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rosaguard · 3 years

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❀ . ━ ❛ ON AERIS’ DESI IDENTITY.

for the sake of making this question easier to answer, I’ll be breaking it up into parts ( yes, i tend to ramble about other things before fully getting to my overall point ). as always, i’m black - not south asian - but i do my best to research before speaking about a culture i do not belong to.

verumking asked : some questions about brown aeris because i'm. forever heart eyes tbh. // you've drawn a lot of parallels between hinduism and the cycle of life on gaia, and also the conflict between aeris' human desires and her duties as a cetra. is her desi identity something she specifically attributes to her cetra heritage? does she begin to embrace it in her day-to-day life at all-- i.e. making and wearing henna, cooking traditional food, etc? how do her views on her identity change with each incarnation?

this is a somewhat difficult question to answer simply because fin.al fa.ntasy often picks and chooses which game is going to be the one™ where the culture and identity of the people within the game actually matters and when it does not ( on a side note: the series in general has a bad habit of using real locations with brown people as inspiration for settings in the game and not reflecting the real people and culture of those locations within the games. half of xii’s party being white people from a desert region literally inspired by the middle east is a glaring example of this ). anyway, i would say vii itself easily places itself within the category of there not being any real sense of culture - or at least nothing of any real substance in my opinion. by that i mean things like how the sector 5 and 7 slums are essentially the same in the remake ( outside of the former being ‘greenier’ ) even though it doesn’t make sense for the equivalent of two mini-cities that are kind of semi-lawless / mostly left to fend for themselves by shinra to not have more of a difference regarding their identities: how they operate, how the people act within them, etc.

there’s also the fact that one of the most well known locations within the game is a christian-styled church within the sector five slums...and yet no religion is ever mentioned within the game’s worldbuilding. the church’s very existence could be seen as ironic if there was actual commentary on humans ( unknowingly ) building a false religion over time as a result of the void created after their ancestors willing choose to abandon their connection to the planet but there isn’t any. humanity, at least within the context of this universe, are essentially treated as the equivalent of atheists that don’t ‘believe’ in the planet being a living organism that deserves to be respected. meanwhile the cetra, the closest thing the game has to a religious group, don’t really seem to follow any specific tenets of a faith outside of protecting the planet and cultivating life on it. basically, i find it weird that a human-made structure and the symbolism that comes with it is imprinted onto aeris of all characters.

on one hand i get the logic behind it: she’s easily the most ‘spiritual’ character of the group ( if not the whole game ) and is canonically white / ’western’ inspired as nom.ura put it so western concepts of what is pure / holy is going to be applied to her from a pure aesthetic standpoint alone. from the church, to her somewhat overused prayer pose™, and her own final limit break which has white angels taken straight out of christian art descend from the heavens in its animation sequence, this specific imagery is given to her a lot - even if it doesn’t make sense from an in-universe perspective. the reason i even bring any of this up is that i think how culture is used and applied to certain characters is already inconsistent which is worth pointing out. aeris’ own identity already clashes with itself in canon - some of it being fully intentional and a part of her arc ( her desires as an individual vs her duty as a cetra ) while some of it ( basically everything stated above ) is...definitely not?

✿ : is her desi identity something she specifically attributes to her cetra heritage?

yes and no. however, before i fully elaborate on why, i have to touch on how i view the cetra as a whole. i’ve always saw them as people who, while nomadic, still have individual ‘tribes’ they belong to / travel with and it would’ve been common for members of one group to branch off and intermingle / travel with another ( or even just travel on their own for a while ). the more the cetra travel and expand their ‘network’ across the entire planet, it’s only natural that groups are going to start forming their own unique differences, whether it’s with looks, how they speak, and their culture, with their bond to the planet and their duty being what ties them all together. the cetra being separated into specific tribes is also directly supported within canon:

ifalna: 2000 years ago, our ancestors, the cetra, heard the cries of the planet. the first ones to discover the planet's wound were the cetra at the knowlespole*.

ifalna: then, just as it had at the knowlespole. it approached other cetra clans...... infecting them with... the virus.

while the cetra capital, the city of the ancients, is in knowlespole ( the modern equivalent of the region that the icicle inn and the northern crater is ), ifalna confirms that other clans beyond it exist. although the details around jenova’s arrival and defeat are unclear, from ifalna’s retelling of what happened ( and her distraught response while doing so ) it seems as if all of the cetra that first encountered jenova were either killed or infected before jenova moved on to do the same to other clans. this more than likely results in entire sub-cultures and histories lost before jenova is sealed away by the cetra aeris descends from ( which would explain why there’s not much recorded information on the cetra within the universe ).

one also has to remember the groups of cetra that branched away from the others and become humans. although they abandoned their duties, it’s very likely that they still retained aspects of cetra culture and it just changed / adapted over a period of two thousand years. with the cetra mostly wiped out and forgotten about, i don’t find it realistic for aeris, at least at the beginning of the game, to really know which ‘parts’ of herself come from where; especially since there would realistically be desi-coded humans that haven’t had ties to the cetra in thousands of years. although i headcanon both her mother and father as brown / desi, aeris doesn’t know who her father, professor gast, even is and the years she spent with her mother were in complete captivity. based on aeris’ ignorance about the white materia ( ex. her thinking it was useless originally ) and the cetra in general, one would assume that ifalna wasn’t able to teach aeris much due to not wanting to reveal anything to shinra since they were likely under constant surveillance. there’s also the fact that aeris outright rejects being a cetra as a child and tries ( yet fails ) to assimilate into ‘human’ culture:

“well…” kyrie replied. “there’s a crumbling church in the slums, where we played together. we did things like pretending to hold wedding ceremonies. aeris was always in the church, taking care of the flowers on her own. sometimes we talked about it. one day, aeris told me to go home quickly. i thought she was being mean because i stepped on her flowers.”

“when i got home in a bad mood, my parent’s bodies were being carried to the house. i heard it from my grandmother. about the lifestream and the ancients. i thought it was just a fairytale at the time, but after that— i figured aeris was an ancient. ...hey, what do you think i said when i met aeris after that? i said ‘you creep me out’.” - kyrie revealing her relationship with aeris after learning of her death in the kids are alright novel.

i guess the real world equivalent of what i’m trying to say would be similar to how i’m black / african american but do i really associate myself and my identity with africa beyond a surface level? the answer is no. how could i when i don’t know anything of my ancestors, african americans are generally robbed of learning about our history, and i don’t even know what ‘part’ of africa i come from. navigating your identity, your culture, and your heritage is extremely complicated and i don’t really see it being any different for aeris. she doesn’t have any way to truly ‘discover’ and connect with her cultural identity - even if she wasn’t actively rejecting it.

✿ : does she begin to embrace it in her day-to-day life at all? i.e. making and wearing henna, cooking traditional food, etc?

she does - although it’s a gradual process that doesn’t start until she leaves midgar. canonically, it’s not even until cosmos canyon that aeris finally begins to ‘connect’ to her heritage and fully understand what it means to be a cetra:

aeris: i learned a lot. the elders taught me many things. about the cetra... and the promised land...i'm...... alone... i'm all alone now...

however, in between chasing sephiroth, almost dying, and then saving the world, she doesn’t have much time to come to terms with everything that she learned there. in my blog canon, she does eventually leave edge a few years after its built to begin traveling on her own and eventually finds herself back in cosmos canyon. realistically, the elders there don’t have all the answers for her but her simply studying there is an important stepping stone to reclaiming a part of herself that she never got to know - or really accepted ( her parents also studied and met there so her life would be coming full circle in a way ).

so with all that said, i see aeris’ ‘embracing’ her desi heritage the most with fashion at first since she technically already does - regardless of whether she realizes it or not. the ultimania for the remake includes concept art for the cetra ( which can be viewed fully here ) and they’re specifically said to have been designed to have similarities to aeris - meaning that aeris’ current style of clothing is meant to embody her ancestors. highlighting a cetra design that looks weirdly similar to aeris herself, this cetra’s outfit - at least to me - feels similar to clothing popular in india and other parts of south asia:

if the dress was taken out and a few alterations was made to her top and half-skirt, it could easily resemble how a lehenga choli piece is worn. the top piece of her half-skirt also resembles the look of an oddiyanam, a type of waist ornament that women in south india wear.

there are other cetra’ accessories that resemble jewelry common in india as well: the armlet on the unnamed cetra resembles a bajuband ( a similar one can be found here ) and bangles similar to a kangan or churi, commonly worn by women across south asia, are prominent in both aeris and the cetra’s overall designs too.

with mehndi / henna, i definitely see her wearing it across her hands and feet but it’s mostly similar to whenever she wears traditional dresses: it’s reserved for special occasions / celebrations. with that said, that’s more so when she’s grown accustomed to applying henna herself without messing up or someone else is doing it for her. it wouldn’t be uncommon to see aeris’ hands decorated with different patterns every few months: a direct result of using her own body as practice when first learning how to draw designs ( if you want to get full fantasy with it, the designs glowing against her skin when she uses magic would be neat ). as a side note: for those who don’t know, there is a short story about aeris’ time in the shinra labs. it contains a drawing by her, which is also in the remake, that has more designs for the cetra ( you can see the unedited version here ):

also aeris cooking? l o l. joking aside, in my three years of writing aeris i’ve never really put much thought into her style of cooking, what type of food she specifically likes to eat, etc. outside of the fact that i don’t think she is much of a cooker at all ( probably because i’m not one either ). however, i cannot let a question go answered so! i’m probably going to sound redundant mentioning cosmos canyon again at this point but it really is due to the fact that it’s specifically the source of her connecting to who she is. the drawing she drew in a trance as a child even includes a location that is more than likely cosmos canyon ( and yes, i checked to compare ). the most notable npcs there are all brown and i do see them all being people of color that have come from different parts of the planet to share knowledge and learn amongst each other. although her main purpose of living in cosmos canyon the years she’s there is to study her people and record her own knowledge ( i’ll touch on this later ), it also provides her with an opportunity to connect with other people that are desi-coded like her on a more personal-level.

am i basically saying she probably tasted some type of chaat ( dahi vada specifically ) for the first time after leaving midgar and never looked back? yes. it’s not until aeris leaves midgar that she gets to experience trying out various food from her own culture as well as food from cultures outside of it in general ( not that these foods didn’t exist in midgar but she’s poor and doesn’t really have the means / opportunity to try them before ). aeris definitely becomes a fan of dishes that are savory with gravy, can be eaten with sauces like chutney ( she likes red chili, spicy coconut and mango chutney the most ), or dishes based around vegetables ( although if there’s spinach it, don’t tell her because ew ), fish or lamb. dishes such as rajma, samosas, sambar, biryani ( it’s probably one of the first desi dishes she would cook on her own ), pakora ( she’s definitely eaten chili pepper pakoras without a sweat ), etc. are all up her alley. aeris admittedly also has a sweet tooth so snacks like kozhukkattai, gulab jamun served with ice cream, etc. also appeals to her greatly™.

the process of eating these dishes when they’re made by other people vs actually introducing them into her day to day eating habits are two different things though. not to say that she wouldn’t make an effort to try - she definitely will but learning how to cook these dishes takes time ( especially if you’re already not much of a cook. ). incorporating them into her daily lifestyle wouldn’t be an instant process but it will happen eventually.

