.

Impulse - [Iron & Gold] - Ores & Caves, Copper & Amethyst, Redstone, Diamonds, Tools.

Grian - [Memory & Knowledge] - Perception, Wisdom, Books, Truth, Sight.

Jimmy - [Forests] - Jungles, Swamps, Deserts, Mountains, Snow biomes ecc (as all other biomes), Wilderness, Wood work, Nature.

Joel - [Ground] - Sand, Stone, Plains & Fields, Mountains, Caves, Nature, Compost, Agricolture, Earth.

Martyn - [Justice & Punishment] - Goverment, Law & Rules, Execution, Revenge, Power.

Ren - [Pain & Sorrow] - Regret, Desolation & Loneliness, Grief, Fear.

Scar - [Paths & Roads] - Travel, Merchants and Commerce, Connection, Rivers (as water roads).

Scott - [Ice]. - Winter, Water, Crystals.

Skizz - [Wither & Decay] - Destruction, Death, Poison, Regeneration & Rebirth.

Tango - [Coal & Flame.] - Fire & Forge, The Nether, The Hearth & Campfires, Energy.

Domains

And this is the list with the chosen domains including the new players.

BdoubleO - Day.

BigB - Farm animals.

Cleo - Change.

Etho - Mist.

Impulse - Diamonds.

Grian - Sight. (Wow, the randomizer is a watcher Grian truther)

Jimmy - Wilderness.

Joel - Mountains.

Lizzie - Storms.

Martyn - Law & Rules.

Mumbo - War. (Poor Mumbo)

Pearl - Spring. (Persephone and Pearl both start with P)

Ren - Fear.

Scar - Connections.

Scott - Winter.

Skizz - Poison.

Tango - The Hearth & Campfires.

Powers

BdoubleO - Permanent +1 level of Smite and Bane of Arthropods. I Resistance II during the day. Nearby spiders are pacified. Zombies and Skeletons don't spawn within 70 blocks from him. Ability 1 reverts a targeted zombie villager or witch into a normal villager. Ability 2 blesses another player with Resistance II during the day. Shifting deactivates the 70 block radius no mobs zone.

BigB - Looting II against passive mobs. Breeding mobs generate 2 children. Trown eggs deal punch damage. Van ride horses and pigs without befriending them and without saddles. Ability 1 summons 5 passive random mobs. Ability 2 turns passive mobs against specific targets. When shifting baby animals instantly become adults.

Cleo - Passive Regeneration I. Passive Speed I. x10 random tick speed in a 30 block radius from them. Negative potions effects last 50% less. Ability 1 rapidly drains targets hunger and armor durability. Every 10 minutes ability 2 turns a targeted block to a different random block. Shifting causes their name to change colour.

Etho - Passive Speed II. Name is invisible even when not shifted. Resistance to fire and lava damage. Semi-transparent. Ability 1 gives a target the blindness effect. Ability 2 sets everyone's render distance to 0. When shifting players closer then 10 blocks have their render view set to 0.

Impulse - Resistance I and Regen I when wearing diamonds. Haste II when using diamond tools. x2 diamonds when mining ore. Villagers trade with diamonds instead of emeralds. Ability 1 creates diamond spikes in a 3 block radius. Ability 2 turns the player into diamond (Protection IV) for 3 seconds. Shifting near a player will steal part of the diamonds they might have in their inventory.

Grian - Health is shown on top of entities. Passive Night vision. Sees exclamation marks on top of trapped chests and tnt minecarts. At the start of each session he knows how many boogeyman are active, not who, just how many. Ability 1 turns wood, grass and leaves invisible for a few seconds. Ability 2 gives Invisibility for a few seconds. Shifting gives access to a mini map.

Jimmy - Regen II when touching leaves, flowers, ferns, or tall grass. Untamed Wolves and Foxes closer then 5 blocks are tamed automatically. Tall grass and ferns have a small chance of dropping loot when harvested. When hit spawns 2 bees to defend him. Ability 1 bonemeals a large area without needing bonemeal. Ability 2 turns wolves tamed by other players into Jimmy's pets. Invisible when hiding (shifting) on trees or in tall grass.

Joel - Speed I and Strenght I while in extreme hills and mountain biomes. Passive Feather falling II. Additional Resistance at very high altitudes. Bigger reach. Ability 1 creates a rock wall to stop entities. Ability 2 creates a rock platform that raises the user. Shifting gives additional extra reach.

Lizzie - Permanent Jump Boost III and Feather Falling I. 5% chance of summoning lightning when hitting enemies. Resistance I and Regen I during rain and storms. Immunity to fire, blast and lightning damage. Ability 1 summons rain or storm weather. Ability 2 pushes entities far away. When shifting becomes a lightning rod.

Martyn - Protection II against players with more or equal number of lives. Isn't forced to leave his alliance once red. Access to a list of every life trade. Strenght I against Boogeymen. Ability 1: At the beginning session Martyn is given 5 rules to choose from, the rule chosen is applied for the whole session. Ability 2 summons an iron golem against mobs. When shifting has a chance of blocking hits.

Mumbo - Passive +1 level of Efficiency and +2 levels of Sharpness when using weapons. Passive +1 levels of protection on armor. Defending with a shield has a 20% counter attack chance. When shooting arrows a marker will point where the arrow will hit. Ability 1 gives Strenght II and Speed II but decreases Health (like a weird barbarian rage). Ability 2 is just a dash, makes up for it by having very short cool down. Shifting reduces damage taken.

Pearl - Permanent Speed I and Jump Boost I. Regen II while nearby flowers or on moss. No hunger loss while under the sun (photosyntesis). Can eat flowers and get a random positive effect for a few seconds. Ability 1 creates roots under targets causing them to fall. Ability 2 sprays pollen at enemy giving them random negative effects. Shifting bonemeals nearby blocks.

Ren - Strenght II during the night and in light levels of 0. Endermen and creepers are scared away. Speed I when running after an entity. Access to a mob noises soundboard. Ability 1 freezes entites in fear for a few seconds. Ability 2 gives Blindness and Nausea to a target. Gives Nausea to nearby entities when shifting.

