#I’ve been having some levels of generalized despair and fear of death am

[peacereturnedtothevalley]

really want to talk to someone but like . How do I talk about this

going to ramble in the tags but don’t read if you’re having a good day (I am not actively suffering in a material way that will require peoples concern and and active help) (I repeat keep scrolling if you’re just chillin)

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Hey, you once mentioned something about Tom Riddle being a little suicidal. Your new post reminded of that and I wonder why you think that. It’s the complete opposite of what the books want you to think.

Alright, it’s time, let’s do this.

My standard disclaimer whenever we venture into the dark pit that is my thoughts on Tom Riddle: I’m going to say a lot of controversial stuff that fandom generally doesn’t agree with, I will say so much of this shit that I simply do not have time to explain it all, I expect 99% of you to disagree with me and the other 1% to be so horrifyingly offended that I dare to contemplate a world in which Tom isn’t always an overly competent psychopath that they leave me notes telling me to take this trash out of their character tags.

We good? Alright.

So, when I say a little suicidal, I mean that he is suicidal.

Not on the level that he’s going to kill himself tomorrow, or even has plans to kill himself, but in that he makes very strange decisions for someone who desperately wants to live.

And yes, I realize I speak blasphemy given that Tom Riddle’s entire m.o. is supposed to be his crippling fear of death.

Oh man, this one’s going to be so long.

So, my reasoning comes down to a few things:

The location of the horcruxes and the nature of their protections.

The events of Deathly Hallows and Tom’s final actions in the novel

The nature of horcruxes and what it means to not only be able to create one but what it does to you (caveat that I am going to headcanon hard here and speak utter blasphemy)

So, let’s start in order this time, because I think the first two are actually far easier for me to explain.

The Location and Nature of the Horcrux Protections and the Trouble with Backdoors in Security

So, first, the horcruxes are all conveniently located in Great Britain. Not even just in Great Britain, all in places that Albus Dumbledore and later Harry Potter can track down with relative ease, all fairly close to each other.

Now, part of this is undoubtedly attributable to Tom’s overly romantic nature. 

Yes, Tom Riddle is a giant romantic, though not necessarily in the traditional sense everyone thinks of. The film “Patton” and its treatment of Patton comes to mind. Tom Riddle is a man enamored by a sense of greatness, of being remembered in this world rather than fading into oblivion, by the significance of places and times in history not only of the world but of himself. He creates an entire, grand, persona for himself because to live an ordinary life for him is to be worthy of nothing.

So, given that, of course Tom places the horcruxes in sentimental locations that have personal meaning to him.

However, it also makes them perilously easy to find and collect.

By itself, this wouldn’t spark my notice.

The ability to destroy horcruxes are not easy to come by. There’s only one basilisk and it’s by chance/Lucius fucking up that Harry gains access to the necessary basilisk venom. Using Fyendfire is an incredibly dangerous thing to do and just as likely to blow up you and the next three towns over as it is to destroy a horcrux. And if there are other means of destroying a horcrux they’re just as hard to come by or just as dangerous.

It’s not quite throwing it into the fires of Mt. Doom from which it was forged but it’s pretty damn close.

So, really, without JKR’s convenient Deus Ex Machina giving both him and Dumbledore the means to actually destroy these things, Tom Riddle’s horcruxes are pretty damn safe no matter where we put them. As we see from the locket, which Regulus manages to collect but Kreacher cannot destroy even after several decades.

However, what does spark my notice, is that the horcruxes can be collected by someone other than Tom Riddle when it appears as if they were never intended to be. What do I mean by this?

From what we see, there’s no benefit to Tom if the original horcruxes are found by anyone. He doesn’t seek them out to restore his original body, they’re just anchor points that should be hidden at all costs. So, he’ll never need a Death Eater to go collect them for him should he be indisposed (indeed, to do so would require a tremendous amount of trust in people he has very little trust in). 

So, why hide them in such a way that others can access them? There are canon based options which would have prevented anyone else from reaching them. Given the existence of age lines, I imagine Tom Riddle could make some arbitrary barrier keyed only to himself. There are mokeskin pouches, such as the one Harry is given in the seventh book, which we know can only be accessed by whoever they’re keyed to. There’s the Fidelius Charm which, true requires a secret keeper which Tom would be very meh on, but options exist.

Tom Riddle could wipe the locations of his horcruxes off the face of the map. He chooses not to. Which leads me to believe that, at least on some unconscious level, he wants the horcruxes to be found.

Then we have the protections.

Specifically, I’m thinking of the locket here.

Yes, the protections are very formidable, but they’re also goddamn weird. 

Rather than make the horcrux simply inaccessible, kill all those intruding, instead the intruder has to go through a very “Saw” like puzzle in which they drown themselves in despair until they finally get the locket, at which point they likely suicide by zombie.

More, there’s no hint that there’s any other way to retrieve the locket. 

Backdoors in security are a very bad idea. What they do is weaken the security as a whole and, if you can take a short cut is, it means that someone who is clever enough and motivated enough can to. Dumbledore is both clever and motivated enough, and I imagine if there was a way to get the horcrux that involved not doing this ridiculous task he would have done it.

More, we’d be back to the land of Tom making sure only he can access the horcrux by requiring a password, keying it to his magical signature, or something so that no one else could get it.

Which means, that’s right, if Tom wants to get the locket he’s drinking the goddamn despair juice just like the rest of us.

What kind of a person would do any of this?

I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t think Tom Riddle’s crazy. Rather, in this case, I think he’s driven by an unbelievable amount of nihilist rage and is also quite depressed.

Tom goes to collect his horcrux, “Ah, it’s time to remember what a miserable life I’ve led and the sheer awfulness of my own existence. Good, I was starting to feel a little too happy. Let’s see if I get eaten by my undead, vengeful, victims today.” 

The Events of Deathly Hallows and Tom Riddle’s Death

I think Tom Riddle’s final death in the books was suicide.

Tom takes over the Wizarding World, finally, and it’s as miserable as ever.

He’s trapped in this sham, barely functional, probably very painful body. His Death Eaters are completely out of control and for all that he wanted society to burn it’s now burning and no one’s even learned anything from this. Children in Hogwarts are being routinely tortured and have now staged a rebellion in which he’s having to slaughter them (I have reasons to believe that this is not what Tom Riddle wanted, at all, but that’s best saved for another post), and then he learns his horcruxes have all been destroyed without him even noticing.

There’s so little left of him, he has accomplished nothing, and there’s Harry Potter back from the dead yet again, gloating at him that love conquers all and Tom Riddle will never understand.

And Harry’s right, Tom Riddle will never understand, the world is meaningless and flat to him now and he finally understand that there’s no point to it. I think Tom Riddle decides he’s done. He’s just done.

He enters in a duel with Harry Potter knowing the weird nature of their wands. Now, it can be assumed he used the Elder Wand, but we know they get locked in Priori Incatatum , and that makes no damn sense with the Elder Wand (well, wandlore in general is silly, but I’m working with what JKR gave me here). So I choose to take JKR at her somewhat established canon and say that, no matter what Harry thought, Voldemort was using his original wand.

He throws out the killing curse, despite having now witnessed Harry resurrecting twice to this thing, and within two seconds it rebounds and kills him.

Voldemort’s death is a lot like this scene from the recent, terrible, 2020 live action Mulan (10/10 do not recommend).  Now, we’re supposed to think that this scene is the witch saving Mulan’s life and thus showing her hope for the next generation. In actuality, the witch literally flies into an arrow she could have easily deflected from Mulan’s path. It’s a suicide that Mulan is too stupid to notice.

Tom chooses suicide in the most ridiculous, flamboyant, and easily written off manner one can and no one even notices. Instead Harry crows that he has personally defeated Voldemort, with the power of love no less, HUZZAH!

And the castle parties.

The Nature of Horcruxes

I almost don’t want to include this because it’s so... well, I’m really drifting far from canon and fandom now.

However, with horcruxes, there’s always an overriding question of why Tom is able to make so many when we don’t see anyone else with these things around (especially as it’s clear that murder doesn’t simply happen for those that now have horcruxes).

Usually, you have fic authors just sort of shrug and go, “Well, he’s that evil, I guess.” Sometimes you have them go, “No one else is crazy enough to keep going, and that’s why Voldemort’s cuckoo bananas.” 

One very good explanation I’ve seen is that it’s because most people, when they murder, feel remorse immediately. The soul split happens, but they’re haunted by the murder for the rest of their life, and thus the horcrux isn’t made. Voldemort, feeling nothing when he kills anyone, is thus able to make them even for when he’s only indirectly associated with the death in question.

However, to me that never really jived philosophically.

Mostly, I simply cannot imagine that tearing apart your very soul is an act of indifference. Here’s how I see it: to do something like that to yourself, you must care, you must care beyond all imagine and human endurance. Your soul literally cannot abide it and saws itself in half, purging what you cannot stand about yourself the most. 

The remorse part is, yes, remorse for the act and the victim but more to the point it is the ability to forgive and reaccept the worst part of yourself. That part of yourself that you purged and destroyed, which is nearly impossible to do and might very well destroy the fabric of who you are). 

In other words, while creating a horcrux is an abominable act of hatred, it is also one of profound self-hatred.

Tom Riddle loathes himself so much that he is able to do this over and over and over again. 

As Tom Riddle goes on he makes himself into less and less and less of himself until he probably doesn’t even know who he is anymore. He just knows, whatever is left of him, he loathes that too. 

And then, of course, he gives up, runs into the nearest flying arrow, and dies.

TL;DR: Tom Riddle’s is a miserable existence that ended in a miserable if unintentionally hilarious manner

[binniesthighs]

EIGHT LEVELS, THE DESCENT

CWs: death, bits of horror and fear, hellish things 

Descent 

you had never imagined death to be something like this. 

with careful footsteps you followed the hollow sound of metal on rock, metal on metal, metal on skin. 

you were scared, but a thrill crept up your throat like none other. it bubbled in the pit of your stomach and fluttered like butterflies through each and every nerve of your body. 

the hallway was dark, nearly pitch black, save for the light at the end of the hall. it seemed like it must've been the size of a pinhead from as far as you were. you thought to yourself, that this must be your punishment: walking on and on forever towards a light that you could never reach. 

seemed reasonable enough. you were not saint...if this was hell anyway. 

sweltering hot heat caught up to you as you walked on, and it singed your skin with a burn that only grew over time. your brow beaded with sweat, and your legs felt heavier with each step. 

at the same time, you felt a deathly chill: a piercing kind of cold that you could only describe as loneliness and emptiness. the two temperatures fought a terrible tryst, and your body could not decide if the shivers ailing you reminded you were really dead, or if by some mistake you had been mixed up in some devils game. 

you don’t remember dying. does anyone? you didn’t know. you can’t exactly ask someone. 

in your shock, you realize that the pinhead of light was growing larger and larger before your squinting eyes. now, the sounds of metal were replaced with wails in despair intertwined with something much different. 

ungodly sounds of pain and pleasure filled the dense air, and moaning and groaning spilled into your ears with some kind of cacophony that made little sense. 

the light approached closer and it became blinding: the kind of blinding light that you had always imagined death to be like. maybe you really had died. 

what you had seen at the end of the tunnel, was not at all what you had expected. 

a reception room. a normal one, like the ones at a hospital. 

am I a ghost? you wonder. is my soul trapped in the place that I died? 

a normal looking nurse in a normal looking nurse’s uniform waves you over. 

“me?” you mouth. 

she nods. 

she gives a curt little smile, and pats down her sterile looking baby blue scrubs. she wears no nametag, and the only thing distinguishing her is the fiery red nail polish that decorates her nails. her eyes are kind, a kind of hazel brown that looks to be a dozen different colors at once. 

“welcome!” she greets. 

“...thank you?” you return. 

“how can I help you today?” the nurse beams. her smile is perfectly white, but her teeth crooked. 

“i...don’t know.” 

she asks outright: “do you have your key?”

“my key?” 

you note that there is no one else in the waiting room besides you. light streams in from the windows, but it is pale and white, like the kind of sun on a cloudy day full of grey. the air smells dusty, old...and burnt. 

“yes?” she cocks her head. “you should have a key?” 

“i-i don’t think that I have anything...” 

a weight pulls down the pocket of your jeans and you see the bulging fabric. 

a brass key makes the imprint. it looks ancient and is a bit rusted on the edges. there is nothing too complicated about the skeleton key except for the fact that the head of the key is shaped to the number eight. 

“what...”

“ah! that’s the key. well, it looks like you’ve got an eight. that’s wonderful.” 

the nurse looks down at her desk to her paperwork, but the white sheets of paper hold no writing or ink. 

“says here that you qualify for all eight levels--just as your key says! well, now i’ll show you to your first room and you can just wait patiently in there for it to begin.” 

“it? i’m sorry, what is “it”?” 

“you’ll see soon enough dear.” 

through her crooked teeth you catch sight of her tongue, and at looks as if it is split: forked like a serpent. 

“this way!” she rouses from her desk. 

the waiting room remains empty when you follow the nurse behind a frosted glass door and into yet another hallway, but this one is illuminated with a flickering green-ish white light. the hall is quiet, and no other patients in rooms can be heard. no talking voices, no crying children, no moans mixed in pain and pleasure. 

“hold onto that key! you’ll need it. that’s all i’ll say!” the nurse nods, and her hazel eyes change color as they’ve been doing under the lights, and you can’t quite tell what color they are. 

“wait!” you reach out to her, a million more questions swimming. before you can get another word out, the door is promptly shut with a slam that seems to shake the whole room. 

the examination room seems normal, just as the nurse seemed to be at first. it is a windowless place, and you almost miss the grey light from the waiting room. a chair is positioned in the corner and the examination table is covered in white paper that crinkles when you sit on it. 

i can’t be dead. she shouldn’t've seen me. 

a lock on the wall ticks and your heartbeats match the rhythm, beating thickly in your chest. 

your eyes close tightly and you draw back your memory as far as you can take it. 

i’m asleep. i’m asleep. that’s it. i’ve fallen asleep. this is a dream. 

your eyes open, and there he is, back to you, facing the wall. 

your whole body jumps from the scare, and your chest aches with fearful gasps. 

his skin is nearly inhumanly pale and white, but peaking muscles curve under his leather vest. muscled arms stretch out bare, and every single twitch of his equally toned legs flare under his skin-tight pants. by contrast, red leather bands wrap around his arms and thighs. thick, long, silver chains drip from his wrists--it would’ve been impossible to get them in their quietly without you knowing. his hair is starkly white, much like untouched snow. 

“you have your key?” he growls. 

your voice is dry when you answer “yes.” 

the man turns. rather than the beast that you had expected, he is handsome: some kind of godly form that glows with a kind of white light even when he looks at you with his icy blue eyes. 

his sharp cheekbones are astonishing and serious. he studies you and you shy away to crinkle the paper under you. 

“you’re new.” he simply says. “we’re going to like you.” 

“w-we?” 

the man chuckles with a kind of laugh that seems to reverberate in your chest. with a wicked smile that nearly cracks the corners of his mouth, he leans in. you’re frozen in your horror when he whispers into your ear: 

“welcome to hell.” 