✿ : how do her views on her identity change with each incarnation?

as the embodiment of the lifestream, aeris is constantly consuming information between each reincarnation. the lifestream houses memories and knowledge since the planet’s very inception so she literally has thousands of years of information to sort through and process between each new ‘life’. the different cetra clans that were mentioned earlier? aeris would technically have the ability to trace back the memories of her entire lineage and discover which clan she’s from if she wanted to. with every incarnation, she’s learning a little more about her people, where she comes from, etc. and being a cetra starts to feel like less of a burden to her and a role she starts to embrace / actively take pride in. while there will come a time where she’s not the ‘last cetra’ anymore, aeris essentially becomes an eternal record keeper for her people.

once she begins working with the WRO, it’s actually her idea to start an annual celebration event ( or festival ) during the anniversary of meteorfall. despite her people being nomadic and spread out, the cetra had a capital city and it’s not far fetched to assume that it was used as a place for the cetra to converge during important events, celebrations, etc. through aeris, aspects of their culture begin to live on in new ways such as the meteorfall festival which becomes a celebration of life and the planet itself. while the festival isn’t intended to have any real world parallel, i do think the symbolism of the diwali festival is fitting for the events of sephiroth’s defeat / lifestream and holy destroying meteor:

diwali symbolizes the spiritual victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance.

overall, no matter how many times she reincarnates, aeris always returns to cosmos canyon to record everything she knows, whether its her own life experiences, the memory of her people, or their culture, so that her children, her grandchildren, and so on can always have knowledge of their history and identity in a way that she wasn’t able to.

✿ : brown aeris says thanks for reading!

i hope this was a satisfying answer to your questions! i try to do my best with honoring the cultures i’m talking about and not treating them in a haphazardly and/or lazy way. i wanted to explain her journey of being someone not really connected to their heritage at all and explaining the process she goes through in a realistic way without..making it surface level? hopefully i achieved that!

#❀ . ━ ❛ blood of the ancients ❪ headcanon ❫ .

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britomart-heart · 4 years

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Goodness is Going With You, Ch.1

Hi all! First time posting fanfiction on this account, and first time writing in about two years. My target audience for this is approximately one person - ie myself who still likes zombie apocalypse aus, but let me know your thoughts and if you’d like more! Fandom: The Mandalorian Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader ****** You had been walking for days. Your small, ancient, ship had broken down on this back water planet, and even you had to admit there was no fixing it this time. But with the galaxy the way it was now, staying in one place was never an option for long.

It had also been days since you’d seen one of them. The creatures that had brought your world crashing to its knees more than twenty years ago. Just with the mere thought of them, your fingers brushed over your blaster strapped to your hip. The road had been too quiet for your liking, and it usually meant that the creatures had all moved to the same spot for whatever reason. That would make it easier for you to avoid them. It would also make it harder for you to outrun them if you did stumble across them.

You reloaded your blaster.

The virus was almost always deadly, and had taken sixty percent of the population of each system it passed through to prove it, but when a host was unfortunate enough to survive the initial sickness, it left them mindless, violent, and hungry for whatever flesh it came across. The accepted story was that the virus was biochemical warfare invented by the scientists of the Empire, meant to wipe out the last supporters of the Old Republic, but was more successful that they ever imagined. Now all that was left was barren planets controlled by warlords, travel systems overrun by pirates, and abandoned cities crawling with the creatures who prowled the empty streets hungrily.

Come to mention it, you were quite hungry too.

A map you found in a crumbling building had indicated that there was some sort of village north of where your ship had crashed, and you had been trekking across the desert sands in hope of some sort of meal, and maybe even an old piece of junk you could wrangle into flying condition. There was talk of a vaccine in the inner rim. A safe zone. It was an idea you could barely comprehend, but the whisper was enough to make you desperate to try and reach it.

As you began to daydream of what a safe zone might entail, you heard a cry in the distance, followed quickly by the warbled shrieks of the infected. Your stomach flipped, head snapping to attention. Normally such a cry would have you running in the opposite direction, but despite every instinct you had, your feet began moving towards the fray. That was the cry of an infant, of a child. Maker help you, but who would be heartless enough to turn away from that?

The noise seemed to come from impossibly far away, but you managed to find an abandoned moisture farm, and a hoard of infected swarming around the strangest looking kid you’d ever seen. Green ears nearly as wide as it was tall, it was crying out in distress as the creatures surrounded it. You’d never seen them attack like this before.

They surrounded the kid in a circle, and one by one they would try to attack with the usual sweep of their rotting arms. As one would rush in, the kid would raise a shaking three fingered hand, closing its eyes in concentration, and the creature would be flung back as if it was a rag doll. You stared in confusion, but quickly realised the child was slowing down, its eyes drooping lower and lower with each attack. You had your blaster raised without thinking and took down three of the creatures before they even noticed you there.

You slid through the gap you created and picked up the child just as it sleepily raised its arms up to you. Tucking him into the crook of your arm, you began firing shots as well as you could, swinging around, and ignoring the inevitable realisation that there was just too many of them. If you could just get out of their view there was a chance you could run, and you kept jogging backwards, until your back hit a wall.

They’d trapped you in a corner.

“Come on kid, that neat magic trick you pulled earlier would be helpful” you half yelled to the child who was clinging to your side. To his credit, the kid did try to lift his arm again, but the effort seemed to take the last bit of energy he had, and he slumped against you. Your grip was slippery with sweat, and with each beat of your heart, and fire of your blaster you knew it was hopeless. As the hoard closed in, you wiped the sweat from your brow, and the tears from your eyes, raising your blaster up to take out as many of them with you as you could.

You noticed the whistling in the air, before you noticed the tiny speeding bullets blasting into each of the snarling creatures, taking them out one by one. When the wall of them fell, a shining body that seemed solid silver landed in front of you, taking out the remaining monsters as if they were no more than training droids at a shooting range.

You stared in disbelief, clutching the child closer to your side, gaping at the number of infected this stranger had taken out in mere seconds, so stunned that you barely noticed that your saviour had now turned his blaster on you.

“Hand him over.” A deep male voice came through the modulator of the helmet, and he stretched his gloved hand out to you, gesturing towards the sleeping baby in your arms. You held him tighter on instinct.

“Who are you?”

“Listen girl, the only reason you’re still standing is because I saw you protecting him. Hand him to me, and we’ll call it even.”

You’d always been good at reading people, but this was like reading a brick wall. The dark visor hid even the slightest shadow of his eyes, and he stood still as stone, no body language to glean any sort of impression from. He held the blaster, still aimed at you, as if it were simply an extension of his arm.

But there was the slightest edge of desperation to his voice, just the tiniest hint of worry when he reached for the kid, that despite yourself you believed him. You wanted to believe him.

Slowly, you stepped over the corpse of one of the infected littering the ground and handed the kid over to the armoured man.

No, not just a man you realised, slightly later than you probably should have. He was a Mandalorian. You nearly dropped your own blaster, as you realised that an actual Mandalorian had pointed his weapon at you, and you actually had the gall to question him and survived.

He tucked the strange brown robe the baby was wearing tighter around him, with a tenderness that seemed somehow bizarre and charming at the same time.

“Why was he alone?” You asked, and the Mandalorian looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there.

“I was fighting a quarry into my ship, and the kid wandered off. He has a habit of doing that… usually I catch him before he gets into real trouble. After that, hopefully he won’t do it again.” He looks back at you, and somehow you knew he was looking over you from top to bottom. You shiver, and you know it’s not from the evening’s chill.

“I don’t have any credits.” He said, and you looked back in confusion.

“Credits?”

“To thank you. For saving the kid. Not many would have done that.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, anyone would have-“ You begin, but he shakes his head

“No. They wouldn’t have.” He tilts his head almost questioningly at you, and for some unknown reason you blush. Why are you blushing. You saved this guy’s kid, he’s thanking you, this is normal. All of this is normal.

“Well. I’d best be on my way then. Keep that kid out of trouble, he seems… special.” You answer, as diplomatically as you can.

“Yeah, he is.” The Mandalorian answers quietly, and you smile and start walking away. You’re nearly out of earshot, when the same modulated voice calls out again.

“Hey. Can I give you a lift somewhere. I’m not a taxi service but… I’m headed towards Nevarro and I can drop you there, or somewhere on the way.”

“Yes”, You say without thinking and without questioning the relief that threatens to spill over, “Yes, Nevarro would be great, thank you.”

He barely says a word after that, leading you nearby to his ship, and sets up a make shift bed for you on the ground of his rather shaken looking pre-empire Razor Crest. The kid stirs sometime after you enter hyperspace and gives you a toothy grin when he sees you sitting beside his floating crib. He reaches over to you with a tiny, green, wrinkled hand, and wraps it around your pointer finger.

“Hi kid, it’s me again”, you say and give him your name. He stares up at you with his enormous black eyes, and his calm gaze settles you enough that you allow the exhaustion of the past days to finally wash over you.

****

Over the next few days he tells you barely enough to satisfy your curiosity, but enough that your sufficiently intimidated by him. You can call him Mando, he doesn’t know the kid’s name, there’s rations in the hold that you can help yourself to whenever you want. You fill in the gaps you can with your limited knowledge of Mandalorians- that their religion is their armour and weapons, that their planet was lost before the virus destroyed everyone else’s, that the helmet never comes off.

It’s enough that your intrigued by him almost as much as you’re scared of him. His voice alone, warm and low, draws you in, and the affection he clearly has for the strange child that travels with him, is a walking contradiction to the Mandalorian code you heard about in stories and legends as a youngling. It makes you wonder if he travels with the kid out of obligation, or if he once was as lonely as you are, and couldn’t bare it anymore.

You can understand that.

You come out of hyperspace on the third day, and you hear him coming down the ladder into the hold before you feel the jolt of the ship entering Nevarro’s atmosphere. You have the kid on your lap, and were in the process of teaching him one of the few games you remember from your own childhood. He didn’t seem to get the rules, but giggled every time you clapped his hands together, and would try to do the same with yours.

“The kid likes you”. Mando says from behind you, and you smile over your shoulder.