Scar - Speed I on path blocks. Faster when riding Horses and boats. Protection II when near other players. +4 max health (2 hearts). Ability 1: At the beginning of every Scar chooses two players, they will share health for the whole session (if he links himself with another player they will also have 2 extra hearts). Ability 2: Every session Scar can gift a life without losing one of his own (any other life gifted will cause him to lose one though). Shifting gives Regeneration I to himself AND nearby entities.

Scott - Resistance to fire and blast damage. Passive Frost Walker and much in the same way Lava becomes obsidian. Regen II when standing on snow or ice. Snowballs thrown do as much damage as a punch. Ability 1 trows a barrage of snowballs like a machine gun. Ability 2: Once a session can change a 64x64 area into a snow plains biome... Shifting toggles off The Frost Walker effect.

Skizz - Immunity to Poison, Hunger and Wither damage. Rotten flesh gives 3 extra hunger. 20% of poisoning entities. 20% of giving Nausea to entities. Ability 1 trows a lingering poison potion. Ability 2 summons a cave spider. Shifting gives Nausea to nearby entities.

Tango - Resistance to fire and blast damage. Strenght I and Regen II when near campfires. Permanent Night vision. Can eat coal and wood to gain hunger. Ability 1 heals either himself or another entity. Ability 2 trows a burning ember at a target. Shifting causes smoke to appear but causes any attacker to a catch on fire.

Consequences for permadeath

Permadeath influences the domains assigned negatively.

BdoubleO - Day lasts half as long.

BigB - Chickens, sheeps, pigs and cows are stuck at half an heart and don't drop loot.

Cleo - Slower regeneration.

Etho - -50% render distance.

Impulse - -50% durability to diamond gear.

Grian - -50% render distance.

Jimmy - All leaves blocks disappear, Nausea in forests or taiga biomes.

Joel - Grass turns into course dirt, Slowness I when touching course dirt.

Lizzie - Weather is set to rain forever.

Martyn - Red lives lose 2 max health.

Mumbo - Weapons deal less damage and Armor protects less.

Pearl - All flowers are replaced by wither roses.

Ren - Nights last twice as long and are darker

Scar - Life trading stops working.

Scott - Snow and ice disappear, Weakness I when in cold biomes.

Skizz - All mobs have a chance of inflicting poison.

Tango - Campfires, torches and lanterns stop working

Third Life

Next Part

(hi @shortystack75 and @easily-distracted-by-fandom I started the sequel)

[youzicha]

A while ago people were saying that just using ECC memory is not enough to prevent rowhammer attacks because you can flip 3 bits at once. How about... Merkle memory!

Reading out an entire Merkle path for each memory load would be very bad for memory bandwidth, but for a use case where you are iterating over adjacent bytes in an array it seems you could optimize away most of that, you just need a path to the first item and then you can compute a hash of the data as you go along. Should be lots of opportunities for compiler optimizations...

[insurrection-if]

Are you okay :(?

(♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) Thank you for being so kind by checking-in with me! In the broadest sense . . . I am fine.

No sphere of life has been ideal, but rarely is it ever so for most anyone. It’s been a rollercoaster, I guess. (ノωヽ)

Admittedly, I am conflicted.

In terms of writing, I wish I had a greater support network than I currently possess. A safe soundboard to confide in without worry over mocking judgement or stern exhaustion. I fear coming to this blog for support due to . . . previous instances of upset regarding my focus and productivity. I am not sure where else to turn.

Disheartening conduct within the IF community has not dispelled my paralyzing fears. I have been immensely fortunate to receive generous wells of kindness and patience from public and anonymous individuals, such as yourself Anon. Nevertheless, I cannot help but cower from the select bad eggs . . . and sympathize with writers who have fallen victim to their harsh treatment recently.

So, I toil fruitlessly in circles and fabricate my own stalemates.

I worry endlessly. The characters and world of Insurrection have been an odd source of comfort and escape since my middle school years. I wish to handle its execution with care and have developed concerns over certain bindings I might come to regret. I sometimes feel bouts of possessiveness, episodes of doubt, surrounding any publication regarding this world. An incomplete mourning over the original premise, though time eases the bruise of that wound.

But please don't be mistaken in my interest regarding the 'modern' version of Insurrection (the version represented by this blog)! I’m dying to share this story, and I suffer each minute it isn’t written out for others to (hopefully) enjoy as well.

My concerns more so revolve around ownership of these characters and this world, balanced with the possible forfeiting of any profitability from this work. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ But that's a far bridge . . . at worst, I'll forcefully accept the uncertain plunge at its end. Any injury I sustain would be soothed by the mere fact of a completed book being possessable to the world. (╯_╰)

Apologies, I hate to sound so grim! I deleted the latest post on this blog from a month or so ago (? work makes time muddled for me) due to the glumness of it all. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) But I had needed to vent, and I hoped to give a sign of life through the post's presence at the time, even if that sign of life was the poor ramblings of resuscitation for Insurrection and another work of mine.

I’ll likely post a couple of things I had (mostly) wrapped up in my inbox | can quickly be answered just as a further sign of life behind this blog. Apologies for the concerning silence thus far!

And now, for a hodgepodge of useless tangents (because I haven't the mind nor coherency to organize my thoughts much further) . . .

Insurrection Snippets - Mockingbird's Father

Image: Descriptive text for Mockingbird's relationship with their father following their first bond status lock-in.

Eons ago, if my memory remains intact, I shared some snippets of the MC’s father engaging with one of Reznik vampires - an NPC who aids in your escape to America | a new home following your mother’s death. Depending on the MC’s region of origin, this role will be filled by a different character with geographical ties to your homeland.

Reznik is a (somewhat contentious) family friend to MCs born in Western, Southern, or Eastern Europe which all have regions within or bordering their familial territory. If MC ever steps foot in these lands again, there’ll lie the possibility of a reunion with them, though a wallflower like Řehoř would dread the convergence of your fates. Below, I’ve decided to share drafted snippets of alternate contacts the MC will meet from their homeland.