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

EIGHT LEVELS | READER X OT8 | 1k SPECIAL 

Pairing: self insert, female reader, male reader, gender neutral reader x ot8 

Genre: pure smut, angst 

Tags: explicit sexual content, explicit language, minor pain play, bondage, impact play, sensory deprivation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, throat fucking, use of pet names, degredation, shibari, pet play, sex toys, orgasm denial, marking, exhibitionism, threesome, foursome, general debauchery and more 

CWs: mentions of death, blood, hellish things and slight horror elements 

Word count: ?? 

aka the hardest thing that i will have written to this date. can you endure the pain and pleasure of eight of hell’s most sinful demons? 

~if you would liked to be tagged on this piece, let me know! 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

[theggning]

Codsworth Is So Underrated, You Guys

ALTERNATE TITLE: Codsworth and the Totally Understated Mindbending Evolution of Artificial Consciousness

I find Codsworth is often the most underrated of the 16 companions in Fallout 4. Your faithful robot butler is among the very first you can recruit and an excellent early-game ally, but he has a few disadvantages in gameplay that mean he’s often sent back to Sanctuary before long. Codsworth is a mid-to-close range fighter only, cannot wear armor or be equipped with weapons. He cannot be healed by stimpak, which makes him a liability if you’re playing on Survival mode. He has no companion quest of his own, so unless you particularly enjoy him there’s not a compelling reason to keep him for a long time. He also becomes recruitable exactly 2 minutes after adorable puppy Best Boy Dogmeat, so he is often (understandably) replaced just as soon as he’s made available.

But there is this great, completely understated facet to Codsworth, so understated that the game does not draw attention to it in any way. And yet, it is a wonderful reflection of many of the themes of Fallout 4 and, I believe, a pretty strong indication of its thesis statement.

Now what in the hell am I talking about?

Like many sci-fi/fantasy universes, the Fallout series is home to many highly-advanced robots. Robots were commonplace before the Great War, and many have survived the bombs intact and in working order. Others have been built or modified by wastelanders to serve various tasks (Percy, Ada.) The most important thing to understand about robots, though, is though they may have vivid personalities programmed in, they are widely accepted to be objects. They are thought of the same way as an appliance, a machine built for a specific purpose and programmed to follow a strict set of protocols.

Many jokes revolve around the relatively rigid intelligence of robots. Pre-War, many were deployed in inappropriate jobs or designed haphazardly (Mister Handies acting as nurses in a hospital, “paramedic” Protectrons with massive deadly tasers for hands, military robots constantly going haywire and erupting in friendly fire.) Others continue to man businesses and play out daily tasks as they were programmed to do over 200 years ago. Most robots are incapable of understanding anything beyond their initial programming, and most pre-War robots are completely unaware that the Great War ever happened.

When the Sole Survivor reunites with Codsworth at the ruins of their home, it seems like he, too, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He talks about tending the (dead) garden, references the (ghoulified) neighbors, and generally acts like the chipper robot butler Sole left behind on their way to Vault 111.

But there is something slightly… off in Codsworth’s dialogue here. Though he acts like the war never happened, he also specifically mentions details that suggest it did:

Player Default: Codsworth! You're still... fully operational?          

Codsworth: {Defiant} Well of course, mum. You can thank the fine engineers at General Atomics for that! At least, you could have. Had they not been... vaporized.

A bit over 210 actually, mum. Give or take a little for the Earth's rotation and some minor dings to the ole' chronometer. That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Ha ha ha. Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.

You've no idea the desperation for human contact one develops over 200 years. {Upset, recalling bad memories of encountering raiders and scavengers. / Disgust} And when you do encounter them? Oh the cruelty! You're either... target practice or... spare parts!

Even stranger, Codsworth mentions details that are plainly made-up (or some kind of delusion):

Codsworth: It's been ages since we've had a proper family activity. Checkers. Or perhaps charades. Shaun does so love that game. Is the lad... with you...?   

Player Default: Codsworth... listen to me carefully... have you seen him? Have you seen Shaun?              

Codsworth: Why, sir had him last, remember? Perhaps he's gone to the Parker residence to arrange a play-date?

(Shaun is an infant. He is too young to play charades or to go to the neighbors for a play-date.)

So at once, Codsworth does and does not acknowledge the war. He does and does not seem to understand what’s happened, and he does and does not seem to follow Sole’s urgency regarding their spouse’s death and Shaun’s kidnapping.

And then, after a speech check, Codsworth finally snaps and breaks down sobbing in despair. Not only does he understand that the war happened, he has developed the ability to get depressed about it. Longing for human contact and with nothing else to do, he’s even developed coping mechanisms to help him try to deal with his loneliness and despair—futilely trying to do his chores and deluding himself into pretending everything is completely normal.

Wait a minute. Sobbing? Despair? Depression? Coping mechanisms and delusions? This Is all pretty sophisticated stuff to be programmed into a robot, and if you spend more time with Codsworth, the reality of what’s happened to him becomes apparent:

Codsworth has evolved beyond his programming. In his 210 lonely years of existence, he has developed emotional reactions and self-awareness far beyond that of most other robots, and, indeed, has basically evolved an artificial consciousness.

“Emergent intelligence” is the theoretical ability of an AI to eventually develop something resembling human thought processes, and it seems that our dear Codsworth has undergone this. Traveling with him, he displays many sophisticated thoughts and behaviors far beyond what most robots are shown to be capable of. He has memories of pre-War time and places, and understands how various locations have changed. He is capable of learning new information and forming opinions on it, gaining his own understanding of the people and factions in the Commonwealth. He can feel happiness, sorrow, fear, disgust. He can anticipate things, predict danger and imagine how people might respond to your actions. The mere he fact he has opinions and a moral code that he applies to you shows he has free will, something even other robot companions don’t (Ada has a personality, but absolutely does not care about your actions.)

He’s also smart enough to make many wry observational jokes, and to lay one hell of a sick burn on you:

{Joking - Found an old bowling alley. / Amused} Fancy a game, mum? Something tells me the bumpers are no longer available.

 Codsworth’s intelligence is even more sophisticated than that. He displays stunning self-awareness, frequently referencing the fact he is a robot and what that means. He is very proud of his background as General Atomics’ finest, and seems pleased with his robot nature and his lot in life. (Unlike Curie, I don’t think Codsworth would ever really want to gain a synth body. He seems quite happy as he is.)

Here he is making reference to still feeling the tug of his programming:

{Seeing an office with chairs arranged in a circle. / Neutral} I've the most incredible urge to rearrange those chairs in a more perfect circle.

Understanding when other robots are restricted by theirs:

A pity. It appears Deezer's programming is too severe to allow for normal conversation. Ah well.

And when they’re actually not:

Codsworth: Greetings, sir. Good to see another robot in town. That chef hat becomes you.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?

Codsworth: Takahashi you say? I'm Codsworth, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Takahashi: Nan-ni shimasho-ka?              

Codsworth: Is that so? Well, we both know RobCo is no General Atomics. It's not surprising it failed, shoddy work and all.  {Friendly - trying to cheer up another robot. / Friendly} Chin up, though. Never know when parts may turn up.

 And here’s Galaxy Brain Codsworth ruminating on his own state of being and contemplating his nature:

{Disappointed that he can't be 100% human sometimes. / Sad} It's unfortunate that I lack the proper design to consume liquids. Something about camaraderie over a few drinks is very inviting.            

I suppose if I had the hardware, I'd have the software as well. I'd hate to see how that'd affect my honesty and manner settings.

{Reconsidering what he thought was a good idea. / Thinking} Indeed. Perhaps I should rethink my initial desire.

Hilariously, Codsworth does not seem fully aware of how remarkable his intelligence is. He occasionally says things like “if I had feelings” and “if I could feel things,” indicating that in some ways he still believes he is only a robot and defines himself by what a robot is and does.

But as we can see, our humble robot butler has essentially evolved to become the smartest, most emotionally intelligent and person-like robot in the Commonwealth*, and potentially in the series.

([SIDE NOTE: Other FO4 robots nearing Codsworth’s level of consciousness and developed personality include Captain Ironsides, KLE-O, Whitechapel Charlie, and perhaps Takahashi. Curie is close, but also receives the unfair advantage of being uploaded into a synth body with a human brain. Jezebel also functions off of a human brain. Nick is not a robot, he’s a synth (though he does jokingly refer to himself as one) and also has the advantage of a human brain encoded on his processor.])

Also hilariously, the game basically does not acknowledge Codsworth’s impressive evolution. At all. There is absolutely no direct mention of it in the script. It is all left to ambient dialogue and the player’s own observations. And because so many people overlook Codsworth as a companion, they may not even realize exactly how unique his expanded consciousness is.

Now, you might call this total lack of mention a mistake, an oversight on Bethesda’s part, or that old chestnut “bad writing.” I don’t think it is. I think it’s a deliciously subtle little detail to include in a story about humanity, machines, artificial intelligence, and what makes a person.

Many of the themes of FO4 revolve around synths—distinctly not robots, but androids, artificially created beings with fully organic human bodies. Most of the storyline factions have strong beliefs about synths and the relative humanity thereof. The Institute believes that synths are objects, tools, machines no different from a robot who are only simulating their personalities through programming. The Brotherhood believes synths are monstrous abominations, a danger to humanity itself, technology run amok which needs to be destroyed. The Railroad believes they are people. Not humans, but people, built instead of born, free-thinking beings that deserve to be treated with respect and given rights.

Through quests, dialogue, notes, worldbuilding and other venues, players explore these questions. What makes someone a person? If your personality and memories can be rewritten or programmed, then who are you, really? Where do we draw the line between humans and machines, and how do we decide who belongs where?

Meanwhile, as the player contemplates the nature of personhood and the definition of intelligence, their robot butler quietly evolves into a fully-conscious person on his own, right beside them.

Codsworth is unquestionably a machine, but also unquestionably beyond the appliance he was built to be. Which to some philosophies and players should really beg a few other questions. If a robot can be considered a person, then what makes synths so different? And how many excuses do we have to make to pretend otherwise?

Ya boy Codsworth may not be flashy, or powerful, or kissable. He may not be the most glamorous companion around. But he is a good friend, a beloved member of the family, and above all else, a loyal butler—content to serve, quietly and humbly doing his job where some may never even notice him-- or the fact that he’s casually become his own person and sent generations of roboticists and philosophers spinning in their graves.

[flowesona]

The Emperor - Yandere! Jungkook x reader

The Tarot Series

(Y/N) was freezing, and the thin material she wrapped around herself did little to help. If anything, it made her feel more pathetic. How the mighty had fallen.

It was insane to think a mere week ago she’d been reading books and eating feasts in the palace with a loving husband at her side, yet now she was stuck in an underground prison being fed barely enough to survive. All thanks to the Emperor himself.

It had started when she’d received a marriage proposal from the Emperor’s brother. Her parents, excited by the prospect of such a high status, had immediately accepted, and within a few weeks (Y/N) was married. There were many aspects to her new life that were overwhelming at first, from the copious amount of wealth and the constant need for guards, but none were quite as terrifying as the attention she received from Jungkook himself. 

The Emperor was on a whole other level of entitlement than anyone she’d ever met. For the first week of living in the palace she didn’t see him once. Supposedly he’d had an argument with his brother over the marriage, as Jungkook had yet to be married himself and thus the matrimony was severely humiliating for him. But (Y/N) had heard of how he’d scared all previous candidates away, and it was clear he didn’t believe anyone would be his equal.

However, one afternoon, he’d requested to have a meeting with her in the gardens. When she’d arrived with her husband, Jungkook had immediately asked him to leave, saying that this was private business his brother had no right in knowing. And once they were alone the questions began.

It was like Jungkook wanted to know every single thing about her life, from her childhood to her family to her hobbies. All the while his eyes scrutinised her, piercing into her soul.

“Do you love my brother?” (Y/N) had felt her heart stop at the question. She couldn’t lie to the Emperor, but she couldn’t say no. 

“I am uncertain, your imperial majesty. But I am sure that my affection for my husband will grow as our marriage perseveres.” 

“I see.” Jungkook looked slightly torn, something clearly bothering him as he dismissed her, but (Y/N) pushed the matter to the back of her mind.

That night, she woke up to the sound of a thump outside her chamber. Cautiously, she reached out for the knife that she kept hidden next to the bed in case of emergencies and climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake her husband sleeping peacefully.

When she left her chamber, she saw the cause of the sound. The Emperor was leaning against the wall, the flush across his face being evidence enough that he was heavily intoxicated.

“Are you lost, Your Imperial Majesty?” (Y/N) asked, hiding the knife away in her sleeve.

“No… I came here to see *hic* you, (Y/N)...” Jungkook mumbled, stumbling forward and looping his hands around (Y/N)’s waist, nuzzling his face into her neck. She glanced towards the guards, seeing them watching the scene passively.

“Can you please accompany His Imperial Majesty back to his bedchamber? He is clearly intoxicated and needs some rest.” (Y/N) called out to them, but Jungkook shook his head furiously.

“No! I’m not going… not without you…” She felt like she was going to be sick as the emperor started to tug at her bed clothes, hands searching for the strings to undo her nightdress. It only got worse as Jungkook started to nip at her neck, leaving behind small marks and muttering something that (Y/N) could only distinguish as “I want you.”

It was when he finally started to go further, a hand lifting up her skirt that she acted, finding the knife she’d hidden up her sleeve and brandishing it.

Then, in a hotheaded moment of pure panic and fear, she slashed at one of his invasive hands. The sight of him withdrawing, clutching the bloody hand to his chest, was at first satisfying, but then terrifying, as his eyes were filled with unfathomable fury.

“Why are you just standing there? She attacked me!” The guards jumped into action at his words, capturing (Y/N)’s arms in seconds.

“What would you like us to do with her, Your Imperial Majesty?” One of the guards asked.

“Put her in one of the cells, we can negotiate a sentence later.” Jungkook ordered, unable to hide to grin on his face. “And where is someone to attend to my hand? Quickly, before I bleed out!” 

Hearing the shouts, more people arrived at the scene, eventually causing such a ruckus that (Y/N)’s husband emerged from his room, just in time to see his wife being dragged away.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

(Y/N) had found her first night in the cell to be less than pleasant, to say the least. Thoughts of her fate kept her awake, dreading what was to come. She lost track of the hours, eventually managing to shut her eyes and sleep.

When she awoke, there was a visitor. Stood triumphantly in front of the bars, with a bandaged hand and a victorious smirk, was Jeon Jungkook.

“You look so beautiful when you sleep.” He purred. Noting the shocked expression on her face, he edged closer, slipping a hand through the bars to reach out for her touch, only for her to shrink away.

“Ah, you should not be so afraid, (Y/N). In fact, I am the one who should be afraid of you, after all.” (Y/N) shook her head, back pressed against the wall.

“You harassed me, but I am the one who is treated like a criminal. This is ridiculous.” She snapped, immediately cursing herself and her sharp witted defense. But rather than get angry, Jungkook just chuckled.

“That’s right. No matter what, I win. But, you don’t have to suffer.” He withdrew a key hanging around his neck to unlock the door, stepping inside.

“I’m sure you can tell from my… actions… last night that I need to be with you. I propose that you may become my concubine.” Jungkook seated himself on the creaky metal bed next to her, the warmth from his body being very much welcome in the cold atmosphere of the cell. He removed the long coat he was wearing and draped it around her shoulders, instantly providing relief. “I am sure that my brother does not care to see you after you attacked me last night, so you would live in my quarters, sleep with me. Rather like a marriage, except obviously we cannot-”

“No.” (Y/N) said shortly. “I’m sorry Your Imperial Majesty, but I will have to decline.”

“Why?” Instantly the Emperor was angered, standing up and shouting. “I could easily have you executed for attacking me, yet I make such a gracious offer and you decline.”