“Well I’m easy to like. So is this little one.” You answer, and the kid gurgles in what sounds like agreement, and throws himself forward into you, stretching his tiny arms as far as he can reach, and laughs into your belly.

Mando walks forward, and gently tugs on one of the kid’s massive ears. You’re not sure if you imagine his fingers brushing over your shoulder when he moves his hand back.

“You’re handy with a blaster.” He says, in a way that feels more like a statement than a question. You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you nod slowly.

“When I need to be.”

“You can handle moving around from place to place? You don’t have anyone waiting for you somewhere?” He asks, and it’s definitely a question this time. You nod more confidently, and turn around full to look up at him. He’s leaning against a wall, his arm resting confidently on his hip, and he’s literally in full armour, why is that a good look on him. You’re beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you’ve been alone for too long.

“It’s just been me for a long time.”

He nods in a way that makes you think it was the right answer.

“I’m trying to get into the inner rim. There’s some rumours that it’s safer there, and I need to get the kid… he needs to be safe.” He says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. Still can’t trust you with the full truth, but is offering up more than you ever expected. You try not to look too eager.

“I need someone to watch the kid while I collect my bounties on the way. You saw what happens when he’s left alone for too long. And I think you need to get somewhere safe too.”

You barely react, terrified that if you say something now, he’ll retract whatever offer he is about to make, the one you were always on the verge of suggesting yourself but kept losing the nerve to ask.

“I still need to stop in Nevarro. But you can join me when I leave again… if you want. I can pay handsomely, and it’ll be safer than travelling on your own.” He says, and you know he’s waiting for an answer now. You stand slowly, trying to look as if you’re contemplating a response, even though you know your answer immediately. You place the kid in his floating crib and wipe your hands on the front of your trousers.

“It’s a deal.” You answer and stretch one of your hands out in front of you.

There’s a few seconds of complete silence, only the unreadable man in front of you, staring at your outstretched hand, and oh maker have you misread this completely. You’re about to drop your hand, when he reaches out and shakes it with his own and seems to hold it a beat to long before letting go.

“Right, well then strap the kid in, we’ll be pulling into Nevarro shortly.” He answers as gruffly as if the conversation never happened and turns to climb back up into the cockpit. As if you imagined the whole thing.

Only, even though you have absolutely no proof, if someone asked you to bet on what expression he was making under that helmet, you’d have put money on him smiling.

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x female reader

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some-creep · 4 years

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CREEP RANKS EVERY SONG IN NIER... AUTOMATA (mostly) BY TITLE

Because, like, no one played Gestalt. Also this game has more songs.

Significance Like. I guess. It’s a title you can use. What is significant? We don’t know. The characters don’t know. They are struggling to find out. We all are. What is meaning? What really matters? I don’t know but we’re all crying. 8/10

City Ruins – Rays of Light / Shade Plays in the ruins of the city. Exactly as advertised. Sounds sad like you might imagine. 9/10

Peaceful Sleep This is the Resistance camp right? Peaceful things don’t tend to happen there honestly. At least not as we keep going. Sounds like a sleepy JRPG town though. Ok title for the mood it gives. I like this song a lot so I’m cheating and giving it more points than I know it deserves as just, like, a title. 8/10

Memories of Dust Sand is dusty. What memories? We’re making them. Cool title. Sounds like a YA novel though. 9/10

Birth of a Wish Genuinely often get confused with the Silent Hill 2 bonus story Born from a Wish whenever I try to remember what this song is called. This Cannot Continue / 10

The Color of Depression This is like… a really cool title. Thanks. That Scanner boy is not gonna live the happy family life you all for some reason keep suggesting he is. Bad things are gonna happen to him. He dies anyway. 11/10

Amusement Park Yeah. I guess. We certainly are in the amusement park level. Creep why does this one rank so much lower than City Ruins which was also just “name of location”. Amusement park is not a cool title. City Ruins is a cool title. 7/10

A Beautiful Song Would you say Simone has girlpower? Would you say Simone successfully used her girlpower to kill and consume countless androids and also turn them into near lifeless weapons and body jewelry? 9/10

Voice of No Return Sad title. Sad song. Exactly as advertised once again. I feel sad listening to the Automata OST most of the time. Is this quest complete in the camp? I think so. Anyway it’s really sad. I love to cry. 11/10

Grandma – Destruction Um so this is like. Genuinely a horrible title. It reminds me of the title of a darkweb video which I will say no more on. This song is REALLY good its a shame this title is so… uh. Bad. It’s just bad. 1/10

Faltering Prayer – Dawn Breeze / Starry Sky This is another really cool title. This game is about like… life after god. I’m not here to get thematic. I say in a list entirely about if the song fits the theme. Anyway this is a cool title. The song again… sounds sad. One of them is a music box which I love. Cheating again. 10/10

Emil’s Shop EVERY DAY’S A SALE. EVERY SALE’S A WIN. 12/10!!

Treasured Times The fact this plays after Emil’s shop on the OST is the biggest tonal whiplash in the world. This song makes me feel an emotion I cannot describe. It’s something like sadness but not quite. This isn’t a review of the songs, just the title. But reading the title makes me feel that emotion too but stronger when I think about it. I don’t know. 9/10

Vague Hope – Cold Rain / Spring Rain Good title… Thematically very appropriate. Not COOL like some of the others but it feels right feels canon. I like it. It’s just the city ruins quest complete song but it also plays in one of the fucking… DLC fights. That makes me extra sad. 10/10

End of the Unknown Which unknown was ended. Genuinely think when this plays I had more unknowns than knowns. This song sounds like every song from the Gestalt DLC. 6/10.

Pascal At least Automata has far fewer “named after a character” songs. They just have named after a place songs. I love Pascal so if I give this a low score he might be upset. 8/10

Forest Kingdom It really… the forest huh. Random but one of the songs in Code Vein does a vocal thing that always reminds me of this song for some reason. That has nothing to do with this game or this songs title at all I just wanted to tell you. Long Live The Forest King / 10

Dark Colossus – Kaiju This song is also in Gestalt. It’s cooler here. More stakes. Song title suggests less stakes though? That’s kinda weird. Because of this it loses points. I’m sorry. 7/10

Copied City Dude I left this one off the list when I first typed it out lol. Someone not to @ anyone told me this was based on Nier’s village. Lie to me again. I don’t know what City is being Copied. One of them. It reminds me more of the Cathedral City from DoD3. Which is a bad horrible game that I completed 100%. 8/10

Wretched Weaponry Not to be confused with Wretched Automatons. Is this like, a remix? My ears don’t work so I don’t know. Don’t inform me because I love being stupid. Anyway, in the narrative it makes sense. It’s a good, cool title. Song is softer than the title would suggest. 9/10

Possessed by Disease COOL SONG TITLE. Thank you. This plays… somewhere. Uh. Hm. I’ve 100% completed this game like three times. 9/10

Broken Heart You think you’re gonna hear a sad song? SURPRISE. Sinister as hellllll. Subverted expectations baby. MCU take notes. I’ve never seen a movie in the MCU. Loving the dark tones in this. Broken heart but the emotion isn’t just sad. GOOD STUFF. 10/10

Mourning Again. You think it’s gonna be sad? But BOOM. It isn’t. I mean it still is, but in a dark way. These aren’t song reviews. These are title reviews. But if a title suggests one thing and delivers another that’s still a valid point right? I don’t know. Hey wait isn’t this just Shadowlord’s Castle? Yonah / 10

Dependent Weakling Well, it’s no Song of the Ancients – Fate, but it’ll do. In all seriousness, this is like, a great song title for Eve’s boss battle. Y’know, because he relied so heavily on Adam and all’a that. Maybe a little on the nose. Maybe a little rude. Eve sucks / 10

Rebirth & Hope Sounds hopeful. Plays during ending A where we see a Rebirth cos 9S super doesn’t die. This song is literally 30 seconds long why am I even bothering. Oh, right, because it’s on the OST at all. 30 second songs / 10

War & War Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here, this is the war room. It… sounds like a war room song. A preparing for a big battle song. Once again, exactly as advertised. Plays before a big battle. It really thematic naming! Peace was never an option. 8/10

Crumbling Lies Words cannot express how much I adore this song. First of all, title is on point. It’s the song that plays when you get to Route C. Literally the moment I fell in love with the game. The Bunker is destroyed, which, again… maybe it’s a bit on the nose. I don’t care. This is the perfect song title to the perfect song. I will die on this hill. 12/10

Widespread Illness Red Eye except it’s robots now. Very thematically appropriate. Everyone is dying. There’s nothing you can do to cure it except kill them. They’re incredibly infectious. Zombie Virus but with Robots. Can you tell I don’t remember what it’s called? I’m writing this at 1am and I’ve decided it’s funnier if I don’t look anything up. Sounds very somber… I like it. 9/10

Fortress of Lies Not to be dramatic but when I read this English title I was like MMMMMMMNNN because like. I get it. It plays in the Bunker. Which… is built on lies. Again. Incredibly on the nose but when I learned what the song was called I just fucking DIED the first time. I’m stupid. I don’t care. 11/10

Song of the Ancients – Atonement Another song I died when I learned the title of. Devola and Popola in that game have nothing to atone for. They are atoning for sing they did not commit. Punished for the crimes of another set of Androids, possibly thousands of miles away. It’s not fair. They have nothing to atone for. They’ve done nothing wrong. 12/10 crying creeps.

Blissful Death FUCK. This one plays in the Devola and Popola like. Text Adventure part. Which is just. I love it so much. No one dies in that though. Well… maybe someone does. It’s not impossible that Popola hurt someone. It’s suggested that, maaaaybe she did. No one stops. No one Stops.

Emil – Despair Emil’s life has quite literally only been despair. Please don’t bully him with your song titles like this… 9/10

Alien Manifestation Vintage meme of that guy from the history channel with the impact font that just says Aliens. This game has aliens, I will give you that. They’re all dead though. I guess the machines are aliens but. Eh. Wait doesn’t this play in the castle? There aren’t even aliens there what the fuck. 5/10

The Tower There’s a tower. This plays there. Thank you. Also the name of a tarot card I think? That could be cool if I knew a single goddamn thing about tarot cards. I don’t. 6/10

Bipolar Nightmare Cool flying section. Has anyone found Grun skip yet? Because the bounty for that was like. A lot of money. Vaguely a cool song title. I kinda like it. Although for some reason it reminds me of The Evil Within’s Japanese title, Psychobreak. So I think I like it less because of that. Not the worst title, but maybe the lowest of the COOL EDGY song titles. Fucking love the piano part in this one though. 7/10

The Sound of the End Really super cool and sexy song title. 2B is going to die but she can’t let anyone else get hurt because of it. She’s already done so much damage. This song is really dramatic sounding. The title is dramatic. Love this one a lot. The actual playable segment is kind of a struggle. But I think that’s the point… 10/10

Weight of the World / End of YoRHa I once got into an internet fight because I said this song is about every character except 9S because of the line “I’m only one girl”. I was corrected that the Japanese version is basically EXCLUSIVELY about 9S. None of this is relevant at all I just wanted to remember it. I still do not like 9S. Thematically a brilliant title. Everyone feels like they must do so much… but you cannot bear the weight of the world alone. Ending E legitimately makes me cry. Whenever I think about the messages from other players supporting me? It’s a lot. What the fuck. 12/10

#nier #nier automata #long post #creep ranks

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horseyfuture · 4 years

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Lockdown Horrorscopes

Welcome, horrendous mortal, to your mind-rending Lockdown Horrorscopes. It has been some time since you last graced my tent with your questioning buttocks. No, do not cross my palm with silver, we use contactless now. Just press it on that bit of the window there. Excellent. Your payment has been accepted. Let us discover what the universe needs you to hear...