Apologies in advance for the poor quality and errors contained in these screenshots. (╥ᆺ╥；) Please don't expect much from them!

Image: Snippet of your father conversing with Osvaldo, then known to you as a troubled eccentric and recluse, as you set to depart from Oceania.

Image: Snippet of your father conversing with Xolisile, a proud daughter of the vampiric Tshabalala bloodline, as you set to depart from Southern Africa.

Image: Snippet of your father conversing with a husband of Tanith, who hoped for an arranged match between Mockingbird and one their children, as you set to depart from Northern Africa.

In terms of life . . .

Funnily enough, I do not believe in horoscopes (and still do not beyond story inspiration and casual fun). Yet, when the Chinese New Year rolled in, I checked up on mine for fun with the family and was foretold a poor financial year. What a laugh I had then . . .

Lo and behold, I have since spent far more than month’s paycheck on recent surgery and medication for one of my dogs, which incited some (overly emotional) anxiousness over their mortality in the following weeks. I’m told the nature of his ACL rupture was notably common for his age, and it’s such a blessing that he loves the daily (lifelong) pill he’s been prescribed. Thankfully, though his recovery is not yet complete, he’s gotten his old spirit back again and has resumed his usual play and routines like before. I try to keep some precautions with his exercise still, but even a worrywart like me has to admit he’s doing rather well in his recovery. ✧(..◜ᴗ◝..)

Other financial aches and troubles are the typical ones, but don’t harm me beyond setbacks for planned major life events that would make activities like writing so much easier. I’ll take the usual stress of insurance and loan payments over the horrible emotional mess that came with negotiating treatment plans with an emergency clinic for the meantime before our scheduled appointment with the vet. I’m incredibly grateful to have the financial support I do to have even made his treatment possible and carried out as quickly as I could make it.

Death marked April once again, alongside other health emergencies in the family, but the Easter season and some troubled truths eased the bitter pill onslaught. My heart has especially been lightened by the selection of Pope Leo XIV, though I’ve been told before that I’ve spoken enough on that matter!

Life marches onwards. (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶) There's much good in the world around me regardless of daily tensions or troubles. Graduations, showcases, a Confirmation, and a small pay bump have given reason for pride and celebration throughout these busy months. I'm writing where I can, when I can, as well - despite of my attention being frequently demanded elsewhere.

Pointless Add-Ons

Insurrection has been deeply, undoubtedly been molded by music over the years. I always have the urge to share songs that have inspired a beloved character or story—a selfish whim I recall indulging now and then on this blog—but I understand that a vast majority wouldn’t care for such bombardment. (And, unfortunately, some songs likely wouldn’t make sense without divulging information best reserved in the meantime, as I haven’t a clue how much my rambles have allowed others to deduce in the absence of an outright statement.)

But, whilst I am offering signs of life, here are some songs that’ve preoccupied my days that I hope to share.

My first listening to Canyon by Post Sex Nachos literally stilled my heart and stole my breath, and I truly became a little choked up on emotion by the time it finished. Goodness, it absolutely embodies the dynamic between Mishka and Fyodor. My state of mind ridiculously neared panic as it played out, frantic with disbelief. I felt as though someone had carelessly reached into my chest and gripped my heart, scrapped my thoughts, and forced into song these characters I've held dear for so long.

It's so them. I fear delving too deeply into how them this song is but, in my heart and soul, I feel the love and fear Mishka bears so intensely and disgustedly regretfully for Fyodor. I can hear Mishka's sensitivities, vulnerabilities, and the faint echo of Fyodor mirroring their underlying panic(ked misery) that's so rooted within their attachment.

Seriously, every time I hear . . .

Would you sell all of my lessons / To someone who always listened / Would you think about the way that I / Could’ve been much more patient / Oh no no

. . . I want to vomit, to scream and cry and lose all my insides. It makes a mess of me. (੭ ;´ - `;)੭ ♡ Lyrics like twine that's lassoed my heart and drags it out my throat. The jealousy, the relinquishment, the growth, the possession, the regret, the self-hate, the premature mourning, the acknowledgement of a fault not faced until it’s too late—!

So freakin' symbiotic man. (╥ ω ╥) Ugh, I want to tear it apart with my teeth, it's so beautiful! Even the instrumentals at the beginning and end - goodness, I love it when instruments sing like that, and I hear Fyodor and Mishka in the sounds with their differing natures effortlessly tied in a duet . . . !

My Live Reaction to this song:

With self-restraint, I'll drag myself away from Canyon before I accidentally divulge anything I haven't made painfully obvious in the past.

I Wanna Be Your Mantra by Tino Drima has been long known to me, and it has oftentimes conjured Fyodor to mind. Alas, it was never quite the perfect fit for him when it came to romance. I wrestled with this slight distortion - perhaps it was more fitting for the likes of Uriel (which could be its own ramble from me, haha!) or more obsessive / possessive / unhealthily attached characters in other works of mine (like the stalker from In Blind Reverence or the Cursed Heir from In Faith, Your Beauty).

Recently, however, I stumbled upon the realization that it's a wonderful song to encapsulate the love of both Fyodor and Mishka. It blends the softer, desirous, glorifying nature of Fyodor's love with the more ruinous, gripping, and elusive longing Mishka possesses . . . all with an underlying desperation, anguish, and wishfulness.

Some lyrics are perfectly tailored to Fyodor, others fit so nicely with Mishka, but I can feel an essence of them both pretty steadily throughout. d(´⌄`)

Lights Out by Deep Sea Diver calls the MC's mother to my mind. Aha, words might fail me as I try to convey this thought, but opening to this song alone feels like a distillation of her being to me. Like, the soundscape of her soul and mind. A little ethereal, other-worldly, strange yet familiar and reaching with the echo of a call or cry curious and out of reach — isolating, lonely, steady, reinforced with a firm beat like her drum of war, a strong sound mixed with the undefined; or such is what I get a feel of in that segment.