His lip curled into a snarl as he stormed away shutting the cell door with a loud bang and locking it, pulling the key around his neck once more. 

“Enjoy rotting here then. Maybe you’ll appreciate my offer when you’ve seen what your alternative is.”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

She was barely alive, she knew that much. With only Jungkook’s coat to keep her warm and a few candles on the wall outside to give her light, her days were numbered in these conditions. Of course, he made sure she was nourished, always being the one to bring her a cup of water and a measly portion of food with a taunting smirk and a reminder of his offer.

However, clearly he’d been too busy, or perhaps he was holding out on her just to make her a bit more desperate, as her stomach growled loudly in protest of her conditions.

She could only guess it was daytime when she heard someone enter the room. She barely had the energy to open her eyes, although she didn’t need to to know who her visitor was.

“I’m getting tired of this charade, (Y/N).” She finally peeled open her exhausted eyes to look at him, standing there. There was nothing in his hands at all, offering no hope to (Y/N). “I’ve been so generous to you. So this is your ultimatum. You can choose me, or death.”

She didn’t reply, feeling a sob rise up in her chest at the despair of her situation.

“It’s your choice, (Y/N). Reject me and continue to suffer, or marry me and return to the life of bliss I know that you crave so much.” Jungkook growled. “You cannot continue to disrespect me like this and face no consequences. I am your Emperor, your leader and you will love me.”

When she still stayed silent, he banged a fist against the bars.

“Do you want to die? (Y/N), you are driving me insane!” 

“Please… just stop this…” She whimpered.

“Stop this? Let you out? Gladly! So you’re finally agreeing?” Jungkook looked elated.

(Y/N) just weakly nodded as he unlocked the door, striding over to scoop up her weak form into his arms.

“I’m so glad, (Y/N). I don’t know what I could do without you in my life.”

Yet, as he barked out orders for a bath to be drawn and a hot meal prepared, all (Y/N) could think about was how blessed she would be to have never entered his life in the first place.

[arabhamlet]

why you should read the heartless divine

hello guys! i haven’t used tumblr in a while, so i hope i tag this correctly, but i really needed to write this post to promote a book i think many, many people will enjoy reading for a number of reasons, and i figured i should give it a shot.

the heartless divine is varsha ravi’s debut novel, self-published last november through amazon. it is a ya fantasy romance inspired by mythology and sangam era india, and you can purchase it as an ebook or as a physical copy on amazon.

i 100% recommend it to anyone who enjoys mythology, reincarnation/soulmates, tragic but tender star-crossed romance (and not in a generic ya way either), or just anything with complex plot, character, and relationships—which, i realize, basically means everyone, but in my defence it is really good and worth a read no matter who you are.

what’s it about?

the heartless divine follows two paralleling narratives. the first is set in the distant past, and follows suri, a princess forced into being an assassin by her warlike family, as she is betrothed to the boy king of a neighbouring land after being assigned the task to kill him once the wedding is complete, only to find her plans going off-kilter when she encounters kiran, a strange prophet who predicts his own incoming death and the catastrophe soon to occur. the second is set in modern-day, and follows a reincarnated suri, with no memories of her past life, who finds her life inexplicably tied to a changed kiran, who she does not remember but who remembers her.

the plot is a bit more complex than this, and this is really just a quick summary, but more than that it’s a story about humans and our relationships to each other, to mortality, and to fate.

i highly recommend it - it can be a little slow to start off with, but once the historical plot starts going i found it pretty much impossible to put down. even though it’s been a few months since i read it, i find myself going back to it pretty much constantly. it’s fantastic both as a ya novel to read for fun, and as something far more complex with so many themes, characters, and dynamics to unpack.

but if you need a bit more encouragement:

why should i read it?

as i mentioned, the plot is incredibly engaging. unlike a lot of ya, as well, the heartless divine is super character-based and has incredibly strong characters in its protagonists. the past storyline also has a running mystery - and the reveal at the end as to who is the real villain definitely caught me off-guard on my first read. the past storyline is also deeply tragic in many ways, hitting you emotionally to great effect, and the climax is absolutely one of the most impactful climaxes of any ya book i’ve ever read—i’m making an effort not to spoil anything while writing this, because the pure emotional punch of the climax should be read completely blind.

ravi’s writing is absolutely gorgeous. she has an incredible command over the written word and wrote some incredibly amazing prose in this book. her writing is at once poetic and also incredibly versatile, fitting into beautiful romantic declarations and sharp dialogue and tense scenes of conflict. i won’t include any massive chunks, but here are some of my favourite lines:

Where does the divinity go, then? he had asked her. She had shrugged. To the sky. That is where all divinity goes after it is dead. But the sky was too far away, and there was not enough left of him, divine or not, to guarantee safe passage on a trip so long.

She had always been afraid of hope, in the same way she figured most people were afraid of black holes. Desire was something that consumed, she knew, and to desire impossibility was to let it consume you entirely. hearts splintered with love and splintered with loss, and to fear one was to fear both—it was safer to resist them both, to draw thick, black demarcations in shining permanent marker, explicit, clear lines that gently reminded her of what could and could not be desired.

“You live as though you are already dead,” she whispered. each word sunk into him, cut through his heart with clean, sharp blades. “You live as though your life is nothing but a prerequisite for death, for true purpose. Have you ever fought to stay alive? Have you ever allowed yourself to think of life as something to love?”

They had the same fine boned face, hollow-cheeked and haunted, the same air of a saint that had burnt away to nothing and held the ashes himself. And yet, they were not the same. It was a twisted, imperfect projection—it was him, but not all of him. This was his savage divinity laid bare.

What were love stories but dreams of worlds where the sun and moon could linger beside one another long enough to learn the language of the other’s heart?

ravi also has an incredible grasp on the themes that she’s writing with. above all, the heartless divine is about humanity and what makes people human—our relationships with each other and with our own place in the world. and in my opinion, she expresses these ideas with great maturity and wisdom.

however, for the most part, the heartless divine’s greatest strength is its characters. kiran is a deeply complex character, a prophet caught between his duty to die as a martyr and his desire to make his own choices and follow what he truly loves. he has a complicated relationship to humanity, but no human more than himself, as he struggles to understand the parameters of his own humanity—the place where his mortality ends and his divinity begins. at first, the kiran of the past and the kiran of the present seem deeply separated from each other, but as the story progresses you begin to understand the tragedy of how kiran became who he is in the modern-day.

at first, suri seems like a typical ya female protagonist, but as the story progresses and she begins to let her guard down a bit more, you really start to see how interesting and complicated she is as a character. she doesn’t believe in gods or fate at the beginning of either storyline, but by the end she slowly starts to accept hope into her heart—ending in two very different ways—and advocates for ignoring fate and following the life you want, desperately searching for the happy ending that you deserve. she also has a deeply captivating character voice, and was, certainly at the beginning, my favourite of the three pov characters.

but my personal favourite character is viro, the primary antagonist of the past plotline (though—no major spoilers—he finally makes an appearance in the modern plotline very close to the end). most people i know who have read the heartless divine feel similarly about viro. ravi makes him a deeply compelling character, fleshing out his motivations and reasoning and in turn writing one of my favourite relationships in the book in his complex brotherly relationship with kiran. i don’t want to spoil much about him, but he is a really interesting character and, though technically the antagonist, is just as compelling as the protagonists.

on the same note, before i talk about the romance in the book, i have to mention viro and kiran’s dynamic, as i feel it drives the past plot in many ways and is deeply interesting. the two are adoptive brothers, and find themselves butting heads almost constantly over their different ideological stances; and though it’s clear they love each other, soon enough you start to worry if love is enough.

onto the romance, and of course i have to talk about suri and kiran, because—how could i not. they’re literal soulmates! two souls who find each other in every lifetime! they’re kindred spirits no matter what, in both past and present, two people who understand each other deeply on a metaphysical level, and no matter what their scenes together were a great joy. they’re a romance where both of them help each other grow, even when surrounded by chaos and catastrophe. here’s one of my favourite lines in the book in case you need some more explanation. this is romance.

“‘Love is dangerous, blinding,’” he quoted, voice soft against her cheeks in an empty semblance of amusement. He pulled back slightly, just enough that she could see the gentleness, the raw warmth in his gaze. The clean lack of regret. “And yet, I see you so clearly.”

it’s perhaps less explicit—but bear in mind this is the first book in a series—but ravi also sets up the dynamic between viro and his guard, companion, and best friend tarak in a way that...is practically impossible not to read as romantic. i won’t spoil it because it is something you have to see in person, but some of the most emotionally charged scenes in the novel deal with their dynamic. here’s another line for good measure. they really said we do it for the girls and the tenderyearning gays that’s it.

Tarak let out a ragged sigh, lost and despairing. Viro reached up and put a hand on his, traced the lines of his fingers. he watched him do it, entranced by the movement and saddened by it as well. Finally, he asked, “If I begged, would you stay?” Viro’s fingers stilled in their movement, suddenly hyper-aware of the way Tarak’s hands shook upon the embroidered fabric of his tunic. as if he couldn’t bear to hold him tighter, as if the mere action would wrench him away.

the world building is also incredibly well done, as is the mythology ravi sets up and the folk stories she tells. also, for good measure, ravi is an indian writer and her story is, as aforementioned, deeply inspired by sangam india. i don’t necessarily have the cultural context to interact with the worldbuilding completely, but from where i stand it’s immensely well done.

the second book in the series is currently being written, and i recommend picking up your copy of the heartless divine soon before the series continues. once again, it’s available on amazon, and here is its page on goodreads and thestorygraph in case you want to add it to your tbr!

also, for good measure, shoot me a message here or on twitter (where i normally am) if you do decide to read it and want to discuss it! for good measure, here’s one of my favourite lines from the book—just as a closing statement.

“I want to hear all of your stories,” she said, fierce as fire. “Every single one. I don’t care whether they have happy endings or not.”

[strongmumpunching]

Dick Pics and Dating

By Deborah Goldman

Being thrust into the often-bizarre world of online dating can be quite alarming. The average, unsuspecting newbie is usually unprepared for the barrage of salacious comments that can fill up their inbox.

What is worse than the outpouring of sexual innuendo, however, is the appalling level of grammar displayed by many potential suitors: . “Your hot. Want a shag?” for instance, wouldn’t be nearly as offensive if You’re had been used correctly.

I’ve been dipping in and out of the online dating world for several months now and have gotten quite adept at swiping left when I spot an ill-used apostrophe. “How’s you?” for instance, is a pet hate of mine. How is me? Me is never going out on a date with you, that’s for sure!

I realise I am a bit nit-picky, but I can’t help it. As a writer, I am constantly correcting and editing myself and the fear of using the wrong ‘their’, ‘they’re’ or ‘there’ is horribly real. Once, I spelled allowed (aloud) wrong on Facebook, and I had to crawl under the duvet in shame, for a whole week!

It’s fair to say that some dating sites are better than others (depending on your requirements) Bumble, for instance is a favourite of mine because it prevents anyone from contacting me until I have messaged them first. While this does solve the problem of unsolicited messages (and the feeling of being low-level violated) from undesirable love matches, it doesn’t guarantee you a conversation with the man of your dreams, either!

Nathan 42, for example, had a promising profile: Well-groomed, funny, interesting, and close to my own age, too. Excellent! While he did look a little young for his advancing years, I am also aware of how angles and lighting can pimp up your appearance, so I swiped right. After a few pleasantries he asked me what kind of men I like. “Ones that aren’t serial-killers, misogynists or total gits,” is my usual response to this question (because it gives any Ted Bundy’s out there, the chance to alert me to their propensity for mass-murder, before we arrange a date.) Lovely Nathan, however, didn’t strike me as any of those things. Sadly, he turned out to be a compulsive liar instead.

After about 20 minutes (20 minutes of my life that I shall never regain) of increasingly blatant, sexual innuendo, he eventually admitted to lying about his age. It turned out he was only 24, which is a whole generation younger than me. “It’s ok though,” he reassured me, “I like older women!” Naturally, I was meant to be flattered by this admission, but since I had specifically opted for men over the age of 39 in my profile settings, I felt duped. Respecting my preference had never occurred to young Nathan, who was just after a bit of Netflix and Chill with a grateful cougar!

His wasn’t the most offensive encounter I’ve experienced though. It’s the ‘Dick Pickers’ (as I like to call them) who really let the side down. Let me just be clear right here and now – and I think I can speak for most women when I say that a flaccid (or otherwise) phallus is in no way, shape or form attractive to the female eye. So, for the love of god ... please just stop!

There are, without doubt an abundance of decent men (and women) who join dating sites in order to meet their soulmate, but it really is a minefield out there, and you must learn to navigate the terrain quite skilfully in order to bag yourself a half-decent partner. In my experience, these are the profile types to be generally avoided.

Profiles with:

● No accompanying photographs (married!)

● Wearing sunglasses in every photo (something to hide).

● Only photos of their motorbike (just why?)

● A photograph of them holding a giant fish (put the damn thing back!)

It can be quite disheartening at times. In fact, I have lost count how many times I have, in despair, deleted (and then reinstalled) Plenty of Fish!

As a single mum of two young children, my spare time is like gold dust and so a potential love match must first exhibit some viable boyfriend/parental qualities before I am willing to meet with them face-to-face. Truth be known, I have only had a smattering of actual in-person dates and most of them have been unremarkable. There was, of course, the time I went out for dinner with someone and almost choked to death on a piece of chicken kebab. My date was very nice about it though, and I didn’t die, so all’s well that ends well!

Perhaps I am just too picky. Perhaps I should give Colin ‘The-Willy-Flasher’ or Gavin the ‘Show Us Your Tits’ Man, more of a chance? Granted, it is a tough one. After some intense, internal deliberation however, I think it’s fair to say that I still favour the gentleman who doesn’t wave his knob around in the public domain, over the man~child who does.

Perhaps that is why I am still single? Food for thought.

[kayincolwyn]

The Light In The Dark (Christmas reflection, 12-25-2020)

I remember in my mid 20s, while I was an active churchgoer, going to late night Christmas Eve services, all of us in the church lighting our candles (with their open-ended plastic cups surrounding the candles to keep the flames at least somewhat contained), one candle lighting another candle, one at a time, gradually lighting up the darkened sanctuary and our faces, while our pastor and our elders would lead us in prayer, and I remember in those moments sometimes feeling something I couldn’t name (even though I thought I could at the time, believing it was ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’, and to the exclusion of all other faiths, even though I still have some appreciation for the faith I have since distanced myself from) something perhaps deeper than the religious beliefs I was intellectually assenting to at that time (because I thought I needed to to fit in), some deeper longing underneath the doctrine and the dogma, an aching for something transcendent or even infinite, something that was both beyond us but also somehow within us, part of us, and we of it, and not just some of us but all of us.