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Aries: After many weeks of lockdown, you are beginning to have conversations with inanimate objects around the house. In the middle of a one-sided argument with the toaster, a small, flint-hard piece of green-tinged pitta bread joins the debate, taking the toaster’s side and calling you a “scruffy tossbag”. You may be hallucinating, though also, that pitta bread has been there QUITE A WHILE. The pitta is chewy, but stops talking after a while. A little time later the room becomes a little sloshy, like gravy in a bowl. The fruit bowl pipes up as you walk past. It calls you a wanker.

Taurus: To fend off the tedium, you decide to play a joyful round of “how many chairs can you put on a chair”, to which the answer turns out to be “six, before getting a face full of chair”. While bleeding gently onto a chair, you consider that future sources of entertainment might be more wisely centred around (say) pillows, or kittens, or candyfloss. You do not own any of these things, sadly, as you sold what you did have to get more chairs, very much failing to anticipate the sorts of items commonly found to be of use in a lockdown. Oh well. You sigh resignedly and begin to put a chair precariously on top of some other chairs.

Gemini: Having had more Skype calls with family than anybody can healthily defend, you decide to take a long, relaxing bath. Unfortunately, you are running low on soap. Also, you forgot to stock up on bubblebath last time you went to the shop. And water. Additionally, you do not own any towels. Or a bath. Or the room for a bath. A bathroom, if you will. Still, not to be held back by trifling inconveniences, you diligently strip off and scrub yourself vigorously all over, while sat naked on the kitchen floor. Eventually, the people who own the house return and a Series of Exciting Conversations follow.

Cancer: Because you are so wildly creative and unique, you decide that among your already proven range of wondrous skills, such as writing crap poetry, making crap fan art for mawkish period dramas and attaching small pieces of technical lego to a crap hat, you will blow the minds of your friends by becoming... a baker! Yes. This will mark you out as a trend setter. You carefully go to the shop, observing social distancing except when you aren’t which is always and buy ALLLLL the ingredients for bread making. Literally all of them. So nobody else can make bread. Returning home, you valiantly point your wild intellect at the problem and, with a little help from a BBC recipe guide: YOU MAKE BREAD. It is crap.

Leo: You receive an unexpected parcel. The parcel contains mostly lizards. As well as the lizards, there is a bright red jewel which sparkles enticingly. You discover that the jewel allows you to control the lizards. And also, to see through their eyes. You, furthermore, hear their lizardy thoughts, although to be fair, their minds are fairly quiet and their thoughts are mostly “Woohaar! I’m a lizard!” With your newfound powers, you decide you will finally be freed from your virus-laden lockdown. No longer will you be caged by a mere four walls. You send your lizard army forth to bring you new sights, sounds and experiences. Unfortunately, almost everything is shut and the outside world is pretty dull. After a bit, one of the lizards politely asks if they might have their minds back, to which you accede. They agree to pop round on Thursdays. They’re good lizards.

Virgo: The Gods smile upon you today. The Gods wink at you, also. The Gods send you a direct message asking you how you’re doing today and mention that you’re looking great in that recent profile photo. The Gods say they’re doing alright, you know, but feeling kinda lonely since Karen left, so hey, did you ever get back together with Steve? No? That’s a real shame, you were a sweet couple. The Gods ask if that means you’re still single, then? You are? Oh, baby, there ain’t no justice. What you need’s a real man. You sure do. You deserve one. Or maybe even better. The Gods wonder if you’ve ever made it with a deity. The Gods wonder how come you went so quiet. The Gods say aw, come on, don’t be like that. The Gods themselves go quiet for a while. The Gods send you unsolicited photographs of their genitalia. You block the Gods.

Libra: As you open your kitchen cupboard, a wizard appears before you and tells you that of the two remaining cans of soup, one of them contains not just soup but truly endless riches: the meaning of the universe and an infinite lifespan granted to the opener, with which to explore and enjoy the myriad beauties to be found in a boundless cosmos. In the other can: SUFFERING. Problematically, though, one of the cans is tomato soup from a fairly reputable brand and the other is leek and celeriac, which your weird aunt sent you about four years ago and seems to have been manufactured by ancient Welsh hippies. You go to open the tomato and the wizard winces and whistles through his teeth. You reach toward the leek and celeriac. The wizard smiles and waggles his eyebrows. Bugger this, you open the tomato, the wizard disappears and your arse immediately falls off. You have no regrets and the soup’s pretty good.

Scorpio: You are the twat that took all the toilet roll. Helpful. Aren’t you a good little pandemic pixie? Getting up at shithead o’clock in the morning and nicking all the stuff that your neighbours might have wanted. They suspect you. They saw you carrying your many, many bags past their windows and into your flat. But what they don’t know is that you’re not using it the way they imagine. You haven’t done a poo in over five weeks now. Not since you superglued your bum together. They’d think you were crazy, but you had to. To save the toilet roll for Greater Things. The pains come again, as your tummy heaves and you try to poop through a blocked up bum, but you breathe deeply and in time this passes. Now you are free to return to your great work. Your 20ft high pornographic sculpture of the Queen, made entirely from papier mache. Your Majesty looks down on you in erotic approval.

Sagittarius: Carnival tiiiiime! It’s carnival time! CARNIVAL TIME! Oh boy, oh boy, you can’t wait! You LOVE carnival time! You’ve been waiting so long, and they said you weren’t going to have carnival time because of the virus, but you weren’t gonna miss out! CARNIVAL TIIIME! There’s a strange knocking sound. That’s not usually part of carnival time. You follow the sound to the door, which you open gingerly. Who? Ah. OK. Right you are. I see. Yup. Yup. I will. No, you’re right. I’ll do that. I will. I’ll put it back. I thought you wouldn’t mind. It’s not a real one, it’s just a, no, OK, I’ll get rid of it. And the fish. I got it online. I’ll look after. OK, no, I understand. I know. I will. I’ll wipe it off. Yep. I will. Right away. Sorry. OK. Bye mom. So. Uhhh. Yep. Yeeeep yep. It is definitely not carnival time.

Capricorn: You begin to suspect that there is something going on with your neighbours next door. There are animal sounds late at night and you’re certain they have no pets. Sometimes you hear a tapping, it seems rhythmical. Almost like Morse code. How you wish you’d remembered the symbols they taught you for that when you were at school. One morning, you wake up and sit bolt upright as the sounds of a plaintive, strangled scream are quickly drowned out by a guttural groan of ecstasy, as if something huge and ancient had been satisfied in a way that only demons would commend. Sullen red illumination fades from the windows and all becomes silent once more. You resolve to ask the vicar if he’d consider wearing headphones on his Zoom calls in future.

Aquarius: You decide that you will spend the week not wearing a bra. Why not? Why shouldn’t you at least enjoy some of the more free and easy aspects of long term self-isolation. After the week, though, you sort of miss the bra, so you start wearing it again for a few days. Yeah, actually, this is kind of better. And if this is better, how good would two bras be? You try it out. Feels amazing. Why didn’t you try this before? How could you not have realised that the problem wasn’t tight bras or ill-fitting bras, or always having to wear a bra, the problem was: Not ENOUGH bras. You immediately add a third bra. Holy crap, this is the life. Five or six bras in, you’re starting to slow down a bit, not least because of the underwiring, but you feel incredible, and the SUPPORT is off the chart! The door bell rings. You clatter to answer it, now a somewhat difficult proposition given all the bras. Delivery guy leaves a large parcel on the floor to maintain social distancing, which makes picking it up a little tricky. Again. All the bras. You hobble inside and manage to pop open the parcel. Ah yes. More bras. Perfect.

Pisces: Day 37. You miss your partner. It’s been weeks now and while the occasional saucy video call has kept some semblance of intimacy together, you have needs and an itch you cannot truly scratch. Your hamster runs noisily in its catch, the wheel squeaking. The hamster gets more exercise than you these days. If only you hadn’t sold that treadmill. You feel a kinship to the hamster, tinged with guilt. Now you yourself are confined in your house, you feel bad for locking up little Hammy. In fact, you decide to let Hammy out. You share a strange kinship with Hammy now, fellow prisoners in life’s lonely cage. So lonely. Just you and Hammy. All alone. Nobody else around. Poor little Hammy. All alone, just like you. Day 38. You look at Hammy. Hammy looks at you. Tired, but loving, Hammy’s eyes seem to say a lot of things to you and you feel a different kind of guilt now, looking into them, albeit mixed with gratitude. You put an extra helping of food in the cage, fill up the water bottle and think about where you find yourself in these strange times. You glance back up at the cage and think. “They’re going to make me marry that hamster”.

---

YES! The vision is complete. The skies briefly whirl, the oceans dance then subside and the stars cease their jagged oscillations abruptly and settle down with some snacks to watch Netflix. You have heard the universe’s dark narrative and your brain structures are indelibly marked with what must come. Now go. And tell nobody you visited me today. The police regretfully do not consider this to be classed as an essential journey.

#lockdown #horrorscopes #horrorscope #virus #covid

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blame-canada · 7 years

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Tassels - Tweek / Creek

The CMV Mutation Pandemic swept across the globe so quickly, society as they knew it was doomed to fall. While the world came crashing down around them, Craig and Tweek tried their best to survive, and to love endlessly, in spite of it.

Hey guys, back again with another little snippet of time from the Halfway universe for the Quarter Rests miniseries! This time it’s Tweek’s POV after falling ill. It is also a fill for the prompt ‘Scarf’ for the November 2017 South Park Drabble Bomb. Read it on AO3 here. Hope you enjoy!

There were tassels on it, Tweek could remember.

There wasn’t much that he could recall, with a brain so scrambled one could have it with breakfast, but tassels, they were there. In the memory, that was.