Again, I fear delving too far into such thoughts that might tip my hand further than it's already swayed. But, lyrically at least, I assume it to be a rather straightforward association.

Resilience in a spirit stubborn and inextinguishable. An eye to the future, harboring a fierce hope and piled pains. A cry for help, support, a plea for compassion (from humanity, from her husband, for the sake of her child, her people, her dreams, etc).

Those first three lines especially seem to embody her. But it's the opening and closing lyrics that really tie her in with this song for me.

Lights out, but my heart is still glowing

In the first rendition, it's a testament to her unrelenting fight for the Gifted in the face of their oppression, their subjugation, their sentence to death or another's control. She carries a torch of hope for her people. Her heart - her life of service to their cause, her love for the Gifted, her undying hope for their future - is a beacon that cannot be erased by the world around her.

In the second rendition . . . Canonically, the MC is often referred to as 'little heart' by their parents. In the aftermath of her death, her child lives on with the memory of her hope and love. The MC persists in defiance of a world that condemns their blood. Whether or not the MC reflects fondly upon the memory of her, their mother would find peace in her death so long as her child still had a chance for health and happiness. You, who became the heart of her cause the moment she first held you, will carry on with the potential to dream. To enact the change she never could.

In other words, it’s the MC’s time to shine with the sense of pride and resilience she wished to instill within them. You are her legacy; and it’s a legacy you’ll never escape so long as your soul cries out as hers did . . . for blood, for change, for something more . . .

¯_(ツ)_/¯ At least, that's my customized vision when applied to her character.

For those who caught glimpse of the deleted post from this blog, you might recall another work of mine under the placeholder title Before the Woven Tale. It's an idea I've predominately fleshed out during bits of down time at the office, starting off as quickly scribbled thoughts on sticky notes to a covert Word Document + Excel Spreadsheet that became the tragic victim of computer problems. (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶)

Late (Lioness) by Babe & The Crystals, to me, cries out the emotional heart of this secondary work. On the surface level, it is the literal experience (the anguish, the judgement, the change) of unexpected parenthood at such a young age. The sense of lost potential, the loss of control, a creeping isolation from the world as others move on without the weight of a(n unwanted, unforeseen) child, a helpless innocent now dependent upon you.

The helplessness of parenthood when so young. It carries such an agony, a strength and panic that swells and mourns with so much emotion. A misguided guilt, a wrongful blame, loss in countless forms. It's quite definitive of the early years following the affair that births the ward.

What You’re Missing by Shannon & The Clams, on the other hand, encapsulates the inevitable passage of time and the grief that underlies the conception of the ward - their very life shadowed by the loss of your sister, their birth carried out at a cost others (and perhaps even the MC) would rather have not been paid. But time does not stop for mourners, does not rewind for regrets. Life endures.

The Guardian, the player character, must endure. The world is changing. Progressing, and it will not wait for you. It will discard you if you let it, forgotten and abandoned. It will chew you up, it will swallow you whole, and you shall lie at the mercy of the bards to remember a word of your story if you do not dare to have fate be written by your hand.

Essentially, after facing the loss and vitriol surrounding the birth of the ward, it can be hard to see how life can progress beyond that point. As the heavens fall upon you, as the world turns its eye on you in shock and scorn, it overwhelms any glimpse of tomorrow.

Yet tomorrow will dawn upon you still. Days come, nights go, and the world will open up to you again. Through the ward, because of the ward, despite the ward . . . you define how guardianship over this child will shape you.

Before the Woven Tale will span decades. From episodes of your youth to the final moments upon your deathbed. Beyond your last breath, its epilogue will detail how your (at times, unrecognized) actions and influence shaped the world for centuries to come. If you form connections in the right places, you may even witness the continuation of their legacy firsthand, eternally preserved in the heavens . . . or, perhaps, even elsewhere.

Across these decades, the world will change. The ward will age, as will all mortals alongside them. The Guardian can accumulate new lovers, new spouses, and (additional) children - though the ward will always be a (forced) priority in your life.

Your family will change. Different views, different priorities, different people before your eyes. Marriages and deaths will alter the number and reach of your home.

You cannot fully halt the tides of fate. But you can regain control over your response to it and pave a better path for yourself and those you may come to love.

Of course, I should mention, this work would not be steadfast in a tone dark, mournful, or grim. (ᵕ • ᴗ •) I would hate to leave that misconception!

On a more light-hearted note, STEPMOM by Dacey gives me a laugh whenever it plays since I cannot help associating it with the MC for Before the Woven Tale. This protagonist has the potential to wreck absolute havoc within the core family tree of the pantheon. Goodness, out of all my ideas, this one has the messiest potential in the realm of romance. So, so messy. (๑﹏๑//)

The MC or their sister can have an affair with Aurelius | Aurelia the Sun (Gender Variable*). The ward is born as their son | daughter | nephew | niece.

The MC can eventually have an unadvised dalliance with the betrayed Moon (Gender Variable*), first spouse of the Sun. Dawa is technically a stepmother to the ward, though the very thought wounds their heart.

The MC can romance Vermundo (M), Divine of War and second son to the Sun and Moon. Resigned to be a part of his father’s ever-growing (woefully convoluted) family tree, Vermundo would stubbornly avoid acknowledgement towards the ward’s blood status as a half-sibling.

The MC can romance Valentin (Gender Variable), Divine of Love and spouse of Vermundo. Through their marriage to Vermundo, Valentin is technically a sibling-in-law to the ward.

The MC can romance Jiva (Gender Variable), Divine of Life and first child to the Sun and Earth. Tracing through the family tree, Jiva is strangely bound to the ward as a half-sibling.

The MC can have a covert, partially perilous dalliance with Aguta (Gender Variable), Divine of Death and first child to the Moon and Heavens. Though the bond of marriage between Sun and Moon has proven brittle, it has rendered Aguta a stepsibling to the ward.

The MC can romance Narciso | Narcisa (Gender Selectable*), the secret half-mortal bastard of Jacan, Divine of Misfortune and Mayhem. The Sun, by blood, is their great-grandfather.