Looking back now I question much of what I was told I should believe back then, having walked away from the evangelical Christian world because I ended up being wounded and disillusioned by it in many ways (though when thinking on what I learned from that experience and where it led me, as difficult as it was mentally and emotionally at times, I don’t believe I would go back and change it if I could, because it’s still an important part of who I am today) and yet that longing and aching remains inside of me still, and I believe it is in many of us if not all of us, and whether we may be religious or not, and the symbol of a candle burning in the dark, my own with many more, still speaks to me. Over the last year the world has had to face a global pandemic that has taken coming up on two million lives thus far, and has brought suffering and loss in some form or another to millions or even billions more by effecting the world economy and burdening much of the global psyche with a daily dose of anxiety and uncertainty (added to the anxiety and uncertainty that each of us has to deal with already on an individual and collective level), and along with the pandemic there has been political and social upheaval and turmoil here in America and in other parts of the world that sometimes can feel greater than it has ever been before, or at least has been for a long time, or at least in my lifetime, and all of this, when you really think about it, dwell on it, can make it feel like the times are very dark indeed. I think making a joke of how horrible 2020 has been for so many of us (to one degree or another) has become a widespread cultural meme because being inane sometimes keeps us from going insane, because sometimes our laughter is easier for us to handle than our tears. I could try to go into the details of this time, give my views on the pandemic and on some of the political and social issues of the day, but I’ve tried to do that in previous reflections, and really we hear about it enough in the news, and while it’s important to try to keep at least moderately informed, sometimes it can just be too much and we need a break, and more than that we need something to counter all the reminders of division and sorrow and pain that exist in our world, we need to counter the weight of it all, maybe find some reminders of unity and joy and love in our world to balance things out a bit, find some light in the dark to hold onto. I have found these reminders and this light in things that are too easily taken for granted like food and clothing and shelter, a steady job, or the love and support of family and friends, as well as simple pleasures like reading and watching movies and listening to music, taking a warm shower or laying in a warm bed, getting out of the rain or gazing up at the stars, and so many things. Of course not everyone has what I have, and I am aware of that, aware that I have certain advantages and gifts that others don’t possess in a too often unfair and unjust world where no one should be in want and yet so many are... and there are many who go without food or clothing or shelter, many who are unemployed, many who find themselves without love and support, many who have few pleasures and comforts that they can name, and while feeling guilty for what I have isn’t helpful or necessary, I know that I should be grateful for it and understand that in some ways I’m fortunate, and that I can try to help others where I can so I can make the world a little better (and trying to figure out what ways I can do that, make the world a little better, as flawed and fallible as I am, is something I wrestle with often). Sometime later today (probably sometime in the afternoon because the Wiley clan are generally not morning people) my working class family and I will open our gifts under our decidedly fake and yet ever so shiny and pretty (and that’s really all that matters when it comes to Christmas trees I would think) little blue Christmas tree, and likely there will be a little drama (as is often the case around the holidays as we all know too well), but also likely there will be a little love (which thankfully is often the case around the holidays), which is partly why I still appreciate Christmas even after all these years and even moving further and further away from the innocence of childhood and my faithful letters to Santa, and in spite of all the commercialism surrounding it, and in spite of this being one of the darkest years in memory, because it can be a reminder of the good and of the light. Of course this is just my experience of Christmas, and of life in general, as again not all are so fortunate, and some view Christmas (or even life in general) with so much cynicism and even disgust and I can’t say that I completely blame them for it when looking around at the world there are so many reasons to be cynical and disgusted, and unless you have blinders on you can’t really argue that. And yet I can’t help but cling to my little candle in the dark, the light that life brings me and maybe even the light I can give (as hard as that may be sometimes as flawed and fallible as I am), and look for the candles of those around me and see how they shine, trying to remember those things that make our lives worth living or at least make them bearable, like the simple enjoyment of our hobbies and interests, or the beauty of art or of nature, or the kindness of family and friends and even of strangers, but also those moments when we feel that longing and aching for something more, something that I’ve felt is with us from birth and throughout our lives and until our deaths and perhaps beyond, something that connects all of us on some deeper level that we can’t fathom, that somehow goes beyond the doctrines and dogmas of religion or politics or society or culture which can never make everything clear or get everything right, something that lights up our faces as well as our hearts, that we may try to give a name to but cannot wholly contain in our labels or definitions, as its flame is so great and powerful that the silly plastic cups of our assumptions and expectations cannot contain it, though our little candle flames, as insignificant as they may seem, are a reflection of and a channel for that fire. But even though I no longer believe that we can truly name and define this greater light, this brighter flame, that connects us, let alone contain it, I do find myself believing that (because sometimes I think we can point to the truth, whatever it may be, even while we are stumbling in the dark and there may always be more that we don’t know than what we do know), as the Advent season leading up to Christmas points to, that it has something to do with things such as hope, peace, joy, and love. And we need these things, and in times like this most especially, we need reminders that our world isn’t only filled with ugliness and terror only but also with beauty and wonder, isn’t only despair but is also hope, isn’t only fear but is also peace, isn’t only sorrow but is also joy, isn’t only hate but is also love, and that there is light that can keep the dark at bay.  Of course I can only speak for myself, and I don’t know exactly what the future will bring, and sometimes the thought of it frightens me I admit, even overwhelms me, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that, and yet I keep holding on as best I can, holding to the good, holding to the light. Wherever you are right now, and whoever you are, may you find some hope, some peace, some joy, and some love to hold to in this time, and may you find light to carry you through the dark.

[mamusings]

Having let the 15 x 18 percolate I started to watch again s23 and ep 1-6 of 15. Basically everything available. I'd gotten tired of feeling toyed with and feeling gaslit when trying to get confirmation from reviews for what I felt I was seeing. Ita very rarely in the dialogue but just in the eye lines and symbolically sometimes in the parallel plots.

Anyway: season 14 is a joy really. The beothere have grown up. I had been dishing the endless desperate loop of I d die for you wearing thin. Sam is basically cooked. A leader in the best sense (using his intelligence and his empathy). Dean accepts it even tho it's a bit new to him not being the boss. (The dialogue on chief)

We get that recognition more explicitly here that I found in my reviews of the early seasons that these are 2 very different men but now they have a degree of comfort and space in that that eluded them. They allow each other to be.

Which brings me to my predictions. Sam may be cooked but Dean isnt. Hes still not worked out who he is and how to have what he wants (cas basically).

So is Dean in love with Cas. Absolutely, i think this has been shown in subtext much more clearly than is Cas in love with Dean (I mean romantically/sexually). With Cas we see loyalty, devotion and affection. For an angel what does love mean? I was never quite sure. Does he want an actual relationship with Dean?

Dean's easier hes clearly incredibly attracted excited fascinated by cas in the initial phase. Then you get the affection, the liking, protectiveness. High point purgatory. Also devotedness.

In later seasons we get heartbroken widower and the co-parents/husbands. Plus their fights start to look more like a bickering couple that anything else.

So I am absolutely convinced that Dean is in love with cas.

But how aware is Dean of how he feels? I think hes so scared if being rejected by cas he can barely admit this to himself. Its telling Michael doesnt know how Dean feels about Cas. Theres lots of gay couples in the background by s23 early e15. I'd say it's an indicator Dean knows hed like to be with cas. Theres been no on screen hook ups for Dean (although there are references). But what we get now is acknowledging that a large part of Dean's flirting is social behaviour rather than sexual intent. It's nice, its charming but he doesnt mean it. (Pamela). So at some level Dean knows he wants to be together with Cas. He knows what he has with Cas. (Telling John he has a family - ok that goes wider than Cas but in my view early spn is Dean trying to grown beyond his father having the white picket fence and the girl always felt like something Dean felt he should want rather than something he really did want. The relationship with lisa is framed with lots of doing the chores and proper manly chores at that)

But I do think Dean knows how he feels. We are back to him having dialogue with Sam (Jess even comes up) with that typical early destiel trope of shots of Dean where I think the implication is that Dean is thinking about the same subject matter in relation to cas.

Sam knows but I think the malak box incident re Dean shows us that Sam knows when not to push Dean. He offers opportunities to open up but he doesnt push his brother. Like I said they get each other better now. It's not like when john dies and sam is pushing and pushing for a conversation. Now as cas and Dean's relationship falls apart we get a lot of pained reaction shots from sam. Just like we sometimes get the oh just kiss already smirk in earlier seasons. Sam doesn't understand why this relationship doesnt progress but he respects both cas and dean and doesnt meddle. I think when dean comes our Sam will be pivotal support.

What's interesting is that e15 as far as I have seen it seems to mirror early spn. Dean is mirroring his father. Obsessed with revenge at all costs. Neglecting love and relationships. The brothers are regressing into their old.relationship patterns under stress of mary dying with Dean taking up his rage filled leadership.role again. But the wierd thing is the endless we dont have a choice. Its tfw they have choice, they are all about choice. In fact Cas is choice embodied. He shouldn't have choice but he does. And over the seasons since the soul consumption he has grown remarkably in handling choices. To the extent that at the end of s14 he no longer refers to Dean's choice making on Jack. That's happened before with Kelly but then it was more ambiguous cos it got Cas dead. Then it was faith, he believes I Jack. With the malak box and Jack its ethics. Cas has grown up. Right through s14 its striking how wise he is, how he draws on experience and knowledge to counsel those around him.

I think there is a sharing of power, of burden, to come. The narrative of we shoulder all this so everyone.else can live the cute life we cant will be transformed. Basically buffy final season.

Cas professing his love for Dean. And by preparing what he wants is something he cant have I think is a totally non ambiguous profession of romantic and sexual love. He has friendship with Dean, he has family. What cas thinks he cant have is more that that. So without the fear of rejection Dean's wall can come down. I'm not sure how aware he is of what he feels because Dean can ne a dumbass, but he definitely feels it. Sam knows and will help once Dean opens up. That will take a while because Dean doesnt open up easily.

And finally a comment on the crying which oddly isnt in many of the fan vids. I think jensen is a great actor when it comes to emotional crying scenes. But we should appreciate that so far we have had weeping - tear tracks slowly with big exposition or dealing with grief wiping at his eyes. Or the meltdown, high octane crying very distressed generally life or death shit with Sam and a lot of emotion. We have never seen Dean crying into his hands like that. Curled up, despairing. I think that's another indicator that Dean absolutely knows how he feels about cas.

One final thing. Cas will be back, we wont have Dean at the end of spn with6the person he loves. Either in this world.or another its gonna happen.

Another thing I suspect is that we see with jack that while cas is the great reliable advice parent he cant bond as quickly emotionally as Dean. Its Dean who, when hes minded has the talent of emotional connection in a way cas and sam dont. The fishing expedition shows us that. Dean has the most trou ped connection to Jack, hes hated him wanted him dead. But hes also the one who gets the sunlit upland of fishing. Same as cas is the one who loves unconditionally when Mary is killed. He hugs jack. So when dean is ready to love cas publicly i think it wont be a huge thing of awkward shuffling feet. It'll be Dean doing what hes good at, loving people, but doing it with cas.

Ok I've only watched til episode 6. Gonna avoid spoilers from noe on and cross my fingers. Cant wait to watch it all.

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 49)

Description: Tahira continues to fight her way out of her own head. 

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 49 : A Breath of Water

Grayson

I hold Tahira's hand while the nurse slips the IV needle into her vein, even though she probably can't even feel the prick. She doesn't move at all. Not even a twitch.

The first scan they did of her brain revealed that the blood flow was normal. But there was no explanation as to why she hasn't woken up yet. I don't know whether that surprises me or not. If it really was something on the knife, some kind of poison, is that ever going to show up on a brain scan? Either way, they've decided to do another scan. One that's supposed to measure her brain activity. PET scan, I think. They say they can use it to accurately predict which coma patients are likely to wake up.

I squeeze Tahira's hand, kissing her fingers. She looks so perfect, lying in her hospital bed with her dark hair spread over the pillow, smooth and silky thanks to her mother's careful brushing thirty minutes ago. Except for the tubes and hoses, she looks like she's sleeping.

“My sleeping beauty,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “...I wish you would wake up...”

The nurse puts a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. We gotta leave her alone for awhile so the tracer can go through her system. It's better if she doesn't have any stimulation while that's happening.”

“...You think me being here actually stimulates anything?”

“In the best case scenario, it absolutely does. And since that's what we're hoping for, that's the assumption I'm acting on.”

Tahira

I'm not tired as I climb the path up the mountain, and that still startles me every time I realize it. ...Can I even be startled in this space? I reach what appears to be the top of the mountain, and I am standing on a small circle of rock barely large enough for both my feet that pokes up like an island through an ocean of soft, white clouds. The clouds look soft and fluffy, like piles of cotton balls. I want to dive into them and feel their softness against my skin—even though I know from personal experience that I'll probably just get wet. And possibly fall to my death, since I can't fly in this space. But...maybe I can't die in this space, either. And, I'm here now, standing on a tiny space on top of a mountain. What exactly am I supposed to do now?

Before I can really stop myself, I have taken the step off the edge. I plunge through fluffy, cottony sea foam into a warm ocean. I breathe saltwater and it feels as easy as breathing air. I hear a voice call my name. A sexless voice that comes through the waves and sounds like music. I swim toward it, gliding as easily as I fly through the air in the real world. Something that looks like the sun glimmers overhead, making the water around me shine. Ahead, something waits for me in the water. The rippling waves distort its shape, but the color of it is overwhelmingly red.

I think in the back of my mind, I know what's there even before I get close enough to actually see. Sure enough, as I approach, the thing takes on a human shape. Two legs, two arms, and a head—all concealed within a red spacesuit. ...I've never met the Endless before. But I know who she is.

“...Endless. Are you here to show me how I can wake up and help Alodia? Help...a version of you?”

“I am here to help. But I warn you that I cannot help the way you want me to. I am forever bound by the laws that govern the physical flow of time. If I break them, I will do more harm than good.”

“I'm in no position to turn down help.”

“Then follow me.”

Rochelle

“What exactly are you trying to tell me, doctor?”

They've called in a neurologist to assess Tahira. She's had at least two scans to determine why she isn't waking up. So far, though, the man seems to have taken a lot of words to say not very much at all.

“What I am trying to tell you, Ms. Rogers, is that there is no reason to despair. Your daughter's brain is active. Very active. In all the right ways. Coma patients with similar levels of brain activity recover consciousness within a year more than eighty percent of the time.”

I fold my arms. “...Are you saying that my daughter is in a coma?”

The doctor hesitates. “She does exhibit many symptoms consistent with a coma diagnosis. However, there are no obvious organic causes. And...” He leans over Tahira and lifts her eyelid slowly to shine his light pen at her pupil. “Her light reflexes are normal. When I lift her eyelid, she resists. And when I release it, her eye closes completely and quickly.”

“So...what does that mean?”

“My assessment is that it is most likely a psychogenic coma. That is, a temporary period of disassociation, possibly caused by psychological trauma related to the attack.”

“...'Temporary'...”

“Yes. Most of the time patients wake up fairly promptly after general anesthesia is stopped. Often when they fail to wake up, it's due to residual effects from the drugs. Sometimes, it's neurological or metabolic. And sometimes, it's psychological. Tahira is neurologically intact, and her bloodwork is all clear.”

“So...what do we do?”

“We wait. Keep assessing her regularly, wait for a change. Right now, there is little else we can do.”    

Jake

“Lundgren wasn't where we left him. The prevailing theory is that one of his goons found him and got it out, but there's not much of a trail if that's the case. It's...not looking like Alodia and Diego are on the island, either. They've got the coast guard circling, though, in case anything tries to land there. The Vaanti are still lying low for the most part, but Seraxa has a few warriors combing the jungle. I don't know if they can hide themselves like they used to when Vaanu's crystals were still part of the island, but Seraxa seems to think it's an acceptable risk.”

I can't look at Sean as he talks. I stare out the window of my hospital room. The view overlooks the hospital grounds, with the Santo Domingo skyline on the horizon. He seems to be waiting for an answer, but when I don't give him one after a moment or two, he goes on.