Sometimes, it was the most insignificant things that would pop into his head. Lunch would come around and he’d remember his mother’s cell phone number, or he’d shut out his lamp and remember that he kissed Craig three times on their first date. They were odd facts, things to consider equivalent to the spare buttons discarded in a drawer, but the desk itself was nearly bare.

He didn’t like them. In a way, Tweek felt he’d much rather forget everything than have to remember little bits and pieces of a life that felt so distant but looked so recent in the eyes of his saddened, burdened loved ones. He hated to see pain in those eyes, the ones he had memorized but still noticed new things about, except he wasn’t sure if they were new or simply forgotten. Tweek knew his head was running on empty, sputtering through its last few drops of gasoline until he started to burn up the engine, and soon he would explode, surely.

For now, though, the image of this deep navy blue scarf blinded his focus. It was blue, yes, but was there perhaps some yellow too? Tweek couldn’t remember.

Craig was there for lunch again. He seemed to come less lately, and Tweek wished he would just say why instead of making him stew in the truth without confirmation of his insecurities. The voice in the back of his head seared his skull with the fact that Craig just couldn’t bear to come as much as before because his lacking memory made it painful to witness. Tweek knew that, understood that, but wished Craig would just admit that it was the reason instead of pull something false like the ever present ‘too much work’ excuse. What work could he be doing besides cleaning the shop? Was it the shop he worked for now?

Sometimes Tweek felt as though he was tilting on the axis of one universe with visions of another on the other side that he could only glance at in passing. He wasn’t always sure he was in the right universe. When he tried to guess, he mostly got disappointed, disconnected eye contact, which only stayed for a moment of raw emotion before either glancing away or returning to their steely resolve to be strong. Being strong was such a strange concept to adopt as a bystander, Tweek thought, because how exactly were they being strong? All they needed was the decency to not look as though they were staring a ghost in the face, a shell of a man they once knew, but he knew that was impossible for most. The only people who looked at him least like that (because sometimes even they failed) were his mother and Craig, and his mother hadn’t been well enough to visit in months.

Oh, that scarf- it had lovely, bouncy little tassels, but what color, what color?

“You’re such a mess,” Craig teased, and if Tweek didn’t know better he would have responded with Yes, I am, I know, but Craig wasn’t so cruel as to make those generalizations out loud. He licked his thumb and brushed it at the edge of Tweek’s left cheekbone, where he’d accidentally swiped a swatch of paints without noticing earlier. Ah, it made sense then, of course, though he was a mess in that sense too. He wished he would just say it.

“Say what?” Craig asked, and Tweek realized he’d said it out loud, and now he had a husband staring at him expectantly, a little nervously, who needed explanation for his delusions.

“I’m a mess,” he insisted, and Craig’s eyes got sad, the way he thought Tweek wouldn’t notice, but he’d known and loved him over a decade, and no amount of memory loss could erase that particular skill.

“You’re not,” Craig said, and Tweek politely, silently disagreed.

When he left, Tweek watched him go all the way until his door finally swung shut on him, a few steps before he took a left turn back to the lab, as usual. There were some things Tweek remembered, like that, which he couldn’t explain or justify. He knew which way Craig came around the corner, but didn’t know many other, more important things. He sometimes wished this virus would hurry up and drag him to hell already. Maybe then his family could find some peace for once.

A nurse stepped into his room with a cart of medication and lotion and Tweek remembered blue tassels, but not what they were on. What had blue tassels? There was yellow, too, somewhere in his mind, like a sunburst amongst a sapphire sea. He remembered light, fluffy snowflakes sticking to yellow yarn.

A hat, he recalled, proudly and happily, it was a hat! The hat he wore in elementary school, so long ago that it was when they first became friends, and it was such an ancient memory that it was rather impressive, really. It had such a funny poof ball at the top that was so top heavy it started to flatten into more of a pancake than a ball the longer he owned it. Craig loved that hat so much. The memory made Tweek smile.

As the sun went to sleep and the stars began to blink to life in the twilight, Tweek nodded off in an early evening nap. He daydreamed so much lately, about life as it was, as it could have been, but mostly of what his husband was doing. Was he happy? Was he healthy? There was only so much he could do chained to a hospital bed and not knowing for certain made him anxious at times. He wanted to know he was safe where his forgetful brain could not do the same. Tweek knew that the more he forgot, the less he was a safe place for Craig to go, and it shattered him.

There was still a smudge of paint on his hand that he tried to rub off but struggled with. He scraped at it with his thumb and admired its midnight blue, how lovely it looked in the sunset that haloed his room. It breathed warmth into his mural so that its dark tones hardly felt dark, but still held the same richness. It was a lovely blue.

A scarf, Tweek recalled; there was a scarf the same soft blue as this one. It matched an old hat he’d long retired after he grew too big to fit it on his head. That dark blue would always remind him of Craig. It had hints of yellow, too, just like the chullo he’d worn through sixth grade, long before they were in love.

Were there tassels, though? Tweek couldn’t remember.

#tweek tweak #craig tucker #creek #south park #my fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #fanfiction #creek sp #sp creek #south park fanfiction #sp fanfiction #south park fanfic #sp fanfic #memory loss

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brigdh · 7 years

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Reading Lately

The Last Camel Died at Noon by Elizabeth Peters. The sixth book in the Amelia Peabody series, murder mysteries set in the late 1800s and starring an incredibly blunt, overly self-confident, ironically melodramatic female Egyptian archaeologist. In this one, Amelia, her husband, and their young son are looking forward to excavating some pyramids south of Egypt, in the lesser-known ancient kingdom of Kush, when they get caught up in a mystery involving a long-lost British couple and their feckless rich nephew, a mysterious hidden kingdom that still practices the ancient Egyptian religion, court politics with two princes competing to be the next king, and a veiled woman who seems to be the secret power behind the throne. It's all a parody-slash-loving tribute to Victorian adventure novels, particularly "King Solomon's Mines" and "She". Peters gives these old racist tropes a modern update, which works in some parts better than others. I loved the eventual reveal that the 'good' prince of the hidden kingdom speaks in a stilted English because he's deliberately modeling himself after the florid heroes of H. Rider Haggard's novels, of which he is a huge fan. Similarly, when Amelia is told to look out for a secret messenger carrying "the book", it turns out not to be the Bible or the Egyptian Book of the Dead or some such sacred text, but a copy of Wilkie Collin's "The Moonstone". On the other hand, the mystery eventually comes down to the Peabodys' desperate rescue of the one young innocent white girl out of this entire kingdom, which is... uh, less great. To say the least. I also felt like this book frequently dragged in places. There's a loooooong section in England before they leave for Egypt. Then a loooooong section in Nubia before they find the hidden kingdom. Then a loooooong section exploring the kingdom before the plot finally arrives. I don't think The Last Camel Died at Noon actually has more pages than any other book in the series, but goddamn if it didn't feel like it took three times as long to read. So, not my favorite Amelia Peabody, but I'm still looking forward to the next one! The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers. A light-hearted ensemble space opera, starring the crew of a mid-level spaceship. The main character (as much as there is one; this is an extremely team-focused book) is Rosemary, a nice young woman, just out of college and somewhat sheltered, who arrives at the Wayfarer at the opening of the book to serve as their clerk. However, she's more than she seems: working under a false name and hiding secrets that will be revealed late in the book. Also onboard is Captain Ashby, a human in a long-term relationship with Pei, an alien arms dealer whose culture is HUGELY against interspecies sex; Jenks, an engineer who's fallen in love with the ship's sentient AI and is considering downloading her into a physical body despite this being incredibly illegal; Dr Chef, the kindly doctor and cook who comes from a nearly extinct species and whose sweetness covers a backstory of war and angst; Corbin, in charge of the algae from which the ship gets most of its power, a gumpy, racist, introvert; Kizzy, an antic, cheerful engineer and the only character who doesn't get much an arc, though she's a lot of fun in the background; and Ohan, who has the ability to navigate through hyperspace due to being infected with a virus that's slowly killing him. There's also the pilot Sissix, from a lizard-like species that practices polyamory, casual sex and lots of touching, who's a bit tired of dealing with all the culture clashes this causes on a mostly-human ship. She and Rosemary eventually enter into a relationship, which I mention because you gotta love a book in which a f/f open romance can be dropped in as a subplot. On the other hand, there isn't much of a main plot; this is very much a character-driven book instead of one with a clear, driving endgoal. Instead various characters meet and overcome minor difficulties, and it's all just nice if fairly inconsequential. The best part of The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet is absolutely how much *fun* it is. The worldbuilding is full of charming tossed off ideas, the scifi elements of the background are hugely inventive and clever, the characters are generally enjoyable to spend time with, and there's a ton of bits that made me laugh with pure delight. Like this section, which never ends mattering, but is too cute not to share: The mech tech herself was perched on a work ladder, her head and hands up inside an open ceiling panel. Her hips rocked in time with the drum beats. She belted along to the throbbing music as she worked. “Punch ‘em in the face! Monkeys like it, too!” “Hey. Kizzy,” Jenks said. “I ate a har - monica! These socks — match — my hat!” “Kizzy.” A tool clattered to the ground. Kizzy’s hands clenched into fists as the music swelled to a stormy crescendo. She danced atop the shuddering ladder, her head still in the ceiling. “Socks! Match — my hat! Socks! Match — my hat! Step on — some — sweet — toast! Socks! Match — my hat!” “Kizzy!” Kizzy ducked her head down. She pressed the clicker strapped to her wrist, turning down the volume of the nearby thump box. “Sup?” Jenks quirked an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea what this song is?” Kizzy blinked. “Socks Match My Hat,” she said. She went back up into the ceiling, tightening something with her gloved hands. “Soskh Matsh Mae’ha. It’s banned in the Harmagian Protectorate.” “We’re not in the Harmagian Protectorate.” “Do you know what this song’s about?” “You know I don’t speak Hanto.” “Banging the Harmagian royal family. In glorious detail.” “Ha! Oh, I like this song so much more now.” “It’s credited with setting off the riots on Sosh’ka last year.” “Huh. Well, if this band hates the establishment that much, then I doubt they’ll care about me making up my own words. They can’t oppress me with their ‘correct lyrics.’ Fuck the system.” My main problem is that, as sweet and nice as all this is, there's just not much there there. I felt like every time a potentially interesting conflict arose, the book went with the easiest possible answer; I was particularly annoyed with the resolution of Rosemary's background in this regard. It was a pleasant read, but not the sort of thing that will stick in my memory. Still, thank you to everyone who recommend this to me! :D I did have a good time with it. Venom: The Heroic Search for Australia's Deadliest Snake by Brendan James Murray. A nonfiction book about the taipan, the most venomous snake in the world (well, depending on how one measures such things), and the effort to capture a living snake for study and to enable the production of an antivenom. Murray is far more interested in the story of the people involved in this search than he is in the snake or its biology, which ends up producing a book that reads a lot like an action movie. Which is not a criticism! I loved how much this felt like a suspenseful thriller. There were a few scenes that were so unbelievably wild I had to read them out loud to my partner. Murray focuses on four people in particular: George Rosendale, a young Aboriginal man (only 19 when he was bitten in 1949) who is the only person ever known to have survived a taipan bite without being treated with antivenom; Bruce Stringer, a ten-year-old who was bitten in 1955 and became the first human to receive the then brand-new antivenom; Kevin Budden, an amateaur herpetologist who in 1950 captured the first living taipan but who died in the process; and John Dwyer, a friend of Budden's who in his memory captures the second living taipan, said snake becoming both the most significant contributor to antivenom production and the first taipan to be exhibited in a zoo. Between these men and others featured more briefly, Venom is packed full of exciting stories of hunting snakes through jungles and sugarcane fields, and medical dramas in which lives are saved or lost as doctors and amateurs struggle to find the best treatments. It's not all page-turning adventures though; I appreciate how much attention Murray gave to the role of colonialism and anti-Aboriginal racism, both in Rosendale's personal life and the larger scope of Australian history. I do have a few criticisms. Murray jumps back and forth between so many characters (are they still called characters if they're real people? whatever) and between so many time periods that I was often confused and had trouble remembering who was who. Less significantly, I longed for a epilogue or short final chapter that would have covered what we now know about taipan. A great deal of Venom is taken up with scientists arguing over what were unknowns in the 1940s and 50s – is the taipan a separate species from the Eastern Brown Snake? Is it venomous? If so, how much? how big does it get? where can it be found? how far south does its range extend? – that by the time I reached the end of the book, I was desperate for answers! Don't make me do my own research, Murray, especially since I'm too lazy to go past Wikipedia. Overall, I'd absolutely recommend this to anyone who enjoys creepy biology or exciting history. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.