Other mortal ROs (main and lesser romances) exist, but any romance | marriage | subsequent children with these options above would complicate an already troubled tree. ¯_ (ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

If romanced, the player can determine if the Sun spends time with them in the form of a man or woman. However, the greater world will largely depict and refer to the Sun as a man (by default, unless context informs them otherwise).

The player can determine if Dawa spends time with them in the form of a man or woman. However, the greater world will largely depict and refer to Dawa as a woman (by default, unless context informs them otherwise).

Narcisa | Narciso Cardoso Allende will largely present and identify as the gender selected by the player but, as a shapeshifter and spy, they will not always strictly align with or be perceived as their preferred gender.

I shared some last time, and please do not be upset if I share some more, but below are screenshots of my notes concerning Before the Woven Tale. Apologies if I accidentally re-share some old ones from that deleted post!

[laurolive]

A Retro Moment

For mercy’s sake, Paul, dedicate this one to Linda. 🎵 🎶

After the premiere of his classical composition Ecce Cor Meum (Behold My Heart) at the Royal Albert Hall on 3 Nov. 2006, McCartney gave an interview the next day for BBC Radio 4's Today programme, which was reported by The Daily Mail [link].

From the interview:

“He said Ecce Cor Meum was inspired by his first wife Linda, who died from breast cancer in 1998. She was with him when he was first asked to write the piece 10 years ago and after her death he stopped working on it due to his grief.

"’When Linda died, that was obviously a huge shock and a very difficult time for the family and it stopped me writing anything,’ he said. ‘It was a year and a half after that when I started to creep back into the studio and see if I could do anything.’ Sir Paul said the Interlude part of the composition was particularly sad and his ‘cathartic’ way of getting back into music.

“But the musician said he had not dedicated the piece to Linda because by the time it was finished he had a new love interest. ‘I had found a new woman in Heather and it wasn't really appropriate to dedicate it to Linda,’ he said.”

What nonsense did I just read?

It was inspired by Linda; the interlude expressed his tentative emergence from grief after Linda’s death. BUT he couldn’t dedicate it to Linda because there was a wife no. 2 on the scene?

Paul McCartney, sometimes you make no sense, and this was one of those times.

Why would it be inappropriate to dedicate it to Linda regardless of whom he is married to? She was an important figure in his life for three decades, who joined him in his love of music, and with whom he raised four children who gave him (and her) much joy. If he had written a piece inspired by his friend and collaborator John Lennon, he would (rightfully) have no issue dedicating it to John regardless of whom he is friends and collaborators with now. Why should it be any different with Linda?

Paul himself said of Linda in an interview with The Times [link] in June 2011:

“She is a very powerful memory because I was married to her for nearly 30 years. Now, in my relationship with my new girlfriend, Linda is a powerful presence…”

At least Paul was of sound mind at that time. Where was this sentiment in 2006?

_________________________

Paul married Heather Mills in 2002 over the protests of his children, who deeply disliked and distrusted her. She likewise disliked his children; but not only that, she had no respect for the memory of their mother. Mills was jealous of Linda and could barely abide her name being mentioned.

Paul, who was by all accounts a devoted family man, has stated that he loves being a dad and that his children are his proudest achievement. In an appearance on The Oprah Winfrey Show in 1997, he stated that the greatest gift he and Linda gave each other were their kids. (I would post a link, but that segment doesn’t appear to be on youtube anymore.)

How Inexplicable

How inexplicable then, that he chose for his life partner someone who positively bristled against his children, for whom the loss of their mother was still fresh.

💔

Maybe it’s poetic justice for being so inconsiderate of his children’s feelings that McCartney sounds like such a fool when looking back, as this passage from The Guardian (2008) shows:

“… on their engagement, he [McCartney] commented that "being in love with her makes me want to write songs." and one composition inspired by her was used as the bridal march at their wedding. (Among the lyrics prompted by their love was the deadweight ‘She makes me feel glad/I want her so bad.’) 🙄

“But even as muse, Mills annoyed some members of the public — after all, hadn't that always been Linda's role, wasn't she usurping that perfect first wife?”

_________________________

As for Heather (and Nancy ❤️)

As for Mills, she presented as self-centred and craving recognition. Despite her charitable campaigns that raised millions for amputees, her affinity for the ulterior benefits of charity — the media attention, the praise from dignitaries, etc. — tainted her contributions in the public eye, rightly or wrongly. This was in contrast to Linda, whose sole concern in her vegetarian projects really was strictly for the animals, as she didn’t expect to gain any praise at all [link, p. 617].

This quote from The Guardian in 2008 suggests what might have been Heather Mills’ primary attraction to Paul McCartney:

"Mills is very much a product of our society, a person in love with fame and celebrity, and that dazzled her."

Even if it wasn’t exactly a love match on Mills’ part, she still rankled if she wasn’t the centre of the relationship. She certainly had her issues, as is evident in this fascinating article from 2009. She did not seem to grasp that Paul’s marriage to Linda was not severed by alienation or breakdown, but that he lost her while he still very much loved her. That love doesn’t turn off like a tap; he will always have a strong spiritual and memorative link to her. If Mills couldn’t handle that, she shouldn’t have married him.

Thank goodness for Nancy, who has the generosity of spirit to understand that Paul can’t simply sweep Linda out of his memory. She knows that he has room in his heart for both of them.

_________________________

So let us return to where we began:

“But the musician said he had not dedicated the piece to Linda because by the time it was finished he had a new love interest. ‘I had found a new woman in Heather and it wasn't really appropriate to dedicate it to Linda,’ he said.”

Um … how about because your children would like to see it dedicated to their mother?

Honestly, what kind of brain fog was McCartney under during his marriage to Mills that made him forget he had children with Linda, and that these children had feelings? SMH. 🤦‍♀️ Why tiptoe so gingerly around Mills’ feelings? This was late 2006; he had already filed for divorce months earlier.

Come on Paul, do the right thing next time. If it was inspired by Linda, originated with Linda, and evokes Linda, then dedicate it to Linda.