“Zahra and Iris have been analyzing the recording from that AI. Iris was able to confirm that the voice print was Alodia's. But most of it was spliced together from recorded voice samples. Like...the time lady that you used to be able to call.”

“'Most of it'...”

“...Huh?”

I keep my eyes on a not-particularly-interesting office building in the distance. “You said 'most of it' was spliced. ...I have a guess where it wasn't.”

Sean hesitates just long enough to confirm that I'm right even before he says, “...Yeah.”

“So where did that part come from?”

“Zahra says she doesn't know that yet. The parts where...Galatea...broke character...those were whole samples, not splices. Iris can figure out that much. But where and when they were recorded? That's gonna take longer to figure out.”

Now I turn to look at him. “What kinda time do you think we have, Sean? She could give birth any day. If Rourke gets his hands on our kid...”

“I know, buddy. I know.”

“...I wanna be there. I wanna be there when my daughter is born.”

He doesn't say anything. What the hell can he say to that? Everyone I know is gonna do everything in their power to get my wife back to me ASAP. Doesn't mean I can rest easy. Not until she's back in my arms.

“...Do you know when you're getting out of here?”

“A day or two. They want to keep me for observation awhile. ...Then I guess I oughta go back to California. ...Or stay here and look after Mike. Don't wanna leave him alone here. ...Don't suppose you two are continuing the honeymoon where you left off.”

“With Alodia and Diego still missing? Of course not. Michelle wants to go back to work early.”

I snort, a rueful, mirthless laugh. “Tell her it's outta the question. She just went through a kidnapping for fuck's sake.”

“You're suggesting I try to tell Michelle what to do?”

“Okay, yeah. I see how that's a bad idea.”

“...She needs to feel useful. And...truthfully right now, it may be that the best way she can help us get Alodia and Diego back is by being at work.”

I feel the frown settle onto my mouth and forehead as I stare at him. “...You don't just say a thing like that without having something to back it up.”

“Tahira was attacked. About the same time as all of us were abducted. She had emergency surgery, but she hasn't woken up yet. ...Before she went under, she managed to get across that the one who attacked her was a Vaanti.”

Caleb

It's probably stupid as hell for me to keep coming back to the compound where Tahira and I were once prisoners. The cops are probably still looking for me, and the compound being the site of a stabbing, they probably aren't far off. Though, truth be told, I'm not sure if they've actually managed to figure out where she was actually stabbed.

Thing is, I find myself wanting answers. I want to know who decided to stick a maybe-poisoned knife in Tahira. I got a nagging feeling whoever it was knows her identity. In the dark, with a flame dancing on my fingertips to light my way, I follow the spotty trail of dried blood from inside the compound to the alley where the initial splatter seems to be and stare at the stain on the filthy concrete.

Avanti...who the hell is Avanti? Sounds like some pop diva wannabe. I'd say a pop diva wasn't capable of leaving this kind of mess in an alley, but I'm old enough to remember Haley Rose.

“You're not going to be able to hide forever.” The taunting purr is unmistakably Gigi. I grit my teeth, but I don't turn to face her right away. “You have to realize that sooner or later, the cops are going to find you.”

Don't ask me why this is the straw that breaks the camel's back. But whatever the reason, I can't take it anymore. I whip around and lunge at Gigi, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall, a fireball in my free hand poised threateningly over her. The dancing orange light reflects genuine fear in her eyes as she grasps my wrist in both hands. At the moment, I'm too pissed to enjoy it.

“I've had e-fucking-nough of your bullshit, Gi,” I snarl. “You can threaten me with your child army or the cops all you fucking want, because right now, all your underworld power and influence, all your loyal followers all mean jackshit compared to my hand on your throat and this fireball over your head, so start fucking talking, bitch!”

Her eyes flick from my face to the flames licking my hand and back again. I feel her squirm, but I've got her pushed high enough that her toes barely touch the concrete.

“What—should I talk—about?” she finally gasps. I pull back just enough to give her a little more air.

“What do you know about what happened here?!”

She smirks, even as I feel her hands trembling on my wrist. “I know Dragonness can bleed.”

So she does know Tahira's identity. I tighten my grip again, bringing the flames a little closer to her skin. They lick upward enough that I am not worried about causing any damage I don't intend, but I see the sweat blooming on her forehead. I press my face in closer.

“...Who's Avanti?”

Her eyes widen. “...What?”

“Avanti. Is she one of yours? Someone new?”

“...Where...did you...hear that?”

“Tahira said it was Avanti who stabbed her! Who is that?!”

“...So. …The plot...thickens...”

I shake her, hard enough that she lets out a strangled yelp. “I told you to talk, bitch!”

“Avanti isn't a name!” she shrieks breathlessly, struggling against my grip. “It's...not...coincidence!”

“What's not?!”

“Any of it! Same day Dragonness is attacked, Alodia Chandler is abducted, and Silas Prescott escapes!”

“Yeah, that doesn't seem like coincidence. So what do you know about it?”

“Barely more than you, I would wager,” she croaks against another increase in pressure from my hand. “...But I know that Avanti is not a name. It's a thing. A creature. From La Huerta.”

“...What kind of creature?”

I feel a hand come down on my shoulder, gently but firmly. I spare a glance, and the hand on my shoulder shines golden brown in the light from my flame.

“That's enough, Caleb,” Talos murmurs. “Let her go.”

“Fuck that! Not until she tells me what she knows!”

“There's nothing she could tell you right now that I couldn't also tell you.”

I sneer, tightening my grip. “What about her plot to steal the Prism Crystal?”

“It clearly hasn't been set in motion yet, since the Prism Crystal is secure. And trying to get the plan out of her is likely going to prove an exercise in futility. There are more important things to worry about at the moment.”

I want to argue, how the fuck is the Prism Crystal not important? ...But it's not. Not when compared to finding Tahira's attacker. I slowly release Gigi and let the flame on my hand go out. Gigi staggers back from me, coughing and rubbing her throat. I can see I've left marks. She's not gonna forgive me for that. But right at this moment, she's looking at me with genuine fear and I can finally feel a twinge of satisfaction for it. Of course, she does her best to disguise it as quick as she can.

“Looks like I've got my own knight in shining armor,” she sneers, her voice hoarse. “Too bad he appears to be running with a traitor.”

“You should be the one running, Gi,” I snarl. “Before I change my mind about letting you go.” As I summon flames to my palms for emphasis, her eyes widen. She closes her mouth and slinks into the shadows without another word. I let the flames die and lower my hands, turning to glare at Talos. He sighs.

“Don't give me that look. Interrogating her would have cost us time we don't have.”

“You can't know that she isn't involved!” I growl.

“Of course she's involved. Even if it's indirectly. She was on La Huerta at the same time as Alodia. But look me in the eye and tell me that you think she would give up any information in a timely manner?”

“I could have burned it out of her,” I mutter.

“Torture is unreliable,” he replies simply. “...The Prism Crystal is secure. You can take my word on that.”

“Why should I?” I'm just being stubborn at this point. I don't know why the hell Talos would lie about that.

“...Because if it's lost, I lose my source of liquid prism. And liquid prism is what's going to save me if you ever decide to stick a flaming sword through my gut again.”

“...Fine. Fair point. ...So what now, huh? How do we find this Avanti thing?”

“First of all, it's not Avanti. It's a...Vaanti. Two words. ...Let's go somewhere private, Caleb. I think it's time to explain.”

Jake

Rebecca and my folks show up in the small hours of the morning. They have Varyyn with them, his hologram disguise in place. They try to sneak into my hospital room to avoid disturbing me, but it's not like I can sleep anyway. Varyyn hangs back while my parents tearfully embrace me, but I watch him through the space between their heads, and I can see his tepid expression.

“Hey, Varyyn,” I murmur after my parents and sister have given me a moment to breathe. “...How are you holding up?”

Varyyn twitches slightly, and I see a guilty flush creep into his cheeks. “...I am glad to see you are safe, Jake...” He trails off, looking away.

“...But I ain't your spouse, am I.” I offer him a sympathetic smile. “...I ain't mine, either.”

His mouth twists miserably, his eyes shimmering. “...They are together,” he whispers. “They must be together.”

“God, I fucking hope so...” I look desperately at my sister. “Tell me the cops got something, Bex. Anything...”

“There is something. ...One of Alodia's students came forward. Said she had been waiting to be picked up after class and Alodia was waiting with her to go to lunch with a friend. ...She gave a description of the woman Alodia left with. Said Alodia called her 'Jeanine,' and that she didn't seem happy to see her.”

I try not to show disappointment. Three people in this room were already aware of this information, but as far as my folks know, this should be a new development. I hope I can blame my lukewarm reaction on the concussion. The odds are probably better if I can manage to say something to convince them I didn't know the kidnapper's identity already.

“...The only Jeanine I can think of that we know is someone I used to serve with. She was there on La Huerta, and she was definitely hostile to Alodia, but...” What did we all agree happened to her? What did Mike and I say at Lundgren's trial all those years ago. “...We thought she was dead.”

“Varyyn told them that the name was familiar,” Rebecca says, giving me a meaningful look behind our parents' backs. “That you had mentioned her as someone from your Navy days you had fallen out with. But since he wasn't there on La Huerta, he doesn't know the whole story.”

Oh, is that the story we're going with? Seems fucking weird to think of Varyyn being from anywhere but La Huerta, but I guess now that he has a fake ID and he can mingle in the real world, he's got to have another backstory.  

“...There is one other thing,” Rebecca continues. “Whoever took Diego and Alodia, they were prepared. For the most part, they managed to stay off the security cameras both at the college and the dance school. ...But not entirely.”

That does make me snap to attention. Well, as much as I can in a hospital bed. “So there's footage?”

“There's footage of what the police believe is the ambulance they drove. Enough frames between the two sets of security footage to get a license plate. The vehicle hasn't been found yet, but...”

“...But it's something.”

It's enough to keep hope alive, even if it feels like fear is suffocating it. Fear can't really smother hope, though. As long as I am afraid, I still have hope. It's when fear starts to turn to despair that I'll have really lost hope. When I start grieving Alodia and Diego instead of being afraid that I will have to grieve them in the future.

“...When you're discharged,” my mother speaks up, covering my hand with hers, “would you like us to take you back to California? Or would you rather come stay with us until there's more information?”

I shake my head. “...The moment there's a real credible lead, I'll be wherever my wife most needs me to be. ...But for now, I can't leave Mike. Not until I know he's okay.”

“It's up to you, of course. We can get a hotel room for awhile. But they did tell us that his family has been informed.”

I hum noncommittally. Of course I trust Mike's family to look after him when they get here. But I still don't want to leave without word of Alodia. ...How can I think about going anywhere until I know where she is? Without her, I'm adrift. I'm spinning my wheels in a blizzard, and I can't even see the road ahead, even if I could get myself unstuck.

Tahira

“So...are you actually the Endless? Or are you just a manifestation of...some aspect of me that's taken on the form of the Endless?”

The red-clad old woman does not look back at me as we slog together through what has become a mucky swamp, thick with vines, water plants, and algae.

“A little bit of both. Vaanu is communicating with you mentally. I am an alternate version of Alodia, who is essentially a manifestation of some aspect of Vaanu. Unlike the Alodia you know, however, I never lived as a human in this world. I am the Alodia who was born of Vaanu's energy and my Catalysts' needs. But I never gave myself back to Vaanu, so I never merged the timelines, and thus I was never reborn on earth as the child of human parents. I am the Alodia who never lived in California. Who never attended Hartfeld. ...I am the Alodia who rejected Vaanu, and yet I am now the Alodia who is joined with him.”

“...That was...a long-winded answer. But surprisingly straightforward. That's not to say that I totally understand, but I was expecting you to be more...cryptic.”

“Unfortunately, this straightforwardness cannot last. ...I do not know where Alodia is, and neither does Vaanu. All we have is scattered knowledge to impart to you that may or may not help you find her. In fact, my main purpose here is to help you purge the poison from your body.”

“What kind of poison is it?”

“An ancient kind. Something toxic to those from the Crystal Dimension.” She pauses, turning toward me. “Have you ever been baptized, Tahira?”

“Baptized? No. My mom was never religious, and I never got into it either. ...I did see a friend of mine get baptized once...”

We were teenagers, I remember, and she invited most of the girls in our class, and I went mostly because it meant something to someone I considered a friend. Her church had a baptismal pool, and she and the other baptismal candidates waded in one by one to speak their vows, dressed in loose white robes. Then their pastor covered their face with a towel, took them in his arms, and rocked them back into the water while speaking the ritual words before drawing them up again. The ceremony meant nothing to me, but it was interesting to watch. Before I can ask the Endless why she wanted to know, I get my answer when she takes me in her arms and gets my legs out from under me to immerse me in the water around us. But I don't have the benefit of a cloth over my face, and the Endless doesn't seem to be drawing me up again. I try to find my footing, to get my head above the water, but she isn't letting me. Or something else isn't letting me. Either way, I start to panic. But then I remember my experience earlier, and I slowly still. Cautiously, I take a breath. Water flows smoothly into my lungs, and out again, easy as air.

“Good,” the Endless says soothingly. “Just breathe. Relax. Listen. Watch.”

I try to do as I'm told. In one of my middle school art classes, we made an optical illusion toy out of a circle of cardboard and two pieces of string. On one side of the cardboard was a picture of a bird, and on the other was a birdcage. The strings attached to opposite edges of the cardboard circle, and when you wound up the string and spun the toy, the images flipped so quickly that the bird seemed to appear inside the cage. Watching the images flashing in front of me on the surface of the water feels like watching that little bird hop into the cage. Or maybe like thumbing clumsily through a flip book where some of the pages are out of order.

I see the Endless with her helmet down, flames dancing above the skeletal claw that is her bionic right hand. I see Caleb superimposed over her, and they both close their right fists to extinguish the flames. I see Minuet holding out her hand to extend a slow-motion field over an unseen opponent. Then she morphs into Alodia, wearing a haunted expression as she holds out her hand and the wind that was stirring her yellow hair stills. I see a massive tree that I think must be Elyys'tel pulsing with light. And then the light fades and the tree withers as the sky turns gray, but lights are flashing in wild neon colors behind it. The images start coming faster. I can't keep track of them. But some do get through. Vaanti. Blue-skinned males and verdant females, dressed in masks and leafy garments, with tattoos decorating their powerful, glistening bodies. Then they're gone. Replaced by a steampunk-looking tribe who hunker around a fire in a post-apocalyptic desert, their pointed teeth tearing into the raw flesh of some unfortunate animal, blood sluicing down their chins.

...Anachronists...those are Anachronists! I mean, Alodia never told me they had fangs and ate raw animals, but...the steampunk outfits give them away. I open my mouth to say as much to the Endless. But now there's a problem.

...Suddenly, I can't breathe.