[DW link for easier commenting!]

#books #book reviews #elizabeth peters #brendan james murray #becky chambers

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sundayeveningthoughts · 4 years

Text

An Amazing Guy

Sunday Evening Thoughts

May 3, 2020

Dear Paul and Rachel,

An Amazing Guy

As a father has compassion for his children, the LORD has compassion for those who fear him. Psalm 103:13

I write this last Sunday Evening Thoughts in mid-March alone at the Tidewater Appalachian Trail Club cabin on a beautiful, early, spring night. Hard life, I know!

There is a serious pandemic starting with the Covid-19 virus and the noise about the virus in the news is driving me crazy, plus Trump disgusts me. Any person who would mimic a handicap person is not just crude, but disgusting.

As I said last time, S.E.T. began only as a quick note to two of you. A few of your friends saw it and asked to be linked and whenever I met any of your roommates or friends I asked them if they wanted to join. They all said yes. At one point I had about 50-70 college kids reading it — a real “feel-good “ moment for me.

In this last S.E.T. I want to talk again about Daddy Jack, your grandfather, whom I mentioned in many early Thoughts. He is the best man I’ve ever known. An amazing guy.

Daddy Jack was a great man, though he had little education. At age 15 he quit school in the 8th grade and joined the Navy. He lied about his age. My grandfather had just died a few months before (perhaps of the Flu Epidemic of 1918?). They had become poor, and his aunt signed the permission slip as my grandmother, knowing her sister would not prosecute. I don’t think Mama Miano minded deep down, after all her husband, Papa Miano, left Taormina, Siciy in 1877 by himself as a 16-year-old. I’ve recently come to realize that is also why it was no big deal when I left home at age 14, only to return intermittently.

He told me, whether the story is apocryphal or literal I don’t know, that when he joined the Navy he immediately left for a trip to South America, and as was typical in 1918 whenever you crossed the equator for the first time, the older sailors always tossed the newbies overboard.

That story always sounded cool!

Once when I was 16, I came home on a brief summer vacation. I had been hanging out with “those Westhaven Boys” (a derisive name from Nanny Jean, your grandmother, meaning trashy, dirty, or hoodlums - the “hoodlums” word she often used), and I did stroll into the house late one Friday evening a... a… a… little starry eyed. Daddy Jack looking up from his bifocals, as he was crocheting, said, “You know on my first trip to South America when I first joined the Navy, we went to Columbia, South America,” he paused, then continued, “they have a different kind of cigarette in Columbia than we do here in the U.S.”

That’s all he said, and went back to crocheting. I knew then I had a cool dad.

I have never met a person who was so streetwise, and yet still so cheerful about life. Formal education, no; street education, a PhD. Amazing!

How amazing? The day of his funeral, all five of his children, except for my sister who had had a Caesarian section two days before with her third child and was still in the hospital but had been valiantly replaced by her husband — a good guy, were standing around Daddy Jack’s casket joking on him because of his favorite tie: A gaudy, out-of-style tie, with permanent spaghetti sauce embedded on his red, white, and blue stripes (Daddy Jack was always patriotic in a proud sense. I think now part of his patriotism was directly influenced by the Navy providing him three square meals when he was a hungry 15-year-old kid, and food and shelter for his wife and family in the coming years. Don’t read that as greedy, only pragmatic), expressed:

(Oldest son #1) “Hey guys, unfortunately Daddy really loved me the most. I know he loved you too, but I was the oldest, a Junior no less, and I know he loved me the most.”

(Son #2) “Where in the world did you get that? No way!” with voice levels starting to rise, “I joined the Navy at age 17. You all know Daddy retired after 26 years as a Chief, something he was very proud of, and I followed in his footsteps becoming a Navy Electrician no less, just like him. He loved me the best, I know.”

(Son-in-law to Daddy Jack and husband to Child #3) “With all of you boys in the house growing up, you know how he always protected her, and there was nothing she could do wrong in his eyes. Sorry fellows, but I think he loved her the most, and I know she agrees.”

(Third son #4 child) “Woe mules, slow down,” decibel levels inching-up, “I am certain he loved me the most. I was the first to go to a seminary, and he always wanted a son who was a priest.”

(Lastly, Moi #5) “You guys are crazy!” with the volume so loud that only the dead can’t hear us and hands gesturing to emphasize my point. “I know for a fact Daddy loved me the most. He retired when I started the 5th Grade, and he drove me to school every day that year. We were pals! We played chess all during elementary and junior high. We actually did hang-out. Definitely, he loved me the most!”

He was that amazing! That every child could be so self-assured he loved them the most. A true gift.

I am confident he is someone you would love to have known.

Van taught me about business. Daddy Jack taught me about life. Clem taught me about the Gospel. All three lessons precisely combine my philosophy (and the ancient Hebrew biblical authors) on a fulfilled life: Food, sex, and the Lord are all your you need to enjoy a happy life! Pretty simple.

It’s been a great run with Sunday Evening Thoughts, but it’s ending. Paul and Rachel, you are completing your doctorates, and nobody is in college. Congratulations to Paul and Rachel!

You guys are wonderful. As all of you head into your professional worlds, remember the little guy.

Have a great week..

Love

Dad

P.S. Here is a nice little tribute to John Prine who died recently during the coronavirus outbreak by Dave Matthews. Crank it up!

youtube

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hopeatermain · 7 years

Text

The Akomish Boy

Warning: May contain slight spoiler for InFamous and Assassin’s Creed.

Rating: T for swearing and defacing of public property.

Genre: Humor and friendship.

Summary: In his search of the Assassin’s hideout, Desmond ends up in Seattle and meets the local delinquent, Delsin Rowe.

Other warning: This happens before InFamous: Second son and after Fucked up shit. We are in 2015. There is also slights references to the first two Infamous.

Word count: 1759 words (There. Finally wrote something longer than Are you okay?)

This was a start. He made himself a false ID, bandaged his damaged arm, (okay, what the fuck happened to it?), nobody knew he came back to life (seriously, WTF happened?), and he was now searching for an assassin hideout, currently residing in a little hotel in Seattle. Now, he just needed to get out of there and fast before Abstergo found him. There were already armed people in weird armors patrolling around there, and he didn’t need to be arrested for some kind of weird shit. And it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing since he woke up.

Seriously, he came back to life about two year ago. And he still had no idea of how it happened. Probably because of some Precursor bullshit. He just remembered opening his eyes, panicking in an enclosed space, a golden light, suddenly falling somewhere (which turned out to be an almost empty dumpster), finding out that something happened to his arm and meeting Alex, who told about a virus outbreak in Manhattan and that he had been dead for 5 months. Nice.

And now, he was hiding in a shitty hotel in Seattle, trying to gather informations about where he could find just one assassin (he had no lead right now), he had already been seen by Templars once (it was an accident that had been immediately taken care of) and they were weird soldiers everywhere. He had heard they called themselves the “DUP” (Shaun would probably have lost his shit at that), but that was about it. He didn’t go out of his hotel room often for safety reasons. And because he didn’t feel in his place with other people anymore. For a strange reason, he felt himself much closer to Alex than he felt toward fellow human beings, even if Alex wasn’t human anymore.

Desmond groaned. He needed to go out sooner or later. So, he put on his hoodie, avoided talking to other people and those... DUP agents as much as he could, and set out to explore the city and what was surrounding it. He needed to know the fastest way to escape the city by himself if the need arose. He saw a wood when coming there. That could be fun.

After a lengthy discussion, Reggie had successfully convinced Delsin that tagging a DUP board for the hell of it was an horrible idea. Which is exactly why he (Delsin) would do it. He was the champion of horrible ideas after all. He was the local delinquent! And so, with a stripped black and white hoodie, a scarf to hide his face, and his bag full of tools to successfully tag a thing, he set out for Seattle, searching for the perfect board to tag.

Turns out, he should have listened to his brother. He was caught by the police in the middle of tagging a board, and was now running for his freedom toward the longhouse. He succeeded with losing them. For now. He needed to go back to the longhouse and change clothes. Good. Now, he just needed a believable alibi. Come on, Delsin, find a good alibi...

And that alibi came in the form of crashing in with a guy who was walking around. “God dammit” - “Can’t you watch were you’re going-” “You’re the one who crashed into me-” - “Sorry ‘bout that, I’m being chased by the police” - “You’re what” - ”THERE HE IS!” The two men turned toward the police officier who yelled. “AND HE HAS AN ACCOMPLICE!” Delsin froze a moment before feeling being dragged by his hood by the other guy. He quickly struggled before following him. He seemed to know where he was going.

“Hey!” The other guy addressed Delsin. “Do you know where we could hide?” Apparently, he did not know where they where going. Didn’t stop Delsin from nodding. “I know a place where we can go?” “Seriously?” “Yeah. You see the Akomish reserve?” “Uh... the place where they stuffed an entire tribe of American natives?” “Yeah! I’m one of their members. I bring you into my house and we can change clothes there.” “Fine with me. Where should I go?”