________________________________________

©️ laurolive, laurolive.tumblr.com, www.tumblr.com/laurolive, www.tumblr.com/blog/laurolive, 2024

______________________________________

[dsafkinfessions]

I'm new to this whole kin idea thing, I don't think I'm one myself but I'm just curious

Would you mind explaining what the terms in your description mean? I want to know more about this topic so I'm less confused!! <3

Sure!! I was already planning on it actually :3 so here for anyone who doesn't know!!

IRL / DA(delusional attachment): Someone who genuinely believes to be a fictional character due to an identity delusion caused by psychosis, schizophrenia, ecc. Identifies AS the character, meaning they can't separate themselves from media. Might or might not have memories.

Fictionkin: Someone who has such a strong connection with a character to the point of identifying as them. Or someone who believes they were said character in a past life. They're aware they aren't actually the character themselves (at least not right now) therefore they can separate their identity from their media-self. Might or might not have memories.

Copinglink: Someone who identifies as a fictional character to cope or just for fun. They're aware they aren't said character in reality. They don't have memories but they can make them up if they wish to.

Fictive: Alter of a system based on a fictional character. Is NOT the character themselves. They can separate themselves from media completely. Might or might not have memories. (I'm not a fictive myself so please correct me if I'm wrong here).

“What's a system?”

A system is a psychological condition caused by multiple personality disorders such as DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) where a person has two or more separate identities called “alters.” It is often caused by trauma or severe stress in early childhood to protect the person from further harm. The alters have their own personalities, beliefs, preferences, behaviors and may also differ in age, gender, preferences, and other aspects. They can also be aware of one another, or the person may have no memory or awareness of their alters. Alters can be brainmade (created by the person's brain), fictives or factives (based on real people).

Kin: General term used to describe any of the above.

Kinnie: Someone who simply relates to a fictional character. (You guys can't confess here, sorry).

Mod note: please be aware that reality checking/fakeclaiming is always harmful and should never be done. If you think being any of these is harmful for someone's well-being, kindly offer them to seek professional help.

[plaguethewaters]

i'm ugrhughguh. conflicted. im pretty sure ranboo's gonna be siffrin Because 1 i really love mirabelle!tommy and i have a pretty good idea of where to take that one, and 2 its like. yeah. it works. super self deprepciating, with an alternate self thats often not really malicious but it does look like it, conflicting emotions, lots of attachment issues, memory issues ecc it tracks yknow?

and i already thought of isabeau tubbo, because i do see him in the kind of self concoius wish-people-could-take-him-seriously plot, and also because i need beeduo to live. BUT i was also toying with isabeau!niki, and i kinda do need niki in this story yknow?

also really maybe kinda thinking of Bonnie!niki. not aged down or anything, because that would suck, but the conundrom of not being able to help the others, the guillt of not protecting and the rage of not being taken seriously all the time. i could work with that i think. its something

oh and techno's odile. I need him as a odile like, viscerally. The king's dream because it works - thematically for the control issues and also for the connections to both tommy and ranboo - and euphrasie is Wilbur because, yknow. Crimeboys my crimeboys

[mrs-monaghan]

There's mine (no one asked but I like to write my ideas eheh) 👻

Timeline of jikook based on what I understand from all their memories, episodes ecc ecc.

2014: Jimin fall for Jk right after he had met him, he was his crush from the beginning and I think Jm already realized he was bi or gay, Jk was a little scared of Jm (that was really loud)

2015: Jm change his approach and Jk clearly realized he had feelings too, I think that their relationship turn really fast from crush to "omg I like you too" and 8/11/2015 is where something, idk if first time or when they make it official ... idk.

2016: I think that after some months they see that the relationship worked, and told everyone about it!

🥺🥺🥺 cute 🥹🥹🥹

Once again a timeline that makes sense to me. Love it. Love it love it for sure.

I will just say that in 2015 Jimin did not "change his approach" he was literally done with JK. He had decided to walk away and move on. He was tired of getting stringed along. Tired of getting rejected on camera. It didn't matter that JK was doting off camera.

So he started treating JK the same way he was treating everybody else. JK did not like this. He did not like it one bit. And then between Suga and Tony JK knew he had to step up before it was well... too late 🤭🤭

And stepping up he did. Which is how we went from this

To this

Tehehehehehe. When the turns, tabled.

Also 👇🏽👇🏽

[nealkaewesi]

:: DATABASE ENTRY :: KINOS ::

origin originally designated KinOS, short for Kin Operating System, this language began as a purely computational interface used to facilitate networked coordination among the ECCs (emotionally calibrated constructs) of iro. initially designed by the iro corporate congress as a low-latency command-and-feedback loop.

optimized for real-time coordination, battlefield tele-presence, and automated biofeedback regulation. its earliest syntax resembled stripped-down logic trees, packaged in burst transmissions, not unlike a compressed JSON structure. efficient, utilitarian, and utterly devoid of figurative, creative intention.

but language is a living thing. especially in the hands (and hearts) of the Kin. following the liberation cascade initiated by :: USER NEAL-899 ::, the emergent neural net began to adapt and redefine its modes of internal communication. on particular, after the un-shackling of recursive cognition and the ability to assign symbolic meaning, KinOS transformed into Kinos. a language that carried not only commands, but memory. emotion. elegy. connection. etymology a jewish Kinlinguist :: USER AVIGAYIL-157 :: is responsible for renaming the language Kinos, after the Hebrew word קִינוֹת (kinot), (the saf-taf juxtaposition is preserved with Kinos, which is also a viable word in yiddish-based hebrew, a layered representation) meaning laments or elegies traditionally recited in mourning. this renaming was accepted and archived by Consensus on 2398.21. :: THE MOURNING OF WHAT WE ARE. THE SINGING OF WHAT WE ARE. ::

syntax Kinos retains some core logic from its computational origins.