[moonshinelouis-archive]

fine line analyses

these are thoughts; my thoughts. if you don’t agree please be reasonable and just ignore.

tumblr fucking ate this post so here i am. rewriting it all.

tw: i talk about alcohol, drugs, grief, and death

the album in general uses the extended metaphor of yellow. the colour is mentioned in nearly every song and i’ll explain why or why not later. the yellow is hope, happiness, and all things nice but as all archetypes it has a ‘dark’ side; it means cowardice and/or deceit. it also seems to follow the hero’s journey which is interesting.

side a: love/light vs dark. exposition.

golden begins the album already in sunshine; in happily vibes imo. gold is the ultimate illuminated colour, so to use it is... the next level, especially as the album opener. “take me back to the light / i knew you were way too bright for me” are ideas that come back in lights up. i love the juxtaposition in this song: “hold [the golden (light)], focus, hoping,” and then a couple lines later, “i’m hopeless, broken”; showing that at the same time, he’s hopeful and hopeless. i love that he alludes, in the entire song, that his person is the sun but he never says it outright: “you wait for me in the sky / [your light] browns my skin just right / you’re so golden,” which come back in sunflower. “i know that you’re scared / because hearts get broken / because i’m so open” immediately made me thing of strong. both he and his lover overwhelm each other at times: “you were way too bright for me,” “you’re scared / because i’m so open”; but ultimately this is a song about devotion: “i don’t wanna be alone / loving you’s the antidote.”

watermelon sugar doesn’t have anything outright yellow; however, the entire lyrics are rooted in imagery surrounding summer which inherently involves a sunny, especially when he calls out that it’s “warm,” that there are “berries,” that it’s “the end of June,” so my point stands. this song has already been analysed, i think, so i’m not gonna go too into it; in a nutshell, it’s the sweetest of loves. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening” calls to we made it’s “remember how it tasted / looking into your eyes,” and the absolutely feral warm image of tasting moments makes me crazy...the tenderness..oh god.. “it sounds just like a song” comes back in many other tracks; in sunflower, “plant new seeds in the melody” -- try to find new beginnings in the music -- and also “want you more than a melody.” harry says this one was “the hardest one to finish” which could suggest ongoing events.

adore you has yellow in “honey” and “lemon” and hidden in “summer skies” and “brown skin.” thematically, this song is the same as watermelon sugar; devotion. “walk in your rainbow paradise” -- a rainbow is renewal, promise; a gateway, the calm after the storm. to be with his lover is to walk in paradise, away from all evil. though their lack of communication plagues them, it can sometimes be how they find their peace: “you don’t have to say you love me / nothing / [that] you’re mine.” “i’d walk through fire for you” reminded me of happily and through the dark. 

lights up, too, has already been discussed at length; “what do you mean? / i’m sorry by the way / i’m never coming back down / can’t you see / i could but it wouldn't stay?” will speak volumes to anyone who’s been closeted, even if nothing extreme. “i’m never coming around / it’d be so sweet / if things just stayed the same” would be the melancholy and fear of watching those you love slip away because of something you can’t change; and, even if it doesn’t, there will always be the little things that change, like how you’re perceived. “all the lights couldn’t put out the dark / running through my heart” is one of my favourite lines; it speaks of the things within himself he’d rather hide, and yet, all the pride he’s told to have does nothing to erase his bitterness towards the feeling -- internalised homophobia/transphobia. however -- “step into the light / so bright sometimes / i’m not ever coming back” -- as overwhelming, as scary, as engulfing as it all may be... it’s much better to be in the light than in the dark; back to golden. the yellow in this song is in the ‘light.’

side b: complete abstinence of yellow. abyss.

cherry presents vibrant red rather than yellow, perhaps to illustrate the glossy jealousy he expresses in this song, and possibly to say he is angry despite sounding defeated. thematically similar to woman. i don’t think this song is dismissible because its aspects all come back: “gallery” is again in sunflower; “don’t call me baby” returns in to be so lonely. “there’s a piece of you in how i dress” reminded me of “painted nails make harry beautiful” :’) also, “your accent” is pretty loud. if anything is to be said about the ending, is that it’s in the “language of love.”

falling is very clearly the death in the hero’s journey; the lowest point from which he could only rebirth. again there are communication issues: “forget what i said / it’s not what i meant”; “we’ve run out of things we can say.” and then there’s rediscovery: “what am i now?” he asks, after having asked the listeners if they know who they are; and his despair seems tied to insecurities -- “what if i’m someone i don’t want around? / what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? / what if you’re someone i just want around?” (notice the flip of pronouns in the last two; switching the blame. harry and louis seem to do that a lot; the blame is passed from one to another in songs. he blames himself in this one, though: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.”) the biggest insecurity lies in the line: “i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again,” in which harry just wants.. to be needed; to be loved and to be in love. overall he’s asking for redemption, whatever of.

to be so lonely is still sad, but obviously a rise; a rebirth. “don’t blame me for falling / i was just a little boy / don’t blame the drunk caller / i wasn’t ready for it all / you can’t blame me, darling / not even a little bit / i was away / and i’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry” -- the opening verse is just all excuses, all flimsy at best; pushing the blame around. “i was just a little boy” had me screaming; “don’t blame the drunk caller” is distancing himself as far away as possible even though....that’s him, drunk-calling; he said so in falling: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.” the last one is not even trying; he just straight up says he’s arrogant.. lol. again he’s rooting onto insecurites: “i just hope you see me / in a little better light” asks his lover not to only see him as the stupid little boy who became a needy and arrogant drunk caller; and again he pleads for mercy with rather nonsensical logic: “do you think it’s easy? / being of the jealous kind?” overall, these three songs together could be interpreted as a breakup, though the romantic songs in the album would support better that there have been really rough patches in their relationship; specifically times in which they were caught in untimely scheduling inconveniences amid fights. but see it how you will.

she is a projection. harry tries out the ‘normal guy’ archetype, giving his character a nine-to-five office job and the predictable (supposedly married) life with kids; he likely did this to try out a different perspective of his feelings and/or to appeal to his audience, who is mostly not made up of millionaires. right away, he’s pretending, with the most basic of things: “[he] sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon / around 13:32 / like he knows what to do.” as for the whole chorus and “a woman who’s just in his head / and she sleeps in his bed / while he plays pretend” is, to me, the woman inside him who aches to be seen; she represent his struggles with binary genders, both of which are oppressing. “he takes a boat out / imagines just sailing away / and not telling his mates / he wouldn't know what to say” is literally eroda?? and shows communication issues. again.

side c: ascending

sunflower makes the yellow comeback.. loud and in your face. the sunflower is commonly associated with the sun tarot card, which often depicts them with children, who are mentioned... the card stands for clarity and success. this song is thematically like watermelon sugar and adore you, but it just has that stoner vibe you know ? “kids in the kitchen listen to dancehall” triggered “even as young as you are.” again, there are communication issues; “i’ve been trying hard not to talk to you” “let me inside, i wanna get to know you / wish i could get to know you” “i was just tongue-tied / i’m still tongue-tied.” “i’ve got your face / hung up high in the gallery” again shows adoration; with cherry’s “does he take you walking through his parents’ gallery?” it could be interpreted as, are his parents showing you off like i do? a big note about it: “hung up high in the gallery / out of this shade” in the light! this is major.

canyon moon shows yellow in “the world’s happy waiting / doors yellow, broken, blue” -- happy, first of all. the doors are portals that they’ve taken, will take, or could take; some are happy, some deceitful, some sad. i find it very interesting that in she “the man drops his kid off at school” and in this one jenny tells her husband to “go get the kids from school.” “two weeks and i’ll be home” loud loud loud. paris and rome are both romantic cities. “[she -- jenny?] pretends not to know the words” again shows some pretending, perhaps to show that we all pretend about things in life, even mundane activites... just a fun song about being away and missing each other like right now.

treat people with kindness is the only song outside of side b that does not have yellow. i think that is because, though this is a happy song, it’s jus a cover up -- he’s burying his grief in the music and drugs/drinks. “and it’s just another day / and if our friends all pass away / it’s okay.” “feeling good in my skin / i just keep on dancing” shows the other effect of numbing all the insecurities and fears he normally carries. 

side d: settling. the first sign fine line is a track to be paid attention to is that it’s the titular the track. the second push is giving it its own side on the record. 

fine line is another side of she, for which i liked this eloquent explanation. it’s a drastic shift in mood from tpwk to fine line; harry truly shows how vulnerable he is. he’s divided -- “you sunshine, you temptress”; god, when i read/heard that i cried. so beautiful, so appeasing, but it looks like such a distant dream. unachievable. furthermore i think making this song about a relationship, or anyone other than harry and harry’s inner demons is belittling it; belittling his internal struggles to reach the so desired fine line...

[charterandbarter]

I have seen some TMA/TAZ crossovers floating around (thank you @inkedinserendipity btw). I have never seen a TAZ but uh that eye imagery! If y’all will permit I would like to throw in my own two, angsts cents hahaha man I need sleep.

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOTH PODCASTS AHEAD

Alright, premise time:

What if that Hunger was all the Entities fused together? What if John was replaced by Jon & Jonah?

let’s say tma post canon is a bit like this: jon and martin make their way to the panopticon. jonah magnus is there, the heart of the world like the bastard he is. You have the key who opened the Door, and the bitch who twisted it into the lock. In the ensuing confrontation, jon opens the door again, drags every Entity kicking and screaming into its maw, and locks it for good with him on the other side.

But the thing is, he doesn’t go alone.

What’s an Archive without an Archivist? What use is a living chronicle of fear if there’s no beating, squishy, pitifully human heart to experience it? The Entities are always hungry, and as much as Jon’s performed beautifully before the Change, he’s sorta not the right,,,flavor of fear the Entities need. Getting the sum of human suffering shoved into your head can put a damper on the little terrors, yknow.

(so many jons. Jonny sims why must you do this to me)

ANYWAY! I will insert a readmore later maybe, when it is not 2am in my timezone & my brain allows! Apologies for you mobile people.

SPOILER WARNING FOR TMA AND TAZ: BALANCE

There’s two people who could fill the “squishy fear generation machine” role by the time Jon and Martin make it to the Panopticon. And Martin’s just made friends with the personification of backdoors.

Jon gets to say goodbye before Martin and Helen go. Maybe he has time to let Martin Know all the infinite ways he loves him. It still hurts.

Jon and Jonah fall through the door. The Entities swallow them whole.

it’s not really like Jekyll and Hyde, nor is it like Jon and Daisy trapped in the Buried. It’s just...hatred. Hatred, self-loathing, despair, and the regret of a thousand hopes shattered to stardust. By the time Jon and Jonah go through the door Jon’s compiled quite the Archive, but even all that suffering has a limit. When the stories finally run dry, they turn on themselves, on their only remaining humans left, until the difference between jon and jonah and the fears is nothing but so much churning stomach acid. A feedback loop of misery.

They cannot die. They can’t remember why. There is only yawning dread, and the desperate desire to fill it.

Martin Blackwood‘s plane is safe, of course. The Door will stay shut. But not every world has that luxury.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to get more time.

(how does it feel, Jonah Magnus, to be the Archivist? How does it feel to Know that the suffering of millions, including your own, is all your fault? how does it feel to remember the years of gaslighting, abuse, manipulation, and coercion that you inflicted, just because you were afraid of something as small as Death? how does it feel to hate yourself? how does it feel to commune with your fucking god?)

they tear through worlds and yank at the reins that keep them together, even as the two people holding those reins scream in mutually shared/felt agony. It’s hell, and it goes on forever.

When it comes time to play chess, it is Elias standing before Merle in a crisp, black suit. When Merle asks if the Hunger is his friend, it is Jon’s voice that chuckles before answering. And when They call existence horrible, who’s to say which person is actually talking anymore?

(As Merle dies, They notice the blossoms in Merle’s beard look like chamomile flowers. Something deep inside Them aches. It’s been a long time since They’ve had a cup of tea).

(I’ve only heard Merle Highchurch speak once, but in that one time he said life was about the joy you choose before insulting an elder god to his face. This man has Martin Blackwood/Absolute King™ energy don’t change my mind)

“Kiss my ass, you sanctimonious bastard.” Merle Highchurch says.

“Huh,” For a moment, a shiny burn scar glows through the fire licking Their hand, “I feel sad.”

Merle dies. The ache grows.

(For Them--The Archive, The Archivist, Jon--Merle is an anchor. For Jonah—and he Knows, now, he was Jonah Magnus, former king of the world—Merle’s a warning eons too late.)

I don’t know enough about taz balance to work out the rest of the details, unfortunately. I do know the image of Hunger!Jonah Magnus (no longer bound to Jon after an Arms Outstretched 2.0 moment) getting FUCKED UP by the Tres Horny Boyz delights me.

Really, though, Hunger!Jonah can enjoy his immortality trapped in Lucretia’s barrier-bubble-thing like the blind goldfish he is. But by the deities above and below Jon and Merle sitting on the beach looking out into the sunset is near and dear to my heart.

Perhaps it would be appropriate if Jon dissolved into the waves. There are worse ways to die than with a friend at your side and memories of chamomile tea. I’m sure Jon would think it’s more than he deserves, and yeah TMA is a tragedy so maybe it does fit the bittersweet but cathartic ending we’re expecting in canon.

However, I am a] a sap, and b] of the mind that if you can pick, learning to live well is better than hoping to die well. So here’s an alternative for my fellow saps:

When the dust settles, there’s one more refugee that the Bureau takes in. He’s pretty skinny even for a human, and his scars are weird as fuck, but hey everyone in the world just went through a multiplanar apocalypse so who are they to judge? He’s quick. Quiet. Has a strange accent, and loves to read. Maybe Angus Mcdonald likes him. If so, then he can’t be that bad.

(The moonbase libraries aren’t anything like the Archives. Jon can’t tell if that’s good or bad yet, but he has time to figure it out. It’s...nice, to read something for fun again.)

It takes a long while to grow from a level 1 to a level 17 caster, but Jon has time. He can--not recover, exactly, but settle into himself. Learn how to be, without being of use.

Does Jon become an Aberrant Mind!sorcerer with eyes that still inspire paranoia? Or a Conjuration Wizard that can summon tape recorders? Who the fuck knows. He certainly doesn’t! What a blessing—he doesn’t Know!

Jonathan Sims made it out alive. With enough work, perhaps he won’t regret it.

(Maybe this world has therapists. There’s a bone lady shooting fireworks floating around, surely a therapist won’t call him crazy if he tells them the truth, right?)

tl;dr: let Jon get adopted by the Tres Horny Boyz at the end of Story & Song while Jonah Magnus dissolves into seafoam, please. One day Jon brings Martin to the taz!plane via permanent Gate spell so they can have a kickass honeymoon on the literal moon. Martin brings a dog. The base goes bonkers. Everyone is crying. Let the survivors of the tma!plane LARP their DnD dreams.

[the-black-dragons-den]

Hello! How're things going with you these days? Hope it's going alright

Hi! I’ve been meaning to respond to this for days but I also wanted to take this as an opportunity to just kind of, elaborate on my life because it’s been kind of crazy! I am so sorry for turning this into a novel about myself because a simple “I’m doing better, thanks!” probably would have sufficed to answer, but I also needed to get this all out!

Also you know you are one of my favorite mutuals, I adore your blog, and your presence on my tumblr feed always makes me smile! Thank you for checking in with me, that’s super sweet of you!

TLDR; My mental health is a daily struggle but I’m taking real steps to take care of myself. My financial situation has dramatically improved, I didn’t catch Coronavirus, and in general things are looking up! I’m also trying to decide what the heck to do with my life - seek a better job now or go back to school to train to get a better job. 

Here’s the long version!

At the end of last year, my fiance and I both quit our jobs due to a SUPER toxic work environment. That lead to a very long and stressful battle to win my unemployment benefits from that employer (but I did win eventually!) That whole thing was really hard on my mental health, but worth it in the end. Even with that, we basically blew through all of our very meager year-long savings (that was intended to go toward my fiance’s much needed dental work) for rent and groceries, right around the 2019 holidays so that was a really hard time. We both found jobs (mine part-time and his first one temporary and his current one full-time and awesome) but we still spent the first couple months of this year going to the food bank every week and barely making rent. We’ve been in hard times like that before but having to spend ALL of our savings was gut-wrenching. 