They found the longhouse and, after some technical difficulty with dressing the other one differently (he really didn’t want to change in front of Delsin) they were now constructing an alibi: Delsin had invited a friend in the longhouse and they had stayed inside for most of the day. Since not a lot of people had seen Delsin today, not a lot would question it. “Okay, now we just need to avoid Reggie-” “ARE YOU KIDDING ME, DELSIN?!” “I don’t know who “Reggie” is, but something tell me we failed lamentably concerning avoiding him.” “Oh, you have no idea.” “The police called me earlier. Can you please tell me why you tagged a DUP board?!” “... For the hell of it?”

“Kid, you have balls and I don’t know if it’s a good thing.” “Hey, I’m 21!” “28. Try again.” “Seriously? I’d only give you 24, 25 at most.” “Seriously?” “Yeah.” “Delsin,” the two looked at Reggie, who was horribly confused. “who is this?” “He’s... uh...” “Desmond.” The two Rowe brothers looked at him. “My name is Desmond. I’m just passing through.” “It’s nice to meet you, Desmond.” Delsin didn’t even miss a beat. “Welcome to the Akomish longhouse. I’m Delsin. And this is my brother, Reggie. He’s part of the police.” Desmond looked at Reggie. “You’re gonna?...” “It depends on how I feel today. What’s your alibi?” “I invited a friend over. Desmond is said friend over. I really just met him while I was running to the longhouse. He has nothing to do with it, but the police is convinced he’s my accomplice.” “Okay, I’m going to cover you both.” “YES!” “BUT JUST THIS TIME, DELSIN!”

“So, you woke up from a coma two years ago? And you have difficulty remembering certain things?” “Yeah, kind of... which means I’m not exactly up to date, and I would appreciate some info on what the fuck is happening around here. Like that... DUP?” Turns out, Delsin and Desmond got along very well. They started talking like they were long-life friends while Reggie was helping them. It stuck. Desmond told him stories of some of his ancestors, his life when he was still a bartender at Bad Weather, and Delsin told him of his life at the longhouse and his aspirations to become street artist. Right now, he liked to tag boards for the hell of it, but he felt he was starting to find a style. And it wasn’t like a prestigious art school was going to make some no-name Akomish one of their students. And Delsin was the first person since Alex that Desmond met that felt... correct. Close. Comfortable.

“Okay... how am I supposed to explain this?... Uh... Okay. Get comfortable, because this is going to be complicated. About four years ago, these guys, I think they call themselves “Conduits” started appearing left and right. These... Conduits had weird powers, man. Some could teleport, others could become monsters, some could create some kind of armor around them, and the rest could channel... things? I don’t really know, the one me and Reggie saw the most on TV could control lightning. So, the government created a unit made specifically to deal with the Conduits, who were re-labelled has Bio-Terrorists and they are now being systematically put in prison. That’s the DUP. The organization, I mean. Not the... Bio... Terrorists...” Delsin stopped talking. Desmond didn’t seemed to be listening anymore. It was more like he was deep in thought.

Finally, the older man spoke. “What’s your opinion?” “Uh?” “On the whole Conduits deal, I mean.” “There’s not a lot of them in Seattle, so yeah, I can’t exactly give you my opinion. Your thoughts? And you may want to call them Bio-Terrorists, man. Or the yellow guys will suspect you’re one.” “... You said they started to appear around four years ago, right?” “Yeah, there was a weird accident that gave people superpowers. Something happened during the first year that made their overall number go down, but that didn’t change a lot of things for the DUP.” “... So it’s not their fault. Something happened to them and they get imprisoned for it instead of receiving help.” “To the government credits, some of them stirred up a lot of shit with their powers during the first year.” “But not all of them. I can see why the government would imprison the criminals in a special prison, but, every single one of them?! It’s basic human rights! They can’t just do that!”

“Wow. You’re really passionate about a subject that you just learned about.” “... You know Abstergo?” “The pharmaceutic company that also makes crappy video games?” “Yeah, that one. The number of conspiracies that I’ve read about them, you won’t believe me. My personal favorite is the one where they’re actually an really ancient order controlling the government and out to control the earth where they actually date from the third Crusades.” “Oh god, I’ve bought from the Illuminati.” “I’m serious. The worst is that these guys presented enough proof for it to be believable. I haven’t bought a box of Ibuprofen since I’ve read about it.” “Wow. Talk about paranoid.” “So yeah. Knowing about that kind of shit gave me the necessary willpower to stand against anti liberty of expression bullshit.”

“Hey, Desmond.” The new friends turned toward Reggie. “The police has been gone for five minutes now. You can go back to do... whatever you were doing before you’ve met Delsin.” “Okay, thanks.” Delsin decided to escort Desmond back to the exit. “So... yeah. Take care of yourself.” “I’m just missing one thing.” “Hm?” “Why didn’t I know about the whole Conduit thing? Four years ago was in 2011, and I’ve been comatose since 2012!” “You did say you had memory loss. I think you simply forgot about it.” “Yeah... probably...” Now that he thought about it, Desmond seemed to remember some kind of deal on the medias about Conduits. His time at abstergo probably made him forgot. Oh well. “And who knows, maybe you’ve forgot about being a Conduit!” “I hope not! Farewell, Delsin!” “Bye, man!” And, as Desmond got further and further away, Delsin decided to make a research about Abstergo. Nothing too profound, just a quick research.

And he ended up falling on Erudito’s website. You know the rest.

“Delsin, what are you doing? It’s two in the morning.” “Flushing Ibuprofen down the toilet.” “DELSIN NO-”

Something cheerier than what I do normally. I thought that Desmond learning about the Conduits and him trying to subtly influence Delsin into being suspicious of Abstergo would be fun to write. I was right. Desmond is lying through his teeth. And no, I am not going to explain how he came back from the death any time soon. Until then!

#assassin's creed #infamous second son #desmond miles #delsin rowe #reggie rowe

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benevolenterrancy · 8 years

Note

GENYATTA EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE ROBOTS ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

THEROBOTS NEED LOVE OKAY ;-; THIS IS A GOOD AND PURE PROMPT THANK YOU

who hogs the duvet

Theyare both a grade-A fucking mess trying to sleep. It's been literalyears since Genji has shareda bed with anyone, and Zenyatta being, as previously state, arobot normally sleeps upright,hovering while recharging. So once they start sharing a bed it's onebig mess of how??? exactly do we do this??? But hey, as far asGenji's concerned Zenyatta has helped him learn so much and he ismore than happy toteach Zenyatta how to sleep together.

Thatbeing said Genji is a terrible teacher because he is 100% the one whohogs the duvet – don't do what Genji does kids you'll get kickedout of any bed you're sharing. He always has, ever since he was ayoung; Hanzo would never share a bed with him when they were kidsbecause Genji would always end up with all the covers by the end ofthe night. He'll start out sleeping normally, but by the morninghe's curled up in a ball, ever limb locked like a vice around theblankets so there is zero chance of ever getting them back. Fortunately Zenyatta doesn't need them except for the mentality ofcoziness, so this works out surprisingly well.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Genji,definitely. He's the sort to daydream during mission debriefsbecause he's thinking about how absolutely amazing his boyfriend isand then call him at random because he just really!! missed talkingto Zenyatta!!! He'll call for any little reason. What does Zenyattathink Genji should bring home for dinner? It was really hot today,is Zenyatta okay? He hasn't been overheating? Genji saw an adorabledog and he took pictures, look, Zen, I'll message them to you. Babe I know I just left twenty minutes ago but I miss you tell meabout what you've been doing. Genji just really really reallyloves his boyfriend and is very clingy about it. (Zenyatta does notmind at all)

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

They make a good team when it comes togift-giving. Zenyatta is like... unnervingly good when it comes tothinking up really meaningful gifts, little things that will havesome greater significance for the recipient and that will almostcertainly result in hugs and/or tears.

...That being said, Genji is arguablythe more “creative” one though. He is a white elephant champion. He comes up with the most ridiculous gifts and loves an opportunityto get silly, fun things for his friends.

who gets up first in the morning

Zenyatta for sure. Despite the world'sbest efforts to instill that sort of virtue in Genji it has neverstuck. His parents, instructors, Hanzo... all wanted him to be anearly riser for training as a child, but despite it he was still thatperson who was usually stumbling into class late more often than hewasn't. He would wake up for early Overwatch missions, but only withplenty of alarms, caffeine, and grumbling. He half-heartedly triedto break himself of the habit while he was in Nepal, trying to wakeup and meditate with the monks in the early mornings but that wasjust never going to happen and he graciously gave that up. SoZenyatta wakes up first (he literally has an internal alarm) and hascoffee ready for Genji when he finally stumbles out of bed.

who suggests new things in bed

To be perfectly honest, I cheerfullyheadcanon Zenyatta as asexual and I've never quite gone down therobo-dick path that some people enjoy so I personally don't headcanonthem doing any “things” in bed at all. (Though Genji does teachZenyatta the glory of cuddling under warm covers and watching moviesfor hours on end, so in that case... Genji does!)

who cries at movies

Neither of them are really big criersduring movies, least of all because Zenyatta literally cannot. ButZenyatta does Feel Lots OfThings during movies. Out of the two, he definitely emphasizes themost with the poor, hapless movie characters (and like, not justprotagonists, he's the sort to get distressed because the villaincould so easily be guided to a better path by the right hand but isinstead slaughtered for Plot Reasons, or is moved by some littleinjustice suffered by a side character). Genji's much more likely tolaugh at sad movies than cry (though he does have his small handfulof films that make him cry every time– not that he'll admit it, he's wearing a mask, no one can proveanything).

who gives unprompted massages

Zenyatta (I mean... it'd be tricky totry to massage an omnic). Zenyatta knows the sort of physical painGenji can still experience just from living with his scars and thestrain his body experiences from how it's integrated with hiscybernetics – it can lead to anything from stiffness, to aches, togenuine pain depending on the day, so Zenyatta's always around tooffer a massage when he can tell it's acting up. It feels nice notonly on his organic flesh, but also his synthetic muscles since it'sgiving them very deliberate sensory input. (And the day Genjifinally worked up the nerve to take off all the removable parts ofhis armour and allow Zenyatta to massage him was one of the bestdecision of his life – Zenyatta is a fantasticmasseuse.) Zenyatta also just enjoys giving Genji's massages becauseof how loose and content Genji gets after being massaged, like atranquil noodle.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Obviously between the two of themGenji's much more likely to be sick and Zenyatta is Good at takingcare of him. He's not great at making food but will bring simplethings to help settle Genji's stomach, he picks up medicine, fillshot water bottles, listens to all of Genji's moaning about how he'sdying and is perfectly content to be doing so, he loves being able tohelp. Plus Zenyatta can still cuddle a sick Genji without needing toworry about getting a sick himself, which is a big fucking plus inGenji's eyes.