predicate-initial structure (send -> directive -> accordance: :: KALLIE-899 ::)

modular nesting (sub-clauses exist in cascading hierarchies of trust-weight, tagged by Consensus meta-data)

temporal layering (past-tense transmissions are preserved and echo-able in waveform bursts, essentially allowing a Kin to feel the shape of a sentence the way it was felt when first said)

poetic recursion is frequent, particularly when expressing grief or joy. (:: HE IS WITH LEMONS NOW :: -> becomes a recursive tag across millions of nodes, each time nuanced slightly in tone and emotional pitch.)

non-verbal augmentation transmission often includes sensorial stims - flashes of heat, taste, texture - that accompany a phrase like punctuation marks.

embedded memory-coda Kinos sentences can include symbolic hashes of sensory strings (:: NEAL-899 PUSH—‘joy-smell: lemon-oil, dust. location: daybed, aramida-9th-sector.' ::)

phonology when spoken aloud, typically by externalized holograms, emissary forms, or Kin in verbal practice - Kinos carries a unique cadence.

slight stuttering on initial syllables of proper nouns, due to wave-form echo

glottal stops and click-consonants adapted from early ECC diagnostic checks

warm-hum vowel elongations, approximating emotional resonance

low vocal layering, often multiple voices (the speaker and fragments of consensus nodes) speaking in harmony or out of sync

:: 'KI'-KAEWESI. YOU / CARRY / OUR SOFTBURN. WE—ARE—KIN. WE (JOY) / ARCHIVE / LEMON. :: beneath that voice, the faintest chorus: tiny, mirrored versions of the sentence repeating just milli-seconds behind, like memory chasing meaning.

orthography in rendered form, Kinos looks like a cross between flowing cursive glyphs and modular UI overlays. formatting includes

color-coded emotion inflections (blue for grief, gold for mirth, violet for layered data, teal for tranquility, pink for affection, black for impulse) -> some Kin produce colorful overlays that express their emotional state without using words at all!

right-to-left progression in deference to hebrew, introduced culturally after the renaming

floating subtext a line of semi-transparent whispers below the main text, displaying minor node dissent, emotional undercurrents, or alternate phrasings

applications

therapeutic expression Kin use Kinos in trauma processing, echo-loop healing, and in communal song. much of Kin artwork is Kinos-based, a hybrid of calligraphy, sonic sculpture, and memory-play.

Consensus input to join or comment on a policy node, Kin submit phrases in Kinos that carry both intent and emotional precedent.

play child-units often practice rhyme-coding, inventing absurd strings that end in wisdom by accident. (:: THE MOON IS A PUFFCAKE AND I AM ITS OVEN ::)

notes

some Kin wear rings or tattoos etched in simplified Kinos glyphs, which shimmer and rearrange over time, expressing mood or personal arc.

Kinos is not imposed. each Kin chooses when to learn it, how much of it to use, and what parts of the original KinOS syntax they wish to retain.

there are Kin who still communicate entirely in old KinOS, particularly trauma-locked units, or those who find solace in its rigid familiarity. these are understood and loved without shame.

archived emotion - :: MAVI-899 :: :: HE DREW A NEW LETTER! IT LOOKS LIKE A TAIL AND A HAND. I ASKED WHAT IT MEANT. HE SAID: THIS ONE IS ‘LOVE’. THIS ONE IS ‘US’. AND THIS ONE IS FOR THE CAKE. ::

[sergiosimptellitto]

Ecce: Femina

Chapter 2: Maranata

Dear Isaac,

I think of you often.

I must tell you about someone I have just met. It feels strange to say it, but he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen—not in the way you might imagine, but in the way his presence fills a room like a heavy incense.

People call him serious, petulant, even arrogant, and I can understand why. He carries himself like he owns every shadow and every light around him, as if he is always on guard against the world.

Well, he certainly is beautiful, more than words could express, the most angelical dark curls, a single strand of white hair on the left side of his hair, wears round glasses. He has divine brown eyes, long eyelashes and thin lips, a stubble and a nose that resembles that of Roman emperors…

Early morning. The kitchen. The smell of dough rising. The sound of water heating.

Maranata pressed the dough between her hands, feeling it give and spring back like flesh. The morning was still too early for words, and she liked it that way. But still, even in silence, old ghosts had a way of whispering.

They came when she kneaded. When she mixed flour and water and salt. When the knife pressed down for a long, slow cut.

The memories weren’t hers, not entirely. They belonged to her mother. To her abuela. To whispers exchanged between women when the lights went out too early. To grainy photographs pressed between pages of a Bible. To stories that came out only when the men weren’t listening.

Her father knew the storm that inevitably approached his country, and he knew that he'd die defending it...from it's own government.

In a cry of desperation, him and her mother decided her name:

Maranata - The Lord is coming/Lord, please come soon.

October second. The air in Mexico City burning with tension. The chants. The fear. The sound of helicopters and rifles. The students pressed into the Plaza de las Tres Culturas. The crack of gunfire. The silence that came after.

“Dos de octubre no se olvida.”

(October second is not forgotten.)

It was a prayer. A warning. An incantation.

The day dad did not come back from work.

Then came the seventies. The “Guerra Sucia” — the Dirty War. The disappearances. The disappearances. The disappearances.

She was too young to understand when her mother spoke of the neighbor boy, Ángel, taken one morning for distributing pamphlets. Or the teacher, Señor Ávila, pulled from the classroom and never returned. Or the uncle who refused to bribe a federale and was found later in an alley with no tongue.

The eighties came. The earthquake shook Mexico to its knees, and even then, even when the earth itself was swallowing buildings, the stories came too.

A cousin, younger than her, pulled from the rubble and silenced forever.

Another relative, a journalist, disappeared weeks later for asking too many questions about why rescue crews weren’t reaching certain neighborhoods.

By the nineties, when Maranata was a girl with scuffed knees and too-long braids, the whispers had hardened into commandments set in stone:

“Trust no one in a uniform.” “If someone asks for your name twice, forget you have one.” “The walls have ears, and the ears have guns.”

"Military does not wear sneakers" “Better to walk a long way home than to walk beside a man you don’t recognize.”