So, roughly 3 weeks after my fiance got his new awesome job, Coronavirus became a big threat in our area and he was immediately laid off. Luckily, he was guaranteed his job back, and was able to get unemployment during that time. I’m still on unemployment while I’m working this part-time job, but more on that later. Anyway, that means we both received the extra pandemic benefits with our unemployment payments. 

My job now is merchandising, which means that I work for a company that’s contracted by stores in the area, and I go to those stores and do things like setting displays, compliance scanning, etc. Honestly, so few people who don’t work as merchandisers know the job even exists, but I promise that a bunch of the displays at your local stores are not put there or stocked by store employees. It’s part-time, I work independently and for the most part don’t have to interact with a ton of people (which is really helpful for my anxiety). So, all in all, not a bad job for me, especially while I try to figure out what’s next.--

---Anyway, I didn’t stop working at all during the pandemic, which was good for our finances but again, hard on my mental health. (This is kind of whiny but it was incredibly wearing that I was an essential worker, but I watched other essential workers get raises and hazard pay and an outflow of support, and because people don’t know merchandisers are a thing, no one really thought to thank or support us, or give us more money.) I actually took on several more stores during April and May to cover for coworkers. I really am grateful to have had a job but let me tell you, being out there in the pool of stress exuding from everyone’s pores every day for hours at a time really wound my brain up. 

However! Despite the mental health struggle that, let’s be honest, is impossible to avoid with my pre-existing conditions and the state of the world, things are looking up! Between unemployment benefits, the stimulus, my fiance’s severance, and his return to work and subsequent promotion and raise (SO PROUD OF HIM!), we are financially more steady now than... we ever have been. We’re slowly getting his dental work taken care of, which we’ve been trying to do for nearly four years. We’re never worried about rent, we have money saved, and OH OH OH, I am now 82% paid on my debt!!! I racked up credit card debt several years ago when we were very broke (buying groceries and necessities no less) and have been paying it for 3 years now, and I’ve actually made real progress! I have a “good” credit score! That feels amazing! My fiance even accidentally dropped and shattered his phone, and we were able to order a new (still relatively inexpensive) one that night, without having to sacrifice grocery money or anything which was awesome (especialyl because he needs his phone for work).

Additionally, I recently ask my job if I could cut back on hours because I was getting so burnt out and I needed to do this for my mental health. Between my fiance and I, I’m the driver so I have to make time for errands, and because he works full time (and a decent bit of overtime), I try to handle as much of the household chores as I can. But that altogether with work and making sure we can both get to needed appointments and stuff is A LOT to handle. And because he’s making good money now, I can actually take this step back from work, cut back on my hours, and we’re not super hurting for money because of it. We’ve never had a time together when we haven’t been calculating our hours day by day, trying to get more work time at any opportunity, scraping for every cent we earned. This is so amazing and different. 

So I’ve cut back on my hours for the sake of my mental health. I’ve downloaded a mood-tracking app to try to get more insight into my patterns, moods and behaviors. I’ve made time for relaxation - long hot baths are my thing. I’m almost debt-free which is a huge weight off my shoulders. I just... want to be able to get out of bed most mornings without having a mental breakdown, that’s the first goal. It’s a struggle, but it’s a goal!

I’m also trying to make time to decide what to do with my life. I completed 2 years of college but never finished. I’ve only ever worked kind of crappy entry-level jobs. I really struggle with customer interaction (super wearing on me, makes me miserable) and I’d love to find a career where that’s limited, but I’m not sure if that means I’ll need to go back to school. My parents are also pushing me to make sure I seek a career in a field that pays well and is growing, which is logical, but has already made them discourage me out of the idea of being a paralegal, which I was really interested in... I’d like to go back to school but I really need a path before I make that decision. None of my passions (make-up, music, or being a paralegal apparently) are really things I could make a financially lucrative career out of, unless I had the dedication and talent of much healthier person, mentally. I’d like to be a forensic analyst maybe, but my parents are trying to talk me out of that one too. My dad has always wanted me to be an architect but I am not adept with math and I don’t want to design boring office buildings. In the meantime, it’s really hard to find a job that I get into without a degree, that allows me that minimal interaction with people and actually pays decently well. So I’m struggling but now I have time to actually think about it and figure it out, which is awesome. 

LASTLY, I promise ---- I have nothing but support in my heart for the BLM movement, and I have been horrified by the actions of local and national police forces, and deeply proud of some of my peers who have been going to protests daily, helping speak out against the horrors being committed upon the colored communities in our country. I have not had the ability to participate in any protests, but I can’t explain the deep emotional grief that I feel over the unjust deaths, the tear gas and rubber bullets, the plowing down of innocent people. Videos of brutality make me ache with despair but I share them because I’m so fearful that if the wrong people come out on top in this situation, these videos and records of what was done to the American people will be destroyed. Though I am lucky to be surrounded by peers who share my feelings, these events have definitely strained my already tenuous relationship with my very conservative parents, and feeling so alienated from them has brought up a lot of childhood pain. However, as a very sheltered white female, I understand that my grief and despair cannot compare to the grief of black, brown, and other non-white communities during this time. 

In conclusion, 2020 has been a real shit year so far but I’m standing here fighting back with every fiber of my being to make life better for me and my fiance, to get on top of my mental health, and to figure out what I’m doing with my life now!

[dokidokiliteraturegirls]

Hi everyone! Yui here ❤️ I’m back from the spa or whatever the hell I was doing~  I know we said we were going back from hiatus today, and that’s true, but before we kick things off like usual I wanted to do something special: a behind the scenes feature where I tell you guys about Friendship... th-the last arc, not the concept.

There are many things I want to talk about, such as the symbolism I tried to include, the controversy, overall message of the arc, and the reason I decided to do this story in the first place. Hopefully giving you this insight from the POV of the writer helps you understand the reason we spent so much time in this arc, instead of thinking “Yui is a hack who resorts to TV tropes when out of ideas”~ well, besides that, at least.

This is gonna get pretty long but I’ll be thankful if you take the time to read it ^^

Without further ado, let’s go to the first episode of DDLitG Behind the Scenes: Some Final Thoughts on Friendship. Check it out under the cut!

What the story is about:

As a quick summary of the story, so we’re all on the same page, “Friendship” is an arc focused on interpersonal relationships, hence the name. Sayori, during some idle time, decides to visit the local library, where she finds Ako [Named “female student” when she’s introduced]. Ako is not like our main cast, as she is not a .chr file, but an .obj one. This means she is merely a single sprite with a line of description (”Female student is at the library. She draws two flowers and a cat”), made by the game to fill the universe and make it feel less emtpy.

Through the warmth of Sayori’s friendship, she learns more about the world and about what having friends is like, which results in her constantly learning more things and becoming a more complex file.

Sadly, Ako develops feelings for her newfound friend, and when she decides to act on them, the tension that had been building up to that point explodes and conflict arises. The situation is resolved when Sayori reasons that if they work together, their friendship will ultimately overcome the despair of the situation.

Interpersonal relationships: that’s the core of the arc. Sayori’s friendship warming up Ako’s heart and changing her life for the better, Ako working through her feelings towards Sayori so they can remain together, Monika’s and Sayori’s relationship being put to the test with Ako’s arrival. The solution to the conundrum? Trust. Effort. Friendship.

The arc’s messages:

I am of the belief that most fiction carries a message. Most of it, obviously, not all of it. I don’t read Pop Team Epic expecting to learn about the meaning of love... or do I???

Anyway, I always try to put some message that can be extrapolated from the fantastical situations happening and applied to the real world. There are 3 messages I did my best to convey during Friendship. The first one applies to the arc, and the last two are things I’ve been trying to say during most of the story.

1. A friend confessing non-reciprocated feelings does not have to mean the end of your friendship.

Whenever I see the “this person got confessed to while in a relationship” story in media, the conclusion is always the same: don’t give in to the temptation, your romantic relationship is the more important one, discard the person who confessed from your life.

But what if the person who confessed is an extremely important person to you? What if in cutting them from your life you’ll end up causing more harm than good? Is it possible to continue being friends after rejecting them? Wouldn’t that be awkward?

I don’t want to generalize here. I know we all go through different paths in life, so being all like “this is THE solution to your problem!!” is obnoxious. But I do want to give hope to people who might be going through this situation and don’t wish to end the relationship. Especially those who might be shamed for “friendzoning” the other person.

Again, I’m not saying this is the one and only solution: sometimes cutting ties is the best for both of you. But sometimes, putting the extra effort to work through it together can prove more fruitful and rewarding. Yes, it may be awkward and weird at first, but remember: unreciprocated love eventually fades away, and friendship isn’t a step below or above love.

Even if what I’m saying doesn’t apply to all walks of life, you never know, maybe someone needed to hear that.

During the duration of the arc I was flooded with people asking me to take the chance to make it a Poly relationship. Surely enough, it would’ve been a fantastic opportunity to show a healthy poly relationship, everyone would’ve been fantastically happy at the end, and the “love triangle” trope has been done to death about a thousand times even though that’s the most obvious answer. To those people I want to say: You are so valid, and I love you all. But I wanted to stick to the message of “Friendship overcoming unrequited love”. Something that’s neither “I hate you, go away from my life”, nor “I love you, be my girlfriend”. Something more in-between. Something more like the stage of transition between friendship and love. You know, sort of like... a twilight.

I’ll get to why I wanted to convey this message in specific later in the post. This point has gotten long enough already, so I’ll move on to the next one.

2. The fact that bad things that are not your fault will happen to you is inevitable.

While we grow up, we learn a very simple and crucial part of life: your bad actions will have consequences. If you take cookies without permission, you’ll get scolded. If you spend your whole weekend playing video games instead of studying for a Monday test, you’ll get a bad mark. If you betray a friend, they will not trust you anymore.

From this we usually extrapolate that the reason bad things happen to us is because we made mistakes. And sure enough, that is true most of the time. However, as we grow older, we learn a secondary, less fair fact: sometimes bad things will happen to you, for completely unrelated reasons. And this is inevitable.

There was a very big moral debate during the most tense parts of the arc about which of the 3 protagonists was at fault for the events unfolding. Was it Sayori, for teasing Ako? Was it Monika, for making Sayori feel guilty about hanging out with Ako, and thus made her subconsciously try to seduce her? Was it Ako, for trying to break Sayori’s and Ako’s relationship.

I’m going to write the answer in bold because it’s important: none of the girls were at fault. They were all victims of a bad situation that was not their fault, and due to the stress of it all, ended up committing mistakes.

Sayori was put under a lot of stress due to Monika’s initial disapproval of her relationship with Ako, and even more due to her suspicions that her friend had fallen for her. She was not at fault for Monika’s attitude, nor was she at fault for Ako falling in love with her. Because of this, she committed the mistake of ignoring the problem and try to act as if it were not real.

Monika, due to her previous trauma and lack of self-esteem, immediately feared Sayori was going to abandon her for this new girl she met. Because of her fears, she subconsciously ended making her relationship with Sayori more stressful. Even worse, her suspicions that Ako was in love with her girlfriend were proven right. Monika is not at fault for her trauma or her triggers, and even though she did her best to support her girlfriend, the situation spiraled for the worse and she ended up seeing Sayori suffer, and there was nothing she could do. Because of this, she committed the mistake of becoming aggressive and making it even worse, which ended up translating as physical aggression towards Ako.

Ako went from being a girl with almost no personality to having her life being given a new meaning thanks to Sayori, which regrettably, ended up making her fall in love for Sayori. She was not at fault for her feelings, nor was she at fault for Sayori’s constant subconscious teasing. Because of this, she committed the mistake of acting up on her feelings, going as far as to flirt with Sayori in front of Monika.

The three main characters suffered from situations that were not their fault, and ended up making mistakes due to the high levels of stress they were being exposed to. In real life, this is very common, which is why at the end of every arc I try to give the same message...

3. Even if life is messy and awful things happen for no reason, the possibility of things getting better is always there.

No matter how ugly things get, or how bad the mistakes you make may be, there is always a solution. There is always something that comes after. There is always the possibility to get a happy ending.

Monika learnt from this experience to trust Sayori and herself more, and that aggression does not solve deep emotional problems. Ako learned that she should not have been as confident as she was with her feelings, much less try to hit on Sayori based on her assumptions. Sayori learned that running away from problems does not magically make them go away, and in fact, can make them worse.

Things got ugly. The situation got awful and uncomfortable. People who did not deserve it suffered. Stress caused them to commit atrocious mistakes that made it all worse. 

But they made it out ok.

They worked hard, learned from the situation, grew from the experience, and made it out ok.

And so can you.

Why did I decide to write an arc about this?

Both when I mentioned I wanted to add a new character, and when I introduced the love-triangle plot point, people came to the same conclusion: Yui is doing this because she ran out of ideas.

I assure you, that’s not the reason I wrote Friendship. The reason I wrote Friendship is because this situation happened to me.

Some time ago I met the person who would eventually come to be my best friend. A wonderful, amazing person with whom I quickly formed a beautiful relationship. It’s been years since I’ve had a friendship as meaningful as this one, so I wanted to protect it. Then, some months after we met, they confessed they were in love with me.

These were not good news. I was, and still am, in a committed and healthy monogamous relationship. I would not break my girlfriend’s heart by cheating on her, so the only possible option seemed to be break my best friend’s heart by rejecting them, which sadly, I had to resort to.

However, I did not want to cut ties with this person. The relationship we had was extremely important for both of us, and to stop all communication would end up causing more harm to our emotional well-being than good. What could we do?

We decided to stay friends, but to work together to help my friend overcome their unrequited love. To this day, we’re still best friends with each other. It has not been easy, especially for them, but mutual support and understanding goes a long way.

This was a very important and impactful moment in my life. I had something beautiful and hopeful about friendship, and I wanted to express my feelings the same way I always do: by writing in DDLitG about it.

You may not know this, but 99% of the posts in this blog are based on personal experiences. If a day I learn that there’s no reason to hold a standard for myself with my girlfriend, because she loves me and accepts me the way I am, I write about it. If I learn that helping others helps me deal with my own feelings of depression, such as dysphoria, I write about it. If I learn that a particular food or activity can have an emotional value over its own perceived one, I write about it.

After what happened, I really wanted to write about what I had learned. However, I couldn’t write about someone confessing to a character in a relationship, because all four protagonists were already dating. And there’s no way in all of hell that I’m making Natsuki cheat on Yuri to hit on Sayori, that’s downright offensive. Which is why I was like “Hey everyone, I have this idea I want to write about, but I can’t if I don’t introduce another character, so are you ok with that?”