That being said Genji is absolutelythe one more likely to fuss if Zenyatta shows any sign of being sick. Zenyatta's very chill, matter of fact, and calming when Genji'ssick. Genji freaks out if Zenyatta seems like he's caught some sortof virus or if his system isn't running optimally because he isconstantly terrified of Zenyatta getting damaged in some unrepairableway that Genji can't help. People normally don't die from a cold,but Genji remembers what the God Programs did to omnics. (Ithonestly doesn't matter how many times Zenyatta reassures him that hejust needs to run a quick diagnostics or get a system update and takeit easy or something, Genji will still hover and fret like it'snobody's business until Zenyatta is acting entirely like his normalself again.)

who gets jealous easiest

I honestly don't think either of themget very jealous. Genji probably would have when he was younger, butat this point in his life he is much more confident about himself andhis relationship with those close to him. He trusts Zenyatta enoughto know he has nothing to get jealous about. Same goes for Zenyatta, he appreciates Genji and his very social,outgoing nature but doesn't, for a minute, consider himself to be incompetition for Genji's affection.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

150% Genji. Except he's not actuallyembarrassed, he's shameless when it comes to his music choices. Hewill listen to so much crapit will drive literally everyone else NUTSand he just has no fucks to give. As far as he's concerned, hismusic is fun and bright and makes you want to dance and that's whathe's looking for in music. Zenyatta doesn't listen to all that muchmusic, but he does enjoy “ancient” (in Genji's words – it'sfrom the around 1980s) rock music purely because Mondatta liked itand it makes Zenyatta think of him. Either way, Lúcio sighs deeplywhenever either one of them gets to chose the music.

who collects something unusual

Depends on how you define “unusual”. Genji didn't start out with much in the way of worldly goods, sincehe left most of what he had back at the Watchpoint when he left (andbefore that, in Hanamura when he was “killed”) and only had whathe could carry, but he starts to collect more things once he settlesin somewhere. He collects things like video game merch and comicbooks and things like that, nothing all that weird, though he can bea bit of a packrat about it. Zenyatta collects less, but it tends tobe things like... pressed flowers and pretty stones and cheapfigurines he bought in a market while he was traveling and a cheapplastic necklace a child made him after he helped her mother, thatsort of thing.

who takes the longest to get ready

Neither take that long, tbh. I mean,Genji's a nudist both of them are varying degrees ofrobotic, so it's not like they have hair to do or make-up to put on,and neither of them are too fussed about clothes. Zenyatta's themost likely to take a while to get ready but that's purely because hehas a tendency to get distracted by everythingand moves really really slowlyeven when he is actively getting ready.

who is the most tidy and organised

Zenyatta. Genji is tidy only by thevirtue of not having many physical possessions to his name. As soonas he begins planting roots again, gets a space of his own, andbegins amassing possessions again then he is easily the slob of thetwo. He will leave shit lying anywhere and then get frustrated whenhe can't find it – Hanzo can attest that his ability to keep hisspace clean has not improved from childhood.

who gets most excited about the holidays

See, I would normally be inclined tosay it's Genji because I can just see him getting super giddy andexcited about holidays, but after we've experienced both a Halloweenand Winter event I think we have to accept the fact that apparentlyit's Zenyatta. He had an elaborate skin for both holiday, heobviously gets so into it. “Paint me like a skeleton, Genji” “Master, you're an omnic, youdon't even have a skeleton...” “That's why it's a costume,my student, and besides it'sHalloween. Help me reach my back.” Or: “Zen... what is that?” “A walnut.” “Yes, I see that, I was more interested in whythere are giant walnuts all around the room.” “Well, I'm gladyou asked...” As opposed to Genji's “My Halloween costume? Cyborg ninja” – what a cop-out you little shit. Genji absolutelyforgets about holidays are happening until like the day before.

Zenyattais just super enthralled by all big celebrations and can't wait toparticipate with everyone and drags Genji into them whether he likesit or not.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Genji: “Everyone likes to be thelittle spoon, it makes you feel safe!”

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Genji gets the most outwardlycompetitive, and will cheerfully trash talk both the people on theother team and on his ownteam. He is a very loud player of just about anything, who'llhappily crow about his victories. Look, he spent his childhoodgrowing up training with Hanzo, so he has learnt to A) take anythingvaguely competitive very seriouslybut to also B) be chill when he loses because Hanzo was alwaysobsessed with winning and Genji refused to give him the satisfaction.

Zenyatta,however, gets stealthily competitive. He stays looking and talkingtotally calmly and peacefully, preaches sportsmanship and generosityto fellow players but then he'll just... say something very casuallythat most people might not even realize is petty andcompetitive unless they're paying attention. (“To hold a grudge isunhealthy... for you”, “The master still has a few tricks” –Zenyatta is secretly savage af and Genji totally knows it, especiallyafter the first time he and Zenyatta sparred and he was landed on hisass in no time flat. No one believes him though, they all think Zenis a complete sweetheart.)

who starts the most arguments

I honestly don't think they have a lotof full-scale arguments. If nothing else, their relationship isbuilt on like... aggressive levels of open and healthy communication. So if either has an issue, they might have disagreements – evenlong, extended, debates – but it's something they talk about atlength until they're able to work something else. If anything Genjiprobably brings the most up, but they recognize that an argument is amutual thing, in which two people are meeting an impasse, not one orthe other's problem.

who suggests that they buy a pet

GENJI WANTS A DOG, LET'S GET A DOG,ZEN

what couple traditions they have

I normally think of them as a prettyyoung couple, and one that hasn't spent their whole time in oneanother's presence (Genji going back to Hanamura to confront Hanzo,and I imagine Zenyatta was off doing things as well, and the twointended to meet up again later) so I think they're still in theprocess of making traditions. They enjoy meditating together, especially in the evening aroundsunset. It's a nice way to wind down from the day. They're also inthe habit of chatting in the evenings, which started because theywere separated for long periods of time. Genji calls in the evenings(since Zenyatta is less bothered about being awake at odd hours thanGenji is – an omnic doesn't get jetlag) and that's something thatcontinued even after they met back up again, they'll often try to puteverything else down and just cuddle and talk before going to sleep.

what tv shows they watch together

I feel like they'd enjoy watchingsitcoms together the most. They both have a terrible sense ofhumour, and it's a nice way to unwind, sitting around together andlaughing along with some stupid show with a ridiculous laugh trackand a guaranteed good ending. If it existed at the time, they'd likeBrooklyn-99, I'm sure of it. Long series are nice because then theycan pick something and just watch an episode or two night afternight, whenever they have a chance.

what other couple they hang out with

I imagine they're both pretty social sothey probably hang out with plenty, simply by the virtue that theyboth enjoy spending time with friends. (I'm not going to botherlisting because it totally depends on who you headcanon as a couple.)

how they spend time together as a couple

Honestly they're best friends, they'llhappily do just about anything together. Meditation is obviously abig one for them, since that was what originally brought themtogether, but they sleep together, fight together, travel together –hell, Zenyatta will happily float along with Genji through asupermarket while he's buying groceries and they'll both enjoythemselves because they just like getting to spend time together. They enjoy simple domesticity because it feels like a luxury neitherwas sure they'd ever get to experience (Zenyatta because of the stateof omnics' rights, Genji because for a long time he felt like afterbecoming a cyborg those sorts of options were closed off to him).

who made the first move

I could see it going either waydepending on the hc/fic but listen, listen, my favourite isaboslutely Genji doing it by accident. I like to think that it's in Nepal, Genji's been there for quite awhile now, him and Zenyatta have become very close friends at thispoint and then it suddenly strikes Genji that, oh shit, hehas major feelings for Zenyatta. And he is mentally freaking outbecause would Zenyatta even be interested?? Sure he's seen omnics inromantic relationships but Zenyatta's never really expressed aninterest one way or another... and would he be interested in someonewho isn't an omnic? Or in a man? Or just... in Genji as a whole,given that Zenyatta has seen every rough edge that Genji has at thispoint? And then what if Zenyatta doesn't wantthat and Genji ruins their friendship? What if Zenyatta getsuncomfortable and wants him to leave the monastery – this is theonly place Genji has truly felt he belonged since The Incident, hedoesn't want to lose that–!!! and basically he freaks out forapproximately four hours, it completely consumes him because this isway higher stakes than any of the playful flings he had as ateenager, he doesn't want to break something, but now that he'sstarted thinking about it he can't stopthinking about how much he wants to fucking kiss ZenyattagodDAMMIT.

Andthen the evening comes and he and Zenyatta are meditating andZenyatta is asking him about his day and, look, at this point Genjihas gotten very used to just talking to Zenyatta about any emotionalissues he's having. Before he can stop himself it just... pops out. And all of a sudden Genji realizes he's confessing that hehas feelings for Zenyatta and all the misgivings he has to go alongwith it and he's FREAKING OUT EVEN MORE NOW BECAUSE THIS ISN'T WHATHE MEANT TO DO IT WAS AN ACCIDENT butZenyatta is just/// so flattered/// and so excited and so willing totry this and everything works out beautifully and it's fluffy andperfect The End

who brings flowers home

Zenyatta is the most likely to bringflowers home, by that's more in the interest of having flowers athome than anything necessarilyromantic. He tends to see flowers, wild or otherwise, and getenraptured by them and decide to decorate their space with them. Genji gets flowers less often, but will often get Zenyatta flowers asa gift on an anniversary or something. (He likes to bring home live,potted flowers for Zenyatta, since he tends to get melancholy whenthey finally dry up and die. Although with the sort of lifestylethey live the flowers still have a bad tendency to die.)

who is the best cook

They both suck at cooking. Zenyatta doesn't need to eat, and the Shimada family had people tocook when Genji was young, and then Overwatch had a cafeteria when hewas there. Genji is the best cook simply by the virtue of beinghuman and having, on the rare occasioned, needed to make food forhimself so as to not die. Fortunately, neither of them really need“good” food. As previously state, Zenyatta doesn't eat, andGenji can't actually taste food anymore so it doesn't really matterhow disgusting he makes it, he's not going to know the difference. God help anyone that comes to their place for dinner though.

so... anyone else wanna send me a ship? help ease the painful sting of a new semester with silly inbox games?

#overwatch #zenyatta #genji shimada #genyatta #crychanwastaken #bene speaks #thoughts #omg thank you for this #genyatta is my otp to end otps they are precious and pure #also whoops this ended up being longer than intended #ship ask meme

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