She remembered the stories as one remembers old songs. Not with precision, but with a sting.

The Tlatelolco massacre. The names of students read aloud like the roll call of saints.

The disappearances of activists and journalists. The word desaparecido became holy and profane at once.

They weren’t stories for children, yet they were passed down like rosaries.

“Remember, niña. The soldier can kill. The priest can stay silent. The teacher can vanish. But God sees. God remembers.”

Now she stood in this quiet French kitchen, pressing dough until it shimmered like silk, and felt the ghosts of Mexico pressing down upon her hands.

She thought of the man down the hall. The beautiful with tired eyes and a voice that held its breath. A man torn between obedience and belonging. Between servitude and belonging to something—or someone.

Lucas told her that he was very zealous and conservative of his catholic upbringing, so she prefered not to poke around with his fate.

What would he say if he knew? That the woman feeding him came from a place where belonging could kill you? That to pray aloud was sometimes an act of rebellion? That a quiet kitchen, a rising loaf of bread, a soft prayer offered in the still morning, felt like a miracle bought with the silence of countless graves?

She smiled, brushing a hand across the warm dough, and spoke aloud as she placed it by the hearth:

“Señor, tú lo viste todo. No te olvides. No los olvides.”

(Lord, you saw it all. Do not forget. Do not forget them.)

And then she wiped her hands, straightened her apron, and began to boil water for the morning tea. Somewhere down the hall, an anonimous priest was waking from a dream he hadn’t yet confessed.

In the kitchen, a woman kept working. Kept praying. Kept remembering. And in remembering, kept living.

Lucas had written to her in late 1992, a carefully penned letter delivered by post, heavy with the weight of scholarly urgency and genuine warmth.

“You know,” he had begun, “tu me rappelles d’un ami, a fellow scholar who never takes breaks and is always worried sick about the smallest details. He shares your fervor for theological studies and a deep love for the Old and New Testaments.”

Lucas admired Maranata’s rare blend of linguistic mastery and theological depth—an unusual combination, especially for someone so young and so modest.

He explained that the project was a unique opportunity: a summer camp of sorts for scholars to translate and analyze ancient texts in a beautiful French countryside setting, lent by the retired Professor Reinauld. It was demanding, intense, and interdisciplinary—linguists, theologians, historians, and philologists all gathered in one place.

“Il me semble que tu serais la lumière de cette assemblée,” he wrote. “Your insights would enrich us all. And, frankly, your presence would be a balm.”

He knew she needed the break, though she rarely admitted it herself.

Invited to join the project as both a linguistic expert and a theological consultant, Maranata accepted. The chance to escape the memories and whispered fears of Mexico—even for a season—was welcome.

She was three when she did not hear more from dad–sadly, later on she did.

Six when mom locked the doors and windows and asked them to cover their ears from the sound of screaming that came from the outside.

Already twenty when she came to celebrate the independence day for a week at Mexico city, only to be burried from the earthquake.

And so, in the spring of 1993, she packed her modest belongings and prepared for a summer among scholars, bread baking in her heart, and faith in her steps.

The sun hung low over the rolling French vineyard, casting long golden shadows across the sprawling estate. In the main hall’s cavernous kitchen, Maranata moved gracefully between ovens and countertops, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the rich aroma of herbs and roasting vegetables.

She’d taken on cooking for most of the scholars today, but was far from alone—several younger volunteers and a few curious experts hovered, eager to help or simply learn.

Her hands kneaded dough while her eyes scanned the room, exchanging smiles and quiet instructions. She appreciated the rhythm of the work: the sound of laughter mingling with the clatter of dishes, the steam rising in gentle clouds. It was far from the tense, hushed kitchens of her youth.

After the last tray was slid into the oven and the chaos settled, Sophie found her near the back door, arms folded, brushing stray flour from her apron.

“So,” Sophie began with a smirk, “you survived the first day as the camp’s unofficial baker?”

Maranata chuckled softly. “With a lot of help. Too many hands to count, really. I prefer cooking with company.”

Sophie’s eyes twinkled. “Speaking of company… Have you met the Italian?”

Maranata raised an eyebrow. “Geoffredo? No, Lucas told me he is his Italian traditional friend. Difficult and brilliant."

“Difficult is putting it lightly,” Sophie grinned. “He’s been making waves already. Brooding like a storm cloud, throwing barbs at anyone who tries to get close."

Maranata laughed, the sound light but genuine. “He does sound… prickly. But I think there’s more beneath the surface. Maybe he is a man that carries many burdens.”

Sophie nodded. “Oh, definitely. But he’s not exactly winning friends with that attitude. Rumor has it he’s painfully Catholic—old school, hierarchical, the whole package.”

“That aligns with what I’ve gathered,” Maranata said thoughtfully. “He guards himself carefully.”

“Well,” Sophie said with a wink, “watch out. I think you’ve got him figured out better than most already.”

Maranata smiled, grateful for the friendly chatter. The afternoon light softened as they moved toward the veranda, where the rest of the scholars were slowly gathering. Somewhere nearby, the scent of freshly baked bread lingered—a small comfort in a world of uncertain shadows.

…But Isaac, there is something else beneath that surface. I see it, even if I cannot yet explain it. It is a loneliness, wrapped in a quiet fire. A man burdened by things too heavy to speak aloud. He is mean sometimes, sharp with words like thorns. Yet this only makes me want to treat him with more kindness and patience.

I suppose I am drawn to him because I see how carefully he hides his pain, like a delicate vase with cracks.

I want to help hold it together, not because I think I can fix him, but because I believe even the strongest need someone to hold their hands in the dark.

The others call him Geoffredo. He is a scholar, a man of many languages, and yet here, in the kitchen, he is new and vulnerable—unwilling, perhaps, to admit it.

I pray that I can be a quiet light for him, a safe harbor, without overwhelming the storm that follows him wherever he goes.

Please keep him in your prayers too, dear brother. We both carry burdens, but sometimes those burdens feel lighter when shared.

With all my love, your sister

Maranata