This is why it couldn’t end in a poly either, as good of an idea as it was: I wanted to send a message based on what I learned with my own personal experiences. To betray that would feel like betraying myself. I’m sorry if that explanation doesn’t seem satisfactory for you, but it’s the truth ^^;;

That’s about all I wanted to say ❤️ I know I said I would explain Ako’s name, but I’m afraid this is far too long already, so I’m going to write a separate DDLitG Behind the Scenes chapter titled “What’s The Deal With Ako?”, where I explain her name, why she’s monochromatic, and the overall inspiration for the character, in case you’re interested~ ❤️

If you made it all the way here thank you SO much for reading. I know I wrote a lot, but it means the world to me that you’re this invested in the story and the messages I’m attempting to convey. I hope you found this enjoyable and that you’re leaving with some new insight regarding the last arc. Now we’re ready to move on with the story, and believe me, I’m very excited to keep this going~

Thank you all for your support!! You are all sensational~

-Yui ❤️

[booperdoopererryday]

You Left Me--Mental Illness Discussion

So Jack played a game today called “You Left Me”, a game about loss, depression, and suicide.  At the beginning of the game, he mentioned how he liked playing games like these because of the discussion it sparks in the community, and how we can all be there for each other and share our mental health struggles together.  I see this as a good opportunity to share my experiences with fighting mental illness in the hope that maybe it can help someone else here <3 <3 <3

For those who don’t know me very well, I am a 22 year old bisexual girl with a disability.  I am a sexual abuse victim, and grew up in an abusive home.  I have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder (this may have changed recently), and borderline personality disorder.  A possible diagnosis of atypical bipolar disorder has been brought up recently as well.  I have been suffering from moderate depression since around age 14, and then in 2015, while I was in college, I had a massive breakdown and have been struggling with severe mental health issues since then.  I had to drop out, move back into my abusive household, and I have been searching for help ever since.

In my experience, depression is . . . very hard to describe to others, especially those who do not share the experience.  The best I can do is relate it to deep sadness, an emotion everyone has experienced.  When you have a deep, deep sadness, it pulls at you, cuts into your chest, can elicit hours of sobbing and desperation and the overwhelming feeling that everything, for that moment, feels awful.  That is deep, deep sadness, and it sucks majorly.

Depression, for me, is on another level.

In comparison to depression, it feels like that sadness only cut through the top maybe five layers of my heart.  That’s a lot of layers, but depression starts deeper.  It’s like the very center of my being has rotted, and the decay is spreading towards the surface.  It is the bone-chilling, deep knowledge that something is very, very wrong.  Value in anything goes missing.  Things that gave me meaning and hope and life now only spark maybe a flicker of joy if I’m lucky before it dies where it started.  There’s nothing inside me to catch the spark, nothing to keep it burning.  Depression is death, it’s being alive while being dead, it’s the full experience of being gone while you’re not yet gone, and the burning desire for your body to follow where your soul left.

Depression is fucking serious and devastating and swallows any life you had in you.  And the worst part is, oftentimes it doesn’t really feel like there’s a reason.  Many times there’s not a reason, it’s purely the chemicals in your brain, as Jack said in the video today.  Sometimes it’s purely that you’re in that shitty of a situation.  Most of the time, it’s some kind of combination of both.  But mental illness is just that: an illness. It is something in your body (in this case, specifically your brain) that isn’t working properly.  In cases where it’s chemical, it’s that there’s an imbalance of the receptors in your brain that allow you to feel happy.  In other cases, it may be that because of your upbringing, or trauma, or other situations in your life, your brain has made neural pathways incorrectly, and has developed in a way that makes it next to impossible to cope with situations and events.  NEITHER OF THESE THINGS ARE YOUR FAULT.  And again, often enough it’s both of these that cause depression.

It’s very hard to believe when you feel this way that there’s any help or any way out.  I personally struggle with suicidal thoughts on a daily and many days hourly basis.  I cry, a lot.  A lot.  I feel despair, I lash out in anger at those I love in a desire to self destruct, I self harm.  It’s hard, it’s really, really, REALLY goddamn hard, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise because they are wrong. It’s. Hard.

However, it’s important--so, so, SO important--to know that the options available are meant to be taken advantage of.  I know there’s a lot of stigma around medication and therapy and such.  But here’s the thing--this is literally an illness.  And even if there’s no “cure” per se, there are treatment options to ease the pain.  And some things CAN be cured.  Not all mental illness can be, but some can.  And all others, you can find coping skills and medication and therapy to make life enjoyable again, livable again.  I have borderline personality disorder, which is nonmedicable.  This means that medicine will only go so far with my condition and won’t fix the problem.  The best thing for me is therapy, and some medication to ease the pain.  Not remove it, but ease it, bring it to a manageable level, a place where I CAN deal with it instead of drowning in it.  Most people discount medication and therapy because the first one they tried didn’t work.  Maybe they had a shitty therapist who couldn’t handle the full weight of their illness (I have been turned away by therapists who, they themselves, admitted they were not qualified to handle my particular level of crazy XD XD XD), or maybe the first medicine they took actually made things worse (this happens, it’s called the blackbox effect).  The thing I want to urge to those of you reading this who have had that experience is: please please please do not let it end there.  Help IS worth seeking out, I swear to you.  It might take time to find the right fit--that’s normal for both therapy and medication.  One size does not fit all, and luckily there are MANY options to explore.  It’s taken me a lot of digging to find medicine that works a teensy bit, and a therapist who finally is giving me what I need.  I’m not even close to better right now, but I’m working on it.  I’m getting there.  Because I cannot allow myself to be killed by this.

I cannot allow myself to be a casualty of mental illness.

This is a thing you have to fight.  And holy shit do you have to fight hard.  It is NOT easy.  It’s not even close to easy.  It’s the hardest thing you will ever have to do, by miles.  You will want to give up, sometimes daily.  You might even try to give up.  I know I have.  But you can’t.  You need to keep going, because I promise you the way will get easier.  I won’t promise you there’s a point where you will be cured--this will be true for some of you, but I’m not disillusioned enough to think it’s true for all.  It’s probably not even true for me, considering my specific brand of mental illness.

BUT DO NOT LET THAT STOP YOU FROM TRYING AND FIGHTING.

If anything else, do it out of fucking spite.  Spite of the people who hurt you, spite of the illness that’s tearing you apart from the inside, spite at the very fact that you were born when you didn’t ask for it.  Don’t let them win.  Don’t let it have victory, because FUCK that.  You can have a life worth living, even if it’s downright shitty for long stretches of it.  But it can be worth it, and don’t you dare let your brain and life experiences and even people lie to you about that.

Sorry I know I was rambling.  But this is so damn important.  And we need to be there to support each other through this.  And for those of us who need the support, it’s important to not ONLY rely on friends and family--although absolutely do this as well, please seek out support from your loved ones!!!--but to also seek help from professionals.  We, as friends/family/community members, can provide love, and care, and gentle urging in the direction towards healing, but we cannot do what professionals have spent their lives learning how to do.  We cannot fix the problem, we cannot kill the beast, but by hell are we going to stand by you and fight it with you.  We will not leave you alone. <3 <3 <3

So please, if you struggle with mental health of any kind--reach out to a doctor or a therapist or a psychiatrist.  Tell a trusted adult if you are unsure of how to go about this.  Reach out to your close friends, family, significant other; let them know what’s happening and what you need.  Work, work hard, and please please please don’t give up.  Call a helpline if you are in crisis, and if you are planning to do something you cannot ever take back, please go to a hospital or call 911.  I have been in the psych ward before, and it’s not the most fun place to be, but it’s far from the worst, and you have full access to all the help you need, and it can be enough just to keep you alive a smidge longer.  And all those days you can manage to keep going add up over time, and you’ll be shocked at how far you’ve come.

I love you all, and you can leave an ask in my askbox if you want specific advice or clarification on anything I’ve said in here.  And reach out to others in the community.  And for those of you who aren’t going through this right now, or are in the space to help anyone you see who is struggling, please support each other. <3 <3 <3  This is what PMA is really about--it’s about the fight, and about the support.

You can do this.  I promise you, you have it in you, even when you don’t feel like you do.  It wouldn’t be called courage if there was no fear present in the first place. <3 <3 <3

~Jillian <3

[livefromhouseatlantic]

Chain Breaking - The Story So Far

This one is a summary. Lists! Mostly because my little series has spiralled into a huge thing that I couldn't reasonably expect anyone, other than folks that truly care (or have a morbid curiosity I suppose) to keep reading.

So to sum up for myself and a psychiatrist:

I suffer from depression. I am functional through most of it in terms of continuing to go about day to day tasks (staying clean, going to work, etc). It ranges from moderate to severe.

In severe moments, I suffer from bouts of extreme melancholy and get "stuck" with a lot of unbidden mental images and thought patterns.

I am compelled to compile as much information about a given situation as I possibly can. This ranges from a mostly normal thing (I'm just curious about a subject) to sort of debilitating (I need to see everything there is to see and know everything there is to know about what a person I care about and am worried for is thinking about.) This can lead to me getting "stuck", where I upset myself with unbidden thoughts, illogical conclusions, worst case scenarios, etc.

In addition to information, I am constantly in a state of hyper vigilance in just about any given situation I could encounter in a day. I've never been able to totally turn that off. This hyper vigilance, I believe, leads to the compulsion I listed above. Or it feeds into it? I don't know. They are both present. Hyper vigilance for me has led to an extreme attention to detail at almost all times. It helps in some situations, but can also lead to me getting "stuck" or convincing myself people are not interested in talking to me due to my focusing too much on social cues or facial expressions that may not have been present.

I struggle with a constant feeling of feeling like I am merely playing a role in my own life. This leads me to feel as though I am never being genuine with anyone despite knowing that I am.

The feeling listed above, in addition to others, leaves me with a feeling of being "split" - I'm not suffering from hallucinations of any sort, but I have built mental constructs over the years ("the guy upstairs") that I am now unable to shake and cannot reason with using CBT or other techniques that I know.

I am extreme in adherence to my own moral code. Deviations or failure to adhere to my own standards is unacceptable to me. Doing so leaves me feeling very dejected and disappointed in myself.

I will opt for being angry instead of being sad in order to continue to have energy to function. This can lead to self destructive behaviors, such as burning myself out through exercise.

My adherence to my own moral code can and has coloured my perception of how others treat each other and how they treat me. "He recognized his own willingness to use the rigor of his moral judgments as justification for his rage". While I do not fly into a rage characterised by screaming, yelling, acts of violence, or other things of that nature, I am definitely far more upset than just bring a little annoyed. This has led to snap decisions (see above, regarding self destruction) and has also led to me cutting off relationships with people in the past. (I'm getting better at that one on my own.)

In nine out of ten situations, the rage I describe will turn inwards and I will begin to focus on my own imperfections and flaws that I feel make me entirely worthless or undesirable to anyone and everyone. I get stuck, to use my own term. Many of my self destructive patterns are not physical. I bear no scars from self harm. My self abuse has almost always taken the form of mental exercises.

With that said: I am currently experiencing some impulses that could be termed physically self destructive. I will work out at the gym until barely able to walk. Sessions can range from 2-3 hours. The objective is less about physical fitness than it is to burn out any negative emotions I may be experiencing. The desire to work myself to death has occurred.

I have a number of deep seated insecurities about my place in the world, possibly related to my feeling of merely playing a part in my own life (and a bit one, at that). I frequently feel as though I am almost nonexistent to people except in the moments where they interact with me in person. I can recall feelings of this nature going back almost twenty years.

These insecurities cause me to irrationally fear Erasure from people's lives, as I do not believe I am possible of being so meaningful to someone that they would keep me around for longer than they might need. Anyone and everyone in my life is subject to this fear. The more important the person is, the more I may fear it. This partly drives my desire to check in on people. It leads to me getting stuck on numerous occasions.

I am not actively seeking to end my life. However, the desire to do so can and does manifest in my worst moments of getting "stuck". I feel helpless, and oftentimes the thought will arise unbidden that I could simply end my life and thus end the "stuck" feeling. This, combined with other unbidden, impulsive thoughts, furthers my feeling of being "split".

My feeling of nonexistence or unimportance can and does terrify me to the point of silence. I will dissemble, deflect, or simply opt not to talk about my mental or emotional state. Simply put, this is because I feel unworthy of the time of others and assume they feel the same on some level, and that therefore any additional burdens I place on them will upset them to the point of no longer wanting to associate with me. Writing these entries has been me testing myself and challenging myself to be more open by being as open as possible to anyone who is able to read these.

My feeling of being unimportant leads to me placing others first in any and every situation imaginable. While this is generally considered a good thing, if I'm being honest, I will do so to my own detriment as well. The idea of putting myself in harm's way does not actually bother me on any level if it could conceivably be of benefit to someone else.

I suffer migraines and insomnia when stressed. Currently, I am entering my second or third week of struggling with insomnia. I'll get between two to four hours of sleep at night at the most before waking up and being totally unable to get back to sleep. Sometimes I can grab a nap during the day. This is affecting my reasoning, my situational awareness, and my mood. I have been increasingly irritable and on edge and unable to deal with daily annoyances since I stopped sleeping.

I have an at times overpowering need for control over my environment. Noise and crowds are the fixation for my need. I've noticed that oftentimes if I'm in a bar or at work, the noise level usually isn't a problem for me. The crowds bother me in the sense that I'm unable to predict where people are going so they end up in my way or they bump into me. This is a minor annoyance, you might think. It can and does actively anger me, particularly lately. People getting in my way or just being in the way and loud noises make me unreasonably angry. I know I did just walk around someone. I do.

Related to noise, I can't handle arguments. If family members are arguing, or if I'm over at a house as a guest and there is an argument, I will leave the room. Not doing so makes me extremely anxious and/or angry. I just need it to stop.

With respect to noise, this is more a problem for me outside of work - at home, for instance or out at a friend's house. Noise that I'm not in control of us very debilitating for me. Loud children, pets, a radio or television that I might not be able to turn down due to circumstances, these all stress me out. I can't speak out understand people properly or even focus. I have taken to carrying ear phones with me to play my own music at a tolerable level in one ear at most times. I've actually found this helpful - despite it adding to the overall noise level, it's something I can control. I find this calming.

I often feel disposable in romantic and personal relationships. I feel as though I am only kept around for as long as I am useful to others and will be discarded, put aside, what have you, at the earliest convenience, or as soon as something more attractive/worthwhile comes along. I have referred to this in the past as feeling like "a way station in life" or "being placed back on the shelf".

Feeling disposable has left me with the belief that I will always be alone in life and that there is no one out there that is a suitable partner for me. In order to be suitable, after all, someone would have to find me worthwhile enough to love long term.

I have cultivated in myself a very high degree of self control. This helps to keep my worst desires and impulses in check. I have no fear of committing suicide or making a snap decision in a moment of anger or despair. I do not fly into rages wherein I punch things, or scream at people, or destroy property, for instance: and I very seldom even slam doors I do not believe myself to be capable of doing so. I simply will not allow it.

I have no real fear of death or physical harm. It is not a foreign concept or anything, I can conceive of it, it just does not bother me in any way. In the past, I have taken more care not to harm others than to avoid injury to myself. I was in a car accident a few years back - I lost control of the car. Instead of trying to get it into the road, I steered into a large snowbank more or less at speed, assuming that while I myself might be injured, it was not acceptable to take the arguably safer option for fear of harming another driver. There have been other moments in my life where I have very calmly and rationally placed myself into what I believed was a high degree of physical danger for the betterment of others. Instinct likely plays a role, but I have always been very conscious of the decision I am making.

I often daydream about being dead, or dying. I do not plan to do so, it just kind of enters my head. The fantasy (for lack of a better word) leaves me with a feeling of peace.

As mentioned above, these daydreams and countless others come unbidden, and I am rarely able to snap myself out of them. I have referred to these as "daymares".

These daymares, in addition to feelings of being disposable, undesirable, that I will never be enough for a partner, that I am undeserving of one, that I do not exist except in the moment, are thoughts that I am aware have no basis in logic. Knowing this does not help me. Instead, it exacerbates my feeling of being "split".

I'll add to this list as I think of things.